Archive of Our Own

𐙚   the cafe . .  ྀི

It was a languid day at work; the children seemed more lethargic than usual and weren’t in the mood to entertain all Hanbin's math games that involved glue sticks (who doesn’t love glue sticks?), but it was enjoyable nonetheless. He had a good time at lunch today when he brought durian for Hao in a small container, because he had heard it was more popular in China; he hadn’t expected his eyes to light up and his scent to flutter in joy so nicely. There’s something about doing something so small that makes such a deep impact on someone else's emotions. Every time Hanbin helps in his small, easy manner, it’s as if he can feel the way Hao’s lungs expand in pleasant surprise himself. The physicality is disarming.

Snow makes the sun a coward most days, and today wasn’t the exception. However, there’s such a brightness to the snow that it makes everything around it… null. Not necessarily in a bad way, in a peaceful way. Sometimes Hanbin will spend upwards of an hour simply watching snow delicately fall atop itself, letting his shoulders loosen, and his breaths become slow and long, as they do before sleep. These days, it makes him think of Hao, in all of Hao’s harmonious fashions. In a lot of ways, Hanbin thinks Hao almost glides through life—not that he’s spoiled or lacks difficulties, but that his charm is so compelling that it makes the air around him less stuffy automatically by just being there. It's obvious enough that the school building isn’t quite as boring when Hao is around; he lights up a room, as cliché as that is. 

When he gets home, he changes out of work clothes, but keeps them nearby. A lot of the time, they still smell a bit like Hao due to their proximity and time spent together, which helps quiet his very, very loud imprinting bond that likes to nag and nudge. These days he takes about three and a half suppressants, one mid-day while at his desk, because his wolf doesn’t exactly quiet down when Hao is so close by; if anything, it starts getting even more greedy.

Hanbin is lying on his bed, scrolling through his phone and trying to ignore how the tag on the back of his shirt is irritating his neck when a text suddenly comes through. It’s embarrassing how, despite not having Hao’s number saved, he knows it's the omega because, well, Mathew never texts him first. He calls, if anything, or just shows up, and he has his family group chat (both sides) muted to avoid the endless cycle of asking relatives icebreaker questions. That, and the adorable intonation in his text that makes him smile at his phone. Only Hao could do that.

💬 hiii, are u free? ^–^

Hanbin blinks, his scent becoming embarrassingly strong. His wolf’s ears perk up. Eager and stupid, per usual. He then remembers that he offered to help with the musical, not that he told Hao to text him about a date, and that he needs to calm down. Though maybe Hao trusts him enough to call him if something goes wrong. Maybe something has already happened, or he needs Hanbin as soon as possible. He straightens out a bit, eyebrows furrowed as he types out quickly:

💬 right now? yes

There’s a sigh that escapes his lips, worry, all bitter and singed, leaking into his scent. 

💬 is everything okay?

Hao texts back just as fast, which settles something within him. The texts come in a sort of rapid-fire pace, which doesn’t surprise Hanbin too much, considering he’s seen the older type on a keyboard at the speed of lightning when completing lesson plans.

💬 i’m fine!!!!!!!!
💬 i was just wondering if u would be able to meet up somewhere to work on the musical, is all
💬 ofc, if u don’t want to anymore, that’s fine too!!!!!!

No longer worried about an immediate crisis, Hanbin lets out a long sigh, already beginning to stand.

Realistically, he had offered to help, so he isn’t sure why the message is catching him so off guard or why he’s so desperate to just teleport to him now that he knows he’s needed. He notes that, despite Hao’s apparent need for help, considering he's asking, he still allows Hanbin an out. He pouts a bit at the thought; he wants Hao to be more selfish, sometimes, not to worry about being a bother. He hopes the older hasn’t been avoiding texting in hopes of appeasing him, somehow.

He grabs his keys, shooting a text.

💬 what’s your address? I'll pick you up.

💬 i was thinking we could grab coffee while we work?

Coffee? Seriously? Hanbin, all you do is get the guy coffee. He’s probably sick of it. Granted that, Hanbin doesn’t exactly explore the city in his free time, and so he just kind of has five spots he likes to go to. He figured a restaurant wouldn’t be the best place to work, having food in the way and all, and it’s not like they'd have good service at a park or on a nature trail. So this is the best he’s got. 

Two more messages ring through, back to back again.

💬 totally! i would like that :D
💬 They sent a location

Hanbin puts the location into his phone, raising his eyebrows at how close Hao lived; it's under fifteen minutes away, and considering the size of Seoul, he’s rather lucky. It makes sense, given they work at the same place, but, well, he’s heard of people commuting from all over. Luckily, he won’t have to keep Hao waiting, and he’s rather excited to see the omega himself.

During the drive, Hanbin takes the time to watch the snow some more, the crispness settling into his bones the longer the heating in his car takes to actually get warm. He knows Hao is good at his job, way better than Mr. Kim, though that bar is pretty low, in that he gives his all to the students and never expects anything in return. It’s admirable, in a lot of ways, and he suspects that Hao might be overthinking the whole thing. He sends a text when he’s almost there, not wanting Hao to be startled or unprepared for his arrival.

When Hanbin knocks at Hao’s door, it opens so quickly that he thinks Hao may have waited right behind the door, which is a cute thought.

Looking at Hao, now, his breath stutters with such a spontaneity that he nearly gasps. Hao is wearing his sweater—well, not his, but his scented gift from Christmas, which is practically the same thing in his wolf’s eyes. His skin is soft and dewy as the snow’s blinding light reflects on him; he’s glowing, hair soft and neatly brushed, and his big, near-black eyes are meeting his, blinking up at him. 

Fuck.

He feels his heart rate begin to race the longer they look at each other, can feel that one-sided bond strengthening and pulling, rushing over him with the subtlety of a waterfall. He becomes overwhelmed with it, dizzy and breathless. How on earth did he ever get lucky enough to meet someone so perfect? Not perfect in a submissive, bland sense, but in an all-encompassing, bright way—as perfect as the sun.

Hanbin gets a whiff of Hao’s scent and has to hold his breath so that he doesn’t let out a growl then and there. He has to slow down, remember that he was cursed with some lunatic inner wolf that wants to wrap itself around Hao and never let go, instead of being normal about things. So he needs to calm down. Like now.

“Tired?” Hao’s voice cuts through the noise in his head. He blinks, an unease filling him. He didn’t know he looked tired, despite feeling it thoroughly for the past few weeks, and for a moment he thinks to nod, but god—he doesn’t want to get into that right now.

“You’re wearing my gift.” he smiles, his insides melting a little bit. He notices the omega rushing around to grab his things, moving in a flurry of motion. He watches how Hao’s steps are light, bouncing from place to place with an accuracy he should’ve seen coming by now: “You know, I could’ve sworn I had warned you to grab your things before I got here.”

Hanbin watches a light blush form on Hao’s cheek, a little embarrassed quirk of his lips. 

“Well, yes, but I looked like a hot mess,” Hao says, as if he isn’t trying to count to infinity with an answer like that.

An incredulousness fills Hanbin intensely. He’s still not used to it—the way that everything feels so much stronger with Hao. How suddenly touch burns and distance is fidgeting. How his wolf is quick to want to protect, defend, and stay alert. In any other circumstance, he’d simply frown and disagree, and that’s exactly what he’ll do here, too. The difference is that his entire being is rejecting Hao’s statement rather than being slightly miffed. 

His hand is on Hao’s shoulder before he could think about it too long, stabilizing them both, and oh god my scent is getting on him.

“You could never look like a mess, Hao-hyung,” he says, and it comes from something deep within him with such conviction that he has to blink himself out of it, “but I really don’t mind. Do you have all your things?”

“Uhm,” Hao coughs a bit. Hanbin doesn’t blame him; it's his fault for being so obvious and then forcing Hao to break the tension: “Yeah, I do.”

He watches, endeared, as Hao straightens himself out, bag on his shoulder.

“Okay, then,” he says, and they’re off. 

Hanbin can feel Hao’s big eyes scanning everything, just as he always does. He watches the older take in his car—which he had detailed yesterday, but hasn’t put a fresh car-tree in it yet—so hopefully Hao doesn’t mind his scent too much. He notes that Hao is observing his driving skills, so he is sure to go a bit slower and more carefully than he normally would. Precious cargo, after all. Though, despite it all, Hanbin isn’t too big on music. He wouldn’t know what to say if asked his favorite song, though he can admit he’s not too big on rap, so he usually drives in silence. He is aware it can be a bit stifling, but given that Hao is in the car, he didn’t want to come off as a distracted driver or, god forbid, play a song that he likes but Hao hates. His wolf’s fragile ego could hardly take it. In simple, caveman terms, not unlike his inner alpha, he wants to keep his omega happy at all times.

Will you stop saying that?

The cafe is an older spot, but he knows the drinks here are good. It is, interestingly enough, not where he gets Hao his typical work coffee. That building is a bit closer to his house. No, Hanbin chose to come here instead because, besides the rich, high-quality brewed coffee, there are outlets, comfortable chairs, plenty of window seats, and it won’t get too loud where they can’t hear each other as they work. He looks as Hao takes the environment in, and his chest puffs up a little when Hao settles down, not unlike when he saw how comfortable Hao was in his favorite restaurant. He doesn’t know what the exact textbook term would be, but he knows it 100% has to do with him being an alpha, wanting Hao to be comfortable and satiated wherever he takes him.  

He gets in line, already knowing what to order, which is their usuals in a slightly different format. He looks over his shoulder, only to find Hao already looking at him. He turns back before Hao can catch the silly smile growing on his face.

When he sits down, he pulls out his own laptop from its sleeve and opens it, planning on helping Hao with his crisis to a T, even if it takes all night. He even packed a charger. 

“Okay, soldier, the school musical is in two and a half weeks. Is there anything that you need help with ASAP? I know the translations can be a bit tricky…”

“I have all the translations; I just can’t figure out the tone,” Hao says. Hanbin tries (tries!) not to stare at how Hao’s mouth wraps around a straw as he drinks. He’s very normal about it, in fact. He draws his eyes upwards when Hao sighs, sounding a bit tired. Hanbin listens attentively: “I just can’t tell when people are supposed to be angry or sad or whatever they’re feeling.”

Hanbin feels a sort of muddled guilt. How could he have forgotten? Hao wasn’t born here; his accent is slight but true. His intentions are so, so pure. Though Hao never fully explained why he came to Seoul, he seems to have loved every bit of it, and that seems reason enough. Hao fits so naturally here that it's easy to forget how much work Hao puts in to assimilate. He pictures Hao, a boy younger than now, reading a textbook for Korean, or Hao, just a week ago, squinting at his laptop trying to figure out the complexities of intonation in Korean, especially older Korean such as this. It isn’t fair to expect the new hire, a foreigner, to do such hard work. He hopes to god that Hao isn’t overworking himself too much because of the board's oversight.

“Here, you can show me, and I’ll help clarify. Mr. Kim may have been a machine, but no new hire should’ve been given such a hefty load…”

Hao, despite the slight insecurity in his scent as Hanbin looks over his work, is doing exceptionally well. Hanbin finds himself impressed by the sheer thoughtfulness put into the project and the clear amount of time it must’ve taken to make adjustments for the children and to grasp not only what the words mean, but the subtext and deeper, hidden meaning behind sentences. 

Hao is a chugger; even with the straw, the drinks go down rather quickly. Given that Hanbin has been buying Hao his coffee for the past month or so, he is well aware of this fact, and has no problem ordering more lattes for Hao when the older begins loudly sucking on air—not that he’s watching Hao suck on anything too closely, just a glance is enough for his face to feel hot as he offers to go get Hao another one. He knows espresso can be bitter, but the omega’s scent carries a fatigue to it that makes him want to hover and bundle Hao up. However, they’re here to work, so he settles for giving the older a boost. To counter the bitterness, he makes sure to add extra caramel, too. Plus, he likes seeing Hao light up when he realizes his sweet drink has somehow become impossibly sweeter. It’s cute.

However, espresso only does so much, and the fatigue in Hao’s scent, bitter and subtle, starts to tip into exhaustion, heavy and wet, like if mango was mashed up and left on the counter for too long. Hanbin closes their laptops, deciding to converse with Hao, half because Hao was tired, and half simply because he likes hearing the omega speak.

Hanbin stirs his drink—a mango refresher with pineapple popping boba. It doesn’t necessarily taste like Hao’s scent—it’s too artificial and lacks that natural odor every person carries, of skin and sweat—but he enjoys it about as much as he enjoys Hao’s scent when he’s pleased about something, and it gets all sweet and tart, cloying. The problem is that popping boba is a solid, which he hadn’t expected, not in the slightest; he tilts his head at the cup, trying to understand the texture. 

“You ever wonder what it would be like if you were a different subgender? Like, if you were an alpha instead, or a beta—ooo, or an enigma. Like, what if I were an omega and just sucked, like my nests wouldn’t be good and my scent would make people nauseous. Or! Maybe I’m really good at it, like I’m a pro-omega, you know?”

Hanbin is vaguely embarrassed that he’s rambling, but the question has weighed on him for a while; it's the sort of question he wishes he could ask everyone, but it’s considered a bit of a taboo conversation starter, especially considering the social politics of bitching and all.

Luckily, Hao doesn't seem miffed in the slightest; in fact, his scent lightens, a glint in his eyes, and he seems amused above all else.

“Pro-omega?” Hao giggles. Hanbin thinks he’d pay good money to make sure Hao never stops making that noise; it’s melodic, the same way a wind chime can make someone pause to listen. Hao raises a brow at him, making him feel a bit silly.

Hao seems to think for a moment, which pleases Hanbin in that he isn't simply being rushed off or laughed at; perhaps he could recognize the sincerity there, or more likely, it was blaring in his scent without consent.

“I mean, I haven’t really wondered. I guess being an omega always just felt, like, right? I mean, I already knew that I would be an omega way before I presented. I don’t think there’s even another world where I’m an alpha. I mean, could you imagine it?”

Hanbin imagines Hao to be an alpha and has to hold back from grimacing; the entire idea seems so wrong to him. Granted, alphas can’t mark alphas, and Hanbin’s wolf is beyond attached, which may explain the visceral nature of his reaction. He’s been with both betas and alphas in the past; as short-lived as those were, he never minded it or wished they were different, though alpha posturing is a quick way to ruin a relationship for sure. Hanbin doesn’t see himself ever being successful with an alpha; his inner wolf is too whiny and wants control over just about everything, most notably his den. Having another alpha scent in his den 24/7 is a quick way to drive him nuts. 

He settles down with his drink. With everything going on lately, his sentiment remains the same, but really, ever since he presented at 12 and got suspended for using his alpha voice without meaning to, he considered all the downsides and realized that he wished he could get away from it all, at times. 

“Sometimes I think I would be more comfortable being a beta. Their scent doesn’t get all… You know, and they don’t have heats or ruts. They’re definitely less likely to be a victim of instincts. Betas get all this stigma for not being the best option for procreation, but… I think there’s a quiet power in being a beta. Sometimes I’m a bit jealous… but, in a lot of ways, I agree with you. When I presented, I was like ‘oh, this is me, through and through,’ I never doubted it for a second.”

Hao looks at him so carefully, and Hanbin loves and hates it all the same. 

“To be fair,” Hao speaks up, and there’s a relief that comes with the lack of judgement in his tone, “I think that all subgenders have their downsides and their stupid stereotypes. As you said, betas get shit for not having heats or ruts, but when you think about it, omegas and alphas get shit for having them. All the oversexualization, the assumed mood swings… I’m sure you’ve witnessed and been at the end of what I’m talking about.”

Hanbin knew Hao was smart, but the way he managed to continuously prove it never ceased to amaze him. Hao is so composed, open-minded, giving; he feels honored, in a way, to be around someone so conscientious. He smiles, unable to help himself.

“Oh, plenty, I’ve been told by a-many that I must turn into some sort of werewolf when there's a peak in my cycle or a full moon, you know. Just ripping my own shirt and everything,” he mimics the gesture.

It's true, he’ll never forget the first time he’d gone into rut with one of his ex-boyfriends, still young and in high school, and he’d been scared despite Hanbin being on a mild suppressant at the time. He’d trembled as sweat broke out on his forehead. Getting off Hanbin’s bed, he admitted he couldn’t do it despite consenting ages ago.

“Why not?”

“I just—I thought maybe I could do it, you know, with you as a wolf, but I’m scared, babe. I don’t think I can do it, with the fur and claws and—”

Hanbin just laughed and laughed; he knows sex-ed isn’t exactly ideal, the focus being on general education on heats, given they’re more severe and pertain to carrying a child. Ruts weren’t really discussed, but that was just plain stupid. He ended up soloing it out.

“Oh my god, for real?” Hao laughs with him, eyes widening in shock, “And they were completely serious? Like, straight-faced and all? I guess I’ve heard some pretty bad things, too. A lot of people are trying to guess how I sound when I’m in heat. It’s always so shocking to me just how comfortable people are talking about strangers’ sex lives.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Hanbin takes another sip of his drink. “For the record, I’ve never asked anyone how they sound during heat. Though I will admit I couldn’t get past the whole nest thing at first. My ex would stockpile my dirty socks before his heat, and I’d go wash them, because, well—they were dirty and gross. I thought nests were meant to be some pristine sanctuary. Safe to say he was pissed,” he scoffs, his face burning at the memory. He was so embarrassed, clumsily ducking his head while a very fiery omega threw the clean socks at him, calling him a knothead and all the things alike, “we broke it off before his heat even started. Learned my lesson that time around.

Hao’s face twists up, the pineapple in his scent a bit more acid-like, stinging in the air. Disgust filters into his scent as it spikes. 

“Socks?” he repeats, nose crinkling, “I mean, even I would never do that. Socks are all raggedy and stringy and damp half the time. The whole point of a nest is to be comforting, and that… that is not comforting. I promise I’m not commenting on your hygiene, though. I promise.”

Hanbin isn’t surprised; of course, Hao would prefer a clean nest, recently washed laundry and a few scented items. He wouldn’t want a disorganized mess on his bed, given how his attention to detail bleeds into everything else. Hanbin isn’t surprised; it also affects how Hao does his heat. He thinks about the items he’s scented on Hao and notes that Hao is wearing both of them. The bracelet and the sweater. His mind fuzzes out a little, his alpha pleased to see his omega is scented, even if just barely.

“So, no socks for you, then. But bracelets are a go?”

Real subtle, Hanbin. 

He tries not to think too hard about his things being in Hao’s nest during his heat, his scent, presence, Hao thinking about him—

He watches Hao’s face turn a pretty pink, blinking up at him. His voice comes out a little strained, but his scent is stronger. Now, he can taste it. It’s sweet, too, almost like a mango candy instead of the fruit, but it makes his mouth water nonetheless.

“Yeah,” Hao eventually answers.

Hanbin hums. He feels like he can feel every molecule of air on his skin. He isn’t really thinking straight when he touches Hao’s wrist, and it feels like lightning burning, traveling up his arm, rubbing the impossibly soft fabric of Hao’s sweater.

“What about this?” he asks, and the world around him just… washes away. Right now, there’s nothing but him and Hao, Hao’s scent encompassing him—not necessarily that it was flooding the cafe, but him, his senses focused so closely on Hao that everything feels just that much more vibrant. Hao, and their point of contact that seems to just get warmer and warmer the longer he holds on, tingling and poignant. He can feel Hao’s pulse strong and fast, pulsating. His wolf considers jumping for a chase, the adrenaline wafting off the omega too strong, but Hao speaks up before he can completely lose himself.

“That too.”

“Huh,” Hanbin says, ever so eloquently, and leans back to put some space between them. He can smell himself a bit; he can smell their scents mixing—he’s trying to be normal about it: “You know, I usually wouldn’t say this, but, given that we’re close, Hyung, you should know that you have a really nice scent.”

“Is it strong right now?” Hao laughs, and there’s that same insecure note from before. Combined with the way his shoulders go inward a bit, it’s clear he’s nervous about stinking up the place, or maybe it’s the vulnerability that comes with being read via scent. What surprises Hanbin, however, is that Hao doesn’t seem too aware of how he smells right now; there’s a complete innocence to the question that takes him aback. Hao is sitting here, scent curling around him like  a temptress, and he hasn’t a clue in the world—

Hanbin blinks, and despite opening his mouth, nothing comes out for a second.

Hao’s blush expands, deepens into a dusk color, rather than the pastel pink of before.

“A little more than usual, yes, but not like anyone else here is noticing, don’t worry…” he cannot believe Hao’s humility at times; he’d never shut up if he smelled this good, “but it’s… fresh. There’s a lot of heavy, muddled scents out there, mine included. Yours is a lot more decadent in a lot of ways. Can you not tell?”

For a few seconds, Hao looks at him with a sort of awe that makes Hanbin want to melt into the floor. He’s quick to rush out a quick “sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude; I just—I'm never not overtly aware of how I smell, probably a genetics thing.”

“No! You didn't seem rude!” Hao waves his hands in the air, all frantic. His eyes are wide, as if they could get any bigger, and, ironically enough, his scent pulsates out a bit in panic, “I guess I don't really think much of my scent. It's just… there.”

Hanbin snorts; he couldn’t imagine that for himself, never mind Hao’s scent, which seems to contain some hypnotizing properties to it. It’s like when Hao lets out a lot of his scent, Hanbin can’t think. It’s got mythical power over him.

“Well, it’s lovely…” he says honestly, gaze softening the longer he looks at Hao. He wasn’t kidding; the omega really deserves to know, if nothing else, just how incredible he is, scent included: “Are you ready to go? We can meet up again, but I don’t want you to burn yourself out. You can always shoot me a text, too, if it’s just one line you’re stuck on.”

“Ah, yeah.” Hao clears his throat. Cute. He moves in a flurry of motion, packing up quickly yet clumsily all the same. Hanbin feels so endeared he has to bite back the urge to coo, “I'm ready!”

Hanbin didn’t think to take his suppressants with him on a two-hour excursion, but he sure wishes he had. His wolf is loud, needy, and annoying, and won’t shut up about taking Hao and pinning him down to scent him right. Then, when he ignores that, because what the hell, he is punished with a headache. Which is fine, he gets headaches all the time. He just wasn’t specifically prepared for this one.

He drops Hao off quickly before his wolf can throw any more of a fit about not keeping him and taking him to the den. He waves and blushes when he sees Hao wave back, and then he’s… back at home. Just like that.

He soothes his alpha by reminding him that Hao and he work together, and that he’ll see him very soon, and by keeping the clothes he wore today, he's keeping that smell of Hao at the foot of his bed. Oh, and the two suppressants he swallows down. Then his wolf finally goes and takes a nap or something of the like. The quiet in his mind and body is peaceful, and as he relaxes into bed that night, he smiles thinking of how nice today was.

𐙚   fro-yo . .  ྀི

Hanbin hasn't seen Hao in a couple of days.

Which is fine—he knows that, realistically, he’s missed many more days than Hao has recently. Back to back, for nearly a full school week, and he’s certainly over his sick day limit at this point, which is meant to be just a handful of days. So he knows it’s hypocritical to be so… downtrodden about Hao missing a couple of days due to something normal and manageable such as a cold. Something that any adult male is expected to successfully handle alone. 

The problem is that his imprint couldn’t care less about Hao’s independence while sick. As an alpha, imprinted or not, he wants to care for any omega he’s close to while they’re ill. In a traditional sense, it was to make sure the next generation could be born so their pack could thrive, so any alpha, including Hanbin, would feel a slight pull to check in on Hao to make sure he is being fed and resting well. Given that Hanbin has jumped the gun and imprinted on the poor omega, the feeling isn’t an urge that fades away with logic; it is persistent and strong, and puts him on edge to try and constantly ignore this idea that something’s wrong. His wolf is trying to pull him towards his potential mate who’s in distress. How he knows from so far away (his house versus another house that’s fifteen minutes away) is beyond him; it's not like Hao is howling at the moon and he’s howling back—but that’s what it feels like, instinctively, like his omega is calling out to him for help and he’s so disoriented by rationale and privacy that he can't find his way there. That and suppressants are a quick way to make his wolf quiet down.

Day two of Hao’s cold, Hanbin went through the motions just as usual, though today he had an activity where he asked what his students would do with a million dollars and was startled by their admitting they’d donate it or give it to the homeless. He forgets how self-conscious children are. They don’t have bills or insurance fees, so to them there’s very little reason to keep the money besides toys, and many children are taught from a young age that kindness is far more valuable than materialism. Reading the papers, though, it was refreshing to see such innocent perspectives, and he took to heart that he should donate more—not large amounts to name something after himself like the rich tend to do, but the small things, like rounding his order at a store or shoving money into the small donation boxes at the counters of some establishments. 

When he gets home, he notes that Matthew is already at his house.

He opens his door, and sure enough, Matthew is sitting on his couch like he was born here. Mathew doesn’t give him the liberty of a greeting, just waves. Maybe if they were roommates, it would be less disorienting, but they’re not roommates, given Matthew's notable lack of contribution to rent. And room. Matthew doesn’t have a room here, and no, sleeping on the floor of his bedroom doesn’t count.

“I’m not feeding you dinner just because you broke into my house, Matthew-ah.”

Matthew sticks his tongue out at him—brat—but continues scrolling on his phone. Hanbin goes to sit next to him, sighing; he needs time to decompress after work before socializing. Matthew will understand that his quiet isn’t malicious; he always does.

He’s just barely relaxed into the cushions before his phone goes pff.

💬 hiii, are u free? 🥹 i promise i'm not contagious anymore

Hanbin blinks his eyes open, looking at his phone, trying to ignore how his scent is spiking at the omega's message. Given that it’s Hao’s first sign of life in a couple of days, the keyword is try. His alpha had been irrationally paranoid up to this point, clawing inside of him, hoping that Hao was okay, that Hao hadn’t fallen (like he has), or lain in bed feeling too nauseous to stand (like he’s done). Though he can’t disprove any of what happened from the message, he can most certainly take comfort in knowing Hao is probably okay now. Probably. Maybe... what if Hao is sitting at home and he’s texting because he needs help, and Hanbin is selfishly assuming that Hao just wants to see him?

His thumbs make sure to move at lightning speed as he texts back.

💬 i am very free

💬 the free-est 

💬 is everything alright? I can come make you soup if you’re still sick, no need to push yourself.

Calm down, he scolds himself to no avail.

Hao’s message comes through just as quickly. He smiles, knowing that they're both jumping onto the opportunity to talk to each other, as if they don’t see each other enough already.

💬 i'm okay i promise <333 i'm feeling a lot better!

💬 i'm just rlly stuck on these stupid notes for this stupid song

Hanbin bites his lip. He can tell Matthew’s attention is drawn to him because his scent just keeps sweetening with no signs of slowing down. Now, his very nosy ‘roommate’ is trying to peek at his phone, and he cannot coo for the sake of his dignity, as cute as it is to picture Hao, face twisted in confusion, pencil tapping his lips. Maybe he puts his hair up in a headband or a silly little ponytail to get the hair away from his face. At home and working, Hao is one of his favorite mental images of the omega.

He thinks for a moment, considering Hao might catch on to his lack of social prowess if they go for more coffee; he tries to think of a different secondary location. Something more fun.

He lands on ice cream—somewhere indoors, though, with tables and windows, preferably. Though he can’t think of any ice cream places that wouldn’t have windows, anyway, it's a silly concern to have. He turns to Google, quickly searching and swiping through different places before landing on a fro-yo place nearby. That way, Hao can take a moment to enjoy his ice cream and get a nice break from the hours of work Hanbin is confident the omega has been doing lately, a mood booster, and some help from Hanbin. It would be quiet and simple, and he’d get to see Hao smile while eating his treat.

💬 aw, okay. how about we go out for some ice cream? I know a good fro-yo spot.

Matthew’s voice cuts through his deep thought like a machete. It makes him genuinely flinch despite the omega not being very loud.

“What's that? Ice cream?” 

Shit.

“Fro-yo, actually,” he corrects despite the fact it shouldn’t matter very much, “Hao and I—”

“I’m coming,” Matthew declares before Hanbin can explain that it’s for Hao to work on the musical.

“No, you’re not; Hao needs help—”

But Matthew is already standing to put his shoes on.

Hanbin looks at Matthew for a minute, contemplating taking the younger down, but he knows that’s not exactly warranted nor kind. Chances are,  Matthew wouldn't drive himself there if Hanbin absolutely refused him. He’d been seen straight through his ruse and told that he can’t just prevent Hao from seeing people and to not be such a possessive loser.

He samples out a few texts, each of them sounding wrong in a unique way.

Btw, Matthew is coming lol

Too direct and rude. He should be asking Hao, not informing him.

My friend really wants to see you.

Creepy.

Hey, so if you don't mind, Matthew just completely invited himself, and I was powerless to stop him. Well, not powerless, but, you know. He's persistent, sorry. Maybe we go somewhere else and throw him off? That's rude though, well if you want to just tell me—

Too wordy.

He finally settles on something socially acceptable.

💬 Fair warning, my friend Matthew might be joining us

💬 he doesn’t like being told: "No, it’s private.”

💬 completely foreign concept to him

💬 if you want I can always tell him no again; he’s harmless, though.

Hao’s response is pleasantly underwhelming. 

💬 idm!! so long as u don't either ^–^

Hanbin goes outside, Matthew already in the passenger seat of his car. In fact, the car was already turned on, AC blasting. Matthew looks completely unbothered, checking his email on his phone. Hanbin walks up to Matthew, waits until he rolls down the window, and gives him a flat look.

“Dude, get in the back before I punch you.”

Matthew smiles like he knows that it’s because Hanbin doesn't want Hao riding in the back of his car. After all, that's just too far away for his inner wolf to handle. Honestly, Matthew probably did guess exactly that. Not that Hanbin would admit to it. The younger doesn’t argue, though, buckling into the back seat.

When Hanbin pulls up to Hao’s place, he instructs Matthew to stay in the car and is met with an eye roll. Stupidly enough, he gets nervous after knocking, worried that Hao might still be sick and understating it, and now he’s encouraging him to go out and work—

When Hao opens the door, it’s like everything in him quiets.

Seeing Hao for the first time in a while, knowing he wasn’t feeling well, makes him surge forward without thought; all he can think is that he needs to be close, now, needs to make sure his omega is okay. Just in case, there’s a sense of relief in him, everything buzzing with anticipation fading just slightly. When he moves, he doesn’t think it all the way through, and suddenly he can feel Hao’s soft skin on his palm.

Fuck. Fuck. 

Hao’s scent has a magnetic pull—he can’t help himself, just once, just this—he needs it. He needs Hao to smell like him and to smell like Hao. The urge consumes him until he can’t think, ‘til it’s all he wants and all he can do. Somehow, he managed to hold back, just barely, just enough to get a taste. It’s torture; it’s wonderful; he could do this forever, get drunk on it, live in this moment, feeling mango flood his nose and coat his tongue. 

“Miss me?” Hao asks, and he hardly registers the question.

I want to suck the scent out of your neck like a vampire. 

Hanbin hums, continuing to scent the omega, then he remembers that he’s supposed to talk. Dazed, he pulls away, smiling at Hao clumsily.

“Yeah, I did,” he says, and means it; every day that Hao wasn’t at work was pure torture. He knows he’s one to talk, but it truly was awful: “Are you ready to go?”

Hao looks at him, and something in Hanbin’s wolf settles. Hao looks completely relaxed.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Matthew perks up at seeing Hao approach the car, waving excitedly. Hanbin tries his best not to roll his eyes. Matthew is lucky that Hao is the nicest person ever born, given that he invited himself. Hao seems happy to see him, though, so Hanbin isn’t too disgruntled. 

“Hi, Hao-hyung!” 

“Hi, Matthew-ssi,” he responds politely, bowing his head a bit as he gets settled into the passenger’s seat.

After they walk into the fro-yo spot, Hanbin needs a second. Nothing against either of them, just that Hao was so close in his car, which is fine—it’s a car. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he’d specifically set it up for Hao to be in the passenger seat, but god, it’s tantalizing and humiliating, the lack of control he has; he wants to take Hao and roll around with him in a bed surrounded by Hao’s scent. He freezes in realizing that what he’s thinking of is Hao’s nest—he wants to be in Hao’s nest. He sets his coat down on the table, not willing to sweat it out despite it having Hao’s scent on it. On a worse day, he would seem to have pretty poor reign over his imprint as the days pass.

It’s not that he expected the suppressants to work forever, or even as perfectly as they have been, but he wasn’t ready for how demanding the imprint can be, how shameless and wanton with need it is. It makes him flush all over. 

He tries not to do so much, but can’t help but scent Hao again while in line for froyo, just barely, hardly. A brief hold in passing—god, this is such a slippery slope. Not once in health class was he ever taught that scents can be so addictive that they could hold this much power over someone. 

He doesn’t really pay too much attention to what flavors he’s getting, sort of going through the motions. It’s not until way, way too late that he realizes he got lemon with his marshmallow flavor instead of peanut butter, and now he has some abysmal concoction of lemon-peanut butter chocolate in his cup due to his topping choice. He decides to embrace it, screw it.

When they sit back down, he sees how Hao glances at his laptop and speaks up.

“Finish your ice cream first, hm?”
He’s met with a quiet nod, unnoticed by Matthew, who is eating his ice cream at an impressive speed. He feels like a spool of wool is unraveling in his chest, too fast to be stopped, messy and uncontrollable. He looks at Hao as he takes a bite of his durian-flavored fro-yo and lights up just the way Hanbin had imagined. 

There’s silence between everyone, and maybe if Hanbin knew the relationship between these two better, it wouldn’t have felt so awkward. He had a minor fear that this would happen. So he looked up some silly questions on the way to Hao’s house, sue him. It’s about to pay off now, though. 

“If you had to choose between having infinite free fro-yo for life or never having to pay for pizza again, what would you choose?” he asks, and he can see how Hao sees through him, amusement in his eyes—and scent. Hanbin watches Hao think it over, and suddenly everything feels sharper as his attention locks onto the omega, the way he smells, the quirk of his lips and fluttering of his lashes and shit—shit.

There’s a ringing in his ears, and a strong sense of vertigo overtakes him. He closes his eyes briefly, but it’s of no help. Luckily, it subsides just as fast as it comes on.

Surprisingly enough, though, Hao shows mercy on him in entertaining his questions, seeming to hum as he mulls it over. 

“Go on, I’m dying to know here.”

Hao pouts—which is lethal, really. They need a few laws and regulations because Hanbin cannot keep surviving this. 

“Fro-yo,” Hao answers, and immediately Hanbin thinks there’s no other answer more correct. He has to look away when Hao’s lips wrap around a spoonful of froyo again, his body still not being able to handle the sight quite yet: “It’s healthier. Plus, I’m biased right now because it’s making my throat feel a thousand times better.”

Hanbin thinks Hao is the cutest person to ever live. If he looks any longer, he may implode. He decides to offer his mind some mercy by focusing on Matthew, who will no doubt have an opinion on the matter.  

“Matthew, what do you think?”

“Pizza,” Matthew answers, just as Hanbin figured he would. What an interesting conflict, his favorite people disagreeing on the most mundane things. He simply sits back and watches the two argue, “You know how many leftovers that would have? That’s, like, infinite meals forever!”

“You wouldn’t get sick of it?” Hao asks, and he’s so, so sweet of all things. He coughs a bit while messing with his fro-yo, which Matthew is entirely unfazed by—and logically, it makes sense, since Hao has just recovered from a cold, but Hanbin can’t help the way worry spikes in his scent: “At least froyo has different flavors.”

“Hao-hyung, no offense, but I don’t think you should be talking about flavors as an argument point when you have durian in front of you,” Matthew grimaces.

Hanbin tries really, really hard not to go all overboard with defending Hao, because the conversation is not meant to be that serious. In fact, it's the least serious conversation he’s had in a while. There’s no reason why his world is so angry about Hao being mildly insulted in a conversation about durian froyo, but it is. He can feel the anger brewing in his gut and setting his entire body aflame. He bites the inside of his cheek. Calm down, he reminds himself; it’s not that serious; Matthew didn't mean it. In the split seconds between seeing red and speaking, Hanbin thinks he does an impressive job controlling his response. 

“Durian is a very respectable flavor, I’ll have you know,” Hanbin lets his hand rest on Hao, grounding and protective, “and I asked him first, anyway."

“You think so?”

“Dude.”

They respond at the same time, but with the way that Hao blinks up at him—god—it takes a moment to register that Matthew doesn’t agree with him on the whole impressive save thing. Hanbin blinks at him, almost like a dare for him to keep pushing, before easing into the next question: cats or dogs?

“Oh, most definitely,” Hanbin says, a light scoff in his voice, “no doubt about it. I was just thinking, though—”

Hanbin sees the moment Ricky walks through the door, though Ricky gives him a quick “shh” signal so as not to ruin the surprise. Hanbin appreciates the gesture so that his wolf doesn’t claw out Ricky’s chest for invading his omega’s space during a private moment, though he suspects Ricky was more worried about getting to surprise Hao than about not surprising Hanbin.

Ricky ducks down into Hao’s field of vision, and Hanbin successfully suppresses a growl at the way fear pierces Hao’s scent and fades away.

Ricky looks smug, per usual, as he glances around the table with narrowed eyes. Hanbin takes a bite of his fro-yo, amused and a bit miffed. 

“Ohhh, oh okay, I see what this is. Is this a no-one invite Ricky party? You guys bond over not having me here? All boring and lonesome?”

“Ricky!” Hao just about yips, turning away from Hanbin to cough again. Hanbin lets his eyes linger on Hao for a bit, wanting to be sure the omega is okay, before he drags his eyes up to Ricky, who doesn't seem genuinely hurt by being left out but is eager to invite himself nonetheless. He supposes he can’t complain; Matthew is the same way.

“Oh, you.”

“Yes, me,” Ricky says confidently. Hanbin tries not to roll his eyes. Matthew doesn’t seem to mind how Ricky places himself next to him, chair clattering as he sits down quickly. His scent, cinnamon, Hanbin notes, curls in mild curiosity and happiness. Something about Matthew looks to please Ricky, which helps explain the way he gets excellent treatment upon meeting compared to Hanbin, “and you are?”

“I’m Matthew,” he answers energetically, practically glowing. Hanbin gets it; he was charmed by Matthew too, so when Ricky’s scent sweetens and begins smelling more like cinnamon donuts, he’s not really surprised—a little jealous that Ricky never seems that joyous around him, but still, unsurprised. Ricky daps Matthew up and the cusp sound, combined with the smoothness of their movements, seals the deal. 

Hanbin diverted his attention to Hao, who looked tired, a bit of hollowness sitting behind his eyes, and his lips cracked. He watches the older blink a bit slower, no doubt due to the cold he’d fought off. He can’t help his irrational, overbearing concern more than any other bodily function. It's simply ingrained in him now. He feels the way Hao’s skin shivers at the contact, noticing him pause for a second before meeting his gaze. God, he’s so adorable. 

“You okay?” Hanbin asks because he can’t help himself. As easy as it would be to see Hao’s slight pout at the question and take it back, the idea of Hao forcing himself to go out and work with a cough and sore throat simply made him concerned: “You’re still coughing. I don’t want to make you work while sick; just be honest with me, Hyung, yeah?”

“I’m not still sick, I promise—” promise, so sweet, like the cherry on top of a sundae pie. Hao’s scent gives away how truthful he’s being: “—I’m just recovering. It was a really nasty cold, so I know it doesn’t seem like it, but… I have no reason to lie.”

Hanbin clicks his tongue, satisfied that Hao is okay, that he’s helping Hao recover. 

Ricky’s voice interrupts his thoughts, all drawn out and snarky. Apparently, while he wasn’t paying attention, Ricky has been trying to corrupt his best friend into his ways. 

“Look who’s back with us. Aren’t these two the best, Matthew? You get to watch them go all cross-eyed looking at each other.” Ricky raises his eyebrows, trying to start a ruse.  Matthew shoots a quick look to Hanbin, and he looks away, a smirk pulling on his lips. Sorry, Matthew, you gotta deal with Ricky yourself.

Matthew, however, is a total traitor and plays into it.

“Ugh, they’re the worst,” Matthew complains so loudly that Hao winces a bit, brows pulling together, “I swear they never stop. One moment of silence and all of a sudden they’re all over one another, completely out of this world.”

Hanbin shoots Hao a look, a don’t listen to him, he’s stupid look, before he frustratingly (lovingly) calls them both out for their high treason and conspiring ways, “you,” he points to Ricky, “are jealous because I’m hogging Hao’s time, and you,” he points at Matthew with a staggering amount of power, “have a vendetta against me and my graces. The two of you shouldn’t have met; it’s a universal error,” he punctuates his sentence with a bite of froyo to hopefully stop him from getting too worked up. Stupidly enough, it works. 

Ricky looks at him, just delighted at Hanbin’s outburst like the rage-baiter he is. 

“Oh, trust me, I’m not jealous of whatever you two have going on,” he says, an upside-down smile gracing his face, “but it’s cute you think that.”

“Ricky,” Hao hisses out. Hanbin smiles. Any more irritation and Hao’s eyes probably would have flashed blue. He shoots Ricky a nasty look, much like a mother scolding her pup. He looks at Hanbin apologetically, big eyes only getting bigger. Hanbin thinks he’s going to be swallowed whole by Hao’s eyes alone. He resists the urge to coo, “I don’t know why he’s acting so… standoffish. I apologize on his behalf. He’s no better than our students.”

Ricky sticks his tongue out, further proving Hao’s point.

Hanbin doesn’t hear what Ricky has to say; in fact, he doesn’t hear much of anything. Suddenly, the ringing is back, and it’s piercing in its volatility; there’s pressure in his head and between his ears that makes him dizzy once more, intense enough to make his stomach roll. There’s this split second where his stomach clenches down, and he realizes in horror that it isn't the typical nausea he feels throughout the day as the suppressant's half-life dwindles. No, this is the nausea that makes him sweat and shake and chuck up whatever he’d managed to scrounge down. This was, in his mind, an emergency. His adrenaline kicks in, his entire body vibrating. Fuck, he’s so fucked. He hates this—he hates that he's drugging himself and dealing with the consequences because his body doesn’t know what to do with Hao besides scream at him to hide the omega away and sink his teeth into his neck. He hates that this couldn’t just be a normal day between them, that he has to be sick. 

His stomach clamps down again, and he tries to suppress the wince that strangles him between his teeth. 

“One second,” Hanbin blurts, making a run to the toilet. 

Please, please, please—his mind begs him as he shoves his way into the bathroom stall. He’s so desperate not to throw up that he nearly begins praying; it never gets any easier. He’d rather stay here, writhing in pain and clammy, than feel the bile escape up his throat. He can't do it; he can’t do this—

With only a groan as a warning, he gags, convulsing, and the fro-yo makes its way back up into the toilet in its chocolate-lemon glory. The color is disgusting, and the smell is so awful that it causes him to retch again. It hurts, and it's raw and ugly.

There's no one else in the restroom, thank god. For a terrifying moment, he worries that someone followed him, but luckily enough, no one had; they must be keeping each other company out there, anyway. Which is good, as he scrambles up so that his back is against the wall next to the toilet and just breathes, trying desperately to mentally gaslight his imprint that he’s almost there, that being near Hao is a good thing, and that their omega was safe, that they were protecting Hao. For a second, he really believed himself, and the pounding in his chest subsided, if barely. 

Coming back into the main area, every light just seems that much brighter. He feels so on edge, like everything in him is going at a hundred miles per hour and won’t stop. He notices that Hao is looking at his hands, which are shaking, and shoves them deep into his pants pocket, praying Hao won’t ask about it later.

He smiles—half as a lie, yes, because he feels like death warmed over, but also because of the way everyone looks at him with different expressions on their faces, all expecting him to say something. He feels like a true alpha in that moment, leading his pack—

Shut up. 

Hanbin speaks up with the intention of starting on Hao’s musical so that he can do the service he came here in mind for and then go home. Poor Hao has been sick and working hard on this play, and he’s the one who jumped at the opportunity to help. It would be rude to cut the hangout short now.

“As much as I love watching Ricky get his entertainment by baiting us—”

“Do not,” Ricky huffs.

Hanbin blinks, not expecting his transition statement to be interrupted. The red-haired omega's scent is still light, a dead giveaway that he doesn't hate Hanbin as much as he pretends to.

“Do too, you probably made a joke about me being lactose intolerant,” he quips back.

Ricky looks at him closely, eyes narrowing. Hanbin feels like he’s being dissected in that moment, as if Ricky could see through all his problems, his illness, suppression, war with his inner wolf. Like Ricky could smell the undercurrent of medication and strong fatigue in his scent. He feels like he's no longer opaque, every atom buzzing inside him suddenly open for the world to see. Ricky’s lips part, eyebrows furrowing, and for an awful moment Hanbin assumes the worst—

“Well, I did,” he says, and Hanbin feels his body relax, just barely, “what are you, psychic?”

“Anyways,” Hanbin says, “I’m ready to help you work on the musical, Hyung.” he smiles at Hao, moving to sit down.

Hao moves with his planned transition smoothly, which makes his wolf wag its tail a bit. It’s so painfully archaic, the way he’s pleased with an omega that obeys him. It makes him cringe at his own instinctual thoughts. 

“Alright,” Hao smiles up at him kindly, moving to grab his laptop out of his bag and opening the document that's starting to become familiar to Hanbin, circling his cursor around two measures. Hanbin leans in, crowding the older’s space a little, “I feel like this is way too difficult for a kid to replicate, but when I checked in with the principal about how much I could change notes-wise, it was a very… strict amount. Everything else is free rein, apparently, which makes this a lot harder than I was worried about.”

Hanbin hates how, the more Hao talks about the administration, the tighter their grip seems to have become. They are relentless in that the musical must be exemplary, not offering any leeway considering he’s a foreigner who wasn't expecting this, or that he had been hired recently and couldn’t have possibly begun planning any sooner than he had. Hanbin thinks for a moment, knowing Hao was willing to lose sleep on his recovering body trying to figure something, anything out for the higher-ups to approve, just for it to be rejected in favor of the ‘original plan.’ Maybe this is why Mr. Kim was so grumpy, the musical and the musical alone.

Hao is so good-natured that, when he comes up with the idea, he hopes that Hao’s moral compass isn't strong enough to turn it down. 

“You could always cheat, just a little,” Hanbin pinches his thumb and index finger together, holding back a giggle at the way Hao’s eyes light up at the word cheat, as if they’re teenagers suggesting sneaking out, “if we record the high-note done by another kid, any kid, or find a clip online, we could make the kid sing with a hidden backtrack. It’ll be a secret kept between us, of course.”

Hao’s scent turns conflicted, and he looks doubtful as he thinks over Hanbin’s idea, but luckily he doesn't fully reject it.

“Well, it would definitely have to be a clip from online… I guess I just feel a bit guilty, too. I mean, am I prioritizing how the show comes out more than I am the experience for the kids?”

Hanbin thinks that Hao is the purest soul that could be conjured up by a divine being. This must be Hao’s first go-around; his optimism is contagious and beautiful in his considerations. Never in a million years would a thought like that cross his mind—not that he’s selfish, but that Hao is so exuberant and willing to give that he shines bright in his kindness. And the worst part is? He doesn’t seem to have the slightest clue.

Hanbin has to compose himself a bit before he talks, though he’s sure everyone in the shop can smell how his scent explodes in admiration.

“Oh, that's really sweet of you to consider, but don’t break your back trying to do everything for these kids. It’s one high note, and it’s to keep you from getting in trouble. I promise you, you are the least selfish person I’ve ever met, and the kids will enjoy themselves no matter what…” he smiles, a blush creeping up on his nape, “I’ll find a clip real quick, but, based on what I see here, Hao, you’re doing one hell of a job all on your own.”

“I’d hope so,” he sighs heavily, shaking his head a bit, “I am so ready for this to be over. The only thing getting me through this is knowing they’re paying me extra at the end of it all.”

Hanbin is completely captivated despite Hao’s practical complaint. 

“Oh, so I get a 70% cut, right?” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We could combine our finances instead, if you want the money so bad,” Hao says casually, not even looking at him as he says it—like it’s no big deal, because it’s not, because it’s a joke and he needs to get a grip.

He can play it cool too, then.

“Oh, most definitely.”

Matthew leaves with Ricky at the same time, saying that he’s catching a ride. Hanbin can’t say he saw it coming; they’d just met, but Ricky is Hao’s friend, so it's not like Matthew was going home with a stranger. He gives Ricky a deep look as the omegas scamper off, and finds that Ricky just smiles back at him, which says enough.

They stay in the shop far past closing, which is incredibly embarrassing. He can’t help it, though—watching Hao is a complete timesuck. Hao with the sunlight dancing on his shoulders, Hao with snow reflecting in his eyes. Hao groans at nuanced mistakes and errors. Hao is blinking up at him prettily and saying thank you every time Hanbin helps correct something, or gives a suggestion, or says they should take a break. Naturally, Hanbin completely missed how it went from a light-purple sky to dark. The workers aren’t mad; in fact, they seem amused and curious about their relationship, if anything. Hanbin bows so that his head nearly grazes the floor and tips them each ₩30,000.

Hanbin had this silly, romantic idea of walking Hao to the car after their work session. He'd open Hao’s door for him, and Hao would look up at him with those sweet eyes… but as the cold night air hits him, his body, overmedicated and unhelpful, causes him to trip over his feet and nearly lunge with how far apart his legs end up. There’s a beat where he feels embarrassed, but then he sees Hao's expression, where his mouth is nearly on the floor in shock, and he bursts out into laughter. He’s wheezing, and really it wasn’t that funny, but Hao cracks a smile too, which only makes him feel better. In all his joy, he ends up forgetting all his gentlemanly gestures and worries of sieve while driving. He'd be distracted either way, anyway. 

At a red light, with the glow washing over Hao, Hanbin thinks he looks mythical, and—before he can stop himself—he brushes his nose along the omega’s neck, gulping in his scent and letting the pineapple-mango sit in the back of his mouth. Hao doesn't say anything, just looks at him softly, and it makes all his second guesses disappear. 

When he waves goodbye, he smiles once more, knowing he’ll see Hao at work the next morning, and for a second he wonders how on earth his wolf could ever ask for more than this.

𐙚   the cat cafe . .  ྀི

Hanbin wouldn’t exactly say he’s getting better. 

Though “better” is an odd choice, because in a medical sense, better would be not having a bond with Hao anymore, and that is simply never going to happen. Not only does he care far too much about Hao to simply become cold towards him, but his wolf is insistent and unkind in its clingy nature that only continues to grow as the days go on and his tolerance for suppressants grows stronger. So, in that way, he’s most certainly getting worse. He wouldn’t say he’s doing awful, either, just small shifts. The kind that makes him blink at his own actions and swallow down his own growls. Sure, he gets dizzy sometimes, and headaches are now a close friend of his, and sometimes he pukes up breakfast and dinner, and so maybe he’s losing sleep but—

Hanbin wouldn’t say he’s doing badly, either. He’s just… intense. The more that the imprint makes itself known, the more clingy he’s gotten. Needy. Waking up at odd hours, coated in sweat and canines exposed, dreams of soft skin under his touch and mango stinging his nose. He wants to be by Hao at all hours of the day, frequently checks into his classroom, wants to touch Hao constantly, and wants to crawl up under his cute long-sleeve shirts and merge with him, feel the skin-to-skin warmth and envelope him in his scent. He tries, really tries, to ignore all his unsavory and primal thoughts. He tries to be normal, to just be the nice coworker who's willing to help. 

He likes to think he’s being subtle about the scenting. He doesn’t wince or cry out when Hao doesn't smell like him, or, god forbid, like someone else, even if he really, kind of sort of wants to. He doesn’t scent Hao for too long, or kiss or lick at his glands despite his mind's endless images of how wondrous that would be. It’s always brief, and despite the inherent intimacy that comes with scent marking, he’s almost professional with his efficiency. His wolf is, in simple terms, addicted, and he only doses himself enough to avoid withdrawals. 

Hanbin isn’t sure if it's a cultural difference or sheer luck that Hao doesn’t seem to mind, even scenting him back on rare occasions. They don’t talk about it, and he’d honestly rather not. Sometimes he catches Hao’s curious eyes or the way they stare at each other a beat too long, but it simply never comes up in conversation, thank god.

Today, Hao looks so soft around the edges—he’s wearing a knitted cashew-colored sweater and a soft pair of wide-legged pants. He has marker ink on his hands and that joyous look in his eyes. He’d seen the omega this morning, but the sight still takes his breath away when he sees it. 

Hao’s voice is bright and cheerful, and so is his scent. When Hanbin enters the break room, Hao is quick to move from his spot and get close to Hanbin, standing so, so close and god, he smells so fucking good—

“Hanbin-ah! Do you want to go to a cat cafe? With me? Please?” 

Hanbin doesn’t think he’d say no even if he had to choose between that and a million bucks, but he pretends to think it over, just for the love of the game, before simply being honest.

“Of course,” he smiles, “fair warning, though, I’m not exactly sensible around cats. I know I seem all cool and collected now, but,” he clicks his tongue, “be prepared to let that image of me go…” 

Hao just smiles, and his scent spikes, and Hanbin has to shave down the urge to shove his nose into Hao’s neck because it’s so ripe and fresh and—

He settles for rubbing his wrist on the edges of Hao’s coat, quiet and hardly noticeable from the outside looking in.

Hanbin takes extra suppressants that day in the afternoon; he doesn’t want to run into the same issue as last time, when he had to go throw up in the bathroom. Whether it was a side effect of the suppressants or the unreciprocated bond between his wolf and Hao’s, he isn’t 100% sure, but he figures that taking more suppressants may help ward off any symptoms of anything for at least a couple of hours while they’re together. 

Once he gets home, his wolf is anxious and jumpy to reconnect with the omega, especially as his scent begins to fade off Hanbin’s clothes, if just barely. His alpha is outrageous in its needs and wants, god, it just wants all the time. It wants everything, greedy and insatiable, and hard to bargain with.

Hanbin doesn’t want to admit it to himself, even, but he decides to wait until Hao messages him to do anything, given that it was Hao who invited him out. Still, he spends a good amount of that time pacing and covering his own den in his scent. When Hao texts him about leaving soon, his wolf doesn't accept that Hao might drive himself to the cat cafe, or god— what if he walks? It’s so cold outside. He thinks of how Hao doesn't really dress for the weather. Cute, yes, practical, no. The omega doesn't even wear a coat, some days. Hanbin grabs his scarf on the way out the door; in the worst case, it’ll lie in the backseat of the car and get mildly covered in Hao’s scent. In the best case, Hao wears it and smells like Hanbin. He doesn’t really see a downside.

 He gets into the car and heads towards the omega’s house, sending a quick text back.

💬 are you ready?

💬 sorry  to overstep, but i’m already on my way

💬 :)

Hao messages back just as fast.

💬 yeah, i’m ready!! and it’s no problem <3

When Hanbin knocks on Hao’s door, wind whips his face with the cold, and Hao looks up at him; he stops breathing.

Seeing Hao outside of work will not amaze him. It is as if Hao is always put together and glowing; seeing him is like watching a rainbow light fractal off a diamond, beautiful and satisfying and perfect, the science and art merging into something otherworldly. With startling clarity, he thinks I want to bite him. He tries to shake the thought off, but it doesn’t go away. His mouth fills with saliva, and he has to tear his eyes away from Hao’s neck because what the hell- what the actual—

Mate.

Shut. Up.

He hands Hao his scarf before he starts crying at how incessant his imprint can be, how not even a whole bottle of pills is enough reason to get through to his stupid wolf. 

“I figured you might have forgotten to dress warmly, even if it's a short trip to the car. The temperatures this time of year are no joke,” he frowns, noting Hao’s delicate fingers that will no doubt go numb in the cold, “I should’ve gotten you gloves too.”

“I’ll be alright,” Hao says, soft and sweet.

Hanbin forgets to respond, mind fixed at the sight of Hao’s coat. His entire face goes aflame, letting out a strangled ‘kay, let’s go” and hurrying out to the car, hoping the cold snow will help cool down his blush, if barely.

Hanbin, between the pacing, didn’t look up at the cat cafe like any sane person would; he just took Hao’s word for it because he’s a weak man. Yet when Hao mentions the street name, he has no problem navigating down that way, despite his few tries before. He drives a bit more carefully, more carefully than last time, even knowing that there’s ice on the roads. 

When they arrive, and Hanbin catches sight of the Christmas lights outside the small yellow brick building, there's an excitement in his chest that causes his scent to go wild, joy wafting off of him and making him smile. He gets out of the car quickly, not even locking the door before running up to the building the way a child runs up to the cages at a zoo. He’s so, so excited. He knew as soon as Hao asked he’d go; hell, if Hao canceled, he’d go alone. He loves cats, and sure enough, before they go inside, there’s one already perched at the window, and he can’t help the squeal that leaves him.

When they sit down, Hanbin can't help but continue to appreciate how warm it is here, so adorable and perfect, just like Hao. It makes sense that the omega would pick a place that is basically him as a building personified.

“This place is so cozy, Hao; you picked well. Puts my places to shame.”

“You put thought into yours, though,” Hao is quick to defend him, which, stupidly enough, makes him smile, “this was all spontaneous on my end. I just saw a video and wanted to go with someone, and you came to mind first.”

Now, Hanbin is smiling like a fool; he can smell his own spike in his scent in excitement, brightening. He sits up a little straighter. “Yeah?” he says, “that’s okay, I think of you when I see certain things too…”

Hanbin is putting his own foot in his mouth, but he can’t stop himself. If Hao asked, he’d cut himself open and expose every part of his being to him. Everything but… the one thing, but still. He’d expose his inner thoughts, his impulsivities and hypotheticals. He’d let Hao listen to everything he’d hidden behind clenched jaws and whispered prayers, if Hao asked. He’s eager for Hao to know him, recognize him, look for him in a crowded room, to be his. 

“Really?” Aw, his mind helpfully supplies, Hao's eyes lighting up with such simple joy, he looks a lot like the cats around here, just now, “like what? Nothing bad, I hope. 

“The sky,” he says simply, “or the horizon, or, like, a field… when nature is just… quiet,” Hanbin confesses honestly, because it’s true. Hanbin thinks of Hao when looking at the sky all the time, during the day, evening, and night. When the sun is warming his skin and letting flowers bloom, or when the moon is comforting him through the windows of his car. When snow lands on him and melts, or when the wind tousles his hair and whistles through chimes. 

“That’s good, I’m guessing?” 

Hanbin feels his face warm, realizing how atypical his answer is, but he sticks with it because he’d meant it, and he wants Hao to know, “Yeah, it is.”

Hanbin listens to Hao carefully when he talks about the menu and helps him choose his drink, and then promptly copies Hao’s order because he’d spent so much time helping Hao pick that he had no idea what he wanted. It’s not that Hao has bad orders for coffee; he just typically drinks his coffee strong, with creamers and sugar, not… lattes. As the drinks arrive, though, his eyes widen. They’re huge, like ridiculously huge; no human person should ever have this much sugar, given the cinnamon sprinkled on top of whipped cream and the overall pale color of the drink. He eyes it skeptically. 

“I don’t think we’re finishing these,” he says, a little breathless. He knows for sure that he can’t finish something like this in a million years. Perhaps he could give the rest to Hao. 

“I think you’re underestimating my ability to chug coffee,” Hao answers with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and yeah, he could see Hao finishing it no problem, now that he thinks about it.

When a small orange cat with white streaks on it pounces onto Hao’s lap, he is filled with so much fondness at the sight that he melts right there. He is nothing but a puddle on the floor now. Hao has completely charmed him so powerfully that he has ceased to exist. It’s his two favorite things in the world: two cats curling into each other. Hao nurtures the kitten so effortlessly that Hanbin can see how Hao came to be a teacher, the kindness in him, and the care. 

More distractingly, the cat, the cutest, fluffiest cat with big eyes and omgomgomg.

Hanbin knows he’s making a fool of himself, the way he calls for the cat as if it could care in the world for his begging. The cat looked at him, a flat look on his face, almost bored. It reminds him of how Matthew will face him with a blank stare after he says something stupid. He continues pestering the animal, with little scuttles and cooks, growls. Suddenly, he lets out a real growl, which really doesn’t help his case with the cat.

He lets his nails scrape at the back of his neck in hopes of telling his wolf to calm down. The cat turns away from him.

“Sorry, little guy- promise I don’t see you as prey?”  He says, and the cat just stays silent, ignoring him. Whatever.

However, when Hao touches the cat under the chin with his gentle hands, it goes on its back, little paws waving in the air, “I don’t think he’s holding a grudge.” Hao giggles, sparing a glance up at Hanbin for a moment, “he seems pretty happy.”

“Yeah, happy because you have all his attention,” he says, pouting.

Hanbin doesn’t think he’s had something this sweet in his whole life. He knew Hao’s coffee was sweet, given that vanilla syrup in his typical lattes isn't exactly sour, but he had expected some bitterness there. Yet there was none; sugar flooded his mouth with such intensity that he could feel the clumps of sugar on his tongue—not really, but still, it made his eyebrows furrow in concentration, trying to indulge with precision. He has nothing against sweets, simply doesn't have them fen, this, however, remained a delight.

“Wow, this is sweet,” he continues taking sips, an exasperated joy leaking into his scent, “Hao-hyung, how on earth do you—it’s like dessert in a cup!” 

Hao looks like he’s holding back from laughing at Hanbin, though there's no malice there, just an endeared expression on his face. He makes an odd motion with his hands as Hanbin takes another drink.

“Hanbin-ah,” Hao says, amused, “come here; you’ve got a little something.”

Hanbin blinks at him, something where? Is what he would ask, had Hao not moved so quickly. Suddenly, those delicate hands were on his face, leaking warmth and pressure. Hao's scent, like a vice, wraps around his neck with impressive physicality and holds.

There was whipped cream on his face, he supposes, with the way it's suddenly manifested on the thumb of Hao, and he watches, unable to look away as the omega's mouth wraps around, his tongue licking the cream away—

Hanbin feels the light burning in his eyes, turning red, the way his entire body becomes rigid, his wolf begging, pleading to just— 

He blinks, but his eyes continue burning. Between the social impoliteness of flashing his eyes at an omega, and the fact he feels like his entire body is on fire with the need to jump Hao from across the table. He makes a quick exit.

“One second. Just—one second. I’ll be right back.” He mutters out, clambering away and out towards the back hall near the bathrooms, though there's a small line, given it's one person only— so he steps out the back door, out into the cold, for just a few minutes. He feels how the cold snaps at him, slaps him, startles him out of his daze. Then, slowly, seeps into him and cools him down from the inside out, so that his heart doesn’t beat as fast, so that he can stop shaking. The suddenness in suppressing himself so… violently, of course, has its side effects. Hanbin is just happy that it isn’t vomiting this time. Instead, it’s a migraine. The kind that makes the soft yellow-lamp projections against the snow too bright, pounding behind his eyes and rendering him a bit weak. But…manageable, just as the rest has been.

“Sorry about that. I was just always taught to not… You know,” he points at his eyes messily, “do that. Especially in front of an omega. I'm really sorry, Hyung, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

“Huh?” Hao’s scent swirls in confusion, dizzying: “No, I wasn’t uncomfortable—I promise!”

When he had been freshly presented, young and naive at age 12, he used to flash his eyes all the time. Impulsive, out of his control. When he’d feel anything- anger, sadness, hurt, even joy, or excitement. His wolf was reactive, and he had no grip on any of his instincts. Back then, he was one of the first to present, and everyone respected him as the only alpha in his grade. Yet, per a teacher's concerns, and whispers between adults who hadn't been ready for him to be presented yet, he had been asked to, if possible, refrain from his eyes turning red. 

It’s a show of dominance, to many people, aggression, instability. An untamed alpha, someone eager to hunt. Improper to do such things in front of anyone, a challenge to an alpha, an insult to an omega. He’d tempered it pretty quickly, back then, but now it seemed every handle in him started to turn loose. 

His temples pound, his headache unforgiving. He holds his breath for a second. 

“Are you okay? Do you have a headache?” Hao asks.

Hanbin swats off the concern with fighting speed, too afraid to expose himself, he smiles, just as easily as before, and decides to say a bit of the truth.

“Oh, no. Just—you smell… really good, and I guess my wolf just overreacted. I’m okay though; luckily I got my eyes to settle down.”

There’s a flicker in Hao/s expression, an odd twinge in his scent, and his voice comes out flat, almost disappointed. 

“Hanbin, you’re lying. You can tell me if you have a headache—I mean, it’s just a headache. It’s not like it makes you weak or anything.”

Hanbin feels nausea roll within him, a spike of panic; he feels too open, too seen, for Hao to pluck apart, find out; he’s willing to tell so much, so, so much, but he can't risk this. He bites his lip in thought before smiling up at Hao, again, letting it reach his eyes. 

“I know, I just don’t want you worrying.” Hanbin takes another sip of his drink. “Really, I’m fine. I’m sorry I scurried off. You’re allowed to touch me, you know?”

Lies often are described as bitter; for Hanbin at that moment, it felt like the latte coating his tongue and the heaviness of his own scent.

Hao hums in response; the taste of coffee is replaced with bile. He hates this, he hates this—

“Mm, whatever you say,” Hao shrugs, and even in his small frustrations and cunning eyes, reading straight through him, he still adorably drinks from his straw; he can feel the orange cat's tail flickering between his ankles. 

Hanbin offers the rest of his coffee to Hao, eyes scanning around for some poor cat to harass. His eyes land on a grey short-haired cat, picking it up without much fuss. It’s clearly older and a bit grouchy, but let Hanbin do his thing as his hands prod and wander all over the cat—even on its stomach. He makes little garbled noises at it, but the cat just flicks its tail and lets him go on.

Hanbin, in his guilt and stupor, decides to get the pastry that Hao was eyeing on the way in. He gets himself a chocolate muffin, although his stomach feels like a void that's expanding within him. He isn’t able to finish it, but Hao seems to enjoy it, at the very least. He chews on the muffin wrapper like a piece of gum. The easy he had a child, he’s regressing, he’s supposing. A psychologist would probably have a field day with all his small behaviors, never mind the way he’s handling this whole situation.

Hao squints at him, probably for the wrapper thing, but still. He looks away.

Hanbin decides to talk about himself, trying to open up in all the ways he’s wished to. To let Hao recognize his voice and anecdotes, so that Hao could connect small things back to him, think of him, know him well, and comfort him when Hanbin forgets to comfort himself. He knows many alphas speak of themselves casually, usually more of a boasting behavior, so they can establish themselves in the modern social hierarchy; it has essentially replaced brawling for top dog. So he keeps it simple because he isn’t trying to paint a pretty picture, just a real one. 

“You know, both my parents were artists, a bit like you. They had a real appreciation for music, the classics, punk rock, all of it,” he reminisces to his parents, slow dancing in the living room, record players stringing along in their lamp-riddled living room. He thinks of how his parents would discuss what music would pair with the wine or liqueur at their house gatherings, or blast teenage pop music with the windows down on the first rain of spring. They were careful, considerate, and it showed in how they treated their child, as well, as though he was the most precious thing in the world. Hao’s hard work and naturally soft demeanor would melt their hearts instantly. It’s a shame to think that his dad may have to meet Hao later than his mom, that he’d have to wait until the next Thanksgiving or Christmas. Hell, maybe his father would pay for him to take a trip to the country he's in. Either way, it wouldn’t be a traditional meeting with the parents over dinner, which hurts a bit; “they’d probably respect you more than me, because of that. They’d take you to galleries and museums, even try to fill in some appreciation where I couldn’t give it. My mom would love to show you her paintings.” he smiles at the idea of Hao sitting there, tracing his fingers along the ridges of thick oil paint on a canvas in awe.

Hao listens to him, attentive, close, just as he always has. Though it’s just that, the closeness of his gaze, like he knows Hanbin is trying to forget their mishap before, when he was caught lying. He continues anyway.

“I used to drive down by the lake in college, jump over the fence, and swim in the water despite it being freezing. Eventually, I caught hypothermia and some stranger had to call an ambulance for me… I whined to just keep letting myself swim. Thank god they didn’t listen. After that, I just stuck to skipping rocks, too scared to go in the water… I perfected it, that early spring all those years ago. There’s an art to that, too, watching the smooth stone skim across the water, like a dancer…. But these days, I don’t really get the chance to show off my skills. Not only does there need to be water involved, but finding a good stone is a large ordeal. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

Hanbin blushes when Hao takes a moment to respond, but he seems endeared, nonetheless, at Hao’s clumsy storytelling. He’d never told anyone about getting hypothermia before. Hell, Matthew doesn't even know he can skip rocks. It stayed between him, his roommate, and whoever his roommate told the story to about his stupid roommate who was out swimming in the lake during March. 

He wouldn’t say it's necessarily traumatic for him, but it certainly is a hallmark moment in his young adult life. Back then, he really thought he’d overdone it, the doctor's grim expression telling him to never do that again, that the risk was too high. It was sobering, realizing that all these small, rebellious actions he did, like swimming too early in the year, hanging out near railroad tracks, picking up strangers in the back of the car with his friends and taking them clubbing, taking strangers back to his home—were considered dangerous for a reason. It shaped him into someone responsible, someone who looks out for the cracks and makes sure no one else falls into them.

“It’s odd, trying to find a hobby. I feel like everyone else grows up with one, carries it over from childhood, but I simply grew out of most of those things. I didn’t keep anything around; it's like I went into college and all my free time became parties and TV time. I didn’t form any hobbies then, either. I tried to get into knitting— but between being bullied for being omega-like and being terrible at it, I gave it up. In another world, I would’ve knitted your sweater for you.” he smiles, thinking about how much more special the gift would’ve been. “I tried becoming a wine taster; that gig didn’t last long either— way too expensive, as is learning an instrument. I don’t mind doodling or going outside, but not enough to make it a thing. I’m a rather boring person outside of work, I guess.”

Hao, very confidently, reminds him that he’s not boring at all, though he suspects the omega is simply trying to ease the heaviness he’d brought to the conversation. He says thank you anyway, biting his lip.

“I didn’t like my fro-yo the other day; it was actually so gross, you have no idea.” Hanbin laughs at himself a bit at how ridiculous it was, lemon and peanut butter? “I was just too embarrassed to go back; I wanted to just stick to my guns on it, you know?” Hanbin admits sheepishly, it’s such an odd thing, an ego thing, and very common for alphas his age to be stubborn in their stupid choices. Hao probably runs on logic more than emotion, like a normal person, and would’ve just gone and gotten a different flavor. Though he doesn't seem to judge Hanbin for his cowardly practices, he just laughs a little too at how ridiculous it is to spend money on fro-yo flavors he doesn't like. 

When they leave (before closing!) The moonlight bathes Hao in such a gorgeous light. His headache is only getting worse; he feels so, so unwell, like his limbs are heavy and the world has narrowed down to one point— that point being Hao. He feels like he’s sinking into the ground…

Hanbin blinked for a second too long, at least, that's what it felt like. Falling asleep standing up, too tired to carry on. It makes his body shift forward onto the floor, his mind powering off and rebooting without his body’s consent.

Hanbin, lightheaded and confused as the blurry world tries to make focus around him, simply tries to laugh, the sort of empty, hollow laugh people do when they can’t hear or understand you.

“Aha, sorry, I think I just… lost focus for a second... I didn’t mean to—”

Hanbin smells the way that Hao’s scent singes and turns rotten, so potentially and unmistakably furious that it makes the air catch in her lungs. 

“Why are you pretending like everything is fine? It’s not fine!” Hao snaps, holding onto Hanbin’s arms tight— and it hurts. He never in a million years would guess that Hao would become angry at him, not like this, never so—irritated and downright mad, as if Hanbin had crossed some invisible line, “I already told you I don’t think you’re weak, so what is it? Do you not trust me?”

I’d die for you.

Ah, so that’s what it is. Hanbin is a liar and a coward, and he’s well aware of these things. He knows because his brain likes to remind him in the quiet hours of the snow-swept nights, but everyone has been so quick to tell off these petty, pitiful thoughts. To ignore them and focus on the good. Now, though, as Hao confirms it, he can’t blind himself anymore. He’s a fool to think Hao wouldn’t notice. 

“Of course I trust you.” Hanbin means it; he breathes, lives it; he trusts Hao with everything— god everything, just not this, just not with how it could affect him, affect them, “and I’m…” he bites his lip, “I’m okay! It’s just a fluke. There’s no need to make a big deal just because I’m a little off. I’ll be good as new by tomorrow." 

Wolves are intuitive creatures; they feel before they speak, and feel before they eat, sleep, and breathe. They feel emotions rather than fabric, sweat before skin, anchor before the tug. It’s not surprising that Hanbin, despite being an excellent liar in years past and years forward, is still caught because it simply isn’t intuitive to lie. It goes against his nature and shifts the air around his words before they are verbalized. He can feel it now, before he even hears himself, can feel the sweat on the back of his neck and the way Hao’s eyes shift over him, and just prays: please just this once believe me, please become ignorant and let it go, don’t entangle yourself, don’t worry. If you take me as a liar now, forget me as one in the next second.

Hanbin sees the exact moment Hao decides not to take the bait, to continue to defend himself because he's so smart and capable and would never bow down as a courtesy to someone who lies in vain.

“If you trust me, then act like it. You’re not okay! You just passed out right in front of me, you’ve been getting headaches for, like, forever now, you’re sweating—why can’t you just be honest about this one thing?” Hao scent spikes with worry, concern, empathy far before the iritataion seeps out and stings his nose, but Hanbin can only focus on the latter, on the hurt, the way he fucked up, “this cannot possibly just be a fluke! I’m not asking if it is or if it isn’t, because I know this is something serious. I’m not even trying to get you to fix it right now! Just admit it! This is ridiculous!”

Hanbin feels the breath get knocked out of him, like there’s a ripping in his chest, because he can’t explain himself; he can't, and with the way the tensions rise between them, he knows this can’t end well, knows that Hao won’t back down despite his placations and sweet whispers of being okay. In a last-ditch attempt at preserving himself and Hao from his wicked secret, he tries to push him away. Despite every fiber in his being screaming at him not to. To pull in Hao and mark him now before he can get too far: “It’s—because it’s not that fucking simple, Hao! I-I don’t know what idea I gave you where I owe you an explanation for anything! You can’t just assume it’s serious, that I’m meant to, what, lay it all out for you? So you can what? Cure me?” he laughs, and fuck, it hurts, it still hurts, his chest is burning with pain. “I’m fine, Hao. Why can’t you just believe me?”

Hao looks away from him, and his heart breaks when he continues to look away as he speaks.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying? I’m not trying to cure you! I’m not trying to hold anything above your head! I just want to know because I care. Is that so hard to see?” he spits, and Hanbin flinches, if just barely. “I never thought that you being just a little bit vulnerable would be something I would be owed in any universe. I thought we were close enough for both of us to show that side of ourselves.”

Oh, Hao…

Hanbin wishes that he'd never imprinted on Hao. That he could be whisked away by Hao's beauty in a normal sense, and that all these times spent together wouldn’t have the undercurrent of the tension within him. He wishes that, under the night sky, he could confess to all his raw emotions without so much cold, paralyzing fear coursing through him. He wishes he didn't have to take suppressants or faint when he stands up too quickly. He wishes his teeth didn't hurt and his jaw didn't ache, or his eyes didn’t burn. Maybe then, Hao could have the pretty pictures he asked for, maybe then, Hanbin could give him everything in the world, every bit of himself to Hao, and be handled gently. But that isn’t the case. He imprinted on Hao, and he’s too afraid to put that onto him, and he’s become sick with his own omissions, and now tonight has become a night of anger and hurt instead of gentle and soothing, romantic. 

Hanbin steps closer because, as much as he wishes it were simple, it isn’t, and this—this thing that is killing him is not to disparage Hao, nor to spew it so that he may get lucky and score the girl by the end of the film. In this world, with his imprint tearing apart at him, he cannot and will not, under any circumstance, wish for Hao to trust him on the matter. He’s grateful Hao doesn’t get it and understands some deep contending empathy, because it means he’s never had such a hardship.

He hates how angry he sounds, the way his words snap and sting at Hao with such immense profession, but it comes from a place of intensity, the way he can feel his body turning inward and against him, “never, in a million years will you ever understand,” he cries, tears hot as they trail down his face,, “and I hope you don’t, I really hope you don’t… I’m never going to tell you, Hao—it’s just that simple, so stop fucking pushing me on it! Don’t wait up on me, don’t worry or pry or—or mentally count all my ‘symptoms,’ there’s no point, and I didn’t ask you to!”

His chest heaves, and he watches as Hao’s expression converges from hurt into something calmer, carefully choosing what to say. 

“Alright,” Hao says, like he’s too tired to deal with Hanbin any longer, “fine. If the world changes and you magically feel like opening up to me, then I’ll be here, but fine, I won’t ‘push’ or ‘pry’ or whatever it is that you think I’m doing.”

Hanbin bites his lip and tastes the copper tang of blood as he does so, a minor distraction from the roaring occurring within him.

Hao looks at him, and there’s a powerful feeling that arises in him; it makes him numb and buzzing all at once, and he wishes he’d take it back; he wishes it could be that easy…

But it’s not.

He leans in, brushing his lips against Hao’s temple before leaving.