Chapter Text
The aroma of dark-roasted coffee mingled faintly with the damp night air outside the café. In the far corner of the room, where the lighting had been deliberately kept dim, Min Yoongi sat leaning back in a wooden chair. His gaze was fixed blankly on the vinyl record spinning slowly on the record player near the till, playing a jazz instrumental that flowed gently.
Yoongi, a dominant Alpha with a calm and cool demeanour, was not the sort of person who enjoyed being in the midst of a crowd. For him, the only things worth savouring after a day spent shut away in the studio were a cup of bitter coffee and undisturbed tranquillity.
His life philosophy was simple and neatly structured. This extended to matters of biological dynamics. As an Alpha, Yoongi always adhered strictly to natural logic: an Alpha is paired with an Omega, or in some more practical cases, a Beta. He’d never understood the complexities of relationships between Alphas—the competition of pheromones, clashing egos, and overlapping dominance felt far too exhausting to even imagine. Yoongi swore he had not the slightest interest in other Alphas.
That evening, Yoongi was wearing a faded black vintage hoodie. On the front was a slightly peeling gold screen print—the logo for Nas’s album Illmatic, a legendary work of 90s hip-hop that he’d picked up from a second-hand record shop a few years ago. The hoodie was one of his favourite items, warm and cosy for a chilly night.
“Excuse me… I’m really sorry to bother you at this time of night.” A deep, gravelly voice snapped Yoongi out of his reverie.
Yoongi cleared his throat reflexively, ready to shoot the blank stare he usually used to ward off strangers trying to strike up a conversation. But when he looked up, his eyes were instead drawn to the figure now standing beside his table.
The man in front of him was tall and well-built—clearly a few centimetres taller than Yoongi. His broad build, chiselled jawline, and powerful presence signalled one thing for certain: this man was an Alpha. He wore thin-framed glasses and a plain, casual T-shirt, with a pair of deep dimples forming as he smiled awkwardly.
However, before Yoongi’s eyes could assess his appearance any further, his sense of smell picked up on something unusual.
As an Alpha, Yoongi was very accustomed to the scent of his own kind’s pheromones—the sharp smell of cinnamon, damp tobacco, or the scent of dry earth before rain. But from the man in front of him, the scent he detected was the exact opposite.
It was a sweet, warm scent of vanilla, blended with the fresh fragrance of peaches.
The scent wafted so subtly, enveloping that towering Alpha’s aura with a softness that stood in stark contrast. Yoongi was taken aback for a moment. Defective multiscent. A rare phenomenon where someone possesses Alpha dynamics biologically and physically, yet emits pheromones that naturally smell sweet, similar to those of an Omega. And vice versa.
“I… I was just surprised to see someone wearing a Nas hoodie here,” the man continued, scratching the back of his neck with a slightly awkward gesture as Yoongi simply stood there staring at him for quite some time. “I mean, the Illmatic album is literally my all-time favourite hip-hop album. So when I spotted that logo from the checkout counter, I plucked up the courage to say hello.”
Yoongi blinked, narrowing his eyes once to regain control of his sense of smell and his awareness, which had been momentarily distracted by the vanilla-peach scent filling the air between them.
“This is the one released in 2014, the 20th-anniversary edition,” Yoongi replied at last. His voice was hoarse and deep, typical of an Alpha, full of natural calm. “But the fabric and the print are made exactly like the ’94 version. It’s a bit hard to find these days.”
The man’s eyes in front of him instantly lit up. His awkward smile transformed into a genuinely enthusiastic glow. As his delight grew, the vanilla-peach scent from his neck wafted a little sweeter—as if reflecting his mood, impossible to conceal.
“Seriously? That’s brilliant! I’ve got the first-press vinyl, but the T-shirt or hoodie merch is really hard to come by round here,” said the man in an energetic tone. He then realised he was still standing next to Yoongi’s table. “Ah, sorry, I got a bit carried away. Can I sit down for a moment? If you don’t mind, of course.”
Yoongi glanced at the empty chair in front of him, then looked back into the man’s eyes. Usually, Yoongi hated it when his peace was disturbed by outsiders. But tonight, there was something about the presence of this sweet-smelling Alpha that made him feel completely undisturbed.
“Go on, sit down,” said Yoongi briefly, pushing his coffee cup slightly to one side. “I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”
“I’m Namjoon. Kim Namjoon,” he replied, pulling out the wooden chair and sitting down.
Namjoon’s tall frame made the café chair look a little small for him. He placed the thick book he’d been holding onto the table. Yoongi caught a glimpse of the title—a collection of essays on contemporary art and the history of street music.
“So, how long have you been into Nas, Hyungmin?—er, I can call you Hyungmin, can’t I? You look older than me,” asked Namjoon casually, leaning back against the chair.
“Sure. I was born in ’93,” replied Yoongi. “I’ve been listening to Nas since secondary school. When I first heard the track ‘NY State of Mind’, the way he told a story over the beat was different from any other rapper of his time.”
“I totally agree!” Namjoon tapped the table gently, his eyes wide with enthusiasm. “His rhymes are like street poetry. The way he crafts metaphors is simply on another level. Lots of people just listen to the beat, but if you listen to the lyrics bar by bar, they’re full of incredibly deep social observations.”
Yoongi looked at Namjoon with growing fascination. It was very rare for him to meet someone who didn’t just listen to music, but truly dissected and appreciated the structure behind it. What Yoongi had initially thought would be a two- or three-minute conversation about a hoodie suddenly blossomed into a lengthy discussion about 90s hip-hop, the differences between the East Coast and West Coast scenes, and even how the rhythm of music affects one’s mood whilst working.
In every one of Namjoon’s movements—whether he was gesturing expressively whilst explaining something, or laughing until his eyes narrowed to thin slits—that vanilla-peach scent drifted gently across the table.
Yoongi was usually highly sensitive to external pheromones. If another Alpha emitted a scent nearby, his dominant instincts would automatically go on high alert to defend himself. But with Namjoon, there was no threat. That sweet, warm scent of peach and vanilla felt more like a cup of afternoon tea—soothing, gentle, and, strangely enough, perfectly suited to Namjoon’s tall figure.
“Do you come to this café often, Hyungmin?” asked Namjoon in the midst of their conversation, taking a sip of the coffee he’d just ordered.
“Every now and then. When I’m stuck in the studio,” Yoongi replied honestly. “I make music.”
“Make music? A producer?” Namjoon looked at him with undisguised admiration.
“Yeah, sort of. Mostly hip-hop and R&B.”
“No wonder your knowledge of instruments and sampling has been so in-depth all this time,” said Namjoon with a broad smile, revealing his dimples once more. “I like writing lyrics and poetry, but it’s just for my own enjoyment. I work in the archives and research department at the city library.”
“That’s a great job,” said Yoongi sincerely. “It must require a great deal of attention to detail.”
Before they realised it, the clock on the café wall was already pointing to ten o’clock in the evening. The café staff began switching off some of the lights at the front and tidying up the empty chairs. The vinyl music near the till had been replaced by the silence of the night.
Namjoon glanced at his watch and looked surprised. “Blimey, it’s already ten o’clock. I’ve completely lost track of time because I was so engrossed in our chat.”
“This café does stay open until ten,” replied Yoongi softly. He stood up, then smoothed out his black hoodie.
Namjoon stood up too, tidying away the book he’d been carrying. There was a hint of awkwardness on his face as he looked at Yoongi.
“Hyungmin… thanks for the chat tonight. I rarely meet people I can really connect with when talking about things like this,” said Namjoon sincerely.
He reached into his trouser pocket and took out his mobile. “If… if you don’t mind, could I have your number? I mean, maybe we could grab a coffee together sometime or swap thoughts on songs.”
Yoongi looked at the mobile in Namjoon’s hand, then at the tall Alpha standing before him.
The vow and conviction Yoongi had held for decades—that he’d ‘never be attracted to another Alpha’—suddenly felt like a pillar of sand crumbling under the spray of seawater. There was no loud explosion or grand drama, just a progression that felt utterly natural.
Yoongi took his own mobile phone from his pocket.
“Type your number in here,” said Yoongi flatly, handing his mobile to Namjoon.
Namjoon’s eyes sparkled with delight. With his long fingers, he entered his number and then handed the phone back to Yoongi. “Sorted, Hyungmin!”
The two of them walked out of the café side by side. The evening breeze brushed against their skin as they stepped onto the pavement. Under the yellow glow of the streetlights, the vanilla-peach scent emanating from Namjoon’s body felt even warmer against the cool air.
“I’m heading towards the station over there, Hyung,” said Namjoon, pointing towards the crossroads.
“I’m heading to the studio on the left,” replied Yoongi.
“Right. Be careful on your way, Yoongi Hyungmin. See you later!” Namjoon waved with a broad smile before turning and striding off with his long strides.
Yoongi stood for a moment on the pavement, watching Namjoon’s tall figure slowly disappear around the bend.
He slipped both hands into the pockets of his Nas hoodie. Traces of the vanilla-peach scent still lingered faintly in the air around him, clinging subtly to the fabric of his clothes.
Yoongi exhaled slowly, watching the thin vapour escape from his mouth in the cold air. He smiled faintly—a smile that very rarely graced his cold face.
A well-built Alpha, knowledgeable about music, with dimples, and smelling of vanilla and peach.
Yoongi continued on his way to the studio, feeling strangely much lighter than usual. He wasn’t the romantic type, and he’d never once imagined a situation like this before. But tonight, walking beneath the dim streetlights, Min Yoongi thought one thing with absolute certainty:
When it comes to this particular Alpha… it seems he wouldn’t mind learning to be romantic.