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“It’s over.”
Across from him, Kim Moonkyu blinked, his chewing slowing down.
Jongin sighed. He hoped ordering something would rouse his appetite and distract him from the creeping sadness to no avail. The most he’d done was messily spread butter on top of his croissant. “We broke up,” he said, breaking the suspenseful silence. He glimpsed Moonkyu’s surprised face looking up before averting his gaze to the people and scenery outside the café window. It was a fair-weathered day, perfect for spending in parks and enjoying the cool breeze of spring. He would’ve done that, too, if his bitterness didn’t flare every few seconds, worsened by the sight of happy couples walking past.
“I guess it was bound to happen. You were simply too good for him,” Moonkyu said, after a considerable pause. Thankfully, he didn’t look at Jongin in pity. Jongin would feel worse worse if he did. But he did chuckle when Jongin uncontrollably grimaced at the newly-arrived couple giving each other goo-goo eyes two tables away from theirs.
“Sorry.” Jongin wasn’t even sure why he was apologizing. “I know I can’t demand everybody’s commiseration, and that life goes on for others regardless of what you feel. I’ve done enough moping at home and wanted some human interaction, but I’m afraid this reflex will be here for a while.”
Moonkyu slightly smiled. “So what happened? If you want to talk about it.”
Jongin set down his bread knife, frowning as he recounted what happened. “New character, same old story.”
In the four months he’d been dating this ex, Jongin had only started seeing where the relationship was headed at its tail end. The ex was wonderful and kind but, like everyone else, possessed an unexpected flaw. Jongin had discovered it when the ex brought up wanting to introduce him to his parents; said they were curious. All good with Jongin, except the ex had been about as subtle as a glowing neon sign in hinting that his family held strong conservative views. One of them was the stifling, outdated belief of an omega’s subservience to alphas even before marriage.
“He told me that I should ‘start acting more like an omega’ before introducing me—whatever the hell that means.” Jongin rolled his eyes when his ex had suggested that in an unironic way. “Our talks never ended well. Once we’re okay again, he’d try to coax me into yielding. A week ago, I got fed up and told him to find someone else who’d foolishly listen to him because that would never be me.”
Moonkyu grimaced. “Yikes. Sounds like an asshole in the making. And to think I initially saw him as a nice guy…”
Jongin shook his head, finally enticed enough to have a bite of his croissant. “I wish I saw it earlier or else we wouldn’t have lasted as long.” Another bite before he was frowning again. “Why can’t I ever find someone who can accept me as I am?” It was one of the questions that unfalingly came up after a breakup, though with far lesser misery compared to his first few heartbreaks. “Why must I always be asked to change so I can please the other person?” He sighed deeply. “Maybe I’m just meant to be alone.”
“Okay, stop right there.” Moonkyu wagged a chiding forefinger at him. “You’re not wrong for having high standards and valuing your independence. You weed out people who can’t keep up that way. And, sometimes, you need to go through the bad to find the good—tedious, I know, but that’s how life works. So don’t give up unless you choose to be single by choice. Who knows, maybe the one is currently on the way to meet you halfway.”
“When did you get this sappy?” Jongin teased, chuckling. Moonkyu shot him a glare in feigned annoyance. “But thanks a lot for your reminders, Moonkyu. Really.” He smiled sincerely, a first since last week. It might not magically erase his sadness, but talking to friends always proved to be therapeutic after many days of brooding alone. In celebration, he indulged in two more croissant slices before declaring, “I’ll be embracing my singleness until I’m ready to date again. So, whoever the one is, they can take their time finding me. I’m not in a hurry, really.”
Moonkyu laughed, raising his coffee cup in a toast to his optimism. “That’s the spirit!”
☆彡
The following weekend, Jongin and his friends embarked on a mini getaway.
Going on a day trip was one of the few traditions Jongin and his friends upheld every time he went through a breakup. He did it solo after his first three failed relationships but enjoyed it thrice more in the company of friends and stayed that way since. All he had to do was ask if anyone was up for a weekend getaway and the replies came in pouring. The excitement was palpable and often translated to questions asked in rapid-fire succession: possible destinations, fun activities they could do, how much to pack, links to recommended accommodations. Jongin would’ve been insulted if he wasn’t close to any of his friends who showed more interest piecing together a feasible itinerary rather than questioning the sudden invitation. Yet, at the same time, it was precisely him being friends with them for almost half of his life did he understand they were simultaneously excited about the getaway and implicitly understood Jongin needed a reprieve after a breakup.
Planning for getaways was relatively easier when they were university students. Despite the limited budget after pooling their allowances together, they still managed to have tons of fun. Now, as working adults with disposable income, it was harder to come together due to vastly different work schedules. But no matter how busy, Jongin’s friends took his breakup code seriously and deliberately looked for a weekend where everybody could gather.
Although he couldn’t completely leave behind his sadness at the shores of Jeongdongjin, the peaceful getaway and boisterous friends helped in soothing Jongin’s hurting heart. Some exes were harder to move on from compared to others, so it was tricky to predict when he’d completely forget about his current heartbreak. He’d rather not question and rush it. He did his best to purge the ugly emotions; the rest he would leave to time while carrying on with his days.
After a long day at work, Jongin sent a text to the group chat, asking if anyone was free to have dinner with him. The replies trickled in but everyone gave a common answer with varying reasons: no one was available at the moment. One person’s reply was missing—Kwonho, Jongin noticed, after doing a head count—but deduced he was probably sleeping after working the night shift at a broadcasting company.
Eating out sometimes came with two major problems: what to eat, and where. Jongin sometimes faced these problems. Tonight was different—he already knew where to go.
“Welcome!” a loud, cheerful voice greeted Jongin the moment he crossed the threshold of the restaurant. The place burst with life from the dinner crowd thinly-layered with an amalgam of scents, the air filled with a rough but harmonious symphony of chatter, utensils, and footsteps. Customers poured in; tables emptied were quickly occupied. A few who lucked out were led to sit at a special corner while waiting for their turn to dine. Jongin would’ve joined them as per house rules, but those didn’t apply to him in this restaurant.
“Oh, Jongin-ssi!” An employee of petite stature approached Jongin, clad in the restaurant’s uniform for its employees: a pale yellow dress shirt and black slacks. The employee gave him a polite bow, the airy smell of pear and ginger coming from them. “It’s so nice to see you! Will you be dining by yourself?”
Jongin smiled in return. “It’s just me tonight. I don’t mind waiting for a table, though.” The restaurant was near teeming with customers. It might not be his first time, but the awkwardness between accepting or turning down what was going to be offered soon never fully went away.
“We were specifically instructed to always give you priority on your visits, and we don’t go against the boss’ orders,” the employee said, still maintaining cheer, and gestured for Jongin to proceed inside, ending what was never going to be a debate. “A room was just recently vacated—perfect timing!”
The restaurant not only provided tables for solos and groups. Rooms were also available for a more private dining experience, tailored for the likes of romantic proposals and lunch meetings for professionals. Jongin was led to one of these rooms; noted that it was too big for a solo diner, especially after placing his order, but he didn’t feel lonely. He passed the time admiring the tasteful decorations, noticing their personal touches. It wasn’t too surprising—both the grandmother and owner of the restaurant had been meticulous with the details.
The side dishes were served, and soon his order, too. But it wasn’t the same employee who slid the door open. The light, fragrant scents of patchouli and magnolia were the giveaway.
“Hyung.”
Jongin instantly grinned. “Sehun.”
Sehun closed the door behind him and set down the tray of food on the table. “Did you wait long?”
Jongin shook his head. Taking a generous inhale of the mouthwatering dak galbi in front of him, he asked, “How did you know I was here? Were you tipped by your employee?”
Sehun nodded, sitting across from Jongin. “When the order came in, I knew I had to deliver it myself.” They were interrupted by an employee—the one Jongin met at the entrance—delivering a bucket of ice and a tray with two beer bottles and empty glasses. Sehun continued after they were alone again, tossing ice and pouring beer into a glass then sliding it over to Jongin. “You should eat the dak galbi while it’s hot. It goes best with beer.”
“It’s a weekday,” Jongin lightly chided, clucking his tongue.
“There are no weekdays when your heart is broken,” Sehun countered, tone gentle. He slightly pointed at the glass. “You can have just one shot if you don’t want to finish the entire bottle. I’ll drink the rest for you.”
“Are you using me as an excuse to drink while on duty?” Jongin teased, eliciting a smile out of Sehun. “I know your tolerance is stronger than mine, but you don’t have to show it off.” His feigned annoyance lasted until he picked up his chopsticks. “Won’t you join me?”
“I ate early so I could help out. I can keep you company, if you want.”
“Your employee came with two glasses. I know you’re staying even if you don’t ask me.”
Sehun smiled behind his glass, eyes crinkling. After the first sip, he asked, with a mixture of mild curiosity and cautiousness, “Do you want to talk about it, hyung?”
Jongin slowed his chewing, and then blew out a deep sigh. Sehun’s eyes gradually widened as he nodded, despite not having heard a word yet.
“I see,” Sehun murmured, taking another sip of beer. “It’s that bad, huh?”
Jongin launched into a full account once the words came to him. Sehun listened without interrupting, though the frown curving his mouth downward turned more severe with each second. By the end, he was almost glowering.
“Such a two-faced jerk.” Sehun downed the rest of his beer. “Why was he trying to make you meet his family’s standards? Isn’t it obvious you’re anything but a docile omega? Was he being purposefully oblivious the entire time you were dating?” Anger on Jongin’s behalf seeped into his tone.
“Who knows?” Jongin chewed a little more aggressively upon recalling their last argument. “I wish I’d seen that side of him earlier on. I wouldn’t have stayed with him for four months if I had.”
“It’s always the unexpected ones, huh?” Sehun nudged the saucer of braised potatoes closer to Jongin’s plate. “I honestly thought he was a decent alpha when you introduced us to each other two months ago. Can’t believe he’s actually deceitful. I’m sorry if this is insensitive to say in your current state, but I’m relieved you broke it off. Nothing good comes out from molding yourself to someone else’s expectations.”
Jongin shook his head in assurance. “I’m relieved myself it didn’t take a year before I saw signs. The breakup hurts because I did like him, but some things are just absolute deal-breakers for me.” He chewed and swallowed the potato, then exhaled softly. “Enough about me. How are you? Seems like you’ve been busy running Ginkgo Garden. I overheard some company employees praising and recommending the restaurant to others.”
Sehun looked pleased one moment then shy the next, which Jongin thought amusing. He shared how a popular actor’s visit significantly boosted their sales and hadn’t slowed down since; received patronage from other actors, actresses, and some idols afterward, too. Jongin was happy for Sehun and his steadily-expanding network; the exposure Ginkgo Garden was receiving not only because a celebrity dined there, but also for its seamless melding of traditional Korean cuisine and modern flavors that appealed to all age groups.
The meal ended with Jongin in relatively higher spirits. Before leaving, Sehun requested to follow him to the shop next door.
Lotus Pond’s interior replicated the look of a hanok interspersed with western elements and mirrored Ginkgo Garden’s color scheme of earth tones. Customers who stepped inside the premises were greeted by dainty, delectable aromas of traditional Korean sweets that tantalized the taste buds. Delicate confectioneries of different types, flavors, and colors were showcased behind glass displays, eye-catching in their shapes and presentations. On the corner stood a display stand with boxes of pre-packed sweets of both singular and assorted types—perfect for gift-giving and a time-saver for the indecisive.
An employee donning a lotus pink baker’s uniform emerged from the kitchen to greet them, emanating a quaint blend of mandarin orange and myrrh. Sehun introduced her as a cousin chosen by his grandmother to work for Lotus Garden after the previous relative in charge left. She gave them easy smiles; turned to Jongin and politely inquired if any of the sweets were to his liking.
Moments later, Sehun handed Jongin a pastel pink paper bag, slightly bulging and warm. The faint aroma of fried honey and ginger wafted from it.
Jongin hefted the bag in his hands. “Are you sure it’s okay to give me this much?”
“That’s part of the last batch baked for today. It won’t cost a fortune giving you a lot,” Sehun assured. “Just take it, hyung. If you need more, I’m one message away.”
Later that night, after a refreshing shower, the paper bag sitting on his coffee table was more attention-grabbing than the horror movie playing on the living room television. Yielding to temptation, Jongin pulled out an intricate yakgwa from the bag, savoring the burst of honey and ginger on his tongue from the first bite. The yakgwa wasn’t too greasy, its sweetness not overpowering. The balance of flavors enticed him to eat one more instead of the opposite. With each bite, his smile widened, chest lightening from its current burden.
I enjoyed the yakgwa, was the message Jongin sent before going to sleep. He didn’t expect Sehun to reply. At this hour, he was probably busy closing shop or chatting with the employees as they ate a late dinner.
The chime of a new message surprised him.
that’s good
you can pay me back with jajangmyeon on april 14
Jongin burst out laughing, almost dropping the phone on his face in the process.
“Brat,” he muttered, but he couldn’t stop grinning, anyway.
☆彡
On April the fourteenth, a largely gloomy atmosphere pervaded the premises of the KJ Group building.
Employees in the elevator gave Jongin lukewarm bows when the doors opened for him. He heard forlorn sighs coming from the interns he bumped into the hallways. Nearly everybody in the advertising department were clad in black, and the funeral-like silence enveloping their work station had Jongin second-guessing if he should just summon the senior managers to his office rather than seeking them in theirs. He decided on the latter; retreated after peeking and seeing one of them looking a bit dazed. Before leaving, he accidentally overheard someone bemoaning their wretched fate of being eternally friendzoned.
Similar complaints reached Jongin’s ears as the day passed. Sad-looking faces seemed to be today’s staple, together with sadder sighs between tasks. On the way to a meeting, while waiting for the elevator to arrive at his floor, Jongin was subjected to a solemn conversation among finance employees as they recalled the past two fourteenth events that gave them their present heartbreaks.
“Director Kim, you’re probably one of the lucky people who won’t end up drinking tonight to nurse a broken heart,” a marketing team leader remarked, after an hour-long meeting.
Compared to his contemporaries, Jongin permitted less strict formalities between seniors and subordinates as long as done at an appropriate time and place and remained respectful. Idle interims between meetings were considered as such, like now, where everyone was cleaning up. “What makes you say that?” he asked, amused but curious.
“Have you looked into the mirror, Director?” another team leader from marketing piped up. “You’re handsome, rich, successful, and have a good personality. Rejecting you—or even thinking about doing that—is a very insensible thing to do.”
A soft laugh escaped Jongin. “Are you sure? You could have everything in the world, but if the other person doesn’t want you, none of that will matter. I’m sure all of you here have escaped the misfortune that Black Day stands for.”
The nervous chuckles and downcast faces made Jongin regret his statement, so he asked about their plans for tonight instead. Most of the answers were expected: dinner with friends, working overtime, drinking sessions, karaoke until their voices turned hoarse from purging emotions. Typical Black Day activities by those who preferred to focus on celebrating their singleness rather than lamenting it or a band-aid cure for the smarting wounds of unrequited feelings. A team leader from accounting started discourse about society allowing ridiculous traditions to glorify an individual’s misery and why it should be stopped. A few disagreed. Another jumped into the debate, stating that today should be treated like any other ordinary day. If something needed celebrating, it should be not buying into the shiny schemes of capitalism.
“I don’t disagree,” Sehun said, after Jongin finished relaying what transpired. Currently, they were in a jajangmyeon restaurant boasting fifty years of tradition upon Sehun’s recommendation (and as a not-so-subtle reminder that Jongin owed him). Around them were customers either wearing sorrowful faces or friend groups immersed in lively conversation. “April 14 can be treated as any other day in the calendar. Why wait for this specific date to lament? Why can’t they deal with those emotions right away?”
“Some people take a while to process,” Jongin pointed out, not unkindly. “Everyone has different thresholds. Sometimes, these monthly fourteenth events are just a way to get society to do things or an excuse to hang out with friends. I’m sure you’ve gone through something similar.”
Sehun’s frown was prominent even as he chewed his noodles. “I don’t really follow trends and hardly buy into such traditions. If I’m sad, I’ll just drink it away or call up friends until they answer and go somewhere. Works every time.”
“Must be nice to be young and handle your emotions differently.”
“You should try it sometime if you don’t want to age too fast,” Sehun teased, outright cackling when Jongin made a face. “I was joking! Really! Don’t frown in front of food, hyung. You’re disrespecting it.” He picked a fried dumpling and placed it on top of the noodles in Jongin’s bowl. “Smile, or else the dumpling will lose its crispiness.”
“What am I, five?” Jongin griped, even as he let out a small laugh and munched on the dumpling. “Be honest, though. You never really bought into the hype and commercialism of April 14?”
“In high school.” Sehun’s immediate, honest answer surprised Jongin. “It was only once. The day fell on a weekend. Instead of going to the library to study, my friends and I ditched to go eat jajangmyeon. One of my friends got his heart broken badly. The beta he liked led him on. We warned him that beta was up to no good and only dated alphas exclusively, so giving him attention should’ve been enough warning. My friend didn’t listen. God, the way he moped for a month…” He shook his head; ate more noodles. “His whining and despairing was excessive, but we endured it since he took the beta’s rejection to heart. After April 14 passed, he slowly went back to his chipper self. In case you’re wondering if I had my heart broken, the answer is yes. Just not in high school. I was more on the receiving end of confessions but doled out heartbreaks in return.”
Jongin whistled in amused disbelief. “Oho, is Oh Sehun a bad boy?”
“Not in the most traditional sense of the word.” Sehun popped two slices of danmuji into his mouth and gave the rest to Jongin. “It can’t be helped if they see me as that. I’d rather be clear about my stance than string someone along. Nobody deserves that. I guess someone who hurts you, whether or not it was for the best, will automatically be viewed as the bad person. Some people just need someone to blame their heartbreak on before coming to terms with what happened and moving forward.”
“Whoa, Sehun!” A loud exclamation caught their attention; rushed footsteps approaching their table. The man’s white shirt seemed one size larger than his frame, paired with dark-wash jeans. A prominent buttermilk and sweet pea scent radiated off him. “What a coincidence running into you here!” He sported a wide grin on his face, friendly tone and comfortable interaction with Sehun hinting at their probable closeness.
“Speak of the devil.” Sehun’s comment earned him a protest, and then did introductions. (Jongin learned later on this was the friend from Sehun’s story.) “Are you alone, Kiwoo?”
“Nah, I came with friends. I was on the way to the washroom, but I saw you and thought what good timing!”
“No.” Sehun’s immediate declining surprised both Kiwoo and Jongin.
“You didn’t even let me start!” Kiwoo argued. Jongin would’ve taken him seriously if not for his childish tone.
“No need. There are only two reasons why you’d approach me. How do I know which? It’s definitely not a favor if you’re already reaching for the tin box in your pocket.”
Jongin followed where Sehun was pointing and, true to word, Kiwoo’s hand was indeed inside.
Kiwoo burst out laughing, the sound of it sheepish but unrepentant. Completely pulling out his hand, he produced the mentioned tin box. “Damn, I thought I could get away with it. You’re pretty sharp.”
“Or maybe I’m just used to your schemes,” Sehun deadpanned.
“I-I don’t scheme!” Kiwoo spluttered, ears red. “Since you know what I’m going to ask anyway, here; have a smell.” He laid the tin box next to Sehun’s bowl, grinning impishly. “Maybe the selection this time has a scent that can seduce your mighty alpha nose. Shoot me a Kakao for details! Your inclusion will raise chances for everyone—and perhaps more—to show up.” He bade goodbye afterward when someone called out his name.
Jongin watched Kiwoo disappear before returning his attention to the tin box. Sehun huffed, seemingly parts exasperated and amused at his friend’s antics. He looked around the table and asked Jongin if he wanted more fried dumplings.
“Aren’t you going to check what’s inside?”
“Why? Are you going to take a whiff and try to find one you might think I’d like?” Sehun’s tone was cheeky; smiled in the same vein. He slid the box toward Jongin. “Be my guest.”
Jongin wasn’t oblivious to the tin box’s contents. He’d received his fare of share of these since gaining awareness of the dating world and the many ways it worked. Opening the box revealed six tinier compartments with lids inside, engineered to be airtight and scent-tight to preserve the smells and prevent blending with others. Each compartment contained cube-shaped packets soaked in the scent of the people attending the group blind date.
Sample scenting was one of the highly preferred methods by many to give participants an idea of what to expect before attending the date. Too often in the past did accidents occur where two people or more couldn’t stand staying in the vicinity as someone else because their scent was too pungent, or were sadly allergic to one or both scents that sometimes manifested in averse physical reactions. The invention of these tin boxes was not only literal lifesavers but also appealed to the more primal instincts that relied on smell rather than visuals to decide if someone was desirable.
Jongin didn’t have any unfortunate encounters with scents when he used to attend group blind dates in college. He hadn’t heard of anyone being allergic to his scent, either. He was often complimented for the fragrant sweetness of his honey and peach blossom scent. It became the object of envy by many, candidly wishing their scent was half as beguiling as his. The positive reception definitely helped him embrace his scent and wear it like a perfume. In the rare cases Jongin did, he used select perfumes that emphasized his natural scent instead of diluting it.
Jongin gingerly brought each cube to his nose and took generous inhales. He couldn’t help wrinkling his nose at most of the scents. One cube he left untouched, shocked by its redolence upon opening.
Sehun’s laughter reached his ears. “Okay, I’ll stay away from the person with the scent in the last compartment.”
“Just because I reacted strongly? Don’t.” Jongin closed the tin box and returned it to Sehun. “It would be unfair to the person. There are workarounds to scents that aren’t compatible with your nose.”
“Sure, but I’m not that great of an actor, hyung,” Sehun said. “There are more ways to test attraction and compatibility. An appealing scent may or may not come with a good personality. I should at least have good feelings for the person before deciding.”
“And you can only do that when you attend the group blind date and mingle with them,” Jongin concluded for him, smiling when Sehun said nothing but nodded his head in agreement. “But it’s your choice if you want to go. Kiwoo-ssi must want your presence badly—he looked ready to plead if you resisted.”
Sehun scoffed, though a mildly flattered look showed on his face. “He always drags me to these things, but eh. Can’t hurt to attend this time, even if there’s no guarantee I’ll like someone.”
“You won’t know until you go.”
Sehun gave him a long look before saying quietly, “Fine.” Jongin couldn’t tell if he imagined the faintest note of petulance in his voice because he reverted back to his mischievous, unapologetic self with his bold declaration. “What I do know is that I’m still going to eat jajangmyeon with you regardless of status on Black Day next year. You’re buying, of course.”
Jongin threw a crumpled napkin Sehun’s way, a small laugh bubbling out of his lips.
☆彡
At twenty-eight, Jongin never, ever predicted he would be sitting slumped and defeated on a sidewalk in Paris.
People barely spared him a glance as they walked past. Some who slowed in their tracks lingered awkwardly in front of him, as if thinking twice whether to approach or not, until they ultimately decided to walk away. Jongin couldn’t blame them. A lot were probably wary and hesitant to show concern when the great wall of a language barrier existed. Another factor was the sudden rain pelting down from the darkened skies, mirroring his current mood and soaking him in a matter of minutes.
Jongin’s logic told him to stand up right this instant and seek shelter. Jongin’s heart, heavy and broken, wept and wailed that getting drenched was nothing compared to the excruciating ache crushing his chest. A chill began to seep through his clothes, raising gooseflesh on his skin. His mind was empty, body numb, hollowly watching the invasion of gray on the colorful, lively streets; citizens running under awnings or sharing umbrellas. A couple huddled close under one, prompting Jongin to smirk bitterly at the sight. His vision blurred from the raindrops dripping down his face—until the rain suddenly stopped falling around him.
Jongin startled, taking a few seconds to comprehend what was happening
The presence of a newcomer standing in front of him registered first. A whiff of an inoffensive scent followed. Jongin gathered enough energy to wipe away the stray drops from his eyes and lift his head to check.
A man, probably the same age or younger. He had short black hair, wore an olive green shirt and jeans, and he was holding up an umbrella over both of them. “Are you okay?” came his question, spoken in lightly-accented English.
Jongin was struck by how deep and gentle his voice sounded. He was about to answer when the man suddenly asked something in French, though this time, the accent wasn’t as heavy. Jongin ascertained this man might not be a Parisian but had a grasp of the two most important languages vital for survival in this country.
“Why won’t this person respond…”
Jongin’s eyes widened when his ears caught the man mumbling in flawless Korean. “I can hear you perfectly fine,” he answered in their, hopefully, common mother tongue.
The man’s eyes enlarged in unveiled surprise. An obvious relief settled in his features as he switched to Korean in his next reply. “Thank god there’s one language you and I can both speak. Which also happens to be the easiest for me.” He grinned briefly before turning serious. “Why are you sitting here by yourself and without an umbrella? Are you a tourist? Did you get separated from your friends?”
Jongin shook his head; again, when the man offered his hand to help him stand up. “I came here with someone. I don’t know where he ran off to.”
“That’s not very nice of him, now, is it? Some friend he is.” The man’s frankness had Jongin cracking a weak smile—the first after what happened. “Anyway, you have to get out of your wet clothes or you’ll catch a cold. Do you know the way back to where you’re staying?”
“I do. I’ll take a cab back. There isn’t a lot to do with this kind of rain.” Jongin met the man’s concerned gaze, and his smile widened a fraction. “Honestly, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. You’re the only one who’s shown me that, even if you didn’t have to.”
The man insisted on staying to shield him from the rain until Jongin hailed a cab. The rain was steady in its downpour, and Jongin was beginning to shiver from the cold. Succeeding in finding a cab, Jongin was about to climb in when the man handed him a piece of flat, matte-finished paper. A QR code was printed on it.
“I promise I don’t have any bad intentions,” the man hurried to say when Jongin shot him a suspicious look. “Your friend is terrible for ditching you without a second thought in a foreign country. If… if you want someone to talk to, and you don’t mind a complete stranger, you can use that to reach me by KakaoTalk.”
“Aren’t you being impulsive?” Jongin questioned. “We don’t know each other. You’re giving away your contact information so easily. What’s the guarantee you’re not roping me into some elaborate, illegal scam?”
“None,” the man answered right away, surprising Jongin once more. “I can’t guarantee anything because we’ve only met. You are right to be suspicious. But I know a sad person when I see one, and I can’t bear looking the other way when I could’ve done something. If you give me a chance, I can prove I’m not a sleazy opportunist or a bad person. But I’ll leave that decision to you.” He pointed to the card in Jongin’s hand. “You’re free to do whatever you want with that after we part ways. I won’t take offense. We might not even meet each other again after this. Even so, I hope you find better friends who would blow up your phone until you pick up because you should never be by yourself in weather like this—and in a place far from home.”
The last thing Jongin saw and heard before the cab drove away was the man’s smile, waving as he called out, “Good luck! Enjoy your stay in Paris.”
In the safety of his hotel room, Jongin had half a mind to throw away the card after a much-needed bath. The rain didn’t seem like it would stop anytime soon, so he stretched out on the couch, staring at the card and bringing it to his nose for a good inhale. Earthy, musky, but a sweet and delicate floral fragrance, creamy but not overwhelming.
The card smelled thickly of patchouli and magnolia.
The card smelled very much like the man with the umbrella.
Jongin hardly took gargantuan risks unless he was guaranteed great benefits. Yet sadness and anguish were powerful, potent concoctions that could push even the most careful person to unexpected lengths and act out of expected character. So after two days of moping, crying, raging, venting to friends through video calls on their available time zones, and acquiring a newfound appreciation for the bottles of champagne with names he couldn’t pronounce but oddly soothed him in the late hours of the morning, Jongin grabbed his phone and the card to scan the QR code.
Dread crept up his spine after sending the message and refused to abate in the shower or while changing clothes. It transformed into a nervous rhythm of tapping fingers on the tabletop while waiting at a restaurant with al fresco dining. Today’s weather was beautiful, blessed with clear skies and the right amount of sunshine, like the past two days of cloudiness and rainfall didn’t happen.
A surprised gasp from someone in front of his table. The calming scent of patchouli and magnolia.
“Wow. You really came.” The man from two days ago looked astonished, like he couldn’t believe Jongin was here; that this was entirely happening, even. “I genuinely thought you were going to pull one on me and never show up.”
“My own expectations were low.” Jongin gestured to the empty seat, worry dissipating. “I assumed the account you gave me might not even be yours. I’m glad you proved me wrong.”
The man sat down, studying Jongin for some seconds. “No offense, but you look exhausted. Did you and your friend have a fight?”
Jongin took his time wondering how to answer the question without giving away too much. “You could say that. Not only did he run off, he completely left me behind. Packed up and disappeared and everything.” His lips pulled into a bitter smile recalling the moment he arrived at the hotel that fateful afternoon with only his suitcase left in the closet. No note of apology or explanation; even the number was unreachable.
The man’s lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. “Full offense, but your friend is an asshole. Nobody abandons their friend in a foreign country, no matter how bad that fight was.” He huffed in annoyance. Jongin was surprised how someone could feel so offended for him when they barely knew each other. “Forget about that disloyal friend of yours. Paris is a beautiful city with plenty to see and do. I’m sure you called me out here because you were lonely and wanted company, but without the trouble of having to conquer the language barrier.”
Jongin’s lips threatened to break into a smile at the man’s refreshing straightforwardness but stifled it by saying, “I navigated Paris with basic French phrases. Papago is quite reliable for the more difficult sentences. A lot of Parisians are adept in English, which I am more used to. It’s not my first time here, either.”
“Alright, you’ve made your points clear.” The man held up his hands in the gesture to stop. A tiny smile bloomed on his face. “You know what; we’re doing this out of order. Introductions should be done first when meeting new people. We can trade just first names, if you want. I won’t ask anything more beyond what you want to divulge. What happens in Paris stays in Paris, or something to that effect.”
“Are you always this forthright?” Jongin couldn’t help asking, amusement rising. “Names aren’t a big deal for me. My name’s Kim Jongin.”
The man beamed. “Oh Sehun. Pleased to meet you. If you don’t mind, are you older than me? Just so I know if I should speak formally or informally and how to address you.”
Jongin tipped his head back with a loud laugh at the absolute shock that flitted across Sehun’s features after revealing his age.
Sehun gave him a mildly annoyed look. “C’mon, now, hyung—may I call you that?” He switched to formal language in his follow-up statement. “I was raised in a household that placed great importance on respecting elders and to always recognize the hierarchy. Now that I know you’re older than me, I hope you let my insolence slide this one time. I promise to be respectful from here on out.”
“I’m twenty-eight, not grandfather-aged,” Jongin pointed out through his fading laughter. “We only have a five-year age difference. You started talking to me informally and treating me like we’re same-aged from the first meeting, so it’d be weird to have you act the opposite. You may shed the formalities and call me hyung. Does that ease your mind?”
Sehun nodded, the tense line of his shoulders relaxing. “I’ll do my best to be reliable for as long as you need a friend.” Then, more casually: “I’ll be in your care now, hyung. Let’s get along well, okay?”
☆彡
“How are you lately?”
Jongin caught Moonkyu’s meaningful look. “I’m doing fine. Better than ever, actually.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the red light to turn green. “A month has passed. It’s expected. I was sad for about two weeks. Maybe less? This breakup wasn’t as bad as I initially thought. I can think about him lately without feeling sad or angry.”
The light turned green. Moonkyu spoke again after Jongin turned right. “I can’t say I’m surprised you’re healing fast, but I’m glad you are. You had a hard time moving on from some of your exes. I was worried it might be the same this time around.”
“Four months isn’t enough to trigger the waterworks, you know.”
“You think?” Moonkyu hummed and feigned contemplation. “I distinctly remember you being listless and grumpy for close to a year after ending a six-month relationship.”
“Oh, hey, we’re here!” Jongin sounded a little too enthusiastic it came off fake. Moonkyu seemed to agree with his knowing smile and laugh as they drove into the parking area.
Today they were at Seoul Arts Center to watch a ballet headlined by one of their high school friends. He and Moonkyu had been classmates with him in all three grades but parted ways after college. Although communication became erratic with how hectic their own lives had become, Jongin was happy for this friend who achieved his dreams across the globe. They thought it only natural to support him when possible. Tonight was the perfect opportunity since their friend’s troupe was on tour.
Their reunion backstage was a frenzied rhapsody of happy exclamations and overzealous jumping that attracted the attention and curiosity around them. Tight hugs were exchanged, and it gave Jongin a sense of comfort that, regardless of how many years they hadn’t seen each other, Lee Taemin’s characteristic pine and sage scent was just as invigorating as he remembered.
They relocated to an Italian restaurant in Yongsan to catch up on each other’s lives. Taemin’s troupe was performing in Seoul for three days—today being the first—and then head to Jeonju, Yeosu, and Daegu to perform Giselle before flying back to their home company in New York. Jongin eagerly listened to Taemin’s stories of performing in different countries, renowned dancers he worked with, the name he made for himself. Listening took Jongin back to his nine-year-old self who had fallen deeply enamored with ballet, took classes, nearly pursued a career in it but changed his mind when his ailing grandfather professed his wish for him to take over KJ Group in the future. Jongin’s parents had told him it was more important to follow his heart and do what he liked since the company could be run by someone else. Jongin might have if not for the multitude of injuries that had forever squandered his chances of becoming professional. He had grieved for the lost golden chance, but overcame it with time and his family’s love and support.
The combination of delicious food and wonderful company had Jongin ordering seconds of his main course, along with a few other dishes that didn’t appeal to him initially but sounded good after having some wine in him. Upon migrating to a nearby café where they could continue chatting in a more relaxed atmosphere, Jongin happened to glance at the display stand of pastries; returned to their table with a small cake for sharing.
Taemin flashed Jongin a meaningful smile; waggled his eyebrows in a similar fashion. “Heat coming, huh?”
“Most likely,” Moonkyu piped up, taking the plastic knife and started slicing. “The world may end tomorrow, but you can never convince Jongin to willingly touch a cream cake unless it’s his pre-heat."
“Go easy on me. You never know when I might not take your words well and start tearing up,” Jongin chided, wagging a finger as if scolding children. He dove right into the cake after receiving his portion, moaning at how divine it tasted on his tongue—something he would never say on regular days. “This could be one of those pre-heats where my default reaction to anything is crying.”
Jongin might joke about it, but he certainly hoped not. Those types of pre-heats were incredibly difficult and exhausting more than the actual physiological changes. He thought he wasn’t due until a few days after, but this morning, his heat tracker app showed him today’s date shaded in a cool blue. It was the app’s color to signify he officially entered day one of his two-week pre-heat. But even without the app’s precaution, the increased appetite was one of Jongin’s pre-heat tells.
The drowsiness was a bit trickier. Jongin waking up three hours past his usual on a Sunday was a semi-regular occurrence. However, once he left the comfort of his bed, his entire body felt weighed down by an unusual heaviness he never experienced even during his busiest. He deduced it to be pre-heat fatigue, which he was highly susceptible to during. The urge to hop right back and burrow beneath the covers again was very strong and tempting, but hunger was stronger and convinced Jongin to continue his half-asleep trudging to the kitchen for a quick breakfast.
Cooking and showering took Jongin twice as longer than usual, movements sluggish as he rummaged the drawers and pulled out two of his softest blankets reserved for these occasions. Jongin was currently in his nesting room making preparations for the long week he would undoubtedly spend here. Once it hit, he wanted to do nothing but revel in the highest level of comfort. He stripped the mattress and covered it with slick-absorbent sheets that also emitted a cooling effect he would need for his heated skin later. He checked the mini refrigerator and took note of what to buy on his next grocery run. Deliveries could be done if he lacked something he might desperately need, but Jongin neither liked traveling to and fro his nesting room nor had the energy for it at the height of heat.
Done and admiring his handiwork, it struck Jongin this was a heat he’d spend by himself. Nothing too unusual in his case compared to others who heavily relied on partners, whether significant others or those from specialized services. Jongin simply wasn’t in the mood for contact with anyone during some of his heat cycles—apparently a complicated concept to grasp by some of his exes. Being touchy and cuddly didn’t mean he couldn’t refuse their help on the onset of heat. One ex broke up with him over this. Another tried and failed to manipulate him into agreeing, justifying that turning down his help would mean Jongin loved him less. Jongin had never been quicker and gladder to dump that knothead on the spot for his downright appalling perspective.
Jongin checked on the fluffy towels he soaked in synthetic alpha pheromones and lined the perimeter of his nesting bed. Until a decade ago, synthetic alpha pheromones were more of a novelty item than a staple in an omega’s heat care package. His late grandfather’s efforts spearheaded the creation of the most popular and widely-used brand nationwide; led to building a subsidiary focused on seeking ways and inventing tools that improved the health and wellbeing of omegas, which Jongin was in charge of now. These items were easily found in the biggest department stores to the heat clinics built in every district alongside their competitors. If one had enough money to spend, they could request the manufacturer to create custom-made pheromones exclusively for them. Jongin was one such person, putting in a request two weeks early so he could receive the item before heat; ordered scents according to his mood. This time around, he had a penchant for jasmine and cinnamon, and the towels smelled heavily, pleasantly of it.
Gone were the days that alpha pheromone types served as proof of masculinity. Evolution and mother nature made it possible for a wider variety of pheromones to exist and assigned softer, gentler scents to some who presented as alphas. Jongin preferred comforting alpha scents during his heat. Outside of it, he could come to appreciate his current partner’s scent as long as it didn’t feel like an outright assault to his nose. Burying his face in the towel, Jongin relished the jasmine and cinnamon combination that melted his fatigue and stress. He foresaw lounging in the nesting room for the rest of the day, a frequent practice of his when heat neared.
Wednesday saw Jongin still in his office beyond seven o’clock for the third time that week. Some contracts needed reviewing; proposals requiring approval, revision, or rejection. He usually worked overtime as long as his condition was good during pre-heat to lessen the workload on his return to office the week after, and he disliked putting off important matters if he could settle them right away. Jongin didn’t realize how much time had flown until a dull ache at the back of his neck and temples demanded his attention. The laptop clock read 10:30 P.M. He wanted to work some more but allowed himself to continue tomorrow.
Jongin was about to start his car when an incoming call stopped him. Sehun’s name appeared on his screen.
“Yes?” Jongin massaged the bridge of his nose. He briefly wondered if the aching in his temples was from stress, eye strain, or a result of ignoring his hunger pangs.
“Hyung, you sound tired. Are you working overtime?”
Sehun’s perceptiveness never failed to surprise Jongin—and that was only from uttering a single word. “I was about to leave. Is something up?”
Sehun clucked his tongue. “If you’re not headed anywhere else, which I hope you’re not, I’ll see you at your penthouse.”
Every time Sehun sounded this serious, it meant there was no room for protest or argument. Resigned, mildly amused, Jongin voiced his agreement.
Upon arrival, Jongin smiled a little seeing Sehun’s neatly-arranged sneakers at the foyer; the faint, lingering traces of patchouli and magnolia. Perhaps Sehun had arrived a few minutes earlier. Jongin found him at the kitchen, together with empty paper bags on the counter. Sehun was busy pouring the contents of the plastic containers on different bowls and plates at the island counter.
“Hi, hyung.” Sehun gave him a brief glance over his shoulder before resuming his task. “I didn’t know what you’d like, but knowing that you neglect food for overtime, I brought your favorites. If you want something else, that’s fine with me as long as you have the ingredients.”
Jongin deposited his bag on the living room couch and loosened his tie on the way back to the kitchen. The flavorful aromas made Jongin’s stomach cramp with anticipation, resurrecting his forgotten hunger. Washing his hands at the sink, he sought out a particular scent and remarked, awed, “You brought samgyetang, too?”
Sehun set down the big bowl of samgyetang in front of Jongin once he was seated. “You didn’t eat on time, so have some broth first. Don’t rush eating; that would be hard on your stomach.”
One sip turned to two, three, many. Jongin relished the warmth spreading through his body from the hearty broth. He ate the chicken in increments; everything else in tiny portions, pacing himself so as not to shock his stomach that had been empty for hours. The pain blooming in his temples gradually disappeared the more he ate. Sehun’s watchful eyes never strayed from him, giving reminders to take it slow with particular dishes; prepared a cup of warm water for him to aid in digestion. Jongin barely felt the passage of time as Sehun entertained him with fun anecdotes that happened at Ginkgo Garden today; barely noticed he’d eaten everything, despite his slowness, until his chopsticks clinked against the porcelain and startled them.
Sehun beamed at the sight of empty plates and bowls. Then, his expression turned strict. “Seriously, hyung, I know you love work too much, but you should always eat on time. If you fall sick or your stomach starts hurting from skipping meals, that’s going to end in a trip to the hospital. You wouldn’t want that.”
“Alright, I hear you,” Jongin replied, unable to help chortling. Sometimes, Sehun acted like an old man about these matters, though he knew it came from a place of genuine concern. “I just forgot this one time!”
Sehun squinted his eyes in suspicion.
“…oh, wait, I ate lunch at past two yesterday”—Jongin saw Sehun open his mouth to no doubt chide him again but beat him to it—“but it’s not as bad as you imagine! I don’t skip meals for fun or on purpose. There’s simply too much work to be done on some days, and eating takes an unfortunate backseat. But for your peace of mind, I will set alarms. Do I have your approval, Mr. Oh?”
Judging from Sehun’s softening expression, Jongin knew he’d won.
While washing dishes, Jongin remembered something important. “By the way, I want to place an advanced order for hwajeon. Feel free to choose what flowers to put as long as I can pick it up by the end of the week.”
Sehun stopped mid-rinse, blinked, then continued. “I had a hunch you were entering heat. You smelled strongly of peach blossom more than honey. I could smell you even before you walked through your front door.”
“Is that so? That’s a relief, then. It means my stress is still manageable,” Jongin said, following it with a short laugh.
The usual telltale sign of an omega in pre-heat was their second scent becoming more prominent. Sweet scents became sweeter; stronger, during the heat itself. Some cases existed where floral scents turned sour. Experts who did thorough research on the topic concluded the souring of otherwise sweet or fruity scents was tied to an omega’s physical and emotional states. Sour scents were usually emitted if an omega was undergoing extreme physical pain or too distraught about particular affairs; ergo, the strong advocacy of limiting exposure to stressors and maintaining fitness as early as pre-heat.
Jongin’s workload decreased, his overtimes at the office lessening. He filed early for his paid leave of nine days—seven was dedicated to the heat itself, two for recovery—and had it approved just as quickly. Lunchtime alarms were helpful reminders, and he ate everything with gusto; indulged in seconds if he had time. By Friday, Jongin was nodding off in front of his laptop and took a nap—another tell of his body telling him he should get as much rest as possible in preparation for heat week.
“Did you call me to meet so I could be your teddy bear again?” Kwonho sounded fondly exasperated as Jongin snuggled into his side.
“Just this time.” Jongin couldn’t be any happier that Kwonho was free for coffee tonight after hesitating to head straight home. He clung to Kwonho as soon as he saw him inside the café and only let go so they could place their orders. “I haven’t seen you in so long! Does being a big-time producer mean you can’t make time for me anymore?” His words came out like a whine and scooted closer, relishing in Kwonho’s relieving scent of cocoa and petrichor cocooning him.
“Well, I do have to make a living. Some of us aren’t born raised in money, you know,” Kwonho answered in a solemn voice. Jongin laughed at the obvious joke. “Moonkyu wasn’t available to meet? Helping out with his sister at a fashion expo? I see. I could’ve dropped by your penthouse. The pheromone neutralizers used here don’t seem strong enough to weaken your scent.”
Jongin understood what Kwonho meant when he noticed a few curious glances customers sent his way. Decades ago, lawmakers passed a mandate requiring the installation of pheromone neutralizers in outdoor spaces and inside every kind of establishment to avoid overloading noses with the immense amount of scents. This included heat and rut pheromone dampener options required to be activated round the clock. Although these options reduced its strength, rare were the instances someone’s scent was too powerful to be noticed.
“It’s manageable,” Jongin assured. Sure enough, the people looking at him went back to minding their own business. “Pheromone neutralizers might not completely erase our scents, but it’s improved the quality of our lives. I won’t have to worry about unwanted advances from alphas during this crucial period. The dampeners kill their libido.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Kwonho patted Jongin’s clasped hands around his elbow. “Since you’ve held me hostage, I have no choice but to act as a temporary teddy bear in the absence of a significant other.”
“False. I cuddle with both.”
Kwonho laughed and nodded. “True, and sometimes we get into trouble unknowingly. But that jerk, he was the worst…” He trailed off on purpose, but Jongin caught his meaning immediately.
Jongin thought it natural to rely on trustworthy people at his most vulnerable. The list included family, friends, and a lover. Craving physical intimacy from them was a factor he couldn’t avoid during pre-heat, willingly receiving it from whoever was available at the time. Some of his then-boyfriends couldn’t wrap their minds around the concept of platonic cuddling; a few didn’t trust any of Jongin’s friends, albeit not obvious at first. One ex stood out among the rest for not only tirelessly picking fights with him about cuddling with friends but demeaned and disparaged him in the same breath, as well. That alpha was the closest Jongin could call as the worst ex he had in his long list of relationships. Sehun might agree with him, having been on the receiving end one too many times of that alpha ex’s unbecoming pettiness.
Kwonho shook his head and drank his Americano. “Anyway, for as long as you’re single, we shall be your teddy bears you can squish and cuddle with to avoid a whining fit when in pre-heat.” He cackled at Jongin’s protest. “And then you have Oh Sehun, your portable bolster.”
“What?” Jongin straightened up at once, coming face to face with Kwonho’s impish expression.
“Every time Sehun is in the vicinity and pre-heat has you particularly clingy, you’d sneak up on him and glue yourself to his back. I’ve seen it. Moonkyu has seen it. Heck, even some of your exes have, and you wonder why Sehun makes them raise their metaphorical hackles or turn into painfully stereotypical knotheads.”
“Sehun’s back is broader than yours and Moonkyu’s. It feels really comfortable leaning on it when there are no readily available sofas and chairs nearby,” Jongin reasoned. He sipped his latte then resumed his position. “And you know that omega noses tend to prefer alpha scents during. Sehun doesn’t mind. He would’ve spoken up if he wasn’t comfortable. He has a lot of experience handling omegas in pre-heat from friends and relatives.”
“Here’s the thing: if I saw you two randomly anywhere, I’d have mistaken you and Sehun for a couple. There were honestly a few times the both of you looked like you were dating more than you did with some of your exes.”
Jongin burst out laughing, sitting up straight again and pulling back to look at Kwonho. “No, no, no. We’re nothing more than friends. It’s not the first time I’m hearing this from you. Moonkyu has mentioned something similar, too. But, nope, not happening. Sehun and I are just friends. Besides”—he took a more generous sip of his latte—“you know my stance about young alphas.”
Kwonho looked liked he wanted to refute him but seemed to have changed his mind with his next answer. “I’d argue that has nothing to do with age and more with maturity. But I’ll agree with you in case your hormones are making you oversensitive right now. And for the sake of preserving my eardrums from your griping.”
Jongin feigned indignation and playfully shoved a laughing Kwonho on the shoulder.
On the second and final week of pre-heat, Jongin started pacing himself accordingly. He did as much work as possible, met important people, secured promising contracts. He deliberately left out blazers in his office ensembles due to the slightly raised body temperature. He ate larger portions during meals, snacked in between if he wasn’t needed in meetings, napped to battle the ever-persistent fatigue. Moonkyu often dropped by his penthouse for a cuddle session; if none were available, Jongin headed to his parents’ house, older sisters happily indulging him. As soon as Friday rolled around, Jongin left his office at seven on the dot. He went grocery shopping for bottled water, snacks, and other essentials; dropped by the pharmacy for low-dose painkillers before heading home.
Jongin heard the unlocking of his front door in the middle of preparing dinner. He didn’t rush out to check who it was. No matter how thick the material between, or how little of it he could smell, the scent of patchouli and magnolia was a big giveaway to the person’s identity.
“You’re here?” Sehun’s genuinely surprised voice had Jongin sparing him a glance. He handed Jongin a paper bag containing his ordered hwajeon. “I thought you’d be doing overtime until today.”
“There wasn’t much left to be done anymore. I might return to an overflowing pile of work the week after next, though.” Jongin wrinkled his nose at the probable amount of unread e-mails in his inbox and folders of important documents requiring his approval waiting on his return. “Have you eaten? I’m cooking steak.”
“I’ll never turn down a free meal if you’re cooking,” Sehun replied matter-of-factly, smiling cheekily. He washed his hands and helped with the preparations without being told, a comfortable silence reigning over them as they worked in sync.
They ate a dinner of medium rare steaks and sides of mashed potatoes and fresh-tossed salad. Conversation revolved around how their days went, trading funny stories and curious happenings from co-workers. Sehun volunteered to do the dishes as a token of thanks. Jongin took the opportunity to shower today’s dirt and grime away. Drying his hair while returning outside, he found Sehun fixing his belongings on the living room couch. Sehun might not have heard his footsteps, but he definitely smelled him despite not turning around since Jongin’s scent had strengthened in the last three days. Jongin stood idly while staring at Sehun’s back and was suddenly overcome with a strong urge to lie down—on a bed, preferably, but his feet decided for him in eight steps.
“Hyung, did you want to cuddle?”
Jongin could hear the smile in Sehun’s words despite the initial tensing of his body upon close contact. He leaned his forehead against the back of Sehun’s head. His fingers clutched the hem of Sehun’s shirt. The shower warmed him, but the heat coming from Sehun’s body felt miles better to Jongin’s pre-heat-fatigued body.
“Just for a few moments. I won’t keep you if you’re needed somewhere else.”
“It’s past eleven. I have no Friday night plans.” Sehun hummed. “Or, I might have if I hit it off with someone in the group blind date Kiwoo brought me.”
Sehun recounted his recent experience on the way to the couch. Jongin couldn’t help grinning as he snuggled into Sehun’s side the moment he opened his arms, immersing himself in the scent of patchouli and magnolia and warm nearness. He listened to Sehun’s many reasons why he didn’t click with the other singles, commonly coming down to incompatibility.
“Why are you so picky?”
“If I wasn’t, I would’ve been called a playboy dating anyone who showed me the slightest interest. That sort of lifestyle is exhausting. Pass.”
Jongin rested his head against Sehun’s shoulder. “Did you really not like any of them, or are you still hung up on that omega crush of yours?”
Sehun didn’t answer right away. Jongin didn’t push him to give an answer—said omega crush had always been shrouded in mystery since Sehun mentioned it the first time. He was also incredibly tight-lipped about it in spite of not shying away from the topic.
“Something like that,” came Sehun’s answer, when Jongin lost hope of hearing one. “But my omega crush is not the concern right now, hyung. Are you sleepy? You tend to get drowsy when we cuddle. Long day at the office?”
“Not really. Just give me a few more minutes before you head back.”
Those few minutes lengthened to ninety when Jongin suggested watching a movie. By the time Sehun left, Jongin didn’t move right away, feeling too comfortable and warm lying on his side on the couch but also relishing the remnants of patchouli and magnolia in the living room. When it completely disappeared, Jongin dragged himself to his nesting room, sighing at the long, tiring heat waiting ahead of him.
The next day, Jongin began moving food items and other necessities into the nesting room; pulled out the box of toys in case the urges became too much. He shed his pajama top, feeling too hot and stifled thanks to his body temperature raising two degrees. Soon, the air in the nesting room was perfumed by his peach blossom scent, certain body parts tingling as the first of his slick trickled out.
At the end of his heat, Jongin emerged from his nesting room achy, body covered in sweat, slick, and his own come. Clad only in a bathrobe, Jongin munched on the last pieces of hwajeon while waiting for the water to boil. On the dining table he sat, checking his phone for the first time in seven days. His work number had several unread messages. His friends left reminders on their group chat to tell them when they could come over to help with post-heat cleanup. Sehun sent a message three days ago, informing him of having sent a care package.
Jongin always left a chair in front of his door during his heats in case he wanted something delivered and couldn’t come open it. True to form, a large paper bag sat waiting for him outside. The bag contained post-heat necessities, pieced together based on Jongin’s favorites: bath bombs from a brand he patronized, lavender lotion that soothed sore muscles, ginseng for reinvigoration, and packets of beef jerky he customarily snacked on in celebration of surviving yet another wearying heat.
Rest well, hyung. Send me a message if you want something to eat that you can’t prepare right now, read the included note in Sehun’s trademark scrawl, making Jongin smile as giddiness filled him.
☆彡
At seventeen, Jongin learned that heat and its different stages was everything described in textbooks and science classes, but at the same time wasn’t.
Having been fortunately raised in a loving household where affection and praise came in staples, Jongin sought these out more than usual when he entered pre-heat. He would do chores and tiny favors for his family members and preened at their compliments more than usual. His mother, ever the most attuned person in the world with him, liberally dispensed hugs and held his hands when he fell prey to mood swings, temper improving within minutes as long as she stayed close.
In school, he came to rely on Moonkyu and Kwonho. Although they belonged in different grades, their middle school relations didn’t stop them from hanging out when they could. Both having presented as betas, Jongin felt safer around them during pre-heat. The wonderful invention called pheromone neutralizers helped put his concerns to rest, too.
Discovering what he liked and disliked during pre-heats turned out to be an endless process. Jongin accidentally discovered his proclivity for cuddling during an autumn pre-heat. He and Moonkyu were headed to cram school but stopped by a GS25 for some snacks. In the middle of complaining about today’s lessons, Jongin suddenly felt light-headed. Moonkyu’s pine and nutmeg scent had always smelled nice to him; this time, it soothed the nauseousness that attacked from seeming nowhere. Wanting to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling, he asked Moonkyu if it was okay to lean on him for a while.
Moonkyu must’ve sensed his distress (and probably looked the part), so he immediately agreed. Jongin moved his chair closer and sighed aloud once his head touched Moonkyu’s shoulder. Relief flooded his system in a slow trickle, nauseousness subsiding bit by bit. Jongin didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes, much less dozed off, but he felt slightly better upon rousing and listened to Moonkyu’s advice of heading home. (”You smell like the trails of Mt. Chundeok when the peach blossoms are in full bloom even with the pheromone neutralizers in full blast. Better to rest than puke on your notes.”)
Jongin understood later on that his body was producing too many hormones than it could handle; thus, the nauseousness, and sometimes moodiness. The curious thing was its miraculous disappearance once his mother drew him into her embrace upon reaching home. He clung to his mother’s arms, seeking the comfort she provided alongside her geranium and rosemary scent until the strength in his legs returned and the room wasn’t spinning anymore.
“Are you curious why this happened?” Mrs. Kim smiled and ran a loving hand through Jongin’s hair. He just finished the weak broth she prepared for him and now comfortably settled in his bed. “When omegas are in pre-heat or the heat itself, whether consciously or not, they seek the comfort, touch, and scent of others. It’s because of a specific hormone produced during this period that intensifies their yearning for physical contact of any kind. Contact and scent from any subgender is okay, but if we base it on the hundreds of researches conducted, omegas have shown more inclination toward alphas. This is due to a special pheromone alphas emit—their scents are laden with it, which can quickly subdue symptoms of physical discomfort and satiate the exceptional need for physical closeness.
“This would explain why you tend to come to me or your father when you’re in pre-heat after presenting last year, although you weren’t aware of it at the time yet.” Mrs. Kim warmed Jongin’s hands between her own. How fascinating that he felt nothing but serene, but Jongin supposed his mother would possess ample knowledge on the matter, having worked as a nurse previously before marrying into the Kim family.
As the years passed, Jongin’s pre-heats didn’t always come with nauseousness. Despite this, seeking nonsexual intimacy had almost become second nature when pre-heat loomed close. Knowing other omegas who shared a similar predicament assured him he wasn’t unnecessarily clingy. He told Moonkyu and Kwonho about this, and they were nothing but understanding and supporting. They allowed him to cuddle with them even in the absence of nausea, save for the times they were dating someone. Jongin would then rely on his family members to fill the quota. Moonkyu and Kwonho extended the same courtesy to Jongin’s significant other if he had one at the time. But, some emergencies couldn’t be helped, so Jongin was left without choice but to cuddle with either of his best friends.
Jongin had always been upfront about his cuddling during this sensitive period to his partners, going as far as introducing them to each other to prevent misunderstandings and awkwardness. Funnily (and, perhaps, tragically) enough, it was mostly the alpha exes who admitted they weren’t comfortable with the notion of Jongin cuddling with (single) friends. Some weren’t completely lost cases and came around after a few months. Select few were completely adamant about their stances, often leading to fights and, inevitably, breakups. Although not all, the beta and omega exes proved to be the most understanding.
Two years into his friendship with Sehun, one of his relatively worse pre-heats struck him merciless and unknowing. They were at the movie theater when a sudden light-headed sensation swept over Jongin. The movie was nearing its climax, so Jongin willed himself to endure the discomfort until the end. What he didn’t expect was the dull pain in his abdomen, circulating and throbbing. Jongin squeezed his eyes shut and took discreet breaths. He seldom experienced cramps when he first presented. After turning twenty-five, however, Jongin’s body seemed to have undergone a few changes. Now, at thirty, he could call himself lucky if he was spared the excruciating pain of cramps that sometimes rendered him unfit to work.
Pinpricks of pain stabbed him, spreading through his insides. The throbbing in his abdomen steadily worsened as the minutes ticked by. Jongin could only hope Sehun wouldn’t notice he’d moved closer to inhale his patchouli and magnolia scent that, thankfully, suppressed the urge to hurl; soothed the cramp pain. His mind was split between the movie and deliberating if he should drop by a heat clinic for emergency treatment.
On the way out of the theater, Sehun was talking animatedly about his favorite parts of the movie. When they were getting to know each other at the beginning, Jongin discovered that Sehun had a different way of watching and understanding movies. The first time they watched a movie of Sehun’s choice, everyone focused on the probable reason Protagonist A left Protagonist B at the height of their relationship. But Sehun wondered, instead, why Side Character A didn’t have a satisfying resolution to their arc when it was just as interesting as the main storyline.
“And then—hyung, you’re not listening to me.” Sehun sounded a little put-off that no attention was being paid to his sentiments.
Jongin was about to answer when a stab of pain had him grimacing, too late to conceal.
Concern instantly invaded Sehun’s features. He took Jongin by the arm and gently pulled him to the side. “You don’t look too good. Do you want to go to the hospital?”
Jongin immediately shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” Another stab of pain. A whimper escaped Jongin’s lips unbidden. Sehun’s forehead creased deeper. “Pre-heat cramping.”
Sehun’s face smoothened in understanding, but the worry returned in a split second. “Hyung, do you want to go home? No?” He didn’t look too pleased with Jongin’s answer, and it took a few beats before he spoke again. “If you trust me, I want to take you somewhere.”
“Somewhere” turned out to be Sehun’s office in Ginkgo Garden, away from the noise and crowds. Jongin laid on the couch, propped up on a pillow and a blanket covering him from the waist down. He had a few blissful minutes to himself until Sehun’s return, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of—it smelled like coffee, but Jongin wasn’t confident about calling it that. He even nearly spat out the tiny amount he sipped, shocked by its stringent bitterness.
“Take a larger sip. Eat this right after.” Sehun held out a saucer containing cubes dusted in powdered sugar.
Jongin reluctantly complied. The cube had a soft, chewy texture, but what surprised him this time was the burst of cinnamon that exploded on his tongue, scrubbing away the bitter aftertaste. Sehun sat beside him on the couch, patient in his coaxing for Jongin to continue drinking until the last drop and a few cubes remained. Jongin wasn’t surprised the drink warmed his body, but the pain in his abdomen had drastically subsided.
“Roasted dandelion root tea,” was Sehun’s answer when prompted about the drink. “It looks and smells like coffee but far more bitter. It’s effective in taming pre-heat cramps and nausea. I learned to make it since some omega friends and relatives suffer from it. Two of my cousins have sensitive taste buds and loathe anything bitter, so I studied how to make cinnamon cubes. Grandma Insook helped me perfect it, but this is my own recipe.” He wore a proud smile. “Cinnamon also helps relieves pre-heat cramps. I have friends who aren’t keen on sweets, so I make ginger cubes for them.”
Jongin caressed his abdomen, awed by the comfortable warmth sitting there and impressed by Sehun’s words. “You’re a very thoughtful and thorough person,” he praised, and he meant it.
“I’d say I’m a pretty reliable relative and friend,” Sehun remarked in agreement. Then, his brows furrowed. “How are you feeling? The tea and cubes provide relief, but it’s not a cure-all. Every omega is different. If you need something else, feel free to tell me.”
Jongin wasn’t sure how to approach the topic of cuddling with Sehun. In their two years of friendship, he was able to ascertain Sehun wasn’t a narrow-minded person (alpha). But deal-breakers had a way of concealing themselves from plain sight until a crucial moment. Sehun’s earnestness in helping him looked and sounded genuine; so was his concern. Jongin decided to gamble before the swell and crest of approaching nausea weakened him.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow your shoulder until my nausea subsides. Oh, and your arm, too—I have a tendency to cling while cuddling.” Jongin closed his eyes and took a deep breath to stave off the impending dizziness. “I get strong nausea spells sometimes during my pre-heats. Having someone to cuddle with eases it. If you don’t mind, that is.”
In a matter of minutes, they arranged themselves to sit beside each other on the couch. Jongin exhaled a deep sigh, both in sheer relief and contentment, once his head hit Sehun’s shoulder, a hand coming up to clutch onto his elbow. Sehun was a sturdy and warm presence in those moments of peaceful serenity, the patchouli and magnolia radiating off him in waves providing highly-needed comfort and taming his nausea.
Sehun’s comment broke the silence. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“What’s so unbelievable about this?” Jongin’s eyes were threatening to close from the warmth and soothing scent.
“You’re always so cool and composed. You handle your problems with a lot of grace. I never read you as someone who needed cuddling during pre-heat. Neither did I expect you to share your pre-heat problems with me. Showing me your vulnerable side… I’ll do my best for you in the future when you need me, hyung.”
Jongin shouldn’t have, but it was too late to rein in the laugh that burst out of him.
“Is my sincerity a laughing matter?” The annoyance was audible in Sehun’s voice.
“Hey.” Jongin dragged out the word in a teasing lilt, rubbing his head against Sehun’s shoulder in an act of appeasement. “Don’t sulk.” He lifted his head; saw Sehun’s mouth curved downward. “Your sincerity is heard and appreciated. I was just surprised by the image you have of me.”
The severity of Sehun’s frown lessened but didn’t go away.
“I’m flattered you think highly of me. But if you strip those away, I’m like any other omega. I only happen to know how to manage my pre-heat woes and don’t hesitate to ask for help if needed.” Jongin dared to lightly pinch Sehun’s cheek. Sehun startled but didn’t move his head away. Jongin saw it as a good sign. “I don’t ask help from just anyone, if you must know. Only those whom I trust.”
Newfound understanding settled into Sehun’s expression. He maintained eye contact while giving his response. “I’m happy you see me as someone trustworthy and reliable, hyung. It won’t go to waste, I promise.” A tiny smile formed on his lips, one that far suited him compared to a frown.
And Jongin did come to rely on Sehun from then on. He often used Sehun’s back as a warm, makeshift mattress whenever pre-heat amped his neediness for proximity. Like the others, the only time Jongin didn’t seek Sehun during pre-heat was when he got into relationships, which were far and few in between. Otherwise, Jongin gladly monopolized Sehun on his days off if they coincided with pre-heat, savoring the patchouli and magnolia that blanketed him.
Then came Changseok.
Jongin never believed in whirlwind romances until it happened to him. Sitting on the same table at a charity dinner, Changseok went as a representative of a widely-known electronics company and his uncle’s substitute. He was charismatic and successful by his own right at the relatively young age of twenty-seven. An engaging conversation on economics and business transitioned to invites for dinners, art gallery visits, and a failed but comedic attempt at teaching Jongin how to play golf. Two months of that on top of frequent texting and calling naturally led to a mutual agreement of becoming exclusive.
Six months into dating, Jongin sat Changseok down for the pre-heat conversation. After finishing, Changseok simply nodded his head and asked, “So I have nothing to worry about, right? You’re not going to cuddle with any of your friends behind my back?”
Jongin’s brows drew together but nodded, albeit with some reluctance. At the back of his mind, a tiny voice complained about Changseok’s wording; the tone implying suspicion aside from the more apparent flippancy. Jongin attributed it to his tired state after back-to-back meetings.
His pre-heat fell on mid-spring this year. He thought it’d be manageable like usual. Three days since it started, but there had been no glaring symptoms requiring close watch. One moment he was having a peaceful dinner at a restaurant after a long, tiring workday. The next he couldn’t bear to eat another morsel, bile suddenly clawing its way up to his throat. Immediately knowing this was a symptom, he quickly grabbed his phone and sent Changseok a message, willing his food to stay down.
The next fifteen minutes were agonizing in his wait for a reply. When it arrived, it wasn’t the reply Jongin hoped to read:
Can’t come. At a party with important execs.
You can manage.
I’ll see you later.
Kwonho went out of the country together with a variety show crew yesterday. Moonkyu currently had a family affair in Jeju. His parents were on a business trip; sisters and their families on a Caribbean cruise. Nausea stirred his stomach, soon joined by the faint throbbing of his abdomen. Desperate, Jongin called Sehun.
Sehun arrived in ten minutes, red-faced and chest heaving from the rushing he must’ve done, fussing over Jongin and asking if he needed anything. Patchouli and magnolia engulfed him in its alleviating blanket at the same time Sehun granted Jongin’s frantic request for a hug. Jongin sagged against Sehun’s form, refusing to be taken to either hospital or heat clinic, whispering that he only wanted to go home.
The rest of the events passed by in a haze, bits and pieces of it returning to Jongin after the fog of pain cleared. Sehun driving them to his apartment complex. Sehun punching in the passcode of his door. Reaching as far as the living room before Jongin wound his arms tight around Sehun, nearly falling on the floor. Sehun maneuvered them to the couch, where Jongin was now snuggled into his side, eyes squeezed shut. His head had been spinning by then but now coming to a slow halt; stomach calming, cramps fading.
“Hyung, are you really sure you don’t need medical assistance? You’re a little pale.” Sehun’s voice was filled with worry.
Jongin shook his head right away, taking generous inhales of Sehun’s scent; soaked up the warmth his body radiated. A comfortable silence stretched between them as Jongin’s body eased into relaxation, the various discomforts melting away. Testing his recovery, Jongin took out his phone and informed Changseok that a friend was helping him out.
“I feel a little better now,” Jongin told Sehun, setting his phone and mild disappointment aside. Perhaps it was the pre-heat hormones addling his rationality, but couldn’t Changseok sneak in a text or two to ask how he was faring? Trying not to pout, he leaned the side of his head against Sehun’s shoulder instead. “I’ll take something if I’m still feeling queasy later. If the nausea persists, I’ll call in sick tomorrow and head to the hospital.”
“Good.” Sehun rubbed a comforting hand up and down the length of Jongin’s arm. It felt nice; made him snuggle closer than he already was. “It’s not that I’m unwilling to help, but why isn’t your boyfriend here to do what I’m doing?”
Jongin couldn’t tell if the approaching drowsiness was giving him aural hallucinations or Sehun truly sounded irked. He didn’t get the chance to even linger on it because the resounding beep of his door opening reached his ears; the scent of mint and old paper following fast.
“What the hell is this?” Changseok’s thunderous exclamation echoed in the living room.
Sehun tensed beneath Jongin but didn’t say anything. Gathering his strength, Jongin straightened up and removed himself from Sehun.
“A friend helping me out,” Jongin answered, composed. “I sent you a text telling you exactly that. This is my friend, Oh Sehun.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Sehun stood to give a polite bow. Jongin gleaned the clipped civility in his tone right away.
Changseok’s jaw clenched, an eyebrow arching. “So, you’re the infamous alpha friend, huh? You’ve served your purpose here. Leave.”
Sehun’s brows furrowed, face setting in a stern frown. “Were you not raised to practice gratitude and say ‘thank you’ when someone does something for you?”
Jongin was stunned speechless. He’d never seen Sehun act like this.
Changseok’s face twisted into an ugly mask of indignation. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He pointed a shaky finger at Sehun then glared at Jongin. “You’re proud of having someone like him as your friend? Someone with no manners?” His attention returned to Sehun. “You’re younger than Jongin and I. Show some damn respect.”
A red flush of anger rose on Sehun’s face. Jongin noticed the tight clench of his fists; the paling of his knuckles. “I will be respectful to whoever shows me it. Out of respect for Jongin-hyung and his current condition, I refuse to engage with you any further.” He turned to Jongin, expression smoothing out into something unreadable, though still lined with concern. “Take it easy tonight, hyung. I hope you feel better by tomorrow. I’ll leave now so you can rest properly. Good night.”
“You have no right to disrespect my friend for whatever reason you might have,” Jongin spat out shortly after Sehun’s exit. “I texted you that a friend was helping me out. I told you I wasn’t feeling well.”
“You couldn’t have gone to a heat clinic instead? You had to call an alpha friend? Don’t you have any other friends?”
If Changseok’s scent wasn’t keeping his nausea under control, Jongin would’ve demanded him to leave. But the moment he sensed the presence of a faint throbbing in his temples, he knew pre-heat would not be the source of this headache. “I know my limits. Sehun has always shown respect to my partners and relationships. You will always be my first choice, but you were caught up in work. You should know by now that I’d never ask you to ditch work unless it was a life or death situation. This wasn’t it. And let me remind you that it was you who told me that I can manage. So I did. If it’s still not clear to you, I didn’t do anything treacherous behind your back.”
Changseok opened and close his mouth several times but said nothing. Jongin knew he was stumped; knew he couldn’t find a good enough defense for himself and his poor attitude. In the end, Changseok scoffed but apologized that he couldn’t come sooner; declared he would stay the night since Jongin needed someone close. Temper cooling considerably, Jongin merely gave a curt nod in acknowledgment. Any other time, Jongin would’ve been more receptive to Changseok’s smiles and hugs; but the lack of apology or remorse for his treatment of Sehun bothered him, though he hoped this would be a one-time thing.
Kwonho’s birthday fell on a date where Jongin and Moonkyu were free, going as far as planning and booking for it together. Jongin booked a function room at one of their family hotels. Moonkyu was in charge of the food and decorations. Despite insisting on a tiny gathering, Kwonho ended up inviting almost half the production staff he worked with in the broadcasting station, along with popular entertainment figures he befriended throughout his career. Jongin was seldom starstruck, but his upbringing and late grandfather instilled in him how to charm people and establish networks while maintaining humility and exercising politeness. Changseok, on the other hand, was preoccupied mingling with the pretty-looking actors and actresses the moment they arrived. Jongin wouldn’t have minded, but he couldn’t forget that sparkle in Changseok’s eyes after an A-list actor approached them for light chitchat. Moonkyu’s casual observation of Jongin having spent more time talking to others or with Kwonho and him didn’t help, either.
A rush of giddy excitement flowed through Jongin upon catching sight of Sehun entering the venue. He waved Sehun over, who approached them in a matter of strides. The smile Sehun wore instantly faded the moment Jongin felt a possessive hand curl around his waist. Moonkyu’s eyes widened but said nothing. Changseok pulled Jongin close to his side. Sehun’s brows sailed upward but greeted Changseok, anyway. Jongin gave Changseok a sidelong glance. Changseok merely nodded his head, gesture somewhat dismissive, before half-pulling, half-inviting Jongin to grab some food.
The rest of the night felt like a mixed game of hide and seek and tag. Jongin could count on one hand the times he drifted away from Changseok’s side to chat with Sehun. It seemed like a twisted joke of sorts that Changseok interrupted their talks to whisk him away for the umpteenth time, citing this or that person wanted to talk to Jongin but had no qualms forgetting his existence once he was invited to a table with beautiful actors. Jongin only had so much patience to exercise. It lasted two shots of expensive hard liquor before giving Changseok the slip and returning to the table where Moonkyu and Sehun sat.
“Is it really a good idea to leave Changseok-ssi alone?” Sehun asked. Moonkyu left when Kwonho called for his help, leaving him and Jongin alone.
“He can’t hold his alcohol. He’ll be asleep by the sixth shot, which would be my cue to take him back.” Jongin’s eyes narrowed as he took note of the empty bottles. “How much did you drink?”
“Not a lot.” Sehun grinned. He looked sober enough, eyes maintaining a clarity not found in inebriated people. “Hyung, you forget I’m the stronger drinker between us. I eat between shots, and Moonkyu-hyung’s great company makes me forget to knock back my drink at times.”
“Don’t drive back home.”
Sehun nodded obediently. “Definitely not. Isn’t it only sensible not to get behind the wheel when you have alcohol in your system? I’m not that reckless. I want to live long. I’ll probably book a chauffeur service to drive me back.”
“No. You can’t be too complacent. What if the driver takes you and the car to some remote location and…” Jongin trailed off, unable to finish the thought. He shook his head to get rid of the gruesome images. “I’d rather you take a ride home with Moonkyu or Kwonho.”
Sehun’s laughter wasn’t the reaction he expected. “You watch too much horror movies. My life isn’t one. But if it helps lessen your worry, I’ll listen to you.”
Jongin planned to treat Sehun to a meal as compensation for not being able to talk properly during Kwonho’s birthday. Yet life had a knack of getting in the way of plans, like suddenly keeping Jongin busy with work during the entirety of his waking hours and wanting to do nothing but sleep once he crossed the threshold of his penthouse. He hadn’t seen Changseok in a week; his friends, two. Sehun’s message from three weeks ago remained unanswered, and Jongin felt bad every time he opened KakaoTalk but closed it right away, too fatigued for a decent conversation.
Luck sided with him on a business trip to London. Jet lagged and wide awake in bed, Jongin opened his chat room with Sehun and, aside from finally replying, asked if he had time.
Can’t sleep because of jet lag.
Want to video call?
“You look haggard,” was Sehun’s first comment when the call connected, face coming into focus. Jongin couldn’t recognize Sehun’s location; but judging from the ice blue wall, he was probably at home. “You should be sleeping instead of talking to me.”
“Is this what our friendship has amounted to in the weeks we haven’t heard from each other?” Jongin teased, arranging and sinking into the pillows against the headboard. “You got too comfortable not seeing or hearing from me that you don’t want to talk anymore?”
Sehun barked out a laugh. “When did you become so overly dramatic?” he teased back, eyes crinkling. Sobering up, he said, “Isn’t it really late over there? Go to sleep. You don’t function well if you don’t get at least six hours, even if that isn’t really optimal.”
“Says the one who sleeps at dawn,” Jongin fired back, laughing through his words. “I called because I felt bad for leaving your messages unanswered, not to have you chastise me.”
“Shouldn’t have called me if you didn’t want to be chastised, then.”
“You—!” Jongin burst out with a helpless laugh. Sehun followed suit. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at Ginkgo Garden? It’s past eleven in Seoul right now.”
“Grandma Insook wasn’t feeling well, so I’m keeping an eye on her. I told her to stay home today, but she got angry and complained about getting bored not doing anything. A relative is overseeing things in my place at the restaurant for the time being.” Sehun ruffled the hair at the back of his head, sighing. “Ah, why are old people so stubborn…” He smoothed back his fringe. “Seriously, hyung, try going to sleep.”
“I would if I could.” Jongin breathed out a sigh of his own.
“I could count sheep for you?” Sehun offered. The combined innocence and earnestness had Jongin chuckling. Instantly, Sehun frowned. “Now, hyung, I was trying to help you out of the goodness of my heart, but you’re making fun of me again.”
“If I start seeing sheep in real time, I’ll have you to blame.” Jongin’s chuckles tapered to a snort. He rearranged his pillows once more then lay on his side. He propped the phone against a spare pillow and closed his eyes. “Okay, Oh Sehun, start counting.”
It would’ve been a smooth count following the traditional order, but Sehun mixed it up by inserting offhand commentary between random numbers. Jongin found himself smiling and answering two comments. He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until his alarm blared, startling him awake. He checked the time; spied the line of sunlight peeping between the curtain gaps. His phone had enough battery to get him through the day. Although not fully rested, Jongin felt slightly refreshed. He texted Sehun his thanks before starting the day.
Didn’t expect to fall asleep. Thank you.
Jongin burst out laughing at the immediate reply he received.
gratitude is good but buying me a meal is more than welcome
Jongin’s second pre-heat fell on autumn that year, bringing with it a powerful, almost eerie déjà vu and an eye-opening revelation.
After a busy but productive workday, Jongin contemplated between grabbing dinner outside and ordering when the unmistakable pre-heat nausea assaulted him in a powerful wave. Thankfully, he hadn’t started the car yet, pushing him to lean his forehead against the steering wheel and take big, deep breaths. His nausea in the past three days had been mild; he should’ve known it was a ruse for a stronger attack.
Pulling himself together, he composed a quick text and sent it to Changseok. His phone remained frustratingly quiet in the ten minutes that passed. Jongin waited for the bout of light-headedness to abate before placing a call. It didn’t connect, diverting him to voice mail. The second and third attempts reaped the same result. Choking back the bile rising in his throat, Jongin sent texts to his family and friends, praying to whoever was listening for someone to answer.
Sehun did. Just like what happened last spring, Sehun drove him back to his penthouse, but not before asking if he preferred going to a heat clinic first. At home, Jongin curled up into a ball on his couch, thankful for the foresight of leaving a blanket there for nights he was too lazy to get up after a horror movie marathon. Nausea had accompanied them on the drive, but arriving home roused the simmering flare of abdomen pain. Sehun knelt down so their faces were level, telling Jongin he would be right back.
Jongin whimpered and grabbed Sehun’s shirt as he stood. “Don’t go. I need your scent.” He couldn’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed about the neediness in his voice.
“I won’t be long,” Sehun promised, voice soft. He quickly undid the buttons of his plaid shirt, shrugging it off and revealing a black shirt underneath. He handed the plaid shirt to Jongin. “You can hold onto this while I’m away. Would that be okay, hyung?”
Jongin couldn’t remember if he answered. He buried his nose into the fabric of the plaid shirt right away after taking it, nearly tearing up from the relief the patchouli and magnolia scent provided as it suppressed the nausea and his forming pre-heat cramps. He closed his eyes, clutched the shirt tight in his fingers like a lifeline.
The next time he came to, Jongin’s condition had improved marginally, nausea gone, the throb in his abdomen vanished. His nose was still buried in Sehun’s shirt, the scent soothing him—and emanating strongly nearby. Only then did he notice was lying on his back, head slightly elevated and resting on something solid and firm. Drowsiness leaving him, vision clearing, Jongin tilted his head upward and saw Sehun busy with his phone. Mind catching up, Jongin now realized he was using Sehun’s thigh as a pillow.
On cue, Sehun’s gaze dropped to Jongin’s face, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “You’re awake.” Relief was audible in his voice. “How are you feeling? Okay? Not okay? Talk to me.”
“Much better.” Jongin spread out the plaid shirt over his upper body as a second blanket. “How long was I out?”
“Twenty minutes? You were dozing off when I returned to check on you. I couldn’t find a pillow and didn’t want to go inside any of the rooms without permission, so…” Sehun gestured to his lap. “I hope you don’t mind.” His brows knitted in worry. “Do your head and abdomen hurt so much?”
Jongin assured he was fine; insisted he could go to the kitchen at Sehun’s mention of food. Sehun didn’t look convinced but helped Jongin walk there. A steaming bowl of seolleongtang was waiting for Jongin at the dining table, freshly cooked from Ginkgo Garden’s kitchens. A pot of roasted dandelion root tea and cinnamon cubes stood next to the utensils. Jongin ate in meager spoonfuls, testing if his body would react aversely. He finished half of the seolleongtang; drank two cups of tea and followed it with a few cubes. Warmed and sated, Jongin’s body was filled with weightless contentment. He snuggled into Sehun’s side, preventing him from standing to clear the table.
“Hyung, why is Changseok-ssi not here to take care of you?” Sehun asked, breaking the peaceful silence. He made a disgruntled noise when Jongin told him of his non-response. “Why isn’t he more attentive of your pre-heats? You’re not strangers to each other.”
Changseok actually knew about Jongin’s pre-heat. Jongin told him as early as two weeks ago. If he was to speak in his defense, Changseok was currently caught up in wooing big-time foreign investors who flew in to Seoul, and most likely subject to their every necessity and demand. That meant rounds of golf, nightly dinner parties, and touring them in and out of the city if they wished on weekends. His performance would influence the investors’ decision, their company’s pride at stake since they were also looking to expand outside of Asia. Just this week alone, Jongin had only heard from Changseok once.
Jongin pulled back to look at Sehun as he told him this. “Don’t think of the worst. I did my own checking, too. Changseok is definitely not cheating on me. Getting on the good graces of investors can be a tough job if they’re capricious. I’ve been there, so I know. And while I’m not proud of it happening, there had been times I couldn’t make it to important family occasions, or missed out on friends’ celebrations due to work. It’s the same with Changseok. We’re adults who understand that, sometimes, work simply cannot be left on a whim.”
“Being an adult is knowing how to choose your priorities, too. I don’t mean dropping everything in the middle of work soap opera style. But if your pre-heat was making you terribly sick that you needed your partner, the least he could do is respond to your calls and messages and provide assurance.”
“I don’t need hourly assurance.” Jongin tried for a smile, attempting to lighten the mood; reduce the severity of Sehun’s frown. “Like I said, we’re adults who understand we’re not stuck to our phones round the clock, so messages and calls can’t be returned in a timely manner at times. If I worried about not receiving a response within the first five minutes, do you think I’d last this long in relationships?”
Sehun’s chance to respond was stolen by the shrill beep of the front door and the heavy footsteps that followed. The scent of mint and old paper struck Jongin like lightning. Changseok stood stationary at the kitchen entryway, gaze zeroing in on Sehun. His face reddened with anger and disbelief while assessing the scene before him. Glowering at Jongin, he demanded, “Did I rush all the way here for nothing? What scheme are you pulling?”
“I’m not pulling anything. Why would you think like that?” Jongin maintained his cool but couldn’t help frowning at Changseok’s choice of words. “I texted that I needed you, but there was no response. I called you, but it wouldn’t connect.”
“I was busy!” Changseok practically roared, storming inside the kitchen. “You know how important this is to me and my family!”
“I do.” Jongin remained unfazed by Changseok’s raised voice. He disliked being yelled at, but the situation would quickly nosedive if he lost his temper, too. “My nausea was getting bad, so I had to do what I could at the moment. It’s why I didn’t demand you to come see me and—”
“And what?” Changseok snapped. “Heat clinics are open twenty-four seven. There is literally no excuse for you to not go to one. Why must you always enlist his help?” He pointed his finger rudely at Sehun. “What makes you any different from desperate, horny sluts who use the excuse of pre-heat to throw themselves at the first alpha who responds to their beck and call?” His voice raised in volume with each word spat out, chest huffing and puffing with shocking, unrestrained resentment by the end.
The last sentence felt like a hand materialized out of nowhere and slapped Jongin square on the face. It stung just like a real slap with the amount of vexation woven into each syllable, too. Suddenly, he could hear nothing else, Changseok’s words reverberating in his ears on loop. His entire body was liberated from its current ails and replaced with glacial frostiness. Jongin could barely think or breathe, hands trembling from something fierce yet currently unnamed.
“What the fuck are you on about?”
Jongin was dragged out of his trance by Sehun’s venomous tone. Sehun, who had been quietly watching their exchange, rose from his seat. His countenance was carefully, dangerously blank, eyes gleaming in fury. Changseok scowled in response, but it vanished just as fast when Sehun took one step forward in his direction.
“I respect Jongin-hyung a lot to ignore the amount of insults you liberally throw at me every time we’re in the same space. I told myself to be the bigger person even if you continuously stepped out of line because, to be fucking honest, you’re not worth the time and attention. I don’t care what you say about me—my conscience is clean. But you? Status and money can’t salvage your garbage manners. You should be returned to the dumpster, right where you belong.”
Sehun menacingly stepped forward while he spoke. Changseok must’ve sensed he was in deep shit, anger completely gone, leaving in its wake an alpha deflated of his indignation now edging backward to widen the gap until his back collided with the wall. Jongin’s mouth fell open as he watched Sehun close in, slowly raise his hand, fold his fingers, and draw back his arm. Changseok’s eyes enlarged with fear, squealing like a wounded animal as he tried to run away. His knees buckled, and he landed unceremoniously on his ass, instead. Changseok held out his arms protectively in front of him, as if that alone could defend him from Sehun.
Sehun stood stock-still, the intensity of his glare unwavering. After a long, tense moment of silence, Sehun dropped his fist and exhaled a huge, audible breath. He took two careful steps toward Changseok, who began uncharacteristically pleading. The action spurred Jongin to remember the function of his legs and hurriedly rushed to Sehun’s side, giving his shoulder a good, hard squeeze—a warning and a request all at once.
Sehun’s gaze flitted from Jongin to the hand on his shoulder. Another exhalation of breath, deeper this time, and then he shook his head.
“You don’t get to say degrading lies about Jongin-hyung and think you can get away with it. All those things you said a while ago—if you can confidently say them without remorse, it means you’ve had those assumptions about hyung for so long. How could you think poorly about someone who seeks help from friends because you happen to be unavailable for legitimate reasons? Why would you think so low of Jongin-hyung when he was suffering from health complications and forced to make decisions on the spot? You’re no different from stereotypical alpha assholes that don’t treat their partners as a person. Do something about your insecurity and paranoia. Don’t take it out on others.”
When his heat came around, Jongin spent it alone, refusing help from Changseok; his requests for a talk. After it passed, Jongin rendezvoused with Changseok at a café once they were both done with work. Without preamble, Jongin dove straight into telling Changseok they were over.
“You’re breaking up with me over your friend?” Changseok sounded incredulous, the last word spat out as if poisonous.
Until the end, he refused to give even a modicum of respect for Sehun. Jongin would’ve been taken aback in the past. The Changseok across of him acted like an entirely different person compared to the one he dated. Perhaps he had always been like this, but it took so long for Jongin to perceive the less appealing facets of this man.
“I’m breaking up with you because I can’t stay with someone so myopic,” Jongin said. Shock and anger set Changseok’s jaw in a hard line. Jongin was past caring. “I’m a person, not a miracle worker. I can’t fix your insecurities for you. I’m willing to lend a hand if you want to help yourself, but it looks like you don’t want to. You seem happier belittling my friends and assuming the worst of me. I refuse to be tied down to a relationship that offers nothing but toxicity and lack of growth.
“Another thing: I do not like the things you said about me last time we met. It hurt, but because it’s not true, I’ve moved past it. I sincerely hope you do not say hurtful and humiliating things to anyone ever again. Nobody deserves to hear such words.” Jongin leaned back in his seat, taking one last, long look at Changseok before rising to his feet. He couldn’t stand being around him for a second longer. “It was good while it lasted. I learned many things from our relationship. One of them is to choose better. So, thank you for that lesson.”
No tears were shed when Jongin reached home that night. A hollow ache in his chest, perhaps, as he compiled every single one of Changseok’s belongings in a box and marked it for the next garbage collection day. But even that was forgotten within the week. Odd as it seemed, eight months’ worth of a relationship only amounted to a relatively short period of sadness.
Even his friends were surprised by his quick healing, despite embarking on the customary weekend getaway. The chosen destination this time was Busan. They played at the beach, took pictures, ate all the seafood available, relived their college days of staying up late with chicken and beer keeping them company in Jongin’s hotel room.
“There really is no other way to describe Changseok but how big of an asshole he turned out to be,” Moonkyu remarked, after chugging the remainder of his beer. “Imagine: he purposefully avoided you during pre-heat because he wasn’t interested in dealing with omegas at their most difficult but would show up during the actual heat because of the free sex?” He made a gagging noise. “Revolting. I genuinely wish no omega would give him the light of day after this.”
If not for Changseok’s vengeful text, Jongin would’ve preferred staying oblivious to his strange, seeming evasion of his pre-heat. Jongin knew the unknown sender was him because he still recognized Changseok’s texting style, and he had him blocked across every available social media platform. Initially, Jongin felt horridly used—the sex wasn’t even anything to write home about, if he was honest. Jongin decided to ignore and block; finished chapters in his life should remain closed. In the event Changseok decided to make his life hell, he better choose a day when Jongin wasn’t feeling particularly vengeful. Having a giant conglomerate pulling strings against your company was the last thing anyone in the business world wanted.
“There were happy times together, but those aren’t sufficient to justify his awful behavior. If I let it pass too many times, I’d be an enabler. I am wholeheartedly glad it’s over. Weirdness aside, I didn’t like how he kept treating Sehun like he was beneath him.” Jongin frowned as he recalled those times. “Come to think of it, he never gave me a straight answer when I confronted him.”
“Some alphas are usually threatened by other alphas,” Kwonho pointed out, refilling his glass with beer.
“There’s nothing to be threatened by Sehun. Have you seen Sehun? He only looks cold, but he’s incredibly softhearted,” Jongin reasoned.
“Fair point, but not exactly what I mean,” Kwonho replied. “Alphas get irrationally territorial sometimes. Evolution has allowed us to change some things in our biological makeup to adapt to our rapidly-changing environment, but some alphas have retained the more feral instincts of our ancestors.”
Jongin looked at Kwonho in slight confusion, but once he broke down his words in the ensuing silence: “Sehun and I are just friends.”
“Does that matter to a knothead? It doesn’t,” Moonyu spoke up. “All alphas are threats no matter where they stand in their partner’s life. Just that, admittedly, Changseok had plenty to be jealous about Sehun. Let’s start with open-mindedness. Actually, even you beat him in that department.”
“You know what, this sounds like the plot of an enemies to lovers story,” Kwonho said. “Except I don’t think a transition to lovers will happen because Sehun and Changseok will be too busy tearing at each other’s throats.”
“I wouldn’t really want Sehun to end up with Changseok.” Jongin made a face at the mere thought of it. “Not with someone who was very rude and mean to him, and never apologized to him. I don’t want Sehun to end up with anyone who doesn’t value him.”
“Oh? Aren’t you a good hyung.” Moonkyu lightly nudged Jongin by the elbow, a mischievous grin on his face. “Protecting the innocent dongsaeng from wolves with bad intentions.”
“Of course that’s a given! Why wouldn’t I?” Jongin reasoned in a protest. “Sehun is important to me, like the both of you are. It’s natural I only want him to meet nice people. I also wish for him to end up with the best person who knows how to cherish him and will be good to him for a long, long time.”
☆彡
Summer was a slow-brewing storm that seized Seoul by the throat upon spring’s departure. Temperatures were at an all-time high that the local government issued warnings almost every day, cautioning citizens to stay indoors if possible or seek shade and hydrate if heading out was necessary. On summers like this, Jongin was thankful he worked inside buildings with the air conditioner on full blast. He seldom suffered from the humidity except for the brief transition between company elevator and crossing the underground parking lot to get to his car.
After two weeks of meetings, entertaining business partners, reviewing proposals and submitted reports, Jongin was surprised waking up to a quiet work inbox and no urgent calls on a Saturday. Peaceful weekends were relatively rare in his line of work, so he lounged in bed for half an hour more before preparing brunch and hitting the gym after. He wasn’t looking to bulk up too much but more to build stamina, relieve stress, and mold a figure that would look good in many types of outfits. First impressions mattered in the world of business; one needed to capture and command attention right away. If you dressed shoddily or looked awkward in your own clothes, chances of being taken for granted were high.
Later that afternoon, when the humidity wasn’t as punishing, Jongin spent time at the park close to his apartment complex to walk around and check on the rabbits he saw occasionally. Spending time alone was one of his more cherished luxuries. Living a fast-paced life day to day and constant interaction with people could be incredibly taxing. As soon as the sun set, Jongin was overcome with a craving for naengmyeon, answering his dilemma for dinner.
As usual, the employees recognized and greeted him upon entering Ginkgo Garden. Jongin waited for his order in a private room. Hearing footfalls draw close from outside, he readied a smile and greeting when the door opened.
An employee appeared behind the door, carrying his tray of ordered food.
“You?” Jongin couldn’t help blurting out, belatedly registering the employee’s bamboo and almond scent.
Even the employee looked as surprised by the address. “Yes…?” he answered in confusion.
“Did Sehun not come to work?”
Enlightened, the employee cheerfully answered, “The boss is currently entertaining some guests. Please don’t worry; we will inform him of your arrival once he is free.”
Curious as he was, Jongin would leave it to Sehun if he wanted to talk about these guests. He was halfway through his naengmyeon when footsteps sounded from outside once more. This time, however, not even the neutralizers could completely blot out the familiar scent of patchouli and magnolia.
“Hyung!” Sehun greeted as soon as the door slid open, a wide grin on his face. He called for an employee for a refill of side sides. He grabbed a cushion and sat across from Jongin. “Sorry I couldn’t see you right away, I had a few friends come over. I haven’t seen some of them since high school, and there’s one who arrived from overseas. I got carried away with our catch-up, but I rushed over when I was told of your presence.”
“Oh, then, you shouldn’t have left them.” Jongin felt a little bad he had taken Sehun away from something important. “You should prioritize your friends. We can always see each other at a later date.”
“Don’t say that. I wanted to see you, too,” Sehun said. “My friends are in the middle of their meal, and I was coming from the washroom when I was tipped. They can wait for a few minutes.”
“As long as I’m not interrupting anything…”
Sehun shook his head; looked at Jongin’s bowl. “Is that all you’re having? Do you want anything else?” His face suddenly lit up. “Hyung, I know you’re not usually keen on sweet things, but Grandma Insook recently made a new bingsu flavor for our summer menu: mango and Earl Grey tea. It’s been a hit with our regulars, and some newcomers have been coming back for it, too. Would you like to try? I can ask the kitchen to make it in a smaller portion for you.”
Jongin usually had no problem saying no to offers of sweet food, but with Sehun peering at him like a puppy expecting a head pat, there really was no other answer to give.
No regrets. The bingsu was made to fit a smaller bowl, as promised, but the taste was explosive and unforgettable. Shockingly enough, Jongin could see himself eating this bingsu flavor again if it was served in the same portion. Jongin cast Sehun a surreptitious glance between bites. Sehun was staring fixedly at him, waiting for his verdict. He was aware Sehun wasn’t doing it on purpose, but somehow, Jongin was overcome with a tiny amount of self-consciousness being watched.
“If something doesn’t suit my taste buds, I would’ve already said so after the first bite, right?” Jongin hoped conversing would stop the self-consciousness from growing.
“It’s a good sign you haven’t complained yet,” Sehun replied, smiling. “I just like watching you eat. No matter what you’re eating, you make it look like you’re enjoying every bite.”
The heat of a blush scored Jongin’s cheeks, surprising and confusing him in equal turns. Thankfully, he was down to the last spoonful, astonished by his consumption speed and having enjoyed every second of it. “For starters, I’m not going to spit out food. That’s disrespectful. Another is that I will always find something nice to say about food not suitable to my palate. I’m not rude on purpose.”
“You’re direct, but never rude,” Sehun said in agreement. “You don’t hurt others on purpose. I know you genuinely like our food, which is why I trust your opinions on more novel items. You don’t just let me hear what I want, and you’re encouraging in your critique.” He grinned. “You’re already better in that aspect than most chefs out there.”
The heat in Jongin’s cheeks surged back to life with raised intensity. He pointedly brushed it off with a cup of tea and told Sehun he genuinely enjoyed the new bingsu.
Sehun beamed. Jongin’s pulse shockingly skittered at the sight of it. “If you like it, it means the bingsu will definitely be a big hit.”
They chatted for a while until Jongin decided to leave so Sehun could spend more time with his friends. Sehun accompanied him on the way out. They reached the end of the hallway when a door slid open behind them, followed by a call of Sehun’s name. Two people had their heads peeking out from behind the door. Sehun walked back, Jongin following, and made introductions. Sungkook and Jaemo attended the same high school as Sehun and stayed friends since, all three of them sharing the same age. Sungkook smelled distinctively of butter and aloe vera, whereas Jaemo was surrounded by a marjoram and forsythia scent. Quite the bizarre combinations Jongin had smelled on alphas as of yet.
Sehun craned his neck in search of someone else. “Where’s Yoonjun?”
“He went to the washroom. You know he likes taking his time in there,” Sungkook joked. "Nothing’s changed since high school."
“Don’t think I didn’t hear you,” a light, airy voice singsonged from behind them.
Jongin immediately detected the scent of sweet cotton candy and fresh peony before hearing the approaching footsteps. A man was drawing close, tall and lithe but a whole head smaller in height compared to Sehun. His hair was dyed platinum blond, and he carried himself with an air of confidence that was discernible at first glance. He had a heart-shaped face, features delicate and gave off a gentle feeling.
“So what if I take too long in the washroom? I just like making sure I look presentable at all times. What if I meet someone my type at the dance floor? How embarrassing if I don’t look my best!”
This was undoubtedly the Yoonjun Sehun had been looking for earlier, confirmed by the introduction done. Yoonjun was another friend from high school; the only difference was that Sehun had been friends with him since they were freshmen. Yoonjun was also the friend who arrived from overseas.
Yoonjun gave Jongin a slow once-over and then cracked a tiny, mysterious-looking smile. “Interesting, interesting. No longer do I wonder why Sehun can’t stop talking about you once he’s brought up your name.”
Jongin directed a questioning glance Sehun’s way with a raised eyebrow.
Sehun pinched Yoonjun’s cheek, eliciting a small whine of protest. “That happened less than five times. Stop exaggerating.” He looked at Jongin when he spoke next. “Do you remember the friend I said I visited in Paris when we met again in Seoul years ago? This is him.”
Sehun’s friends were planning to leave early on Yoonjun’s insistence, citing that he missed Seoul’s club scene and wanted to see what changed. Jongin forgot the transition between a cool restaurant and the humid outdoors, agreeing with Sungkook and Jaemo’s opinions about this year’s summer being hotter than previous. The trio left after extracting a promise from Sehun to join them at Hongdae after closing time. Sehun saw them off with a wave then accompanied Jongin to his parked car.
“Are you really going clubbing?” Jongin tried to ignore the building perspiration on his back.
“I don’t break my promises.” Sehun’s serious expression shifted to a mischievous one. “Are you worried?”
“About your alcohol tolerance? No. Sleaze bags potentially hitting on you? Maybe. Sometimes you’re too trusting like a fool.”
“Hyung.” Jongin chuckled at the mild petulance in Sehun’s voice. It disappeared with his next statement. “So you do worry about me when I go clubbing.”
“Friends worry about each other,” Jongin pointed out. He noted the mild disappointment crossing Sehun’s face but didn’t dwell on it. “Nobody knows the kind of people they’ll meet in these settings. Stick close to your friends. Don’t drive if you’re going to drink. Text me when you get home, no matter how late it is.”
“It’s been a stressful week, so I might have a drink. Yoonjun can drive me back home. He’s been our designated driver since college because he doesn’t like drinking. I’m going to be out of luck if he finds someone to take home, though.” Sehun shook his head with a laugh.
“You can text me, then.” Jongin pressed the key fob to unlock his car doors once they were close. “I’m serious. It’s better that I bring you home myself rather than finding out you ended up sleeping in some dingy, dank back alley.”
Sehun burst out laughing loudly this time. “Hyung, what do you take me for? You might be talking about Sungkook. He has a lot of stories waking up in strange places after a night of drinking. Anyway, drive safely on the way back. You won’t have to worry about me going home with anyone. I know where my loyalty lies.”
“That omega crush of yours, huh?” Jongin was amused by how quickly a blush dusted Sehun’s cheeks. “How lucky, whoever the person is.”
True to their agreement, Jongin did receive messages from Sehun when he opened KakaoTalk the following day. The first message said Sehun was leaving the club at four in the morning. The second message contained an affirmation he had arrived home safely, sent thirty minutes after the first. Jongin told Sehun he would meet him at their usual restaurant for haejangguk. Although he didn’t easily get drunk, Sehun had shared with him in the past that he liked eating haejangguk for the heck of it after a night of drinking. Ever since, whenever Jongin learned Sehun went clubbing or partying, they always met up for a bowl of the hearty soup.
Excitement coursed through Jongin now that he had something to do for today. He heard his phone chime, alerting him of Sehun’s reply.
yoonjun said he’ll take me
he hasn’t had it since flying to paris
but i think he just wants compensation for driving me home
Jongin’s excitement vanished as abruptly as it started. He read Sehun’s message twice over, slightly hoping a new one would pop up telling him Yoonjun had something else to do and would meet up with Jongin instead. No such message appeared, so Jongin quickly typed up Okay, enjoy. and sent it with a huff.
Shame flared quick in Jongin’s gut—sobering, embarrassing. There was absolutely no reason for Jongin to feel either owed or robbed. Dragging a hand down his face, Jongin dropped his phone on the nightstand and headed for the bathroom to cool his head in the shower.
Days later, on a rare lunch break Jongin could browse his Instagram feed, he came across a post advertising the currently showing musicals at Lotte Concert Hall. Jongin scanned the musical title and cast, looked up its premise, found it intriguing enough to send the post to Sehun. Jongin wasn’t an avid musical goer compared to others, but he acquired a taste for them when Sehun invited him to one three years ago to support a college friend playing the lead role. That wasn’t the first and the last. Through watching numerous musicals together, Jongin was able to discover what sort of plots interested Sehun.
Do you want to go? This sounds just like your type of musical, was the follow-up message Jongin sent.
A little past seven that evening, Jongin smiled when the notification for Sehun’s message appeared—then frowned.
ah
hyung, about that…
yoonjun invited me yesterday
bought a ticket and everything
A wave of disappointment washed over Jongin. He read it one more time before replying It’s alright, enjoy the musical together with Yoonjun. Pocketing his phone and walking to the elevator, Jongin told himself there were other musicals they could catch together. One invite turned down wasn’t the end of the world. One invite turned down shouldn’t even upset him this much. Sehun had turned down some of his invites before due to unforeseen circumstances. It wasn’t a big deal.
It should never be a big deal, Jongin reminded himself, for the nth time, when his fourth invite for a different musical had been turned down. All within the week. In Sehun’s replies, he expressed his interest in the named musicals but was unfailingly followed by a continuation that had Jongin prematurely irked before he could read the complete sentence: i’m seeing it with yoonjun.
Jongin surmised he had crappy luck with musicals and tried for ballet productions. New movies. Art exhibits. A highly-recommended restaurant. Perhaps the arrival of the new week would usher in better luck, sending Sehun one invite a day to avoid coming off too pushy. Perhaps the universe was conspiring against him in this new week, as well, by having Sehun apologize and turn down the invites as they came. Jongin could pretend he didn’t see the rest of Sehun’s explanation if it meant sparing himself from seeing the characters that spelled Yoonjun’s name and the annoyance that simmered through him.
Irrational as it was to feel like this, what frustrated Jongin further was the inability to come up with a sound explanation for his reactions. Every single one sounded more like lousy excuses. Sehun and Yoonjun were friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Wasn’t it natural to hang out as frequently as possible? Jongin should be more understanding of the situation. He should exercise more patience, not easily get dismayed, and avoid interpreting Sehun’s rejections as a personal affront. He could also try his luck again next week—what was his tenacity for if not to use as a crutch against setbacks thrown his way?
“What’s going on, Jongin? When I meet up with you lately, you have a perpetual scowl on your face.” Moonkyu was tending to the lamb skewers and gave Jongin the grilled ones. Currently, they were dining at a highly-acclaimed lamb skewer restaurant that recently made it to television after a well-respected variety show host advertised it.
The very same restaurant Jongin wanted to visit with Sehun this week but was turned down yet again.
Jongin slid the lamb slices off the skewer, gathering them in a plate. The lamb meat smelled and looked divine but hunger had yet to surface. “Some things at work have been testing my forbearance lately.”
It wasn’t a whole lie. The test model of their new product didn’t meet the minimum standards, the reports submitted to him were sloppily written, expected e-mails never arrived, an interpersonal conflict between two key employees that had only been brought to his attention lately—for three nights straight, Jongin had been popping an aspirin after showering to relieve him of the day’s (literal and figurative) headache.
“That explains some things.” A knowing smile grew on Moonkyu’s face and resumed grilling. “What about the others? Has Sehun agreed to any of your invites this week?”
Jongin drew in a sharp breath and pressed his lips together. He cleaned off a second skewer, surprised the meat didn’t go flying with the amount of force he exerted in the task. “I might have better luck winning the lottery at this point than hearing a different answer from him.”
Moonkyu burst into an amused fit of laughter, much to Jongin’s chagrin. “Didn’t you say it yourself that he’s hanging out with high school friends? Nothing’s unusual about that. Do you feel neglected?” His tone was light and joking, but an honest question was discernible there.
Jongin heaved out a deep, long sigh. “I understand the feeling of missing friends I haven’t seen in forever. I don’t mind him spending his free time with them. Really, it’s not a big deal. But when the rejection starts stacking up one after the other, it can become absolutely disheartening, too, you know.”
“I get it. Disappointment can run deep, and the enthusiasm to do things together dries up quick. You should tell Sehun. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Jongin scrunched up his nose but slowly shook his head. “At my big old age of thirty-three, I shouldn’t make a big deal out of tiny matters. Any angle you look at the situation from paints me as an immature adult. If the tables were turned, I would think Sehun was immature, too.” He blew out a smaller, softer sigh this time; ate a piece of lamb meat, hoping to whet his appetite.
“Immature or not, your feelings are valid,” Moonkyu pointed out, tone light, “but I still think it’s better to be honest. Sehun is a friend. He’s not going to close his ears and mind if you bring this up, even if you think your concerns are trifle.”
That part of their conversation lingered in Jongin’s mind for the next few days. Undecided as he was on how to approach the subject, work offered a welcome distraction and reprieve from the unpleasant feelings. Attending a business partner’s birthday party did the trick. Socializing and networking helped him unwind; had him downing one champagne flute after another from passing waiters. Jongin thanked himself for the foresight of requesting the family driver to take over the wheel tonight. Champagne barely affected him, but the birthday celebrant loved his alcohol a little more than others and was prone to taking offense if the guests didn’t drink as much as he did.
After finding the perfect opportunity to leave, Jongin climbed into the back of the car and loosened his tie. He heard his phone ring then abruptly stopped. Probably out of battery—he remembered seeing it at eight percent before leaving for the party. Whoever it was that called or messaged would have to wait.
Twenty-five minutes later, Jongin’s phone had been charged a substantial amount for resurrection. Sehun’s name showed on the notification bar upon checking what he might have missed. It was almost hilarious how fast happiness cascaded through him. He couldn’t remember a time he’d been this glad to see a message come in from Sehun, never mind he didn’t even know what the message contained.
hyung do you want to go to everland?
Jongin read the message two more times, wondering if the question was supposed to be for him.
Why Everland?
The second miracle of tonight was Sehun’s immediate response.
my friends miss hanging out there after becoming adults
i think it’ll be more fun going with a bigger group
it was yoonjun’s idea
The unpleasant feelings sparked back to life. Jongin counted to ten before formulating a response.
Why would I hang out at such a childish place?
The yellow “1” next to the speech bubble disappeared right away, much to Jongin’s abject horror. It meant Sehun had not only received the message but read it, as well. Jongin kept his eyes peeled open for the next few minutes. No reply arrived. Jongin started telling himself not to expect one after ten, tense minutes had passed. Looking at his response was unbearable, the pettiness in his words near tangible in its dosage—and tasted just as poisonous.
Jongin had nothing against Everland. He, Moonkyu, and Kwonho often hung out there during college days either to unwind after exam week or just because. Although he had visited less after entering the work force, he didn’t think of it as a childish place. It was an insult to people from all walks of life that enjoyed the amusement park and everything it offered.
“Kim Jongin, get yourself together,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disapproval. He could no longer unsend the message, so he might as well give an apology.
The yellow “1” disappeared in a blink. Again, Sehun never answered, in spite of Jongin waiting on edge for another ten minutes. Guilt and shame burned in his chest like acid, wishing he managed his emotions better rather than letting them get the best of him.
Guilt and shame erupted into a full-on firestorm when he was catapulted into an unforeseen predicament the following week.
“Thank you for bringing me to Everland, Uncle Jongin!”
A maternal cousin, together with his husband and daughter, drove up to Seoul for a business trip that doubled as a family visit. Their six-year old daughter, Haewon, expressed her wish to tag along since it was summer break, and she didn’t want to stay behind in their Ulsan home. Jongin happened to be one of her favorite relatives, and he did promise a year ago that he would take her to Everland if there was a chance.
The timing couldn’t have been any better. Jongin had a rare day-off from the company, and he didn’t have any plans aside from working out that morning. It was a bit regrettable that Rahee and Raeon couldn’t tag along, each busy with their own friend groups and summer plans. Jongin joked to his eldest sister about wanting his cute niece and nephew who clung to their uncle back, even if babysitting them frequently exhausted him in the past.
Although Jongin didn’t consider himself an expert on kids, he believed he made a decent babysitter. A lot assumed his omega nature was partly responsible for children of any age to gravitate to him or easily win their hearts, but Jongin disagreed. He’d met some omegas who wanted nothing to do with children for various reasons. He opined it was more of putting effort in getting along with children, being sweet and encouraging, and matching their energy levels.
Haewon had endless energy in her tiny physique, easily pleased and had a clear mind about her likes and dislikes. She led Jongin around Everland, pointing to the rides she wanted to try (as long as she met the age and height requirements) but didn’t kick up a fuss if denied entry. She wasn’t too fussy about food, always wanting to try the snacks that caught her eye, appetite huge but normal for a growing child. Haewon always offered Jongin a bite, the single mouthfuls refueling him to keep up.
After lunch, they passed by the souvenir shop. Haewon, who was holding Jongin’s hand and excitedly describing the ride she wanted to go on next, slowed her steps and completely stopped upon spotting the teddy bears at the window display.
Jongin knew what was coming, so might as well beat Haewon to it. “Do you want to take a look inside?”
Haewon’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can we?” Her voice was tiny and hesitant. She cast a longing look at the other toys on display.
Jongin knelt on one knee so he could look Haewon in the eye. “Of course we can,” he said, smiling. “Tell you what: I’ll buy you one toy of your choice. Does that sound good?”
Haewon nodded her head enthusiastically, throwing tiny arms around Jongin’s neck and repeatedly said her thanks.
The shop was well-lit and clean, shelves and tables filled with various merchandise: plush toys in different sizes, pillows, key chains, and other types of trinkets and stationery items. One section was dedicated to animal ear headbands. Two-tiered circular display stands were strategically placed inside the shop, each one carrying Everland’s characters as plush toys in various forms. Jongin did some light browsing while trailing after Haewon, who was happily marveling at the amount of toys in one place; sometimes picking a toy, holding it for a few seconds, then returning it properly before skipping off.
At the third aisle, Jongin poked at the nose of a panda plush toy but froze when an all-too-familiar scent reached his nose. Quickly scanning the vicinity, his eyes immediately landed on the tall figure hovering by the penguin plush toy display stand. It didn’t matter if Jongin couldn’t see his face—he could automatically tell the man was Sehun.
Sehun, who turned around before Jongin could move away from plain sight. Their gazes met across the shop. Dread and panic momentarily froze him on the spot before instinct kicked in and he ducked his head. Not a very good idea—the shelves in this aisle only came up to Jongin’s chest, and none of the toys were large enough to conceal his head. Jongin spotted and sneaked over to the circular display stand of desert foxes. They were piled high enough to hide his figure, but the wide gaps between the plush toys unfortunately showed his face.
“Hyung?”
Jongin nearly jumped out of his skin. When did Sehun even follow him? How could he have not heard?
“Jongin-hyung?” Sehun tried calling out again from where he stood in front of the stand, making no move to step forward.
Red-hot shame suffused Jongin’s cheeks, trying and failing to come up with a backup plan. Cornered, he took the fluffy tail of a desert fox and used it to conceal his face.
“I can see you.”
Two fluffy tails now concealed his face.
“Uncle Jongin!”
Jongin’s eyes closed in impending defeat as Haewon approached, her baby powder scent aiding in calming him. Compared to grown adults, babies and children were born smelling of baby powder and wouldn’t develop their own unique scents until reaching thirteen years of age. Refusing to look at Sehun, Jongin let go of the tails and purposefully diverted his attention to Haewon, crouching on one knee when she was within arm’s reach.
“I picked out what I like the best.” Haewon wore a proud smile showing off her unicorn plush toy. “May I have this, please?”
“Absolutely,” Jongin answered, nodding and smiling to mask the slithering nervousness within.
“Uncle, why are you whispering?” Haewon’s face brightened. “Are we playing a game?” she asked, giddy, but also lowered her voice on purpose. “What game are we playing?”
Footsteps interrupted Jongin, growing louder with its approach until Sehun came into full view. Haewon took notice, peering large, unsuspecting eyes at him. Jongin could continue taking the coward’s way out after his first stint failed spectacularly, but the only way of escape sometimes was facing the problem. Though hesitant, Jongin finally met and held Sehun’s gaze as he slowly stood. Sehun’s expression was unreadable, though Jongin discerned the slightest furrow of his brows. He probably had a lot of questions.
“Mister, do you know my uncle?” Haewon asked, dispelling some of the tension.
Sehun broke eye contact to smile gently at Haewon. “Your uncle is my friend. You can call me Uncle Sehun.”
Haewon nodded with a sound of understanding. She introduced herself with a little more cheer. Then she looked up at Jongin. “Uncle Jongin, why are you hiding from your friend? I hide from Dada when I do something that upsets him. Is it the same for you?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Jongin spoke in a rush when he saw Sehun about to open his mouth. He took the unicorn plush toy from Haewon’s grasp. “Are you sure this is what you really want? Yes? Let’s go, then. After I pay, we’ll go wherever you want to next.”
“Is Uncle Sehun coming with us?”
“Uncle Sehun is busy.” Jongin hoped the goddess of fortune would side with him. This encounter was already disastrously embarrassing; he didn’t want to stick around and find out how it could probably worsen.
“My friends are having the time of their lives going on all the scary rides. Those aren’t for me,” Sehun said from the side, reminding Jongin of his presence.
“When did scary rides not become your thing, you speed demon,” Jongin mumbled beneath his breath, fighting back a frown.
Sehun raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
At the cashier, Jongin brought out his card to pay for Haewon’s toy when he felt something being placed on top of his head.
“Uncle Jongin, you look so cute!” Haewon gushed, staring up at Jongin with adoring eyes. On her head, she was wearing a headband of fluffy bunny ears in pink and white. “You look like a human cat!” A look of confusion stole across her face. "Or do you call that a cat human?”
“Please include these headbands with the earlier purchase,” Sehun requested the cashier, pointing to the said items on Jongin and Haewon’s heads; on his own, an orange headband of desert fox ears. “If he doesn’t pay for them, I will.”
Jongin slid off the headband. A pair of fluffy, black cat ears. He had half a mind to scold Sehun, but seeing Haewon so happy crumbled his resolve.
“Hyung, didn’t you know? It’s an established tradition to roam around Everland wearing an animal ears headband.”
Jongin would’ve bought it if he didn’t see the left corner of Sehun’s mouth trembling until it tugged upward. “Stop lying.” He meant to scold but a part of him couldn’t carry it out fully. Noticing a line beginning to form behind him, Jongin was left without a choice but to pay for the additional headbands. They wouldn’t make a dent on his savings, anyway. And arguing with Sehun over the validity of his claim wasn’t worth the time—in public, no less, with Haewon as witness.
“Are you coming with us, Uncle Sehun? Please come!” Haewon pleaded cutely in the way of six-year olds. “We’re going to see the animals, go on more rides, visit the rose garden, and also…”
A short ice cream break was inserted on the agenda after the tea cup ride. Jongin helped Haewon eat her ice cream, making sure it didn’t drip down her shirt. Jongin didn’t buy anything for himself. Sehun offered his cone, informing him the honeycomb flavor had the right amount of sweetness. Jongin just about leaned forward for a bite, remembered they weren’t exactly okay, and shook his head. While gently dabbing at the corners of Haewon’s mouth, Jongin couldn’t tell if he imagined the hurt that flashed on Sehun’s face.
Fortunately, Haewon was tall enough to ride the merry-go-round by herself. Once Haewon was settled, Jongin made her promise she would hold on tight to the bar and never let go; in return, he would take pictures. Sehun volunteered to carry the unicorn plush toy. The ride started. Jongin took well-timed shots and waved at her when he could. The tasks at hand kept him focused—
“What happened to Everland being childish?” The amusement in Sehun’s voice was so despicably audible, breaking Jongin’s concentration and wishful thinking that he would finally take his leave.
“I promised to bring Haewon here, and I’ve fulfilled it,” Jongin answered, without looking at Sehun. He remembered to smile when Haewon glided by. A question that had been niggling at him resurfaced. “How did you even see us? Everland is such a large place with plenty of people.”
“I came from the washroom when I saw you and Haewon enter the souvenir shop.”
“Don’t you have to go back to your friends? You can’t ditch them for us.”
“I sent Jaemo a message. They didn’t mind. My friends are a pretty chill bunch. Yoonjun said you could join us. He loves kids and can handle them quite well. I’m sure he and Haewon will get along.”
Jongin pressed his lips tightly together to refrain from saying something he might regret. Standing close with their elbows almost brushing, only this time did Jongin pick up the scent of cotton candy and peony on Sehun’s shirt, however faint. Something ugly and suspicious roiled around in Jongin’s gut.
The merry-go-round music faded in time with its slowing down. Haewon rejoined them shortly, grin huge and overflowing with happiness now that one of her biggest wishes had been granted. “That was so fun, Uncle Jongin! I enjoyed it a lot. Thank you, thank you!” She hugged him around the waist tightly.
Grateful for the timely intervention, Jongin hugged her back. He took the unicorn plush toy from Sehun and returned it to Haewon. “We’ve been out almost the entire day, Haewon. Don’t you miss your dads? They might get worried if we stay out too long.” He promised her parents they would be back before six in the evening.
Haewon puffed up her cheeks, seemingly not too keen on the idea. Her gaze flitted to Sehun. “Can we take Uncle Sehun home with us? I like him.”
“You can’t just take home someone because you like them,” Jongin explained as gently and nicely as possible. “Uncle Sehun came here with his friends. He spent a lot of time with us already. Don’t you think he should go back to them now?” He put forceful and significant emphasis on the last sentence, hoping Sehun would take a hint.
“Sehun, there you are!”
Footsteps. The unmistakable scent of cotton candy and peony. Within seconds, Yoonjun stood in front of them, blinking surprised eyes at Jongin’s presence. He gave Jongin a polite bow and smile in greeting, then turned to Sehun and playfully shoved at his shoulder. “So this is what’s keeping you busy!” he said with a teasing lilt and a mischievous grin. Linking arms with Sehun, he looked at Jongin and asked, “Since we’re all here, would you like to join us?”
“That’s right!” Sungkook piped up, having appeared behind Sehun and Yoonjun. “If you join us, Sehun won’t need to run off.”
“I did not run off—”
“Think twice before finishing that sentence,” Jaemo advised, grin impish. He held up his phone. “I have evidence.”
“We were just about to leave,” Jongin said, successfully attracting their attention. “I told Sehun not to ditch you for us, but he won’t listen.” He turned to Sehun when he spoke next. “Don’t make your friends suffer from your impulsive actions.”
Sehun’s nostrils flared, jaw clenching and face reddening. “Sorry about taking too much of your time, then.” His voice matched the frostiness of his expression.
Jongin was taken aback. So did Sehun’s friends from a quick glance at their surprised faces.
Yoonjun caressed Sehun’s forearm in soothing motions. Jongin’s gut roiled watching the gesture. With an airy laugh, he said, “Didn’t you say you wanted to hang out with him soon? You were so bummed out when he turned down your invitation to come here. This is the perfect opportunity!”
“Enough,” Sehun bit out. The sternness of his voice caught Yoonjun off-guard, hold on his arm slipping. Jongin, stunned himself, watched Sehun inhale and exhale a shaky breath. “What’s the use of hanging out when my presence is obviously not wanted?”
Something twinged behind Jongin’s ribs. What perfect timing for words to renege him. But what could he even say? Jongin wanted this to happen. He should be relieved. He wouldn’t have to deal with unwanted questions. He shouldn’t be disappointed that Sehun smiled at Haewon and bade her goodbye but didn’t spare him a glance as he walked away without another word. Yoonjun and the others awkwardly looked at Jongin, bowed to take their leave, and ran after Sehun.
A sudden wave of sadness overcame Jongin but receded when he saw Yoonjun hang onto Sehun’s arm again and wasn’t shrugged off. Stifled emotions throbbed in his chest as Sehun’s figure walked further and further away, an uncomfortable weight that nestled in the crevices of his heart on the drive back home.
Haewon’s parents thanked Jongin for spending time with her. She fell asleep during the drive; was a little groggy after waking up but switched to giddy mode as she told her parents about what she did and Uncle Sehun. It wasn’t until his cousin asked about the cat ears headband did Jongin realize he hadn’t taken it off yet. He contemplated giving it to Haewon, but reluctance held him back until he left still wearing it.
Sehun’s coldness was the sole thing Jongin could think about on the drive to his penthouse. He lost count of the times he replayed today’s events in his mind. He didn’t have to mull over the whys and hows behind Sehun’s abrupt frigidity. In spite of his pent-up disappointment and frustrations, Jongin shouldn’t have treated Sehun the way he did. Coming to a final decision, Jongin made a U-turn at the designated area and headed to his destination.
Mild trepidation accompanied Jongin as he drove to the park closest to Sehun’s apartment complex and sat himself inside the gazebo. He wasn’t sure if his call would be answered, so he sent Sehun a message on KakaoTalk requesting for a talk. He couldn’t tell how long he stared at his sentences, but he jolted upon seeing the “1” disappear before his eyes. Jongin reminded himself to calm down; that Sehun reading his message didn’t guarantee he would show up.
Still, a part of Jongin prayed for the opposite. He disliked prolonging arguments and misunderstandings, though he had no excuse for himself this time, readily admitting he was the instigator. Being an adult didn’t absolve him from immaturity and poor decision-making, and he was prepared to be accountable where it applied. Jongin leaned his head against the post, staring at his phone, expectant and nervous for a message or call that might or might not come. Closing his eyes, ignoring the stickiness brought by the humidity, he tried picturing how this would pan out; if he was going to wait for nothing, or if they would be able to reconcile before the day ended.
Jongin startled upon losing grip on his phone, hearing it crash on the cement. A little disoriented, he reached down to retrieve it when a hand beat him to the task. Jongin’s drowsiness disappeared at once upon smelling patchouli and magnolia.
Sehun handed back his phone. Jongin accepted it with a small murmur of thanks. A tense silence blanketed the gazebo.
Sehun broke it. “You shouldn’t be sleeping out here unless you want to be feasted on by mosquitoes.” He shoved his hands inside his sweats pockets, expression closed off.
“I’m donating my blood to mosquitoes that haven’t eaten.” After words reneging him, they returned only to leave Jongin’s mouth as nonsense. Good going.
Sehun snorted. “Is that the only thing you came to say to me?”
“No.” Jongin slowly rose to his feet. “I want to apologize for how I treated you earlier today. I know you meant well—always do—but I was nothing but scornful in return.”
Emotion cracked Sehun’s stoic façade. “So, why? What was the reason behind your coldness? You started acting strange after our Everland conversation—don’t think I didn’t notice that. What did I do for you to treat me like dirt? Even a criminal has to know their crime before being tried and judged.” Hurt underscored his words.
Jongin’s chest ached with regret. At the risk of complete humiliation, he owed Sehun an explanation, even if it might not make him look favorable in his eyes. “We used to do things together. When you turned down my first invitation to the musical, I didn’t think much of it. There was always a next time. But those next times never happened. My disappointment in being turned down piled up—I was somewhat convinced you were doing it on purpose. In my head, I understood clearly why you couldn’t make it. But I still took out my pent-up frustration on you, and that’s simply inexcusable. I hurt you, and I want to apologize for making you feel like crap.”
Sehun’s face transitioned from pained, to confused, then shock. His lips twitched, opened, and then sighed—not in impatience; not in exasperation.
“And here I thought I did something so unforgivable you couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore…” The sheer relief from Sehun’s tone felt like a direct stab to Jongin’s heart. He ran a hand through his hair; exhaled loudly into the quiet summer night. His mouth was beginning to stretch into a smile as he slowly nodded to himself. “I see. It makes perfect sense now.” His expression turned serious. “Seems like the treatment was warranted. Repeatedly turning down your invitations to hang out together, not even trying to make amends or asking if you were okay or upset—I did come off like an asshole.”
“I never thought of you like that.” Jongin was honest about this. “I would never let you choose who to hang out with. I should’ve been more mature about the situation, and handling myself overall.”
“I never not want to hang out with you, hyung.” The sincerity in Sehun’s tone reflected on his face. “But I can see why you would think like that. Why I made you think like that.” He slapped his forehead. “Man, why didn’t this occur to me earlier? I shouldn’t have assumed things were okay between us. Or that things would always be okay between us. If my invitations were constantly turned down, I’d be pissed, too.” He dragged his palms down his face and chuckled. “I’m really sorry for my flippancy, hyung. I’m sorry for not checking on you, even when I felt something was amiss. I’m sorry for not giving assurance when you needed it. But, please: in the future, just tell me straight if you’re upset. I’d rather you scold me than acting like you don’t want to be around me—that hurts, you know. Today hurt me a lot, too. I don’t think I’d be able to handle your cold shoulder had this misunderstanding been prolonged.”
Now was really not the time for Jongin’s pulse to be accelerating out of nowhere, and without justifiable reason, but he would worry about that later. At this moment, he could only submerge himself in the intense relief provided by the knowledge that their misunderstanding was close to being resolved. “I apologize for that, really.”
“Friendships require honesty, and you’re one of the most honest people I know. So please just talk to me when something like this happens again rather than keeping it all to yourself. It won’t go away if you do.”
Jongin nodded; ignored the guilt lancing his chest for providing only half the truth behind his strange behavior. With a hesitant smile, he asked, “Are we good now?”
“Yeah. Let’s do better from here. We might be friends for years, but it doesn’t mean we can’t improve our relationship and communication.” When Sehun smiled this time, it was dazzling and full of warmth. “I’m so glad we’re okay now, hyung. I really missed you.”
Jongin ignored the frenzied racing of his pulse from those last few words. What was wrong about friends missing each other? Wasn’t that natural? He let out a weak laugh to distract himself. “This misunderstanding must’ve made me quite uncool in your eyes, huh?”
“Nope. You’ll always be the coolest hyung to me. No one comes close. It’s natural to have an unglamorous side. I think that makes you so much cooler.”
Jongin scrunched up his nose even as a giddy laugh escaped him. “Oh Sehun, if you keep up this sweet-talk, my ego is going to balloon.”
“So let it. A tiny bit of ego isn’t a bad thing.” Sehun’s eyes crinkled into crescents, smiling reassuringly. Jongin’s heart rate continued its steady acceleration. “Anyway, it’s true we haven’t hung out in a long time. If you’re keen on making amends, treating me to tteokbokki is a good start.”
☆彡
Reconciliation came with a happiness that aided Jongin in carrying on with his tasks during the most demanding workdays. It didn’t magically halve his workload or speed along tedious meetings, but knowing he could spend time with Sehun after work enabled him to smile, boost low employee morale, handled the most difficult investors and secured contracts when majority thought it impossible.
The promise of hanging out at the end of day filled Jongin with a giddiness once lunch break ended. He glimpsed at the clock more times than he dared admit through an afternoon of product demonstrations and performance reports. Before leaving the company building, Jongin would spend some minutes in front of the mirror smoothing out the creases on his suit or retouching his hair if needed. His chest expanded with joy with every step to the basement car park and stayed until he arrived at his rendezvous with Sehun.
They saw each other more frequently now, as if to make up for lost time. On days Sehun couldn’t make it (whether due to prior commitments with friends or something else), he would tell Jongin but also put out an invitation to do something else on another date. Jongin preferred this slight change.
Yet he remained at a loss on how to handle the churning of his emotions whenever Sehun mentioned Yoonjun, or if Jongin caught a whiff of cotton candy and peony on him on their meet-ups.
An idea cropped up in Jongin’s mind. He was utterly averse to this sort of method, believing it a misuse of power and connections. But, for this one time, and hopefully never again, he hired Seoul’s most competent detective to do a background check on Yoonjun.
His request yielded a short but thorough report three days later. Seo Yoonjun was his full name. Twenty-eight years old, just like Sehun; presented as omega at seventeen. They both studied in the same high school, backing Sehun’s claim, and also went to the same university. Yoonjun had a degree in Linguistics, came from a semi-affluent family whose names Jongin recognized. After graduation, Yoonjun moved to France to pursue a master degree in the same field. He’d been living there since, but unlike expectations from single-child families hailing from new money, Yoonjun worked for a publishing house instead of taking over the real estate business. Yoonjun’s current visit to Seoul was due to a filed vacation leave. He would be returning to Paris by the end of summer.
Additional notes at the end of the document noted Sehun had been Yoonjun’s only alpha friend for two years in high school until they became classmates with Sungkook and Jaemo. Jongin wasn’t sure why this particular detail stuck out to him among others but guessed it had to do with Sehun’s knowledgeable and considerate handling of omega pre-heats. He didn’t doubt Sehun’s words, but experience had to be acquired from somewhere. Was it possible Yoonjun taught Sehun about what he knew at present?
“The customer fell so deeply in love with our lemon and Earl grey bingsu she invited her family and friends, and now we’re deciding if we should turn it into a regular—hyung, you’re not listening to me.”
Sehun’s complaint dragged Jongin back to the present. A multitude of sounds around them, the balmy air caressing his skin, and the amalgam of scents fastened him further into the moment; reminded him of his whereabouts.
“Ah. Yeah, sorry, I spaced out a bit.” Jongin gave Sehun an apologetic smile. “What were you saying about the basketball player?”
Deep lines of confusion creased Sehun’s forehead. “Have you been working too hard again?” The concern in his voice made Jongin’s pulse skitter—a frequent occurrence as of late, reason elusive as ever. “It’s been real hot lately, hasn’t it? I sometimes forget you’re very weak against the heat. C’mon, let’s get something to boost your energy.”
Jongin’s protest would fall on deaf ears once Sehun made up his mind to do something, so he followed him to an ice cream stall two meters from where they previously stood. Minutes later, they walked away with a single cone and a scoop each of shooting star and mint chocolate ice cream. Jongin only indulged in ice cream when the mood for it hit; even then, there weren’t many flavors he liked due to their sweetness or how artificial they tasted. Sehun told him to take the first bite. Jongin hummed, letting it melt on his tongue; noticed Sehun looked mighty pleased he had eaten the ice cream he offered this time. He took another bite after Sehun had his, chat a little, repeat. A pair of friends who happened to pass and glance their way started gossiping in hushed, excited whispers: “Look how cute those boyfriends are sharing an ice cream cone!”
Jongin accidentally choked on the last bite. Sehun asked if he should buy water, and Jongin wondered if he even heard what was said.
Night had long fallen, summoning with it the occasional breeziness blowing in from the Han River. The mugginess of recent summer nights made Jongin sweat when he went out and about. However, the sweltering heat didn’t stop him and Sehun, along with innumerable others, to visit the Bambokkaebi Night Market. The event always attracted large crowds no matter how oppressive the summer heat. Tonight was no different, in part due to the attractions and sold items changing every week. This wasn’t Jongin’s first time; he’d visited with Moonkyu and Kwonho several times in their college days. It only grew in frequency after meeting Sehun, who convinced him to visit all four locations throughout the city for as long as they ran.
Amid ambling about, Sehun took out his phone and stared at it for a few heartbeats. “My friends are planning to see the night market. Would it be alright for them to join us?”
“Sure. Why shouldn’t they?” Jongin tacked on a small laugh at the end to shush the rousing, forgotten emotions.
“It’s only polite to ask permission, right? Seniority and hierarchy as we’ve been taught to recognize.”
“I don’t mind. Tell them to come.” Watching Sehun compose a reply, Jongin counted to ten before finally asking the question in his mind. “You and Yoonjun are really close, huh?”
Sehun’s face lit up at the mention. “We go way back. I didn’t know anyone in high school. Most of my middle school friends either started working or moved to other schools. Yoonjun was the first person I met in our class. He was also the first classmate to befriend me. It took a bit of time, and then we just started hanging out. Yoonjun was popular in school, even to the seniors. He was tinier than me before presenting and became more adorable after. It’s fascinating how presenting changes a lot about us. Alphas suddenly shoot up in height and command attention with their voice. Betas enter a chaotic classroom and can calm everybody with their serene presence. And omegas can charm everybody into doing their bidding.”
Aside from the facts checking out with the findings Jongin read on the documents, he acknowledged Yoonjun was the complete and absolute definition of the textbook omega. The type that was set as the exemplary standard, tracing back to the roots of their ancestors. Yoonjun’s scent was sweet and floral. Although not exactly short, he was considered average in height, especially when standing next to naturally tall alphas like Sehun. He was soft spoken and had a pleasant tone of voice, and, based on their limited interactions, Yoonjun was quite gentle and considerate of everybody.
Sehun’s continued account brought Jongin out of his thoughts. “Yoonjun had a bit of a hard time after presenting. He wasn’t bullied or anything, but being one of the only two omegas in class made him feel a little trapped. He felt like he couldn’t rely on anyone to share his omega woes with. He had omega buddies from other grades and outside of school, but it’s different knowing a friend is right within your reach when pre-heat struck, for example.”
Jongin commiserated. Perhaps it was his luck that majority of his classmates were omegas during the three years of high school. Only upon entering college did he learn how to mingle and work with alphas and betas.
“Is this where you come in? Alpha best friend who protected him from anyone who tried anything funny and also did his best to make him comfortable when in pre-heat?”
Sehun nodded. “It didn’t happen in our school, but there had been instances Yoonjun was hit on. Yoonjun can fend for himself—he throws a stronger punch than I do—but pre-heat tends to take away some of his edge, so I do my best to get us out of trouble. It became easier when we formed friendships with Sungkook and Jaemo—they practice hapkido and taekwondo, respectively. Now they run their respective training halls.”
“You and Yoonjun must’ve been mistaken as a couple many times, then. You know, juvenile high school teasing where some honestly and misguidedly believe that alphas and omegas simply cannot be friends.”
“Plenty of times.” Sehun’s casual admission surprised Jongin. The unmistakable but vexing churning in his gut returned. Jongin should be embarrassed he was experiencing it over something that happened a long time ago. “Neither of us took it seriously, though. It didn’t occur to me at the time yet, but Yoonjun and I turned out to have completely different tastes in partners.”
“Such as…?”
Sehun shot Jongin a sidelong glance. “Hyung, you’re awfully invested in this for some reason. You keep asking questions about Yoonjun—is he that interesting to you?” A look of realization dawned on his face; showed in the slow widening of his eyes. “Are you…?”
The question was left unfinished, but Jongin already knew what the rest would sound. It didn’t stop him from gasping then bursting into baffled laugher, whacking Sehun on the shoulder. “You rascal! What do you take me for? I’ve only known about Yoonjun recently. What you’re thinking is impossible.”
“Oho, is that my name I hear?” The scent of cotton candy and peony wafted from behind. Yoonjun was approaching, an entertained look on his face. Sungkook and Jaemo were five meters away, talking to a group of people—friends from college, Sehun supplied. Once Yoonjun was close enough, he playfully slapped Sehun’s arm. “Hey, Oh Sehun, are you badmouthing me to your favorite hyung?"
Sehun scoffed. “I don’t talk bad about friends, even if you’re insufferable sometimes.”
Jongin wasn’t sure if it was the variegating colored lights around them or the weather, but Sehun’s ears were conspicuously red.
“You mispronounced ‘irresistible,’ but we both already know that.” Yoonjun blew Sehun a flying kiss in jest, cackling at the grimace he earned in return. “So, what were you talking about? If it’s something top secret, I won’t pry, but hopefully Sehun hasn’t revealed any of my embarrassing stories.”
“Nothing of the sort,” Jongin assured. “Sehun was telling me how some of your high school days were like.”
“I was telling hyung how incredibly insensible it was for someone like you to have been our classmates’ ideal type in high school. College was no different. Even now, when we go places, you still attract stares and offers to swap contact details. I frequently feel bad for whoever falls for your deceitful charms—” Sehun evaded Yoonjun’s hand aiming to shove him on the shoulder, laughing as he did so.
Jongin couldn’t help smiling at their antics. “Actually, Sehun was telling me about the difference in your tastes in partners.”
“Looks like Sehun said something truthful for once,” Yoonjun stated with a sage nod, ignoring Sehun’s noise of protest. “Let me take the chance to clarify that even if people mistook us for a couple plenty of times because we were often seen together and smelled like each other, I look at Sehun like I would a sibling: annoying, noisy, but will always have his back no matter what. Still not enough for him to be my ideal type, even if he has the looks and the personality.”
A strange sort of relief filled Jongin upon hearing this, shameful as it was to admit. The unpleasant emotions lying in wait gradually receded, all the way down to their roots, like they never existed.
“The sentiment is mutual,” Sehun retorted, rolling his eyes in feigned irritation. “Also, I’ll have you know that my ideal type has undergone so many changes through the years.”
“You mean you’re more realistic about your ideal type not existing?” Yoonjun quipped. “So what is it now? You never told me about the updated version. Last time you were whining to me about partner problems, you basically admitted to having impossible standards.”
This conversation took a turn that definitely piqued Jongin’s interest. Based on his knowledge of Sehun’s past relationships, both serious and short-lived, Jongin noticed his inclination for older partners who dressed well, respectful to elders, especially his family members, confident in their fields of expertise, and didn’t mind being spoiled, regardless of the age gap.
“The core of it is still there.” Sehun ushered them to the side so they weren’t in people’s way. “The sole new thing added to the list is someone who wouldn’t mind dating younger alphas.”
Yoonjun grew silent, surprise showing on his face. “Were you dumped by someone older before you could prove yourself worthy of their affection?”
“Huh, this is news to us, too,” Sungwook piped up, Jaemo nodding beside him. “In an unfair world where someone like Sehun possesses the most desirable traits of an alpha, justice seems to still exist.” It was said as a joke; received as one, too, inciting laughter from everybody.
Sehun feigned annoyance and mimed hitting them on the shoulders but, in his typical niceness, didn’t follow through. “I wasn’t dumped; just want to make that clear. It did feel like an indirect rejection, even if I never confessed.”
Yoonjun narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Oh Sehun. You don’t easily give up if you really like someone. Whether or not the outcome is favorable, you would’ve acted upon your feelings and said something because you dislike being dishonest with yourself.”
“Is your secret agenda to gang up on me tonight?” The frown curving Sehun’s mouth downward stayed momentarily; so did the petulance in his tone when he spoke next. “Can we focus on enjoying the night market than forcing me to reminisce about lost chances I’d rather forget?”
The throngs of people grew thicker in the last half hour; the line of shops seemingly endless, as with their offerings. The energy and laughter were contagious—Jongin’s cheeks started hurting from the smile and laughter workout. Another eye-opening experience was, despite the age difference, Jongin was pleasantly surprised by Yoonjun’s affable nature, enjoying his time teasing Sehun but never pushed too far, along with his ability to start and hold conversations of any topic.
Their wandering brought them to the most random tents, accidental food discoveries sparking friendly debates on why it was or wasn’t a hit. They passed by a specific lane where unique and handmade accessories were sold, some on display to entice potential customers. Yoonjun was instantly lured by the anklets and gravitated to its tent. Sungkook and Jaemo broke away to check out the necklaces three tents down. Yoonjun waved Sehun over, perhaps to ask his opinion. Jongin nodded his head when Sehun asked permission and did some browsing of his own. He made a mental note to bring Moonkyu and Kwonho here when their free days aligned.
“See something you like, hyung?” Sehun’s voice reached his ears, appearing beside Jongin in seconds. His gaze scanned the bracelets on display in differing colors and styles. “I didn’t know you were an accessories type of person.”
“I have some but don’t use them often.” Aside from the much-needed watch, Jongin’s accessories collection only saw the light of day if he was scheduled to do business magazine photo shoots and interviews, which had been the case in the past few years. In everyday life, he saw little reason to use them. “I prefer getting watches.”
“May I interest you in some of our items?” the seller asked, interrupting the conversation. A fragrant caramel and red wine scent emanated off her as she started the sales pitch, pointing to certain products and pairing them with their corresponding descriptions and prices.
“Over here is our most popular collection for couples. I suggest you start looking here.”
“We’re not a couple,” Jongin corrected right away, feeling a little shy.
“Oh, don’t be so modest! With such a good-looking partner, I would gladly show him off to the world.”
“These bracelets look nice,” Sehun commented, unhelpful to their case. “They can be worn as friendship bracelets, too, right? Doesn’t have to be centered on couples.”
“Our bracelets are flexible—they can serve any sort of purpose you want. Customers who have purchased our matching bracelets have been couples, so I assumed the pair of you was no different.” The seller sounded sheepish in her admission.
Sehun chuckled and shook his head. “Never going to happen.” He turned to Jongin. “Is there anything you like, hyung? It’s okay if nothing catches your eye.”
After some deliberation and suggestions from the seller, they settled on a pair of silver bracelets with sun and moon charms hanging from them. Sehun secured the sun charm bracelet around Jongin’s wrist. The other was shortly fastened on Sehun’s. The bracelets weren’t ostentatious and matched well with either formal or casual outfits. Most importantly, they were great for everyday use.
“The real test is if I’ll lose this bracelet within the first five minutes of wandering around here,” Jongin joked, raising his arm to take a better look at the bracelet and the charm. The sun charm caught the light from the many posts and fixtures around them. Clumsiness had lost him a lot of valuable stuff over the years, but time and maturity taught Jongin to be more careful of his belongings. Minimal incidents had happened since.
“If you lose it, I’ll be sad. Hold onto it for as long as you can,” Sehun said, caressing his own bracelet. He craned his neck in search of Yoonjun and the others; told Jongin they should catch up.
“You said your ideal type has changed. Were you hurt too badly by that person’s words?”
In hindsight, Jongin should’ve probably waited for a better time to bring up the topic; but he didn’t take back his words, either. He wouldn’t take offense if Sehun chose not to answer.
Sehun, however, surprised him with a reply. “In that person’s eyes, I’ll remain nothing but a younger friend. I suspect they don’t think I can be a good alpha because of my age. That person doesn’t have good experiences with younger alphas, too. It must’ve influenced their decision.”
“That person sounds prejudiced,” Jongin couldn’t help saying. “If there’s only a few years between you, and a mutual liking and understanding exists, I don’t see why that person would chicken out. You’re a great guy. Doesn’t matter if you’re young.” A sudden annoyance at the person who broke Sehun’s heart came over Jongin. He frowned. “Don’t mind that person. I’m sure you’re going to meet someone better who won’t look at age but your personality and good qualities.”
“Sounds a lot like wishful thinking, hyung.”
Sehun’s voice was so soft Jongin nearly didn’t catch his response. He would’ve left it at that, but the infinite sadness in Sehun’s expression made Jongin’s heart involuntarily clench.
☆彡
Fortunate as he was in many aspects of his life, Jongin could readily admit the one area he needed work on (or divine intervention, maybe) was his romantic relationships.
Perhaps the social status and sheltered living hindered him from finding potential candidates more than others. Perhaps it was the universe’s way of keeping him humble; that a single person couldn’t be impossibly perfect, or the balance would be gravely disrupted. Whatever the reason, Jongin’s gained experiences after graduating high school shaped his beliefs and opened his eyes to the wonderful—at times wretched—world of love.
University exposed him to a wider range of people coming from various backgrounds and ages. Here he experienced short-lived crushes and unrequited feelings. Here he was introduced to the concept of solo and group blind dates. Whether or not he and his match lasted was a perpetual question mark. Jongin could usually tell if he could hit it off with the other party by the second or third date. Most had been understanding if he told them in the most honest but gentlest way why they wouldn’t work out. Some resented him for his snap judgments, giving up too fast, but never insisted on a second try.
Dating as a full-fledged working adult was similar in many aspects, though it taught Jongin some of the toughest lessons that stayed with him. The most impactful was learning some of his partners harbored a secret loathing for independent and business-savvy omegas, stuck on their traditional, stifling principles that alphas should sit unchallenged on top of the hierarchy. One alpha partner was in too deep in their narcissism to be reasoned with, purposefully obtuse about why such beliefs were harmful. Jongin had never broken up with someone so fast. Another alpha partner hid his disdain so well until Jongin found him out and dumped his egotistical ass. A third alpha partner seemed accepting and encouraging of Jongin’s ambitions for the family business and his self-sufficiency. Jongin honestly thought he found a decent alpha, at long last—then it came crashing down fast upon accidentally overhearing his partner brag to friends that omegas like him were only high and mighty now because they hadn’t been “domesticated” yet.
Jongin had never been so repulsed over someone’s despicable mindset. And he’d hidden it well, too. That was the first and last time Jongin broke up with someone over a phone call. His repulsion was immeasurable that the thought of breaking up with him face to face incited a violent rage within, he couldn’t promise to walk out of the premises without literal and figurative blood on his hands.
“You have the makings of a great heir who can be entrusted with the family business but also have the uncanny sense of choosing the scummiest alphas,” Moonkyu remarked, trailing right behind Jongin. Currently, they were in a boutique browsing for clothes since Jongin was in the mood shop. “How could such an oxymoron like you exist?” He sounded a mixture of amused and concerned.
Jongin took a dress jacket off the rack. “You know what? I find it hard to believe, too. I can’t possibly be this bad at picking alphas. My beta and omega exes were far more mature and forward in their thinking. I wonder if it’s possible to find an alpha who isn’t too conservative or a hidden knothead.” He slipped on the jacket in front of the available mirrors, trying to get a better feel of its fit, then groaned when he remembered another detail. “Maybe it has something to do with age? Those alpha exes happened to be younger than me by a few years.”
“It could be,” Moonkyu said, slowly, “but you should avoid generalizing. Don’t lose faith in the existence of young alphas with a mindset that matches yours. They’re out there somewhere, though you might need to do some serious searching—and that’s if you want to continue giving chances.”
Appreciative as he was of Moonkyu’s optimism, Jongin wasn’t as keen. The last three relationships had burnt him out; jumping into one right away might just turn him off dating for good.
For once, someone powerful and all-knowing out there cared enough to listen to Jongin’s wishes, weaving his path with an alpha’s at a friend’s wedding. If not for his poorly-timed turn and colliding into him, Jongin wouldn’t have been introduced to Jihwan by their newly-wedded friend. He didn’t mind meeting new people, aware that socializing was a powerful tool in the world of business. He did, however, exercise extreme cautiousness when he learned Jihwan was an alpha two years younger than him.
Fate certainly had a way of throwing people the unexpected. Over time, Jongin and Jihwan became friends; learned more about each other along the way. Jihwan was second in line to inherit their steel-making company, but he was more interested in the seafood industry and had acquired his father’s blessing for it. Jongin needed to remind himself not to be easily impressed by Jihwan’s forward thinking; in his belief that independent omegas weren’t the anomaly a chunk of society was trying to make them out. They were also on the same wavelength regarding life perspectives and career goals; an intersection of hobbies that made hanging out twice more enjoyable.
Then, after months of being friends, a confession happened. Jongin’s first thought should be to reject him. It wasn’t, but he told Jihwan of his wariness about younger alphas. Thankfully, Jihwan wasn’t upset; requested to let him demonstrate he was different and earn Jongin’s trust and respect. It took quite a while before Jongin gave those; slowly opened up his heart again. The day he did, Jihwan smiled so bright, his poppy and fig scent wrapped up Jongin as warmly as his hug.
Theirs was a relationship tender and amazing, paired with the typical ups and downs that came with two people in love. Together and individually they grew; supported each other in their endeavors. Moonkyu and Kwonho told Jongin he looked the happiest he’d been in a relationship. Jongin agreed with them.
Jongin’s parents were always receptive to the partners he introduced. Told him that they would accept whoever he chose to spend the rest of his life with in the future as long as Jongin and his partner loved, cared, and respected each other. He introduced Jihwan to his parents a year into dating; started imagining a future with him in it. Jongin tested the waters with offhand comments about getting engaged when the time was right. Jihwan didn’t shy away from them; shared his ideas of how it might pan out.
When that right time came, Jongin made arrangements for him and Jihwan to have a short summer getaway in Paris. In truth, he merely said that to throw off suspicion—it was true arrangements had been made for some activities, but Jongin was planning to propose to Jihwan there.
So Jongin couldn’t understand why Jihwan pulled a staggering one-eighty on him and said he wanted to break up after arriving in Paris. Too stunned to react, Jongin waited for Jihwan to reveal it was a joke. It never happened. Only then did he notice the somberness of Jihwan’s face. An awful, icy dread began to slither through Jongin in the agonizing silence of the hotel room. Naturally, the first question Jongin asked was why.
Jihwan’s prolonged silence heightened Jongin’s nervousness. He started coming up with every reason available that led them to this outcome but found none that matched their situation. It sent him analyzing past events, disagreements, misunderstandings. Unsuccessful.
In the end, none of Jongin’s efforts and anguish mattered. A four-year relationship was ended with one brutal sentence: “I don’t love you anymore.”
Dazed, shocked, in a state of utter disbelief, Jongin wandered Paris’ streets without a destination in mind, ignoring the angry passers-by he bumped into. He barely muttered an apology; barely knew where he was. He just walked and walked and walked, wanting to take his mind off Jihwan’s words; his frightening coldness he never saw coming.
A man from the opposite direction accidentally crashed into him, effectively stopping Jongin in his tracks and the train of his thoughts. The crash enabled Jongin to gather back most of his sensibilities to mumble an apology this time. Perhaps his French was barely comprehensible—the man responded with an irate-sounding tirade before stalking off. It took a while, but Jongin realized the right front pocket of his jeans was lighter. The velvet box that was recently a heavy, burdensome weight was gone. Jongin should give chase—that ring was damn expensive—but lacked the drive and, frankly, felt sapped of strength from the emotional turmoil.
This was how Jongin ended up sitting on the pavement, tiredness spreading through his calves, slumped in despair as the finality of the situation crashed down on him like bricks.
This was how Jongin first met Sehun, and led them to meet again when he took a giant leap of faith by contacting him.
They spent the day together going around the city. Sehun acted as a tour guide, having a better grasp of French, which he claimed to have consistently learned and studied on the side since college. Awkward pauses between and during conversations were unavoidable but natural. By noon, Jongin was a little more relaxed.
Sehun’s carefree attitude was infectious. Although Jongin was still rightly miserable, he afforded a smile and a chuckle at Sehun’s bizarre antics and commentary. By sunset, they parted ways with neither of them saying goodbye, instead wishing each other luck and happiness in their respective lives from this day onward.
Walking away at the end of the day came with a tacit understanding they might not see or hear from each other again after this. Jongin was fine with that. People came in others’ lives but only stayed for a season, and most probably for a reason. Whatever it was, or even if Jongin might not understand it in the future, he was thankful that a complete stranger took a huge gamble and willingly provided companionship, despite the low to zero guarantee of a positive result. A day with him might not have expunged his heartbreak, but Sehun’s presence was strangely comforting, like the arrival of the first spring rain.
Boarding the plane on the day of departure, Jongin couldn’t bring himself to block or delete Sehun from his contacts list. Unable to decide at the moment, he put it off for later.
After touching down, he booked the closest available long weekend to spend with his friends in Bali after sending out a feeler in the group chat. His family was unfailingly supportive, letting him deal with the loss on his own terms and reminding him not to blame or be too hard on himself. Bit by bit, Jongin built and improved his reputation as the newly-promoted director of KJ Group. A few more years of work experience and he would hopefully be promoted as president.
It took a year for Jongin to piece his heart back together. It took just as long for Jongin to walk down the streets of Gangnam after work one April day, intending to buy gifts for his family just because he felt like it. He had come from his sisters’ favorite cosmetics shop; now, he was in search for confectioneries his mother might like. Mrs. Kim retained and maintained her maiden heart even after marrying and building a family. She also retained and maintained her weakness for sweets. Mrs. Kim was far more updated about the sweets scene in Seoul than any other in Jongin’s family—anything they brought her with the assumption she might not have tasted it yet would be proven false in seconds once she saw the bag or box.
Luck seemed to side with Jongin when his nose caught a very enticing scent combination: warm honey and aromatic ginger. His nose led him to a shop with a quaint storefront and an eye-catching signage. “Lotus Pond” was engraved across it in a pink hue reminiscent of the flower itself. The display window showed boxes of dasik packed in tiny boxes. A traditional Korean sweets shop, it seemed.
Trying his luck, Jongin pushed the door open, causing the bell above to jingle. The shop was empty; the trays were either cleared or close to emptying. Still gripped tightly by that first scent he smelled, Jongin drifted over to where it was strongest: a tray of round, delicately-designed, golden yakgwa.
“Welcome! How may I help you?”
Jongin startled at the sudden greeting; twice when the memories of Paris rushed back after the first inhale of patchouli and magnolia.
Sehun looked just as shocked as Jongin felt, eyes widened, lips forming an ’O,’ but no other sound or word was produced. He recovered faster, grinning hugely as he said, “Hi, Jongin-hyung. Never expected to see you in my shop.”
Jongin found out Sehun was also running his grandmother’s restaurant next door, one he vaguely remembered passing in his quest for the scrumptious yakgwa. Lotus Pond was wholly Sehun’s, the shop using family recipes and adjusting them to fit the ever-changing tastes of their fast-paced society. Growing up watching his maternal grandmother and her siblings bake traditional sweets in the kitchen and enjoying every bite, Sehun vowed he would someday build a shop that would introduce his grandmother’s take on the hangwa to the world.
“Was this what you went to Paris for last year? Perfecting desserts?” Jongin asked, while waiting for Sehun to pack his purchased sweets.
“Huh? No. I went there as a graduation gift to myself for finishing university, and to visit a friend. I spent that year doing what I wanted aside from soul-searching before coming back to be an adult.”
“Did you find any answers?” Jongin added he didn’t need to reply if he wasn’t comfortable sharing.
“That I should be an adult,” Sehun joked, prompting laughter from both of them. Calming down, he gestured to the shop, a fond smile on his lips. “It’s a tiny dream for now, but if I don’t act on it, I think I’ll regret it forever.”
Mrs. Kim was elated and genuinely surprised Jongin found a sweets shop she hadn’t heard of yet. It was love at first bite, too. Mrs. Kim became starry-eyed and enamored by the texture and flavor of the taffy. Immediately, she called for Mr. Kim to have a taste. Mr. Kim shared the same opinion as her. Jongin could easily admit the sweets he bought were tasty and not too sweet; but if he had to choose a favorite, he might have found it when his fingers kept drifting to the yakgwa. A bit of research told Jongin it was one of Lotus Pond’s bestsellers.
Mrs. Kim spread the word about Lotus Pond to her friends; visited it for herself. Maybe it had something to do with word of mouth, or just a perfectly-timed coincidence, but the shop began selling out their products hours before closing time. Queuing lines started forming outside Lotus Pond; landed on news articles, food blogs, a featured segment on national television that doubled their customer count and gained a faithful following since. By extension, Lotus Pond customers started taking notice of its sister restaurant, Ginkgo Garden, and met the same fortunate fate.
Among the confectioneries, Jongin was most curious of what the yakgwa contained. There must be some sort of therapeutic ingredient mixed in it; eating one never failed to bring a smile to his face. He wasn’t even a huge yakgwa devourer, and generally not a huge sweets person. Yet Lotus Pond’s yakgwa single-handedly converted him.
“Eating sweet things provide a serotonin boost,” Sehun told him when he shared this thought. They were in a private room at Ginkgo Garden, a first for Jongin after two months since becoming busy with work. Sehun happened to be standing at the entryway and personally saw to him, despite Jongin’s insistence on treating him like any other customer. “You should have it often, hyung. That and sufficient Vitamin D can help lessen your grumpiness.”
Jongin laughed aloud then threw Sehun a fake glare. “You’re getting too comfortable teasing me, you rascal.”
He honestly didn’t mind. Jongin would be more worried if Sehun couldn’t freely joke with him after being friends for two years. The unforeseen reunion at Lotus Pond had paved the way for them to stay in frequent contact—mostly for the yakgwa, partly for the hwajeon that Jongin discovered gave him fierce bursts of energy during heat, and to completely acquaint themselves with each other better. His hesitance in deleting or blocking Sehun’s KakaoTalk account had probably been a premonition.
It wasn’t hard being friends with Sehun. He was fun-loving, a friendly soul, always ready to lend a helping hand. Jongin was slightly worried he might not get along with Moonkyu and Kwonho. After moving past his initial shyness, Sehun proved Jongin wrong, much to his relief and joy.
It wasn’t hard being friends with Sehun, even with the knowledge that he was an alpha. Jongin had been rendered speechless when Sehun shared this tidbit about him. Probably not as much when Sehun had learned he was an omega but quickly got over it and treated him as usual. In time, it absolutely didn’t matter anymore and completely left Jongin’s mind.
“Sometimes you’re just very easy to tease,” Sehun answered, nodding sagely. An employee came and left after delivering Jongin’s order of dak galbi and other dishes. “At least you’re smiling and laughing. That’s really good. I hope the dak galbi will help lighten your mood and soothe your heart.” He gave him a knowing glance before paying attention to the stew.
Jongin slowed down on his chewing. Sehun didn’t intentionally say that with malice. This he knew. He was just surprised that, time and again, Sehun understood why Jongin came here to eat dak galbi without mentioning the reason. Sehun never asked, never pried; always leaving Jongin to decide if he wished to open up. Jongin always did, eventually, while demolishing the dak galbi. In ways unknown, Ginkgo Garden’s dak galbi became the dish that provided Jongin the highest level comfort after getting out of a relationship. The sole food on their menu he wanted to eat when sadness crushed him in its fist.
When a tray of beer bottles and glasses arrived, Jongin announced he was in the mood for something else. They ended up in a pojangmacha after dinner, one owned by Sehun’s friend. Tteokbokki, sundae, and soju bottles stood between them, their table situated at the far back for some privacy.
Sehun quietly opened a soju bottle and filled their glasses. After: “What’s the story this time, hyung?”
An alpha Jongin had been seeing for a month dumped him through a single text, no explanation whatsoever, and his number had become unreachable within the day. An eerie sense of déjà vu had washed over Jongin, buried memories resurrecting unbidden.
“The breakup hurts, but the pain feels more like a mosquito bite than a fatal wound.” Jongin knocked back his first shot, grimacing as the soju burned his throat on the journey downward. “It might be because I’m not that emotionally invested to shed tears over someone insignificant.”
“Still, you deserve an explanation. Breaking up with you through text is such an asshole move.”
“He was probably an asshole in secret. Glad I got rid of him before I could be subjected to it.” Jongin refilled his glass. Sighed. Smirked. “Remember Paris? Same situation, kind of, which was why I called you. Something I never got to do was correct your assumption. It wasn’t a friend who ditched me back then. It was a boyfriend. Well, ex.”
“I had a hunch,” Sehun confessed. “You looked like the world collapsed on you completely when I saw you on the sidewalk.”
Jongin laughed, the taste of it bitter. Two years had passed since. Though he’d recovered and moved on, there came rare moments when reminiscing conjured the harsh bitterness of that relationship’s demise.
“I looked like that because my plans to propose had been irreversibly ruined.” Jongin smiled at the raw shock on Sehun’s face then proceeded to tell him the entire story. Talking about it after a long time no longer hurt. Some things might remind him of Jihwan, but Jongin’s heart no longer ached at the thought of his name; could no longer recall what his face looked like, either.
Sehun’s expression didn’t change until his brows slowly furrowed, and then he was full-out frowning. “That ex didn’t deserve you.”
Jongin nodded, chewing on a fishcake. “I might never know the real reason behind Jihwan’s change of heart in this lifetime, but I’ve long made peace with that. To some people, you’re simply not worth an explanation.”
“While the situation isn’t as severe, your recent ex doesn’t deserve you, either.”
“I know,” was Jongin’s ready agreement. The second shot still burned but not as much. He sighed. “My dating history isn’t really the most stellar, if I think about it. Maybe it has to do with how I excel in many aspects of my life but a complete failure in love and relationships.”
“Don’t say that,” Sehun chided. A disapproving frown pressed his lips together. “It’s not your fault the alphas you date tend to be scared of your independence, can’t stand ‘losing’—whatever the hell that means—to a more successful partner because they’re too fixated on the omega aspect of your entire being, or earn more than their combined annual income.”
Jongin hummed, a noncommittal sound. He sighed a second time; filled his glass with soju again. “My worse relationships tend to be with younger alphas. I’m probably just not compatible with any of them, even if the feelings are good at first.” A third shot warmed his stomach. The soju was starting to taste a bit sweeter, and he was grimacing less. The aftertaste remained vile, so Jongin negated it with tteokbokki.
Sehun’s frown deepened. “That’s an unfair assumption and generalization. Just because you’ve had a string of not-so-good relationships with younger alphas doesn’t mean it should be an indisputable fact.”
Jongin raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I know you’re not invalidating my experiences, and I also avoid my bias from influencing my decisions when I see a prospective partner in a younger alpha.” He poured a new shot; chewed on a few rice cakes. “I blame this on Jihwan. It’s like he cursed me to have negative luck with younger alphas.” Another rice cake made its way to his mouth, pausing to shake his head at the small wave of light-headedness.
A contemplative look came over Sehun’s features as they subsequently ate and drank in silence. “Out of curiosity, what exactly do you look for in a partner?”
“I’m not too picky,” Jongin said, after enjoying some sundae. “I don’t care about the subgender, although I have now come to be more cautious around younger alphas. Age isn’t an issue as long as the gap isn’t too big. Those aside, as long as we both understand each other, accept both good and bad sides while growing together, I’m willing to go on a few dates and test our compatibility. You can’t forget compatibility.”
“Then, what do you think of me, hyung?”
Jongin flicked his eyes from the soju he was pouring to Sehun’s face. He looked absolutely serious—a first to Jongin, and also a new view. Sehun’s eyes shone with emotions Jongin couldn’t decipher at the moment with the alcohol in his system, but it made him pay undivided attention; incited to think carefully of what to say.
“You?” Jongin drank his sixth shot—or was it the seventh? Pretty sure he counted eight. “You?” he repeated, a little louder, a chuckle bubbling out from him. He wagged his forefinger at Sehun and tried shaking his head together but didn’t do it for too long. “Ah,” he drawled out the syllable, “I think I know why you’re asking me this all of a sudden. It’s about that omega crush you told me about, huh? The one who makes your usual confidence falter?”
Sehun let out a small laugh, breaking his serious countenance for a few moments before it melded back. “You could say it like that.”
Jongin flashed Sehun a loopy smile. Sehun hadn’t really sought his assurance in romantic matters, so this was another first, and he couldn’t help feeling excited on his behalf. Stretching his arms to reach across the table, he held Sehun’s face, squeezing his cheeks ever so lightly with a giggle. “Listen to me. You’re a good friend. Person. Alpha. Don’t let that omega crush of yours break your heart, you hear me? I won’t allow it. No, no, no.” Another giggle. “You’re too precious of a friend to be left broken by someone who can’t cherish you.”
☆彡
Summer was on its last dying breath, giving one last hurrah by gripping the nation with record-high temperatures in its final days before inevitably melting from the tamer temper of autumn.
Three weeks into the new season saw an uptick in Jongin’s workload. He never stayed long in his office, warming the chair for the barest of seconds before his presence was required somewhere else once more. Conferences outside the country, product launches, business dinners, never-ending meetings, a few necessary overtimes—Jongin was used to hectic schedules, but even he wasn’t immune to fatigue and exhaustion. Small mercies came on weekends, where he could sleep in as much as he wanted, foregoing socialization to lounge and recharge at home. Replying to messages from friends could wait at a later date.
So when he checked his schedule for next week, Jongin was ecstatic about his upcoming business trip in Busan. As much as he liked traveling internationally, doing it for work could make it hard to enjoy at times; the long distances contributing to a screwed-up circadian rhythm that would take months to fix at this rate. His three-day business trip ended on a Friday; no urgent business on weekends. Jongin could take it slow and relax before returning to Seoul on Sunday.
On the first night, the spectacular view of the beach from his hotel room window lured Jongin out to a seaside bar after dinner. He sat where he could enjoy the scenery of sea and people while nursing a cocktail. The night air was balmy but the occasional sea breeze blowing in made it bearable. The next breeze tousled Jongin’s hair after a sip, then decided to snap some pictures and sent them to his friends. For a long moment, he relished in the serenity offered by the sights and sounds. It was momentarily broken when his phone lit up from a KakaoTalk message.
hyung
you’re in busan too?
Ten minutes later, Sehun now sat beside him, a bright grin on his face. “This is such a huge coincidence. Getting a hold of you in the past few weeks had been impossible.” His gaze swept over the bar setup and their surroundings. “Having a good time tonight?”
Jongin nodded with a hum. “This is the first breather I’ve had in weeks. I’m glad I came out here and didn’t spend it cooped up in my room. It’s nice to have a change of pace sometimes.” He told Sehun to order anything he wanted but was politely turned down. “Not drinking? This is unlike you. Why are you here in Busan, and how did you know where to find me?”
“I have friends who live here. They brought me here last week. I recognized the table and glass right away when you sent me the picture of your drink.” Sehun also shared he was overseeing the ongoing renovation of a building his family had purchased many years back. The building was located at one of the busiest commercial areas where locals and tourists shopped and dined. The reason behind the renovation was Grandma Insook’s longstanding wish of expanding Ginkgo Garden. After about a year of deliberation, she finally allowed the opening of a Busan branch.
“Renovation is going smoothly so far. It could be finished before winter if no setbacks are met, next year at the latest.”
“Who’s going to manage the Busan branch?”
“Grandma Insook wants to do it—you know old people want to be as hands on as possible. She isn’t too keen on hiring outsiders to take charge in supervising the branch. But her health has been erratic as of late, and traveling far distances might be too exhausting on her body. If her health doesn’t improve by the opening, I’ll have to do it.”
“…I see.”
Jongin understood the pragmatism behind it. This could be a golden learning experience for Sehun, and a chance to put his business degree to good use. He could gather information on what locals liked; use amassed statistics to improve their products and services. What he didn’t understand was the appearance of a sinking feeling in his belly when he heard Sehun’s last sentence.
“I haven’t decided anything concrete yet, but you look like you’re about to cry already.”
“What—I do not,” Jongin protested upon hearing Sehun’s teasing, cheeks blazing against his will. “And, really, ‘about to cry?’ Busan is an hour away from Seoul by plane. There’s nothing to cry over a short distance.”
Sehun’s impish smile should look every bit as annoying, but Jongin found it impossible to hold onto his exasperation. “Hyung, what did I tell you about being honest? It’s okay to say it early. I’ll miss you, too, if I ever have to move here to oversee the branch.”
“You know a solution to that? Don’t go anywhere so I won’t miss you.”
Sehun burst out laughing. His cheeks and ears were suddenly red, somehow appearing delighted by what Jongin said. “I can’t believe the most hardworking person I know, who borders on being a workaholic, is giving me bad business advice. Now what would the people in the business world say when they know?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Jongin grumbled, ignoring the worsening warmth in his cheeks with a sip of cocktail.
The last of his laughter fading, Sehun reached for something in the bag he brought with him: a plump pouch square in shape and white in color, with pastel yellow and lime green text on the front, the printed picture of a honeycomb next to it.
Jongin recognized the pouch right away. “Did you start pre-rut?”
Sehun nodded, puncturing the straw hole on top and took a long sip. “I was unusually irritable yesterday. The tiniest inconvenience set off my temper, and I thought that wasn’t right. I checked my tracker and basically confirmed it.” Another sip, but shorter. “I’ll most likely extend my stay here and wait until the end of my rut to travel back to Seoul. It’s impractical to be traveling in my current condition. I wouldn’t want to be a public nuisance.”
Much like omegas, alphas also experienced pre-ruts, which lasted a week before segueing to the actual rut. Pre-rut came with a range of symptoms similar to pre-heat like increased libido. Their scent also took on a spicier, headier edge courtesy of the rut pheromones produced during this time. Alphas became unusually irritable over the most inconsequential things they otherwise wouldn’t kick a fuss over. The alpha nose became twice more sensitive to scents, favoring others but despised a few. Some alphas entered a restless state, body seeking constant activity and stimulation—a consequence to the disappearance of shifting from their genes that enabled them to go on runs in wolf form. Either they began constructing dens to shed the excess energy, worked out at the gym, or engaged in extreme sports.
Some alphas relied on pre-rut products to help them during this sensitive, difficult period, which they could purchase from specialty shops and supermarkets. One of these was a special jelly drink that became an instant hit and propelled it to unprecedented fame after its initial distribution. The jelly drink was the most preferred method by alphas in easing their symptoms since it was meant to mimic omega slick. They came in assorted scents and flavors, but some brands released a limited edition flavor every month.
Despite this, Jongin had no idea what these jelly drinks tasted like. He could vouch the smell matched its corresponding flavor based on the few times he randomly caught whiffs of it from alpha relatives who drank them religiously. He did ask alpha exes and friends their thoughts on the taste. The general consensus was real, natural omega slick was far superior, but the thick, slightly sticky consistency and the chewy jelly kept their cravings (and libido) at bay for four to five hours on average.
Majority of the popular flavors tend to either be fruity, floral, or sugary. The same alphas Jongin talked to verified that the jelly drinks matched the taste of what was printed on the pouch, as well. According to them, omega slick would always register as sweet to the alpha tongue unless they had a serious medical condition that prevented it.
Jongin watched Sehun guzzle the jelly drink in a total of four big gulps. Sehun smacked his lips together when he was done, tongue poking out to swipe along his lower lip to catch a stray drop. Jongin watched the action with rapt attention, his entire body suddenly feeling warm in his clothes. Was it the absence of a breeze?
Sehun noticed him staring. “Hyung, did you want to taste?”
Jongin shook his head right away. Now he wasn’t sure why guilt was circling his chest. “Did you stock up on jelly drinks? I can order you a box and have it delivered to where you’re staying.”
“These are readily available at convenience stores.” Sehun smacked his lips a few more times. “But I‘ll never say no to offered help.”
Jongin had never been grateful for Sehun’s cheekiness. It gave him something else to focus on as he whipped out his phone. “There’s a bubble tea shop nearby. Do you want a cup?”
Sugary stuff was one of Sehun’s favorite things to devour when he was in pre-rut, and it was amazing every time that he could consume two cups of the sweet monstrosity without serious consequences.
“Chocolate bubble tea, extra pearls, the largest cup size. Please and thank you, hyung.” Sehun’s eyes folded into charming crescents.
“You—” Jongin feigned exasperation but dissolved into helpless laugher. They left the bar not long after, passing by an alley of hotels and commercial buildings to reach the bubble tea shop. A question cropped up in Jongin’s mind. “Will you be alright during your rut next week?”
“I booked a room in a cycle facility. The hotel I’m staying at has one. It’s safe and private, walls and halls are pheromone-proofed, so you won’t have to worry about seeing me on news portals wreaking havoc in case the rut has addled my mind.”
Jongin laughed. “You’re the gentlest soul I’ve ever known. Save for the time when you got so pissed by Changseok, you have a pretty good temper.”
The next day, Jongin’s schedule wasn’t as tightly-packed, so he had time to answer his backlogged messages and text Sehun. Yesterday was his second day of pre-rut. Although Jongin knew Sehun’s pre-ruts had always been mild and could manage himself well, it didn’t stop him from worrying about his wellbeing. Sehun’s replies were few and came in an hour late from the time Jongin sent his messages. It was better than complete silence.
“Oh, Director Kim!” the surprised voice of a business partner had Jongin gripping his phone tight out to counteract his clumsiness. A whiff of mahogany and charcoal emanated from him as he neared. “What are you doing out here in the hall?”
“Just checking up on messages.” Jongin flashed a genial smile. He was at lunch with the business partners and others but excused himself to go to the washroom. On the way back, he decided to check his phone.
“Is something the matter? You look very worried,” the business partner remarked. “Cheer up, Director Kim. No matter how annoying they might be acting right now, whoever you’re talking to surely loves you.”
“What?” Jongin exclaimed—incredulous, scandalized. The business partner’s eyes flew wide open in shock. He scrambled and failed to come up with an excuse, so he cleared his throat first before saying, “N-no, it isn’t anything of the sort. That is a wild assumption to make.”
“This is the first time I’ve heard you stutter in the many years we’ve been working together.” The business partner sounded amused; showed in their smile. “Is it an unrequited love? That’s a pity. No one would dare turn down someone as capable and charismatic as you. It would be quite the shame, but some people do not know what they have until it’s slipped from their hold.”
Jongin could do nothing but chuckle along, too stunned by the outrageous claims. Short the exchange might have been, it stuck at the back of Jongin’s mind as he went about the rest of his day.
Work ended half an hour earlier than expected. Jongin immediately took out his phone and asked Sehun how he was feeling; if he was free to get a meal together. Ten minutes passing felt like ten years crawling waiting for a response. Jongin spun around twice in his chair then stopped and gazed out the window to enjoy the sunset. He nearly spun himself dizzy after hearing the familiar notification chime.
hyung
will you buy me steak today?
Jongin stared hard at Sehun’s reply; spent a few more moments on the sticker beneath it: a plump, yellow chick doing its best to pull off a cute act. If Sehun was busting out the aegyo-filled stickers, his craving was probably strong.
Fifteen minutes later, Jongin arrived at a steak house he found through some light searching and based on recommendations. He arrived first; relieved the restaurant wasn’t packed and needn’t be wait-listed. Sehun arrived shortly after, looking around the restaurant, impassive face breaking out into a smile when his gaze landed on Jongin. On the way to the table, Jongin continued smiling while watching Sehun—and noticed the stares he attracted from the other customers.
He found out why once Sehun sat down. The patchouli and magnolia emanating from him was strong and enticing to Jongin’s nose, but the pre-rut pheromones gave it an undertone of seductive spiciness used to attract potential partners. Not only did Sehun smell more immaculate than usual, he had several people in the vicinity staring openly, making eyes, biting their bottom lips, fingers clutching tight on the napkins.
Jongin shouldn’t be bothered. An alpha in pre-rut stealing breaths and hearts was a natural phenomenon. Even with the dampener options switched on, the tiniest hint of pre-rut pheromones could take quick effect once inhaled. It explained the ogling; the dreamy stares. Jongin understood this; knew nothing drastic would happen. What he couldn’t understand was the unfounded vexation welling up inside him, and the sickening relief that Sehun didn’t even cast any of the onlookers a single glance, busy talking about how his day went.
“Hyung? Are you alright?” Sehun’s inquiry put a screeching halt to Jongin’s thoughts and made him rejoin him at the present time. Concern lined his forehead, lips slightly forming a frown in the same fashion. “You’re looking a little scary right now.”
“Scary?” Jongin echoed, disbelieving. He scoffed. “Why? Nothing is going on for me to look scary.” Liar.
Sehun’s eyebrows sailed upward. “You looked two seconds away from snapping. If your glare could set things on fire, this place would’ve long burst in flames.” Then, in a softer voice lined with worry, “Did you have a bad day today?”
Stunned, stumped, Jongin schooled his face into what he hoped was a more genial-looking expression. “My day was tiring but fine, so I’m not sure where the scary face came from. Maybe you’re just hungry," he joked. His gaze happened to stray over the neighboring table. The customers sitting around it hadn’t stopped staring at Sehun. One sensed Jongin was watching them, eliciting a panicked squeak; set off a chain reaction that had them grabbing the menus standing at the center of the table to conceal their reddened faces behind it.
“Really?” Sehun drew out the word, a teasing lilt in his voice. His lips quirked into a tiny, knowing smile. “Don’t look too surprised—I knew they were looking. I was just ignoring them. As well as the other customers since I sat here.”
“I should’ve taken that offered private room at the back of the restaurant,” Jongin griped beneath his breath, grabbing the menu.
“Ah, why am I so popular?” Sehun wondered aloud, sounding too gleeful for Jongin’s taste. “Have I told you about the time in high school when I couldn’t even count the amount of chocolates I received during Valentine’s Day? I thought it would be a one-time thing because popularity can be fleeting and hard to keep. Guess I’m just special since I still happen to attract attention wherever I go at my current age.”
“Are you going to brag the entire time we’re here, or am I going to eat somewhere else?”
“How cold!” Sehun commented in a pseudo-wounded tone. When he smiled next, it looked gentler; softer on the corners, and sent Jongin’s heart rate traitorously racing. “If you’re worried the attention will get to my head and forget you, that won’t ever happen. How can I forget you when you make sure I don’t?”
Pre-rut enabled Sehun to demolish two platters of steak and order for other dishes and sides. By the end of the meal, he still had room for a slice of chocolate cake. Pre-rut usually increased an alpha’s appetite, making them crave certain food they wouldn’t otherwise touch outside of it. Some became seemingly bottomless pits with the amount of food they consumed round the clock. Sehun on normal days didn’t have a large appetite. Jongin had been concerned at first when they went out for a meal after becoming friends; asked if the restaurant food wasn’t to his liking. After years of getting to know each other, Jongin could easily predict the type of food Sehun craved during pre-rut.
Sehun suggested they try a new bubble tea shop. Jongin wasn’t surprised by the longing stare he cast at the picture of a burger on the shop menu when placing orders. The grateful, ecstatic grin Sehun directed at Jongin after allowing the inclusion of the burger warmed him and, again, intensified the racing of his pulse.
Jongin was given a rude awakening when he noticed Sehun turning customers’ heads in the bubble tea shop. He surmised it to be a long night. He wondered if the pheromone neutralizers in Busan were efficiently working at all. Maybe he should pitch a donation to the city government to replace the faulty machines, if any. Or just every single one of them. That should do the trick.
“Are you sure you’re fine? I’m the one in pre-rut, but you’re the one acting moody. It’s all over your face, in case you’re going to deny again.” Sehun chewed the last of his burger before continuing. “If it’s the same problem, well, I can’t do anything about my face. My fate is probably to be stared at.” He leaned back in his chair and grabbed a jelly drink from his bag.
Jongin huffed out a laugh, about to retort something but changed his mind upon seeing the jelly drink pouch. “Out of curiosity, how much truth is there about jelly drinks tasting like omega slick? I asked all the alphas I know and most say yes. I’m curious if you think similarly.”
Sehun stopped mid-puncture, blinking at Jongin before pushing the straw all the way down. “Past flavors I used to drink tasted similar to the slick of the omegas I dated. I only consumed the jelly drinks that matched the flavor of their slick, or the closest to it, and nothing else during my pre-rut. I’m loyal like that. But I switch flavors when we break up. Why drink what tastes like an ex? It doesn’t matter if we had a good run or not. I don’t want to touch those again.”
“What flavor do you drink when you’re single? Or do you just leave it to your mood on the day?”
Sehun hummed around the straw. “Mostly chocolate. When I’m in a rare mood for it, I go for vanilla. If it’s not sold out, orange. Just those three flavors. An ex told me I was boring with my choices, but, eh; whatever works for me at the time, why judge?”
Jongin had seen him drink the mentioned flavors when he took care of Sehun during pre-ruts. Now knowing that Sehun placed significant meaning on jelly drink flavors, it led Jongin to try guessing of the reasoning behind the honey-flavored jelly drink. Sehun started drinking that about two years ago. About the same time Jongin first learned of his omega crush. He wondered if a correlation existed or just a simple coincidence.
“Does it mean your omega crush might, hypothetically, taste like honey if you’ve only been drinking this for two years?”
“I haven’t tasted you yet, so I can’t give a definite answer.”
The world screeched to a halt around Jongin’s ears. The atmosphere between them shifted, sizzling and thickening the air with charged tension. The gleam of seductive charm in Sehun’s eyes pinned him in his seat, setting off an answering throb low in his belly. The crassness of the statement would’ve turned him off had it been said by another alpha. Yet the absence of anger, of disgust, of humiliation was concerning as it was revealing.
Sehun’s mouth tugged upward. He threw his head back in an amused laugh that effectively dispelled the tension and resumed the world’s movement. “Geez, hyung, I was just kidding. You’re not the only omega who smells like honey.”
Those words tamped the throbbing in Jongin’s gut but did nothing to ease the heat scoring his cheeks. His mind was taking its time processing what just happened in the last few minutes. Unable to stand the seeping awkwardness, Jongin rolled his eyes in (forced) feigned annoyance. “Oh Sehun, some of your jokes are…” He nearly cursed when his voice almost trembled with something he adamantly refused to name. He cleared his throat. “Remember, I’m still your hyung. Don’t crack jokes like that with me.” He meant it to come out as scolding but didn’t achieve the desired effect.
“Of course. I’ve never once forgotten that you’re my hyung.” Sehun’s tone was glib, but the underlying seriousness was audible—and, in some way, something akin to sadness lurking there.
Maybe the residual shock from the bizarre conversation was stronger than expected. When Jongin lay in bed that night, combing through the events that took place at the bubble tea shop, it dawned on him, with startling clarity, that it was the left corner of Sehun’s mouth which rose when he claimed to be joking. The left corner which rose when Sehun lied.
Jongin was at a loss on how to handle this discovery. He could analyze charts, graphs, messy statistics, the most complicated contracts. Yet he could dissect every moment and every word, every facial expression and change in tone, but stay frustratingly stuck in a loophole of questions because none of the answers he came up with sounded plausible. Believable. He stayed frustratingly, unbelievably stuck because the most probable answer was the one he violently shoved to the back of his mind, even if all signs pointed toward it.
Jongin found no satisfying conclusion in spite of losing sleep over it. Thankfully, it was the last day of his business trip, and the hours flew past quickly. The moment he was free, he went around town buying stuff for Sehun’s pre- and post-rut care package to give later. After, he checked the cycle facility Sehun mentioned; read reviews to ensure he would be well cared for next week, not just mindless gushing to raise its ratings, and visited the place to see for himself.
When he received a KakaoTalk message from Sehun, Jongin had never opened it so fast—and tasted disappointment in the same speed.
hyung i can’t meet up tonight
i’m hanging out with middle school friends
let’s meet before you leave instead?
An hour later found Jongin at a wine bar. He was more of a social than leisure drinker, but he could definitely use some good wine to reward himself for the hardcore grinding he did this week and the previous three. It wasn’t a full house yet on his arrival, despite it being a Friday, so he was able to enjoy the relative peace and quiet while relishing one of their bestselling wines. Moonkyu and Kwonho happened to be online, and he spent the next hour doing catch-up.
Eventually, Kwonho had to leave for work, and Moonkyu stayed for half an hour longer until he had to go, too. Jongin worked out the kinks of his neck from staying stationary in one position for too long. He closed his eyes while massaging his nape but opened it immediately upon the strong scent of flint and whiskey assaulting his nose. One of the oddest, most stringent combinations Jongin had been unfortunate to inhale—and coming from the person who sat on the vacant stool to his right, looking at him with hinted intent, lips curving the same way.
Not in the mood to flirt, Jongin politely told the man as much after his two lame attempts.
The man was pleasantly surprised he’d been read so quickly but didn’t seem deterred. “That is fine. I am an alpha who recognizes everyone has the right to engage or disengage with flirting at will. I won’t force anybody because I’m not a knothead. May I at least interest you on having a friendly chat?”—Jongin was about to agree, he saw nothing wrong in that, until he heard the next sentence that came out of his mouth—”I saw you were all by your lonesome self at the bar, but I am here to make it bearable. No need to thank me; a smile will do.”
Oh, no. These types of alphas were one of the most insufferable. Their egocentricity was appalling, proven by the man jumping straight ahead to talk about himself without even seeking for Jongin’s agreement. Sighing softly to himself, he met the bartender’s sympathetic gaze and flashed a weak smile. Jongin tried to tune out the egotistical alpha’s prattle, but the flint and whiskey was too overwhelming that a dull throbbing began to form in his temples. Before long, nauseousness was surfacing.
About to leave, Jongin stopped when a hand came into view, resting on the silver counter top between him and the egotistical alpha. That hand was attached to an arm and doubled as a makeshift divider. Jongin assumed with some fear he was getting into deeper trouble until all he could inhale was the surprising, relieving scent of patchouli and magnolia. Jongin grinned as he reveled in the scent; wider, when he heard the voice.
“You’re making him sick.” Sehun sounded furious. “How do you not realize your scent is revolting that nobody wants to sit next to you? Why don’t you invest in scent maskers?”
The egotistical alpha went red in the face from anger and embarrassment. “H-how dare you!” he sputtered, attracting the attention of other customers nearby. “Don’t talk to me so rudely! Show some respect!”
Sehun’s brows knitted slowly together, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Why don’t you take a hint and back off? You’re making a scene here. Your presence isn’t wanted, and you’re being a nuisance. I don’t care if you’re a VIP or whatever. Leave.” The words came out on a growl of displeasure.
The egotistical alpha intended to exact revenge, but murmurs were beginning to break out among the curious onlookers. Jongin saw the bartender waving over security. Cornered, humiliated, the egotistical alpha stalked off.
“Sorry, hyung. Was that over the top?” Sehun asked. The switch from protectiveness to worry gave Jongin whiplash but also skyrocketed his heartbeat. “I know you loathe being treated like you’re helpless, but how could that guy not notice he was making you uncomfortable? I can’t stand inconsiderate people like him.” He pushed back his hair in irritation, brows staying furrowed, mouth curved downward in disappointment. Although he looked mostly calm, the anger radiating off him was like steam from a recent rain. The pre-rut was definitely in motion.
Jongin placed his hand atop Sehun’s. The touch immediately ruined Sehun’s mask of anger, softening his features. “If you didn’t arrive, I would’ve walked out of this bar with a headache, if not passed out. Thank you.” He looked around and behind Sehun. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with friends?”
“I am. They ran for the washroom when we arrived, and I was about to look for a table when I smelled your scent. I couldn’t believe it, and then I saw that guy making you visibly sick, and…” Sehun exhaled sharply through his nostrils. “I’m not a violent person, but I wanted to introduce him to my fist.”
“And then you’ll complain how your knuckles hurt a lot after,” Jongin quipped, chortling at Sehun’s sound of protest. The traces of the unpleasant flint and whiskey scent still lingered, proving its unfortunate concentration and consistency. His nose was in dire need of something else. He tugged Sehun to stand a little closer. “Come here for a moment. Don’t move.”
Sehun obediently complied, blinking innocent, confused eyes at Jongin. He resembled a puppy waiting for further instructions. Did Sehun always look this adorable? Once he was close enough, Jongin leaned his head on Sehun’s shoulder, breathing out a pleased sigh. Sehun tensed at the contact but did nothing.
“Hyung…?”
Jongin held Sehun’s hand between his. “Just for a while,” he requested, closing his eyes. “I can still smell that unpleasant scent.”
Sehun’s once-tense form gradually relaxed in the passing seconds. “Do you want me to keep you company?”
Jongin shook his head and moved it closer, contentment coursing through him as he sank into the cocoon of patchouli and magnolia. “I don’t want to take you away from your friends. I’ll be heading back to the hotel after this.” He reveled in Sehun’s body warmth and scent for five more heartbeats before peeling himself away with, surprisingly, plenty of reluctance. He met Sehun’s worried look; responded with a smile of reassurance. “I’ll be alright. I’ll take a cab, if that worries you. You should be more careful; you’re in pre-rut. Try not to let the trivial things get under your skin.” Never in their years of friendship had Jongin heard of Sehun losing control during his pre-rut, but he couldn’t help cautioning him, anyway.
They were almost out of the bar when a call of Sehun’s name was heard. Jongin’s assumption of the person being one of Sehun’s friends was affirmed when introductions were conducted.
“Huh? Hyung?” the friend asked, clearly puzzled. He looked from Jongin to Sehun and scratched his bald head. Notes of alpine and cantaloupe wafted from him. “I get being respectful, that’s in your character, but I thought you were boyfriends.”
In the past, Jongin’s reflex reaction to such assumptions was to laugh. At present, said reflex seemed to be faulty, the laugh that usually bubbled in his chest at such statements disconcertingly absent. But he was also—shockingly, confusingly—not repelled by the assumption.
“Stop spouting nonsense.” Though his tone was light, there was discernible chiding in Sehun’s words. “Do you automatically assume two people walking together are a couple?”
The words pulled Jongin right back to reality, but also triggered a strange feeling of hurt at the denial.
“You’re holding hands. Can you blame me for that?” the friend retorted, shrugging.
Jongin hardly noticed their hands hadn’t separated but also made no move to break his hold. Sehun didn’t seem as interested, either. As if wanting to prove a point, Sehun’s grip tightened a little, and it felt like a direct squeeze to Jongin’s heart.
“Friends can hold hands, too. Haven’t you learned anything from the culture of skinship?” Sehun pushed back his hair again. “Anyway, I saw an empty table close to the bar. Go and gather the others there. I’ll be right back.”
Loaded silence was their third companion on the walk outside and down the length of the sidewalk. Jongin kept casting surreptitious glances at their joined hands. The mildly humid Busan nights should make any form of skin contact unappealing, and sweaty palms should be a deal-breaker, but Jongin wasn’t too willing to break away. Sehun’s palm was warm, his hand almost as big as Jongin’s but also incredibly soft. Although the events in the past five minutes were honestly confusing, Jongin came to start deliberating if a simple, innocent gesture should be taken as it was rather than appending imaginary meanings.
“Don’t mind what my friend said about us,” Sehun spoke, drawing Jongin out of his reverie. “He’s the type who jumps to conclusions quickly. Good thing you’re open-minded.”
The comfortable silence returned, but Jongin broke it not long after. “I don’t mind the misconception. It’s nothing harmful or damaging to either of us.”
“No, you should mind. You don’t want people making false assumptions about you and spreading it around. Misconceptions should be cleared up right away before too many people believe it.”
“You really care about me that much, huh?” A slow smile stretched Jongin’s lips, matching the pace of turning his head to look at Sehun.
“There was never a time I stopped.”
The noise of passing vehicles and people’s chatter were completely blotted out by the deafening beat of Jongin’s heart in his ears, like it was trying to claw its way out of his ribcage.
“A cab is coming. You should take that.” Sehun chuckled after opening his phone. “My friends are starting to wonder if I fell in a ditch somewhere.”
The cab slowed to a stop in front of them; the door automatically opening. Just two steps to climb into the cab, but reluctance proved stronger in the way Jongin’s feet refused to move. The cab driver’s pointed inquiry if he was riding or not had him and Sehun flinching and sped up the process. A sense of unexplained loss surged through him as their joined hands broke apart. Jongin wasn’t sure who let go first. In every passing second that his once-warm palm felt the emptiness, his chest ached with a terrible sadness that worsened when Sehun waved goodbye with a smile as the cab moved forward.
The sadness came and went sporadically throughout the weekend. Come Sunday morning, Jongin finished packing what he could before setting out to purchase popular food items unique to Busan and other souvenirs for family, friends, and employees. He packed Sehun’s pre- and post-rut needs in two separate paper bags then sent him a message to come pick it up before he left.
After lunch saw Jongin savoring a cup of latte at the hotel’s fifth-floor café, entertaining himself with the city’s noontime view. He straightened in his seat at once the moment his nose picked up the patchouli and magnolia in the air, not bothering to smother the smile that took over his face when Sehun walked past the café doors.
The smile dipped bit by bit when Sehun grimaced just the slightest upon taking a seat. His suspicion was confirmed when Sehun massaged his right temple and ordered ginger tea, which was known to be the most effective pre-rut headache cure.
“My pre-rut is starting to hit full force,” Sehun confessed, dropping the hand massaging his temple to sip the steaming ginger tea. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay long, sorry.” He closed his eyes, resumed massaging, stopped to wince, attempted again.
“If your head is really hurting, come with me upstairs and rest until you’re feeling better. I bought the medication you use for your pre-rut headaches. It’s in the care package I assembled for you.”
Back in Jongin’s room, Sehun downed said medication with a bottle of water, blowing out a huge sigh. Jongin closed the blinds as Sehun made himself comfortable in the bed, another sigh leaving him. Jongin turned around to approach the bed. He smiled a little seeing Sehun holding and taking a good sniff of the covers.
“The blankets smell like you,” Sehun murmured, almost unintelligible behind the fabric.
“I would be concerned if the blankets didn’t smell like me when I’m the only person using this room,” Jongin joked.
“It smells really nice.” Sehun closed his eyes and inhaled once more. “You always smell so nice, hyung.” There were a few other things he said after that, but Jongin lost it to the blankets; to Sehun’s breathing turning shallow, eyes lowering and fully closing in sleep.
Jongin had seen Sehun’s sleeping face a few times. Watching other people sleep wasn’t a habit of his; but sitting this close, Jongin couldn’t help tracing Sehun’s features with his eyes and stumbled upon newfound discoveries. His eyebrows were always a work of art, the first defining feature that stood out when looking at his face. Sehun’s nose was also a thing of envy by many; his lips, soft-looking and pink from the lip balm he religiously applied.
Images from the night Sehun licked his bottom lip returned to the forefront of Jongin’s mind. The longer he stared, that familiar heat simmered in his gut, and Jongin’s thoughts started straying to territories he strictly prohbited himself to probe due to their forbidden nature. Jongin could only sigh and redirect his thought process to other questions. Questions like who might have the privilege of kissing Sehun everyday once he finally met the one for him—then abruptly stopped when his heart started clenching painfully at the thought that it could be anybody. Anybody but—
Shaking his head vigorously, Jongin did his best to be quiet while packing the rest of his things.
When Sehun woke up close to five in the afternoon, he confirmed he was feeling exceptionally better, already reaching for one of the jelly drinks from his care package. Some color returned to his face after a big gulp. A smile was forming, too. Finishing the drink, Sehun checked his phone and, probably, replied to a text message. Jongin was telling him about the other contents of the care package when Sehun’s phone rang. Sehun took the call, suddenly looking annoyed. Jongin gave him privacy by heading out to the living room, but it wasn’t like he could completely close his ears, either, fragments of one-sided conversation flowing out.
“Fine, fine… okay, yeah, I got you. If you don’t stop pestering me, I’m really not going to show up.” A pause; then, Sehun bade goodbye.
Jongin counted to ten before returning to the bedroom. Sehun was already getting out of bed.
“Hyung, sorry, I have to go. Remember my friend from Friday night? Yeah, he keeps pestering me to meet up. I don’t think I can send you off to the airport.”
Jongin couldn’t help being surprised. Sehun had thought of doing that? “No problem. Tend to your business first.” Unable to contain his curiosity, he added, “It sounds urgent. I hope it’s not trouble?”
Sehun shook his head, making the bed. “There’s a rut partner he wanted to introduce to me. He said since I wasn’t dating anyway, it wouldn’t matter if I spent my rut with one.” He smoothed out the wrinkles over the covers then asked permission to use the bathroom. In the amount of time it took for him to walk over and disappear behind the door did it take just as long for Jongin’s entire form to freeze where he stood, ears filled with nothing but the sound of Sehun’s voice repeatedly saying “rut partner.”
It was no secret between them that Sehun had enlisted the help of a rut partner before. Sehun explained he sought the services of one if he had excess energy he couldn’t shed off during pre-rut. Alphas were only granted rut partners through a rigorous screening process. Sometimes, the agency head conducted interviews with prospective alphas if they needed to question certain parts of their application. It was no secret rut partners could engage in sexual activity with alphas if that was included in the contract stipulations discussed and agreed on by both parties. But as far as Jongin knew, Sehun let slip a few years back that he stopped seeking a rut partner but never mentioned why.
Sehun should have the most say on what he wanted to do before and during his rut. As a friend, Jongin should be supportive of his choices as long as they were sane and sensible. It shouldn’t matter to him if Sehun changed his mind after years and wanted a companion for this cycle. It shouldn’t matter that he could only provide care packages as dictated by their established tradition. It really shouldn’t matter, and yet…
Sehun emerged all freshened up. The reality of this situation struck Jongin hard, like an invisible hand dealt him with a fat slap across the face. This was really happening. And Jongin, as a friend, shouldn’t stop it.
“I’ll be seeing you in Seoul, hyung. Have a nice trip. Text me when you reach, okay? Thanks for the care package. I’ll use it well.” Sehun picked up the paper bags then headed for the main door.
Or, at least Sehun tried to.
Jongin was just as flabbergasted by the quickness of his steps to grab the back of Sehun’s shirt, effectively stopping him in his tracks.
“Hyung…?” Sehun’s eyes were wide in astonishment, pure shock written across his unguarded face.
“Don’t go.”
Sehun’s eyes widened a fraction more. “What?” The disbelief was audible in his voice.
“Don’t go and meet the rut partner your friend is going to introduce to you.” Jongin’s fingers twisted tighter into the fabric of Sehun’s shirt.
“Why?” Sehun asked, an undercurrent of suspicion in his tone. Such a contrast to the way his face suddenly adopted an impassive expression. “Why are you saying this?”
“Didn’t you stop seeking rut partners some years back? It’s not that I think you should forever abstain, but I’m confused by your sudden change of mind.” The more Jongin spoke, the heavier the unease, and the deeper the creases on Sehun’s forehead sank, like he couldn’t fathom what Jongin was telling him.
This time, Sehun fully turned around, Jongin’s grip on his shirt falling away. A palpable tension engulfed them in its bubble—heavy, oppressive, impossible to ignore. Sehun’s jaw worked as he continued staring at Jongin in silence, multiple emotions storming in his eyes.
“What you said is sensible and true, but you didn’t answer my question. Why are you saying this, hyung? Why do you not want me to go and meet the rut partner my friend is about to introduce?” The storm in Sehun’s eyes calmed, settling on one emotion. It strangely looked something akin to hope. “You never stopped me when I enlisted the help of rut partners before. Why now? What makes this time different?”
Jongin was seldom bewildered when asked questions under pressure. Not this time. Anything that could be used to justify his stopping of Sehun would sound like a lame excuse. Sehun’s stare never moved away from his—expectant, intense, magnetic.
“There’s no way to ascertain what sort of personality that rut partner has,” Jongin finally said, after what felt like an eternity of silence; after finding the answer that made the most sense in his mind. “What if your friend had good intentions with the recommendation but the rut partner doesn’t?”
Sehun looked unconvinced, suspicion knitting his brows. “I’ll give you another chance to tell me the truth.”
“It is the truth!” Jongin insisted, face growing inexplicably hot. “What exactly do you want to hear from me?”
Sehun looked as if he’d been slapped. “What is it about this rut partner that has you so bothered?” he demanded, bewildered. “It wasn’t a big deal to you before, but you’re acting completely childish over this now.”
“Being concerned about your welfare is childish?” The tiny voice at the back of Jongin head started screaming for him to stop before it’s too late. His mouth and filter didn’t listen. “I wouldn’t be concerned if you weren’t so impulsive with your decisions! It’s these types of decisions that can get you in trouble; but no, you want to prove how much of a grown up you are when you’ve still got a long way to go to be on par with me.”
Thick, oppressive tension blanketed the room in the ensuing silence. Jongin was heaving at the end of his tirade. The veil blocking his sensibilities slipped off, enabling him to clearly see Sehun’s stunned expression; the prominent hurt swirling in his eyes. Jongin sobered lightning-quick, alarm and regret twining and sluicing through his veins
“I see,” were the first words Sehun uttered, shattering the deafening silence. He exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “At least you listened to me when I said to be honest next time.” He breathed out through his nose; squeezed his eyes shut. Jongin saw how hard his jaw clenched; looking down, the knuckles of Sehun’s curled fists were pale. Even without relying on physical cues, he knew he fucked up if Sehun was this furious.
“I—”
“Stop talking.”
Jongin flinched at the uncharacteristic harshness of Sehun’s command.
“I didn’t know you could both be this cruel and awful.” Sehun’s biting tone seemed forged with the rage of the blazing summer sun with how scathing it sounded. With a shake of his head, he swiftly turned around. “I’m leaving. I can’t stand the sight of you right now.”
The hand Jongin lifted to reach for Sehun froze mid-gesture.
The echo of the door clicking sounded too final to his ears.
☆彡
After returning to Seoul, Jongin let a week pass for Sehun to cool his head and the rut to finish. He made an estimate on Sehun’s probable return, preferring to settle their fight in person rather than through text or call. On the predicted day, Jongin dropped by Ginkgo Garden in the fierce hope he would run into Sehun himself. One of the employees told him Sehun had decided to extend his stay in Busan for another week. Jongin refused to think too much into it despite the niggling suspicion that Sehun was probably not ready to face him. So he would give him that.
When he visited Ginkgo Garden again the following week, Jongin was given the same answer. When asked if Sehun mentioned anything about when he might return, the same employee shook their head with a regretful smile.
That same night, Jongin asked himself four times how to word his message before sending it to Sehun. That message remained unread at present. Jongin had never come to detest looking at KakaoTalk’s yellow “1” until recently. He never felt as lost as he did now, or as apprehensive, or as hurt. It wasn’t a breakup—not even remotely close—but every time Jongin recalled the words he hurled, how Sehun reacted, the aching behind his ribcage would hurt so much.
That aching returned with a vengeance whenever Jongin ate out and saw customers enjoying their bowls of jajangmyeon. Magnolias on display at the storefront of a flower shop, their scent intensifying a longing he didn’t even know he was capable of harboring. Overhearing employees talking about what sweets to bring home to their families or what new recipes to try for Chuseok made him remember the yakgwa that brought him a ton of joy but couldn’t bring himself to think about at the moment. And, whenever Jongin prepared his suit for work the next day, he would linger longer than usual on the section of his closet dedicated to his hat collection where he also kept the cat ears headband.
There were little to no chances for him to wear the headband in everyday life, but looking at it reminded Jongin of that day in Everland. The day he had also lost his cool; became immature. The day he’d been unreasonably jealous, even if he didn’t realize it yet at the time. Caressing the furry ears, Jongin couldn’t help smiling as he thought, with unavoidable fondness, how Sehun acted more like a cat in many ways. Sociable but also selective on who he gave his attention and affection to; liked being pampered and cared for, but very, very loyal once his trust was acquired.
Jongin released a sigh into the silence of his walk-in closet. “Cats are so lovable,” he thought aloud.
Entering the third week of not hearing from Sehun, being catapulted to do all the work he could squeeze in before Chuseok officially started (including doing overtime and going to the office even on weekends, despite sitting at a relatively higher position in the company), and probably overthinking the situation had, naturally, affected his immune system. Jongin took necessary precautions as soon as he felt the first symptoms. He couldn’t afford to fall sick at such a crucial time. There was a quota he wanted to meet no matter what. Between busy moments, he told his mother about going home for the holidays, endured Moonkyu and Kwonho’s chastising about continuing to work when he was running a temperature, and stared forlornly at his phone, wishing for a particular name to appear before going right back into the grind.
Two days before Chuseok, Jongin inevitably succumbed to the accumulated fatigue and stress, waking up with an aching head and an unusual heaviness of his body. He buried deeper into his blankets, willing the awful feeling to go away. The discomfort wouldn’t let him sleep, so he was forced to drag himself out of bed. He rummaged the kitchen for the flu medicine he swore he had in stock. The bareness of his cupboards reminded him he was supposed to have done grocery shopping before the holiday rush, but overtime made it slip from his mind. He tried his luck with the refrigerator: five water bottles, two sorry stalks of leeks, and an apple.
Jongin sighed, smiling ruefully at his forgetfulness. If Sehun found out, he’d have nagged him to take the weekend off, even going as far as showing up in his office to personally drive him to the closest Emart.
Sadness instantly replaced nostalgia. What was the use of reminiscing if it worsened the yearning? Jongin washed and ate what he could of the apple, drank the flu medicine he luckily had, then made the slow journey back to his bedroom. Taking his phone from the nightstand, he made up his mind to order food. A couple of dishes he wanted right now came to mind. What his mind and reflex wanted were two different things, apparently, and Jongin realized this in the middle of composing a message in his chat room with Sehun.
The annoying “1” still hadn’t disappeared from his previous messages. Had he pushed all of Sehun’s buttons this time? They’d had their arguments and disagreements, but it never lasted this long. Never this cold, either. For someone so passionate about his work and interests, Sehun could be surprisingly icy in his fury. Jongin should probably give him more space and time to be okay. From there, he would try and find the right time to seek Sehun out for a proper talk.
Now in a more downhearted mood, Jongin sought to cheer himself up while waiting for the medicine to take effect. Bored but without much options to choose from in his current state of suffering, he distracted himself by pestering Moonkyu and Kwonho in their group chat. When they didn’t respond, he watched random videos from his YouTube subscriptions. Jongin wasn’t sure if it was the medicine finally taking effect, or there was just something healing about watching squirrels and chipmunks frolic in the woods, but he was beginning to feel slightly better. The last thing he remembered was the dull ache in his temples receding, and the next video on the queue playing before closing his eyes. Just for a few seconds, he promised himself.
When he opened his eyes, Jongin noticed he hadn’t moved at all. His phone lay immobile next to him. Consciousness not reaching full wakefulness yet, he perceived the slight improvement of his condition compared to—he discovered he passed out for an hour after a quick time check. Jongin closed his eyes again, wanting to sleep some more. If he did, at least in his dreams he’d be able to eat a big, hearty bowl of gomtang that he usually craved when he was under the weather and not just smell it, like he was doing right now.
Jongin’s eyes flew wide open right away, shooting up in bed and wincing at the pain that assaulted his temples from the sudden vertigo. His flu should be blocking his nose, not giving him olfactory hallucinations. Was the medicine expired after all? Puzzled but also very much tempted by the mouthwatering scent, Jongin left the safety and warmth of his bed to follow the source of the smell. On his second inhale, it was like half of his drowsiness had been effectively wiped out. He practically sprinted out of his bedroom, the scent becoming stronger; more unmistakable with each step.
In his kitchen, at the dining table, a steaming pot of gomtang was ready. Setting down a bowl and utensils was none other than Sehun, and it struck Jongin right there and then how natural he moved in his kitchen. How Sehun’s presence looked like it belonged there, just like the other times he’d been sick or in painful pre-heat and needed assistance.
Too astounded to say anything, Jongin continued watching in silence, not understanding why Sehun was here, or if this was a surreal dream concocted by the flu medicine he ingested.
Sehun’s head lifted, and their gazes clashed. They startled at the unexpected contact simultaneously. After nearly a month of not seeing each other, that was probably bound to happen. Jongin almost didn’t want to blink, fearing all this would dissipate like smoke if he did, and he’d be by himself in a kitchen too empty and lonely.
Sehun’s face betrayed no emotion. When he spoke, his tone was injected with a forced politeness Jongin disliked. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I did my best to be as quiet as possible while moving around.”
“You’re here.”
Sehun seemed surprised by the answer, if the slight widening of his eyes were any indication. It melted right back into his stoic façade. “You made me come here.”
It was Jongin’s turn to be surprised. “I didn’t. You haven’t answered my message from so many weeks ago. I got the message that you didn’t want to talk to me, so I never sent another.”
Sehun’s forehead slightly creased. Jongin had a funny feeling about this, so he checked their chat room. It felt like living in a horror movie, sans the supernatural elements, when he saw that he had, indeed, sent a message to Sehun in his foggy, medicated state of mind. How could he have not realized he sent the message instead of naïvely believing it stayed unsent in the chat box?
Jongin couldn’t even bring himself to laugh at the absurdity of the situation or give an excuse. His face felt hot, but definitely not from the fever. Aside from the KakaoTalk mishap, how could he have forgotten that Sehun knew the passcode of his door?
“You could have ignored the message.”
“You texted ‘gomtang.’ I couldn’t stand not doing anything if that’s the content of your message.”
“Weren’t you really angry at me when we last saw each other? So I don’t understand what you’re doing here, to be honest.” Jongin wasn’t annoyed, just genuinely confused.
Sehun’s eyes softened. “Just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring.” He pulled out the chair nearest within his reach. "Come and sit down to eat. I’m sure you’re starving since your refrigerator is empty. You haven’t gone grocery shopping for a while, huh? How many times have I told you that no matter how busy you are, you should still do it?”
Sehun might be chastising him, but his voice was gentle despite the undercurrent of exasperation. Taking a seat, Jongin watched Sehun go to the island counter and take out containers from the paper bags, detailing what side dishes they were and how long they would last in the refrigerator. This was a sight Jongin had always been treated to whenever he fell sick in the past. Sehun was one of the few people Jongin would contact when he felt unwell. Eventually, Sehun became the first person Jongin texted as soon as he suspected his symptoms might lead to a cold or the flu. It came to the point Jongin had given Sehun the passcode of his door so he could enter his penthouse if he was too ill to hop out of bed. All because Jongin had been unresponsive for three days straight from a bad cold after telling Sehun he might be dying, an exaggeration of his at the time, but unintentionally induced panic in him and earned an earful of a scolding while being fed newly-cooked gomtang.
The thought that this time was only an exception and might no longer be repeated in the future gripped him with fear and endless despair.
“All you need to do is cook rice for these, and you’re good to go. The portions will last for a week, but you have to go shopping after Chuseok is over—hyung?”
The unveiled worry in Sehun’s voice caught Jongin off-guard, but even more so was the moisture on his cheeks from tears he hadn’t noticed started dripping down. Jongin roughly wiped away the tears with the back of his hand.
Sehun put the last of the containers inside the refrigerator and slowly approached Jongin. “Are you alright, hyung?”
“I am.” More tears leaked from Jongin’s eyes. “I will be now because you’re here. I don’t know why I’m crying, though. I think it’s because I’m sick, but I’m so happy to see you.” He did his best to smile, overcome with a torrent of emotions that, somehow, all was not lost and too late for the both of them. That, somehow, Sehun coming here despite their unsettled dispute must bode something positive, at least.
Sehun looked conflicted of what to do. With the softest of sighs, he further closed the space between them until he was an arm’s length away. “Don’t cry, hyung. Your nose will be congested, and you won’t be able to breathe. The gomtang won’t be as delicious because it’ll prevent you from enjoying its taste.” He gave Jongin comforting pats on the shoulder. Jongin was tempted to take hold of his hand but didn’t want to push his luck, so he just tried his best to stop crying.
It took a while before he eventually calmed. It took longer for him to breathe through his nose again. Jongin tried to eat as much gomtang as he could in his slow pace until he could no longer. Sehun looked satisfied with the amount of food he ate; watched over Jongin as he drained a cup of yuja tea. Instead of returning to his bedroom as suggested, Jongin insisted he remained at the dining table to fulfill his yearning of Sehun’s scent.
“Are you leaving?” Jongin couldn’t help asking after Sehun washed the last of the dishes and dried his hands.
A thoughtful look came over Sehun’s features, as if warring with himself of what answer to give. “There’s still a bit of preparation needed for the Chuseok celebration in our house. Lotus Pond has been incredibly busy lately with the amount of orders received. Someone needs to supervise staff and ensure no mistakes are committed.”
“When will I see you again?” Jongin’s voice was so soft, he thought Sehun wouldn’t hear. He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed about sounding clingy. An answer was more important to him than his pride.
Sehun’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. His face soon smoothened out in understanding. “I’ll contact you first.”
It was an answer, alright. Perhaps slightly not of expectation, but it was better than an outright “no.” Hurt was processed and internalized differently. Sehun felt things deeply, and the hurt might not have passed for him in spite of the weeks apart. Jongin felt terrible that he’d pushed Sehun to a point of wariness. Yet—
“How long?” Jongin braced himself to hear another unwanted but frank answer. He could only wish it wasn’t something too heartbreaking, like forever.
Sehun looked hesitant to answer the question, but eventually said, “Two weeks? I’m not saying that for the heck of it. I’m ready to pick up where we left off as soon as possible, but you’re sick right now. I don’t want you to overexert yourself for something we can do when you’re healthier. I’ll be traveling back and forth between Seoul and Busan more in the coming weeks because the renovation is almost finished, too. I want this resolved when we can both really sit down and talk without interruptions.”
“Okay,” Jongin acquiesced, the reply coming out like a sigh. A concrete timeline was much better than having to wonder if he’d been permanently cut off from Sehun’s life.
A heartbeat longer before Sehun announced he needed to leave. Jongin watched him wear his shoes at the foyer as Sehun gave reminders about the food and the groceries.
“I’ll be heading off now.” The corners of Sehun’s mouth tugged upward to form the faintest of smiles. “Get well soon, hyung.”
Watching Sehun walk further away and completely disappear behind the door, Jongin stood in place for a longer amount of time. He stared at the space where Sehun had moved around, breathing in the disappearing traces of patchouli and magnolia until he couldn’t.
☆彡
Celebrating Chuseok with family members and relatives that traveled to Seoul was one of Jongin’s personal joys. The food was endlessly good, the company greater, and it was always a delight to spend time with his little cousins, the cute nephews and nieces. Haewon attached herself to Jongin the moment he walked through the door, not budging even if he told her that he was still recovering from a cold. In the middle of eating, Haewon seemed to still remember Sehun but called him “the fox uncle” when she couldn’t initially recall his name, asking about his whereabouts. Jongin had to come up with something she could easily believe but wouldn’t question further, and couldn’t help smiling in longing for a while.
Work was a welcome distraction after Chuseok. Days passed by faster if Jongin immersed himself in tasks requiring his utmost concentration so he wouldn’t be looking at calendars or clocks too much. He’d also taken to frequently dropping by Lotus Pond to buy yakgwa. On a Wednesday evening midway to those two weeks, Jongin was waiting at the counter for the employee to fetch the batch of newly-baked yakgwa as mentioned. When his nose picked up the familiar, comforting scent of honey and ginger, he unleashed a smile—and then gasped when the pastry scent came with notes of juniper and cherry. Which most definitely was not the scent of the employee who received his order.
“Hello, Jongin,” came the soft-toned, friendly greeting of Grandma Insook. A smile stretched her face; this way, her resemblance with Sehun was more noticeable. “I had a feeling it was you when I saw the employee packing up some yakgwa. You’ve been the only customer consistently coming here around this time to buy it.”
Jongin immediately gave a respectful bow and greeting. “If I had known you were here, I would’ve sought you out to pay my respects.”
Grandma Insook waved a flippant hand and laughed heartily. A petite elderly woman with the liveliness of a high school student, she exuded a daintiness associated more with omegas but seemed born to possess it even as an alpha. “No need to trouble yourself! I happened to be visiting today. I haven’t been here for a long time. Another grandson has been overseeing business here and at Ginkgo Garden while Sehun’s in Busan.” Jongin nodded in understanding. Grandma Insook’s smile grew wider. “May this old lady kindly ask for a bit of your time?”
They found themselves in a café at the end of the block. Grandma Insook recommended the café’s cakes, and Jongin couldn’t help but smile in amusement as she acted very much like a giggly teenager after the first bite of her pastry.
“Sehun inherited his sweet tooth from me, but overall, he has the taste buds of a grade schooler. Very definite about his likes and dislikes, but also ever-changing. His unpredictability can be quite a headache if you don’t know how to handle him, or if you just don’t take the time to get to know and understand his thought processes.”
“That’s true,” Jongin agreed, although unsure why Grandma Insook was telling him this. There must be a reason. He soon found out why.
“I know you and my grandson haven’t been talking,” she said, all of a sudden, after a bite of her cake. So casual in her delivery, too, as if giving commentary on the weather. “Sehun might not tell me everything, but there was a marked change about him after returning from Busan. He’d just come from rut, so I thought it the work of residual pheromones, but he’d been moody and sulky. He functioned well at work, even with the minor slip-ups. He also hadn’t mentioned you once. That’s when I knew.” Grandma Insook suddenly wore a cheeky smile. “I knew my grandson had a fight with his dearest hyung, hence his acting strange.”
Jongin wasn’t sure if this was the part where he should explain himself or assure Grandma Insook they were at least in civil, talking terms. The confusion must’ve shown on his face, for Grandma Insook took one glance and chuckled.
“Don’t get so worried, Jongin. I’m not here to blame you, or tell you to stay away from my grandson, or any of those exaggerated makjang plot twists that demonize grandmothers like me.” Grandma Insook’s smile was sweet and reassuring, and showed no traces of malicious intent, hidden or otherwise. “You’re looking a little nervous right now. It’s adorable. I now see what Sehun does every time he gushes about you to me.”
“He does?” Jongin should be embarrassed by how quick he was to ask, but what could he do?
“He does,” Grandma Insook assured. “To be fair, he gushes over all his friends. But there’s a certain spark in his eyes when it comes to you. It could mean a lot of things, or could mean nothing at all. You’re free to interpret that as you wish, but it’s a positive thing, don’t be mistaken.” She chuckled again. “Now that I’m remembering, when he came back from his Paris trip five years ago, he was somewhat changed. He seemed livelier and was more keen and determined to take over the family business. When he introduced you to me for the first time, somehow, I knew he had found a good person to look up to.”
“I don’t really feel like a good person after what happened in Busan, though,” Jongin confessed, and though it was nothing but the truth, saying it aloud still hurt.
“People have good and bad sides to their personality. Successful as you are in life, you’re not immune to shortcomings and mistakes. If you ask me, I think Sehun is taking too long to resolve this.” A slight frown formed on Grandma Insook’s lips. “Honest and straightforward as he is, Sehun would’ve already solved this a few weeks back. But, I can understand where he’s coming from.” She shook her head, an exasperatedly fond smile now taking over. “That grandson of mine, tough as he might be, has the softest heart, too.”
“I agree.” Jongin smiled, as well. “It’s a good trait to have. But just because he’s softhearted doesn’t mean his will is weak. I can vouch for that. I just didn’t realize I’d have to be on the receiving end of it to discover this.” The laugh he gave sounded hollow and sad to his own ears.
“I want to tell you something, Jongin.” Grandma Insook’s smile remained, but her demeanor now carried an air of seriousness that made Jongin pay close attention. “How you define your relationship, at present and in the future, is between the two of you. I won’t meddle in young people’s affairs. I will only request one thing from you. In the event that you have to break his heart—whether it’s because you cannot accept him or you no longer think that you can be with him—please return my grandson to me in as whole a piece as you can. Among all my grandchildren, Sehun stands out the most when it comes to being slow but steady in his approaches, and he never advances if he doesn’t have his full heart into it. In the gamble of hearts, nobody is spared from the viciousness of love. So, please.”
It was a fair thing to ask. Their pending talk would be a turning point of their relationship. One wrong move or word uttered, and that would forever disrupt its delicate balance.
And yet on the drive home after the talk, playlist seemingly picking on him by blasting songs that ironically mirrored his current situation, Jongin’s head had never been clearer.
On the awaited day, Jongin was a bit on edge. He immediately checked his phone once he heard it rang, and hours at the office felt like they were stretching on forever. But when four in the afternoon rolled around, Jongin, in the middle of drafting an e-mail, hurriedly finished the entire thing after seeing Sehun’s name flash on his phone screen.
Ten minutes later, Jongin arrived at Yeouido Hangang Park. A wave of nervousness washed over him as soon as he spotted Sehun sitting on a backless bench close to the riverside and offered a magnificent view of the water. It accelerated with every step he took, and he couldn’t help smiling a little at the irony of this situation. He’d faced countless business people with scary reputations but emerged from those unscathed. But now? This wasn’t a business-related situation, and Jongin might have all the tools to make the most out of this talk, but the uncertainty of the outcome had him anxious. Yet, he didn’t want to give up. He refused to.
“Did you wait long?” Jongin’s question had Sehun startling and whipping around to check. The awkwardness between them was palpable in spite of their gazes meeting and holding but neither backing down. Jongin sat himself on the vacant space of the bench but kept a respectable distance between them. It would’ve been easy to sit with some centimeters of space between their shoulders, just like usual, but making Sehun uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted.
“No,” Sehun answered, still maintaining their eye contact. “I came early just in case.” Jongin nodded at that. “Have you fully recovered?”
Jongin nodded again. “I did nothing but eat and rest during Chuseok when I visited home. How was Chuseok for you?”
“Chuseok is the same for me every year: chaotic. A good kind of chaotic, though. I had fun. It was nice not to think about work for a few days and just tour around relatives who haven’t been to Seoul in a long time. It was a bummer I had to go back to Busan after the holidays. I wanted to join my relatives on their short excursion to Jeju, but sometimes, being a responsible adult should come first.”
“You’re such a grandpa sometimes,” Jongin joked, laughing until he caught himself. He looked hesitatingly at Sehun. He forgot they weren’t okay yet; making jokes like usual might be a little out of place right now.
Surprisingly, Sehun cracked a smile but said nothing. A short silence reigned, broken by his next statement. “I bailed out on the rut partner my friend planned to introduce to me in Busan.”
Jongin’s breath caught in his throat, but he neither looked away nor spoke, hoping his silence would encourage Sehun to continue.
“I spent my rut alone in the cycle facility. My friend tried to convince me, but I wasn’t in the mood to interact with anybody once I entered the room I reserved. Partially because my pre-rut was fading and the real thing was happening. Wholly because I knew I would be in a foul mood for a few days, and it’d be unfair to take it out on my rut partner who doesn’t even know the root cause of my bad temper. So, in the end, I was alone. It was for the better, anyway. My pheromones were doing my head in when rut happened. Even if I wasn’t in a bad mood, I didn’t want to use my rut partner as a placeholder for an incurable crush. Sure, there’s that sort of clause in some contracts where they can fulfill such fantasies, but it didn’t feel genuine.
“It didn’t feel genuine because my rut partner isn’t you, hyung.” The intensity of Sehun’s gaze had Jongin pinned in place, the world around them falling away. “None of them will ever be you. Fantasizing someone else as you only worsened my longing. That was only giving myself false hopes and unrealistic expectations, and though I live by the belief of steadfast pursuance when it comes to the person I like… you are just very hard to reach. Almost like an impossible dream.”
Words swirled in the whirlwind that was Jongin’s mind, but none seemed to help him form an adequate enough response. Still, he tried. “I think you put me on too high a pedestal. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not worthy to be put on there. I commit mistakes. I disappoint others. I can hurt people, too, unintentional or otherwise. And I’m not proud of those moments when they happen. But I learn from these things because they teach me lessons I wouldn’t find anywhere else otherwise. One of them is from our argument. However ugly our fight turned out, I should have never said those hurtful things to you.”
Sehun sighed, a soft, lonely sound that made Jongin’s chest clench. “I know very well what you think about alphas—younger alphas, if we’re being specific. I get why you’re wary since most of your relationships with them weren’t that good. But I also took your advice in the past to prove I’m different—and not just by talking but through demonstration, too. In the past three years, that’s all I’ve been doing after it dawned on me that what I was feeling for you was no longer platonic. I do not think for a single moment that you should be indebted to me for the things I’ve done willingly, and you are not obligated to do anything with my feelings. But, I also want to be honest with you. Can’t ask for honesty from others if I can’t do it myself, right?” He shook his head; chuckled softly. “This was probably the root of the entire problem all along.”
“Sehun…”
Sehun made a shushing noise, pressing a finger to Jongin’s lips. “Let me say everything I want without interruptions, please.” A wistful smile crossed his features, setting off an ache behind Jongin’s chest in that one guarded place.
“There are a lot of things at stake with what I’m about to do. I’m aware of that. Our relationship will forever change—whether for the better or worse remains to be seen. I acknowledge that, too. I don’t dare assume that I have a chance with you, even if I’ve dreamed about it. I have simple dreams, hyung. I dream of being someone reliable to you in many aspects of your life. I dream to be seen as your equal, not just a friend, although I appreciate and welcome your care and protectiveness. I dream to continue doing all the things I do for you without constantly worrying if I’m overstepping boundaries.
“And, last but not least, I dream of being surrounded by the scent of honey and peach blossoms as I hold your hand through happiness, through sadness, through all the challenges and painful things that may come our way, for as long as possible. But, some dreams can only remain as such, no matter how beautiful they might be and how badly you want to see them become reality.”
The entire time Sehun had talked uninterrupted, not once did he look away, staring straight into Jongin’s eyes, almost like he was peering into the depths his soul and filling the places he never realized had been empty until now.
An indeterminable amount of time passed. A breeze blew in from the river. The world started turning once more, returning with it the white noise from other park goers, the sway of branches, the rustling of golden leaves. It took some courage for Jongin to tear his gaze away from Sehun’s; more, to conjure the words residing in his chest for a long time.
“Feelings are such messy creatures, aren’t they?” Jongin’s lips twitched into a minute smile. “It’s not like I completely swore off dating younger alphas. It would’ve just taken double, triple the amount of convincing, interacting, and observing before I took the plunge. If this entire thing”—he gestured to the space between them with a wave of his hand—“had happened a year or two ago, I would’ve flat-out rejected you.” A pang of guilt prickled him at Sehun’s flinch, but there was no way to sugarcoat what he couldn’t. “But now… I think it wouldn’t be any different, except my conviction regarding my stances had their foundations shaken badly.
“Being friends with younger alphas are more than okay with me. It was easier to set boundaries for that type of relationship. But the past few months have been unexpectedly eye-opening. It made me realize how much of a hypocrite I can be, apparently.” A wry smile stretched Jongin’s mouth, looking Sehun’s way once again. “You’re one of the people I cherish a lot in my life. That’s why I only want the best things to happen to you. For you to meet the right people, and hopefully the one who can treat you well. As much as it’s shameful to say it, I couldn’t understand the unease I felt when Yoonjun was standing too close to you. I didn’t know why I felt—I guess you could say threatened? Little did I know that some months down the line, I would finally be able to name it as none other than jealousy, and you don’t know how relieved I was when you told me you and Yoonjun don’t see each other as partner material.”
Sehun’s eyes widened, mouth forming a small, astonished “O.” “Hyung… it’s been that long…?”
Jongin smiled a little wider, sans wryness. “So you see, I’m not really the cool and composed hyung you think I am. I haven’t been for months. I’ve had ugly thoughts and feelings, and those culminated to what happened in Busan. I became a version of myself I never predicted to become. I tried to shift the blame on you, made it seem it was your fault when it was mine. It was never about your impulsiveness. It had everything to do about my jealousy eating me inside out. I felt cornered by the emotions I tried so hard to play off as nothing, even if the answer was right in front of me. It took your anger and our rift for me to face the truth I’d been running away from.”
Another breeze blew in from the river, causing leaves to tumble and tousling Jongin’s hair. “I’m an adult, but I’ve also been a huge coward. I’m a fearless businessman who never cowered from rivals, yet I hightailed so fast when it came to face the most formidable foe: my heart. For everything that happened, I am truly sorry, and I would like to make it up to you. And, despite the state of mess my feelings are in right now… I want to give myself a chance. I want to give us a chance.”
Jongin held out his hand in offering, and he’d never been so sure of anything until this moment. “Would you like to try with me? Would you like to fulfill those dreams while building new ones together? Everything is new to me, even with my dating experience. I might stumble a few times; be clumsy along the way. But I would very much like to, if you are willing.”
Sehun’s gaze flickered from Jongin’s offered hand to his face. Jongin didn’t blink, held his breath. Deep inside, he wanted only one answer but would respect Sehun’s decision.
So when Sehun held and enclosed his fingers around his proffered hand, Jongin’s heart beat so hard he feared it might escape from his ribcage; body warming all over from that single touch. From the smile forming on Sehun’s face—tender, gentle, beautiful.
Just like a dream.
☆彡
The steak looked and smelled every bit as appetizing from an outsider’s point of view but Sehun had done nothing but poke at it with his fork.
“Is the food not to your liking?” Jongin asked, brows coming together at Sehun’s startling. “Do you want to order something else?” He was about to wave the waiter over but stopped at Sehun’s noise of protest.
“The food is fine. I’m just trying to work up an appetite at the moment,” Sehun said, but he didn’t look half as convincing as he probably intended.
Jongin studied him for a long moment. Sehun was nothing but unendingly enthusiastic when treated to a meal, especially at upscale restaurants. Sehun’s taste was more inclined to Korean food but wouldn’t say no to other culinary adventures. When he dropped by Ginkgo Garden today, Sehun had already been in a downcast mood, usual cheerful greeting and bright expression nowhere to be found. Jongin had asked if something was wrong, if he wanted to talk about it but no big deal if he didn’t.
Sehun hadn’t answered right away. Jongin had suggested going somewhere else to eat, and on the drive to the restaurant did he finally find out the cause of Sehun’s sadness. Sehun had broken up with the omega boyfriend he’d been seeing for a month. Jongin had only seen that omega ex once and had no strong impression of him, save for his curious scent of cantaloupe and leather. Fast forward to now, where Sehun had yet to take a bite.
Jongin let him be, though kept a watchful eye. He assumed Sehun wasn’t taking the breakup well with his spacing out during their conversations, the listlessness about him concerning. Such a sharp contrast to the cheerful Sehun he was accustomed seeing. However, this was the first time Jongin would be handling Sehun after a breakup, so he was admittedly clueless on what to do other than trying to make him smile with his silly stories from the office.
After what seemed like an eternity, Sehun finally lifted a slice of steak to his lips. He ate three pieces more before voluntarily speaking up.
“I broke up with my ex because I knew we weren’t going to work out.”
Jongin stayed quiet for a few seconds. “One month is a relatively short time to predict something like that,” he told Sehun gently, kindly.
“My ex agreed to the breakup because he thought the same. He told me he would’ve initiated it if I hadn’t. It was probably a matter of waiting for the other person to make the first move, which I did.”
A consensual breakup. Those were the relatively more peaceful types of separations. Sehun was luckier than most to undergo that.
Jongin carefully chose his next words. “Why did it come to this point?”
Sehun took a little longer to answer this one. “My ex said that even if we were compatible in many ways and I was a good person, he can’t stay with someone who couldn’t devote their entire heart to him.”
Jongin raised an eyebrow.
Sehun laughed, his first for the night. “No, hyung, I didn’t cheat. I would never.”
Jongin raised both eyebrows. “Are you telling me you like someone but dated another?”
Adding to Jongin’s surprise was the sudden red coloring Sehun’s cheeks. “I know it’s a jerk move, and my ex didn’t deserve to be a replacement of sorts. I recognize that. I’m not proud of it, either. I did try to like my ex. He’s a great person, but it’d be unfair to tie him down in a relationship where he liked me more than I did. He deserves someone who can reciprocate his affection. Someone better than me.” He ducked his head in shame after saying all of this aloud. Not everyone had the guts to admit their wrongdoings and own up to it.
“This must be one hell of a crush if you thought dating someone else would make you forget and move on,” Jongin remarked, leaning back in his chair and smiling slightly. “Alright, not to downplay your current predicament, but why not try to tell the person you actually like about your feelings?”
“That’s impossible!” Sehun’s loud and immediate response startled the both of them, attracting some curious glances from the other customers. Once the attention on them faded, he cleared his throat and said, with utmost seriousness, “Of all the people I’ve liked in my life, this person makes my confidence falter.”
Jongin’s interest piqued. One could easily chalk it up to age, but at twenty-six, Sehun carried himself with confidence and exuded it as well, however understated it might be at first glance. To hear him say this made him deeply curious. “You make it sound like this person is unreachable.”
“He might as well be,” Sehun agreed, a sad smile on his lips. “He has a magnetic charm about him, charismatic, looks cold and distant but a very warm person. He has the most interesting perspectives in business and life. You can’t help but be drawn to him when he enters the room, more so when you get to know him better. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll have a chance with him.”
The transition of Sehun’s expressions from unadulterated happiness to heart-wrenching despair talking about one person roused Jongin’s protective instincts. “Don’t you think it’s too early to give up? How long have you known this person? What’s he like? Based on what I know about you, I think it’d be regrettable if they won’t even consider you.” Jongin leaned forward conspiratorially. “Tell hyung about him. Maybe I can help you.”
Sehun gave him the necessary information Jongin asked for aside from what he already mentioned: the person he liked was an omega, older than him, and, apparently, had a serious allergy to younger alphas.
Jongin lifted a brow. So it seemed another omega out there possessed a similar mindset like him, which probably explained why Sehun was already halfway to calling it a defeat, even if he harbored strong feelings for this omega. As an older brother figure and a friend, it was his duty to encourage Sehun.
“I dislike falling back on clichés, but proving you’re not like other alphas out there is what you can do. I don’t mean just words—you have to back it up with actions, too. Words are just words unless you put valued weight on them.”
Sehun’s responding silence was contemplative. “I could do that. But he’s also one of the more difficult people to impress. Probably since has more experience than I do, so anything I might try, he’d have read my intentions from a mile radius already.”
“Just be sincere. Let him feel your honest intentions from spoken word and demonstrations. You might not be able to change his mind overnight, but if you do it little by little and show consistency, hardened hearts will soften, too.” Jongin smiled at the rising hope in Sehun’s eyes. “Now, chin up. Nothing’s over unless you give it your all.”
Sehun gradually nodded. Though his smile was not as wide or bright as usual, the hopefulness brimming in his eyes was more than enough to light his entire face. “Hyung, I’m serious: if my omega crush and I do end up together by some weird hiccup of fate, I would take that as good karma from saving several nations in my past life.”
☆彡
the weather has been really cold lately
bundle up and don’t forget your scarf
do your best at work today
Jongin lost count of the times he read Sehun’s message, smiling to himself without a care. It was sent early this morning, and though Sehun had yet to reply to Jongin’s answer, he didn’t mind the lack of it. Sehun had become busier lately since they were at the final stages before opening Ginkgo Garden’s Busan branch. He’d been staying there for close to a week, so messages and video calls would have to suffice at the moment. Jongin understood the necessity to be apart. It didn’t mean he couldn’t miss Sehun.
The morning and evening messages Sehun unfailingly sent everyday eased the longing some. Jongin came to anticipate these messages after Sehun sent the very first one since getting together. Sometimes, he couldn’t even stop smiling whenever he remembered them in passing throughout the day.
“Oh, someone’s happy,” Moonkyu’s voice reached Jongin’s ears. Looking up from his phone, he saw his friends approaching with impish grins and trading knowing looks with each other. “Look at you, smiling like some lovestruck fool at his phone.”
“Because he is,” Kwonho teased, patting Jongin’s shoulders before slinging an arm around him. “Lovestruck? Maybe. Fool? Most definitely.”
“I really need to look for new friends,” Jongin grumbled, but without real bite. He’d never trade his best friends for anything in the world.
Each of them had been busy with work in their respective fields—typical year-end rush that made it impossible to carve out time and hang out due to differing schedules. When work had slowed a little, Jongin checked his calendar and found this vacant Sunday for the first time in a long while. Moonkyu and Kwonho happened to be free during, and arrangements were made. That Sunday was now, where they would have a late lunch and watch a movie.
Accomplishing both, they walked around the mall premises until they agreed to get coffee. The festive mood of the holidays was impossible not to feel or see with the amount of decorations festooning the mall establishments. Christmas tunes could be heard from inside the shops; if not, slow jams that sang about winter, snow, all types of love that either had Jongin humming along or remembering Sehun.
Like now, inside their chosen café, sitting and chatting while enjoying their drinks. Every so often, Jongin glanced around the establishment; noticed the increased amount of couples and the lessened amount of friend groups. Some friend groups appeared to be having double or triple dates, if their loving expressions and touchiness were any indication.
“How’s it going with Sehun these days?” Moonkyu’s question yanked Jongin’s attention back to them. “Is he coming back to Seoul before Christmas?”
“I don’t think so.” Jongin’s spirits deflated a bit when he remembered. “We talked about it a few days ago. He said it might be impossible to come back in time for Christmas.”
Kwonho made a noise of sympathy. “That’s so sad. Guess you can’t spend Christmas together. You can experience being single on a special holiday that’s more of a couples’ day.”
“Are you working the entire day on the twenty-fifth? Is that why you sound so bitter?” Jongin teased. “Didn’t you mention attending a group blind date soon? You’ll probably be lucky on that day. I believe in you!”
Kwonho made a face at him before laughing. “You people in relationships are so annoying, being all up in single people’s business.” He sipped his drink first before continuing. “I’m not in a rush to go on a date and find someone. My past blind dates haven’t really been that successful. One was a bit creepy, the second too much of a mama’s boy, and the third just mindlessly agreed with whatever I said. I refuse to think of what a fourth blind date would bring me, so let’s skip right to the fifth.”
Laughter broke out at their table. Moonkyu spoke next this time. “It’s too bad Sehun will be busy around that day, then.”
“It’s really fine. Some things just can’t be helped. Christmas is spent together with a lover, true, that’s what the country uses the holiday for. You both know I don’t really stick to those types of conventions. Everyday can be Christmas for us if we want it.” Excitement simmered in Jongin’s veins at the idea he’d been nurturing for some time. “But you also both know I’m not someone who easily gives up. If Sehun can’t come back in time for Christmas, well, I might just have to do something about that, right?”
KJ Group’s annual winter party was held, signaling the end of the current work year. Starting tomorrow, everybody would be relieved from their duties for two weeks and return on the new year. The next day found Jongin relaxing at the VIP lounge while waiting for boarding time. He chatted with Sehun like usual to avoid suspicion; replied to some inquiries in their group chat. Amid browsing the news, his sideway glance landed on the neighboring table with a young couple feeding each other, looking deeply smitten and in their own world. It was obvious they had just become a couple recently; then again, Jongin wasn’t one to judge. He and Sehun probably looked like this to others for the three months they’d been dating.
Since the talk and confession, Jongin was more than aware things would change between them. Dynamics would shift, too. Dating was the most surefire way to know if he and Sehun were compatible in various aspects and stay that way; to test if their platonic feelings would evolve, and if the gray areas would become clearer.
Slowly, the fluttering behind his ribs became a constant presence every time he received a message from Sehun, talked to him, or simply thought of him; extracted smiles from him unbidden. Doing things together were always fun; now, Jongin put more effort into dressing up on their dates. He made dating plans sometimes but also included Sehun’s input and suggestions. The hours couldn’t pass fast enough if they had a date; nights couldn’t end faster so he could see Sehun again if they had plans or trips the next day.
Breaking the news of him and Sehun dating to others was easier than imagined and received positively. Moonkyu and Kwonho merely widened their eyes and asked Jongin why it took too long for them to finally date. Jongin’s family members were very accepting, despite their initial surprise; one of his sisters told him that maybe, in a way, Jongin had to meet a string of not-so-good alphas because the best one for him had yet to come. Jongin wasn’t sure if he agreed with this line of thinking or not, but he could definitely agree to Sehun being a good alpha. A good person, overall.
The flight to Busan was smooth sailing but felt too long due to Jongin’s giddy impatience. By the time they touched down, he unleashed a grin and never stopped. There was a spring in his step as he was ushered to the hotel he would be staying at. Unlike the previous one he patronized for business trips, this hotel was strategically built close to Haeundae Beach and the future location of Ginkgo Garden’s branch.
A little past lunchtime, Jongin purposefully chose to visit a café three stores away from the Gingko Garden branch. On the second floor, at a booth seat, his giddiness doubled as he snapped a few selfies and pictures of his drink. He chose the best ones from the reel for each category and aptly captioned them with What are you doing? and Guess where I am.
Jongin sent everything and gave himself a pat on the back.
Jongin hadn’t even consumed half of his latte when a shadow fell over him, already smiling even before looking up. The scent of patchouli and magnolia filled his nose at once, taking greedy inhales as he finally lifted his head to see a very astonished Sehun standing beside his table, disbelief and surprise fighting to take over his features. He noticed Sehun’s heaving chest—he might’ve sprinted all the way here.
Jongin glimpsed at his watch and cheerfully said, “You sure took your time. I was wondering what I’d do if you never looked at your phone until tonight.”
“Hyung!” Sehun’s exclamation surprised Jongin, but he didn’t sound annoyed. “How could you do this to me? Do you know that I nearly dropped my phone in shock when I saw the pictures? Even before reading your message in full, I already knew where to find you.” His rant came off more like a whine.
Jongin suddenly felt compelled to tease him more. “Oh? What if you went to the wrong café? This isn’t the only branch they have in Busan.”
“You wouldn’t purposefully make me go on a wild goose chase, and even if you did, I’d have won on the first try,” Sehun reasoned, chest puffing out in pride. “I went to this café last month. This very booth you’re sitting in right now is where I sat, too. I sent you a picture.”
Amusement growing, but also fondness seeping into him at Sehun’s observations, Jongin tugged at Sehun’s hand to sit beside him. “Alright, alright. You win, Detective Oh.” Jongin automatically clung onto his arm, snuggling into Sehun’s side. He rested his chin on Sehun’s shoulder and stared into his eyes. “I succeeded in surprising you, right? I thought of coming here after you said you might not make it back to Seoul for Christmas.”
Sehun lightly brushed the tip of his nose against Jongin’s. “Do you miss me so much that you couldn’t help yourself and came here?”
“I do. What are you going to do about it?” Jongin raised an eyebrow in challenge, though he was smiling, too.
Sehun hummed in contemplation, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “I can’t have my favorite hyung missing me a lot, that’s for sure. Let’s go on a date so I can make it up to you.”
It was odd how a few words could spike Jongin’s giddiness to overflowing, but it did.
“Before we go on that date, would you like to see the restaurant?” Sehun looked uncharacteristically shy about this, almost like he was hesitating. Then, he hurriedly added, “But if you’d rather not, that’s okay, we can just—”
“I’d love to,” Jongin answered, smiling. “Why would you think I’d say no? It’s nearby, and pictures are always different from seeing the location with my own eyes.”
Sehun had been sending him random pictures of the interior and the food, and Jongin always gave his honest thoughts while praising them. Now, as they stepped into the establishment, Jongin let his eyes roam around the interior. Everything was replicated from the main restaurant in Seoul, from the paint used to color the walls to the types of tables and chairs. The only marked difference was this branch had two floors. All the private rooms with the low tables were located upstairs, while the ground floor had the kitchen and the standard modern tables and chairs.
Jongin took in the sight before him, awed and breathless. He turned to Sehun, who seemed to be doing a rather poor job of hiding his nervousness, but there was noticeable pride seeping through the expression. Jongin wanted to coax it out. Jongin wanted it to be the only expression he made.
“Everything looks perfect,” Jongin assured, holding Sehun’s hand. Sehun twined their fingers together, causing him to smile wider. “Didn’t you say there was a lot of excitement online for your opening next year when you posted on Instagram?”
Sehun nodded. “I couldn’t believe we had that many people from Busan looking forward to this. I try to read all the comments when I can. Many Busan folks expressed how happy they were about this branch opening because the only time they could eat our specialties was if they went to Seoul.” His gaze swept around the premises. “This is a very huge risk for my family, to be honest. Nobody can predict the future, but I really have a good feeling about this.” His smile softened around the edges.
Sehun gave him a tour of the second floor. “The reason it took us months to officially open was because we were searching for someone who could replicate the taste of our food down to the smallest morsel. We’re trying to avoid points of comparison between branches and ensuring quality control, too.”
From what Sehun had shared with Jongin recently, Grandma Insook was hugely against hiring an outsider as the restaurant cook, refusing to share her recipes to anyone who wasn’t family. In the end, a niece with a passion for cooking and eager to help out was selected. After a series of training sessions with Grandma Insook, she was given the okay to be the head chef of the Busan branch. As for the management, Sehun said he had prepared to be relocated, but a cousin who recently resigned from his corporate job volunteered instead.
“If not for my cousin, I’d have no choice but to stay in Busan for the first six months until things stabilized,” Sehun told Jongin. “It’s not a bad thing, but I was worried how you’d take it.”
“Me? Are you sure you have the right person?” Jongin teased, then seriously said, “I run a business. I go on business trips. Sometimes, due to the nature of my job, we can’t even hang out when we were still friends. Now, as boyfriends, I don’t think anything’s going to change. It’s the effort from both of us that will matter more in the long run to strengthen our relationship. That’s not going to stop me from missing you, though.”
“I’m irresistible like that,” Sehun joked, and both of them broke into laughter. Taking one last look at the restaurant interior, he said, with a bigger smile this time, “It’s such a good feeling to see big dreams coming true. I’m really happy that you’re here with me to witness it, hyung.”
Jongin’s chest felt so full and warm he felt like he was going to soar. “I’ll clear my schedule and come to the opening next year. I won’t miss it.”
Busan’s streets were alive with holiday cheer. A few festivals were ongoing this season, perfect for couples as well as the single and those with families. Jongin couldn’t remember having such a good time like this with a boyfriend, having been single for quite some time. The bulk of his relationships prior to this one barely lasted long enough to celebrate Christmas together. As they walked around taking in the sights, sounds, and smells with their hands clasped together, no matter what might be thrown at them now, Jongin could endure everything and find happiness in even the smallest things.
They took pictures of the light displays, of each other in silly poses; snapped some together and comically bickered about blurred results or weird angles. Jongin bought them a bunggeopang to share with chocolate filling instead of the usual sweet red bean paste just because he noticed Sehun eyeing it a lot. They took turns biting, and Jongin reached up to wipe away the chocolate staining Sehun’s bottom lip before he could go and ask for napkins. He held Sehun’s attention by licking the chocolate off the pad of his thumb, flashing him a faux innocent smile.
“Sweet,” was Jongin’s only remark, laying on thick the insinuation.
Sehun huffed out a tiny laugh, an interesting shade of red dusting his cheeks that hadn’t been initially present.
They ate whatever they fancied from the carts, enjoyed the music from the street performances, wrote what they wanted the most on cards that would be hung on the wish trees. Jongin wished for good health, fortune, and, of course, a blessed relationship. The skies eventually darkened and the crowds thickened. Taking a walk by the beach where it was relatively quieter compared to the city proper was a wonderful way to conclude this Christmas Eve.
Jongin wrote his and Sehun’s names on the sand and drew a heart surrounding them. Sehun scrunched up his nose, but Jongin noticed the corners of his mouth trembling
“Hyung, I didn’t know you liked cheesy and childish things like this?”
“So professing my adoration for you is being cheesy and childish?” Jongin challenged, pretending affront.
“I said nothing of the sort,” Sehun commented, this time full-on grinning. He sat on his haunches and doodled something of his own on the sand. Jongin watched him, trying to figure out what it was, especially when Sehun declared he was done and urged him to guess.
“Is this a goblin?”
Sehun let out a sound that was between a laugh and a snort. “Do you look like a goblin?”
Jongin blinked as the words sank in, playfully shoving Sehun on the shoulder. “This is a portrait of me? Do I look this hideous to you? I’m hurt.” He laughed through his fake protest.
“At least I tried!” Sehun protested in return, also laughing as he did so. “Drawing isn’t really one of my stronger suits. Sometimes that happens. I can’t have all the good traits known to exist, or I’d be too invincible.”
“Were you always this shameless? Can’t believe I’m dating such a shameless man.” Jongin continued playing along with a shake of his head.
“You’ll come to like my brand of shamelessness in the future,” Sehun said, puffing out his chest, an impish smile on his lips. Jonign should be unnerved hearing such words, especially when delivered so arrogantly; but Sehun’s cheekiness only incited fond exasperation. “But you’re right; maybe I should consider taking some art lessons. Who knows, when I’ve improved, I might just end up drawing you as a prettier goblin—”
“Oh Sehun!”
Chasing around each other on the beach could’ve been romantic if not for the words coming out of Sehun’s mouth, and without Jongin’s inspired feelings of revenge to get back at him for what he said. They probably also looked like a pair of overgrown children running around on the beach, but neither of them cared; not when Jongin was having such a great time, even in his breathlessness, as he ran after Sehun, their laughter ringing in the evening air. The chase ended when Jongin caught Sehun by the jacket, except he realized too late how far they’d run until ice-cold wetness seeped into his shoes and soaked his jeans.
Sehun shouted a curse, and that was all it took for Jongin to jump out of the water with him. Although both of them were on dry sand now, there was nothing to be done about Jongin’s drenched shoes.
“Now look at what you’ve done, Sehun. I’m wet,” Jongin groused, torn between removing his shoes and exposing his bare feet to the cold December air, or returning to the hotel at once as he was.
“Are you? I’ve been told I have that sort of effect on a lot of omegas.”
Jongin didn’t miss the smugness in Sehun’s voice, even if his expression was nonchalant. But when their gazes met and held, the slow unfurling of a half smirk on Sehun’s lips implied something greater. Something close to a promise. It wasn’t really the time, but something about this combination kindled a smolder of heat in Jongin’s belly.
“Oh, really?” Jongin rose to the challenge, ignoring the uncomfortable state of his shoes as he encroached on Sehun’s space. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in close to Sehun’s face—so close that their lips could almost touch, if he wanted. “And are you confident that you can get me wetter than this?”
Desire gleamed in Sehun’s eyes, reflecting in the gradual curving of his mouth. “I don’t back down from challenges.” He brushed his knuckles against Jongin’s cheek in a slow, deliberate, seductive manner. “Especially not from challenges that will make me know you and your body better, hyung.” He practically purred out the last word, and Jongin’s body reacted instantaneously in the way it rapidly heated up.
Then Sehun leaned forward, slowly, as if giving him time to back away; change his mind, if he wasn’t in the mood.
Jongin met him halfway.
The kiss was light, undemanding, but in danger of blossoming into something more. Jongin only stood still for another heartbeat before his hands found the lapels of Sehun’s jacket and pulled him closer. Sehun’s hands found and stayed at Jongin’s waist. The warmth from Sehun’s touch seeped through the wool of the turtleneck to Jongin’s skin, igniting frissons of desire.
Impatient for more, Jongin captured Sehun’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently in silent invitation. Sehun’s hands slid down to rest on Jongin’s hips, which he clutched, then returned for another kiss—this time deeper, indulging in the feel of lips melding together and the slow, swirling caresses of their tongues.
They’d never kissed like this before. In their three months of dating, there had only been chaste pecks, kisses planted on cheeks and foreheads, always making sure the other person was receptive to intimate advances. Just because they were dating now didn’t mean both would always be in the mood, or free to do as they pleased without seeking consent.
Tonight, however, something shifted and took shape. Unknown it might be at the moment, but Jongin couldn’t wait to uncover its final form.
“We should stop.” Jongin was breathless and winded by the time they parted, shallow breaths puffing white around him.
“Are you sure?” The huskiness of Sehun’s voice almost cracked Jongin’s resolve.
“We should, so we can continue this in my room.”
A corner of Sehun’s mouth turned up in a mischievous smirk.
Sehun’s lips were impossibly soft, kisses endlessly tender, but an underlying possessiveness lay beneath as he claimed Jongin’s mouth upon arriving at his hotel room. Wandering hands tugged at offending garments one by one until nothing remained on their journey to the bed. Sparks of heat careened to every part of Jongin’s body at the indescribable feel of their warm, naked skin touching for the first time, contrasting the coolness of the sheets on his back.
Sehun’s appreciative gaze roamed over Jongin’s nude form. Each passing second felt like he was caressing Jongin with his eyes, but the knowledge that Sehun couldn’t look away stroked his ego. Jongin was proud of his body and how he’d sculpted it to his liking from his workouts, even if chances to show off his gains weren’t much. Reveling in Sehun’s singeing stare, Jongin gave a sultry smile before drawing him close until their chests touched.
“I hope you’re not planning to just look at me the whole night,” Jongin said between playful nips to Sehun’s jaw.
Sehun’s answering chuckle was low and amused. “I could try. Who wouldn’t want to look at you? You’re perfect, hyung. So perfect I almost can’t believe I get to see you like this.”
“You know what would feel more perfect? Your hands and mouth on me.”
Sehun’s second chuckle sounded fond. “Oh, hyung. What am I going to do with you?”
Jongin had about a hundred answers to that question. None of them were spoken aloud, words lost to the searing path of kisses Sehun carved down his neck; the hardened contours of Jongin’s chest. The wet, warm feel of Sehun’s tongue encircling a nipple, then the other, sent tremors of delight through every part of Jongin’s body. Jongin gasped at the exquisite sensation of Sehun’s teeth grazing his nipples, head going fuzzy as he tugged on them with his lips and sucked. The sweet torture ended when Sehun moved his mouth lower to trace the dips and hollows of Jongin’s abs. It began again when Sehun lowered his head further, hot breath fanning over Jongin’s cock, followed by an almost delicate swipe of tongue along the length of him.
The acuteness of Jongin’s aching grew with every long, sensual lick. Sehun’s hands were splayed across the inside of Jongin’s thighs to keep them spread while he lavished attention on his erection unhampered. Jongin’s breath hitched when Sehun finally fastened his lips over the cock head and sucked hard.
Something between a groaned version of Sehun’s name and a moan escaped Jongin as he threaded fingers through his hair. Sehun’s gaze locked with Jongin’s while swirling his tongue around the tip, gathering the dripping precome before engulfing him once more in the intoxicating heat of his mouth. Pure fire licked along Jongin’s spine, fanned by the wicked glint in Sehun’s eyes that promised release—and so much more. His slick trickled out, wetting the sheets beneath and scenting the air.
Sehun’s relentless ministrations on his cock, combined with the sudden graze of fingers against his damp rim, propelled Jongin to a startling finish that left him tingly and gasping for breath. His hand came away with a few strands of Sehun’s hair, the sight of it shocking him. Jongin readied an apology upon sensing movement but stopped when he saw Sehun swallow his come without hesitation.
“You didn’t have to…” Jongin trailed off, mind still foggy from the pleasure. He reached out for Sehun, who immediately went into his arms.
“I wanted to.” Sehun sounded firm and honest. Jongin tasted himself for the first time on Sehun’s tongue when he slotted their mouths together. It was odd, but not entirely unpleasant. “I want to taste everything you can give, hyung. And I believe this is the right time for me to find out if you taste just as sweet as the jelly drink I crave during pre-rut.”
Rekindled arousal pushed more slick out of Jongin, softened cock giving a weak twitch in interest. Sehun missed neither action nor the marked sweetness permeating the room, staring at him with a ravenous desire that compelled Jongin to lightly push him back so he could roll over and lift himself to his elbows and knees. He threw a seductive look over his shoulder, meeting Sehun’s heavy-lidded gaze.
“I’m confident I taste better.”
Jongin instantly leaned into Sehun’s touch as his hands roamed around the expanse of his back. Teasing fingers trailed down Jongin’s spine to the dip of his lower back, soon followed by a delicate kiss he rewarded with a sigh. Sehun blazed a trail of similar kisses along the curve of Jongin’s ass cheeks one after the other. Sehun dragged his tongue over the drying slick on his thighs in an upward stroke, each time higher than the last, building Jongin’s anticipation and need to a feverish pitch.
“Hurry,” Jongin griped, in lustful desperation.
Behind him, Sehun’s chuckle took on a devilish sound. Jongin readied a retort, but Sehun was already spreading his hands directly on Jongin’s ass cheeks and pulled them gently apart, clueing him in on what was to come.
“You’re so impatient, hyung,” Sehun teased, dropping a peck of a kiss where Jongin was wettest and leaking. “But I’ll make it up to you by eating well.”
Sehun took his first taste of him, the rasp of wet tongue across sensitive flesh extracting a loud moan from Jongin’s mouth. The next sweep was surer, the third more confident. A few more experimental licks and speeds before Sehun settled on a combination of long, heavy strokes and quick flicks. Jongin’s thighs were quivering, precome dripping from his cock that hardened once more.
Sehun lapped at his taint; mouthed at the delicate seam of Jongin’s balls. Then, he slid the broad of his tongue over the pucker of Jongin’s ass, his gentle licks lasting only two times before pressing the tip of it inside in shallow motions. A strangled moan fell from Jongin’s lips that turned into a full cry when Sehun’s tongue glided in without resistance, pushing in as far as possible, aided by the copious amounts of slick he was dripping.
“Sehun.” The name scraped past Jongin’s throat in a desperate plea, too loud between his breaths.
Sehun’s fingers dug into Jongin’s ass cheeks to keep him open and exposed as he worked his tongue inside—deliberate, determined, and not enough. Jongin widened his stance, tilting his hips back, clutching at the pillow in a futile attempt at anchoring himself. Wonderful spirals of heat curled in his belly from the insistent probing of Sehun’s tongue. A hand enclosed around Jongin, firm strokes matching the unhurried rhythm he set with his mouth. Jongin let out shuddering breaths as he sought the delicious friction provided by the tight circle of Sehun’s fingers, the slide becoming easier from the precome; ground his hips backward, seeking the insistent invasion of a wet, filthy tongue.
The rhythmic pressure from both ends spurred Jongin to spill on the sheets below as violent tremors of ecstasy racked his body. Dazed pleasure suffused his mind as he laid there panting after his limbs gave up on him, dimly aware of the damp stickiness spreading on his midriff. Jongin gathered enough strength to roll to his side, his body thrumming with a deep, sensual relaxation from the aftershocks.
Sehun’s face soon entered his field of vision, who laid his head on the same pillow. His lips and chin glistened with slick, his grin huge as he proudly, impishly declared, “You definitely taste better than the jelly drink, hyung. You’re sweeter, thicker, and more addictive. I really ate well.”
Jongin burst out laughing, even as lethargy started to settle. The explicit description would’ve turned off anybody, but even through his mischief, Sehun was earnest in sharing his findings. Jongin gingerly wiped at the moisture on Sehun’s mouth with the back of his hand. Sehun held it in place and sucked on his fingers. He groaned but didn’t tell him to stop. Snuggling into Sehun’s shoulder, Jongin happened to glance at the wall clock and saw the time. “Merry Christmas,” he greeted, sealing it with a kiss.
Sehun returned the greeting and stole another kiss, this time longer, and with a hint of tongue. “Hyung, what do you want to do later? We should buy a cake to celebrate. I know a place that sells cakes that aren’t too sweet; it might be to your liking. Oh, wait, I have to clean you up, let me just—”
Jongin prevented him from getting out of bed with a hug. “That can wait. I’m already comfortable, so just stay here.” He nuzzled his face against Sehun’s neck, taking generous inhales of his patchouli and magnolia scent. A scent exclusively his now, one that he could bask and lose himself in anytime he wanted without worrying about boundaries.
“But—”
Jongin nipped at the skin of his pulse point, relishing in Sehun’s sharp intake of breath. It turned sharper when Jongin started tracing the lines of Sehun’s erection through the thin cotton of his boxers, initial drowsiness completely fading now.
“What’s the use of cleaning up when I’m about to unwrap my Christmas present?”
☆彡
On one of the coldest days in February, Seollal ended and Jongin’s pre-heat began.
Perhaps it was the weeks of not seeing each other due to the holidays and familial duties, but as Jongin began lining the bed in the nesting room with some of Sehun’s shirts and sweaters he left behind for sleepovers, it occurred to him this would be the first time they’d spend his heat together—and probably the first time they would reach third base.
Sehun might have helped him out with his pre-heats in the past as a friend. At present, nothing would hold him back from helping Jongin out during the heat itself. They talked about it recently but not at length due to one or both of them getting drowsy after a long and busy day, and then having to put it off for a later date. Now that Seollal had ended, the holiday rush fading and life returning back on track, they should be able to have a thorough discussion about it soon.
Since it was a weekend, Jongin took his time building his nest while he wasn’t hampered by physical ailments. He couldn’t help inhaling the patchouli and magnolia steeped into the fabric of Sehun’s clothes before placing them where they should. If the scents wore off, he could ask Sehun for the shirt on his back to replace the ones with the weakest scent. His mind drifted to the unused leftover scent packets from his previous heat cycle. Jongin smiled a bit to himself, knowing he wouldn’t have to use them for the time being—or maybe even longer than that.
Sehun didn’t come to the penthouse until late afternoon, bringing bags of roasted dandelion root tea and cinnamon cubes, along with other items that helped Jongin during this time. None was as effective as just snuggling up to Sehun’s side on the living room couch, nose buried in the junction between Sehun’s neck and shoulder, a horror movie playing on the widescreen television. Jongin found out that Sehun wasn’t a fan of horror movies, flinching, wincing, and yelping every time jump scares or actual killing happened. Still, he sat through the movie with his arms around Jongin, and it was amusing how he was trying to be brave. Jongin wasn’t paying attention because he already watched the movie, more focused on having Sehun here with him, soaking up both scent and body warmth after weeks of no physical contact.
“That was… something,” Sehun commented, once the credits started rolling. He grabbed the remote on the coffee table in front of them. “I want to watch something else now.”
“Go ahead.” Jongin watched the familiar squares on the menu slide across the screen. “By the way, Sehun, will you be alright helping me out during my heat next week? It’s on a weekday.”
Sehun stopped pressing buttons. “Ah, we should really talk about it, huh? Okay.” He set aside the remote and leaned back a bit so he could look at Jongin. “I’ve told Grandma Insook. She said she’d take over for me. We’ll do grocery shopping tomorrow to stock up on water and other easily digested food.” He paused, contemplative. “I think I ran out of condoms, so I’ll be going to the pharmacy before your heat starts.”
“Buy alpha birth control pills instead.”
Sehun didn’t react at first. Then his eyes widened slowly, as if disbelieving what he heard. Jongin could hear the cogs of his mind whirring, and he was also trying hard to suppress a smile from how adorable Sehun looked in his mixed shock and confusion.
“Hyung…” was the only thing Sehun could say after a prolonged pause. He opened and closed his mouth twice before the next words came out. “Are you sure?”
“We’re both clean since we got tested last month. We’ve both admitted to using protection when we were with other people. I dutifully take my omega birth control pills if I spend my heat with other people.” Jongin unleashed a smile, cupping Sehun’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re being rational and proactive, but I just want to feel all of you. If you really want to use a condom together with the pill, I won’t be opposed. I want you to make a choice for yourself, even if this is my heat we’re discussing.”
Omega birth control pills had been sold in the market for as long as Jongin was aware. They functioned as described and, due to the advanced technology nowadays, had been able to successfully prevent conception during an omega’s heat for twenty-four hours. Since omega bodies were designed to only conceive during this period, the pills would have to be taken once a day for all seven days of heat.
Alpha birth control pills hadn’t been invented until several years later for the simple fact that the responsibility of avoiding conception should not only fall to one but two parties. These pills were engineered to lower the potency of sperm, if not completely erase it, for twenty-four hours, and were strong enough to work even during a rut. It could be taken just by itself, though some alphas chose to use condoms despite using a pill, as well. Both types of pills took effect right away after ingestion and could also be consumed without food.
“Okay,” Sehun answered, after a long, considerable silence. Jongin was surprised by the agreement; he was almost sure Sehun would say no, knowing how much he treasured him. “I would be a hypocrite if I said no. Thank you for trusting me and having confidence in me, hyung.” He leaned forward to give Jongin a kiss, one that was sweet and slow but didn’t lead to anything more.
The usual aches and pains that came with pre-heat surfaced and plagued Jongin. The tea and cubes helped, as did cuddling with Sehun, especially his scent that eased the headaches. He wasn’t the type to be shooting text updates about his pre-heat ailments, but this time around, he was compelled to tell Sehun, never mind Jongin was at work and needed to finish reading the piled reports on his table.
Today lasted longer than usual—Jongin did his traditional overtime since his heat was nearing. It felt like the hours dragged on, though he surmised it was due to the simmering ache in his temples since the afternoon started. His only consolation was Sehun showing up at his office carrying food at past seven, chastising him lightly on their way to the couch so they could eat. The ache subsided thanks to the food and Sehun’s scent, and Jongin felt marginally better.
Two hours later, Jongin knew he was on the road to full recovery upon reaching the privacy of his nesting room because he didn’t even wait for Sehun to slide off his jacket. He just went straight ahead and pulled Sehun down on the bed to cuddle.
“Hyung.” The word came out from Sehun in an amused huff. “We should wash up first before cuddling.”
“Five minutes.” Jongin snuggled closer, soaring from happiness at the proximity; the scent enveloping him. “You’re warm and smell so good. It’s been a long day at the office.”
Sehun arranged them so they were more comfortable on the bed. Jongin sighed as he felt fingers threading through his hair. He wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep just from this. “You’re starting to smell really sweet.”
“How sweet?”
“Your peach blossom scent is becoming more prominent. It’s sweetening to a degree that I just want to drown in it.”
Jongin pulled back a little so he could look at Sehun, smiling at the blush he saw on his cheeks. Months of dating, but Sehun still couldn’t say anything sweet to him without feeling shy. “So drown in my scent,” he said, before tucking his head beneath Sehun’s chin. “You’re free to do so now. I want you smelling of me, anyway. It’ll only be stronger in the coming days.”
Jongin’s prediction came true two days later when he woke up a little feverish, and to the heady scent of peach blossoms filling the nesting room. He sluggishly sat up; felt a drip of wetness when his feet met the floor. Shaking his head, Jongin navigated his way out of the nesting room through half-closed eyes and relied on his nose to lead him to Sehun, who was preparing breakfast. Jongin’s vision cleared the longer he walked, molding himself to Sehun’s back once he was within reach.
“Good morning, hyung,” Sehun greeted, laughing softly but didn’t turn around. Jongin gave a loud, contented sigh, nuzzling Sehun’s nape, arms winding around him. “Breakfast won’t take long. Do you want something heavy or light?”
“You,” Jongin answered, not even hesitating, breathing in the patchouli and magnolia that seemed to smell twice as enticing and intoxicating than usual.
“I’m flattered you want me on the menu, but we have to be prepared for today.” Sehun finally turned around in Jongin’s hold, fingers coming up to push the fringe away from his forehead before planting a kiss where his touch had lingered. “You’re going to need all the energy.”
Heats during the first three days were unpredictable at best. Jongin had experienced an array of symptoms until he noticed which would most likely appear. This time around, he was helpless against the lethargy that washed over him, feeling drained of energy despite having only done the bare minimum of showering and reading. His appetite grew; so did his demand for cuddles and simply wanting Sehun nearby to touch. Jongin’s body started releasing more slick than usual, which was normal as his body prepared him for what was to come. The slow rise in his temperature contributed to his lessened need for more clothes, now going to bed with just his pajama pants and wrapped in Sehun’s body warmth and scent.
On the fourth day, Jongin wasn’t as lethargic anymore. His appetite remained large and began snacking in between. His feverish state stayed, but the fatigue had worn off. He’d just emerged from the shower when he caught a whiff of Sehun’s patchouli and magnolia scent. Jongin’s body responded to the smell with a rivulet of slick traveling down his inner thighs, tendrils of arousal uncoiling gradually within.
Abandoning the towel and modesty altogether, Jongin left the bathroom and was taken aback by the strength of Sehun’s scent welcoming him. His nose had become more sensitive, and the inhalations he took of the familiar and comforting patchouli and magnolia inflamed him with a desire to get as close as possible. It took only a few steps to reach an unsuspecting Sehun, who stood with his back to Jongin, busy texting on his phone.
An irrational part of Jongin scowled and disapproved of this. He let it be known by pressing himself onto Sehun’s back, fingers sliding beneath the shirt and caressing the smooth skin of his waist. He heard Sehun gasp, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Sehun spun around, eyes sweeping over Jongin’s naked form, slow realization crossing his features.
In a span of a few minutes, Jongin was made to sit on the bed while Sehun offered him the omega birth control pill to drink and a bottle of water. Sehun consumed his own pill soon after. The moment Sehun set down the empty water bottle, Jongin wasted no time grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down for a kiss.
Jongin’s first orgasm was ripped out of him courtesy of Sehun’s skillful mouth and hands. His libido during heat was usually a slow-burning fuse. He had no doubt the craving for a knot would wash over him soon. For now, he was satisfied clenching around Sehun’s coaxing fingers, practically riding his hand and chasing the wildfire of a second release.
“That was fast,” Sehun remarked, awe in his tone, as Jongin lay gasping for breath. Sticky come smeared Jongin’s abs, some of it staining and dripping down Sehun’s fingers. “Are you okay, hyung? Still with me?”
Jongin gave a weak nod, his softened cock stirring with interest upon watching Sehun putting on a show of licking his fingers clean. His gaze dropped to Sehun’s sweatpants, the hefty erection straining behind it like an open invitation to be touched. Jongin heeded it, smiling at the gasp Sehun emitted. Regaining some strength in his limbs, Jongin pulled himself up to settle between Sehun’s open thighs.
“Hyung, you don’t have to.” Sehun sounded surprised and breathless, but slightly lifted his hips up when Jongin tugged off his sweatpants. “I should be taking care of you.”
“You do a great job of it,” Jongin assured, smiling briefly before focusing on his task. A wet spot had formed on the cotton of Sehun’s boxers where the tip of his cock pressed against the fabric. Unable to resist, Jongin darted out his tongue for a tentative lick, the roughness of the cotton shooting sparks of arousal throughout his body. He met and held Sehun’s heavy-lidded gaze, hands closing around his hips. “But taking care of you gives me pleasure, too.”
Jongin nuzzled his cheek against Sehun’s cock, inhaling his rich, musky scent. He traced the outline of it with his lips from base to tip and back again. Sehun’s cock head peeked through from the band of his boxers, a drop of precome oozing out. Jongin curled his tongue around it, catching more drops, savoring the piquant flavor before finally removing the offensive garment. Above him, Sehun sighed, then moaned when Jongin dragged his lips and tongue down the base of him. When he took the whole of him in his mouth, Jongin let his tongue flatten and linger, swirling to cover as much as he could. Sehun cupped Jongin’s cheek as he drew him deeper in his mouth, the gesture tender, a wonderful contrast to the glazed lust in his watchful eyes. Sehun’s other hand rested at the back of Jongin’s head—not pushing, not forcing, but a comforting and encouraging touch.
Jongin’s mouth wandered and serviced, relishing the velvety feel of Sehun’s hot hardness on his tongue. A shiver of anticipation coursed through Jongin with every pass of his lips to the root of Sehun’s cock, where the knot would form, and he leaked in unbridled excitement. The merciless suck and lick rhythm he applied pushed out his name from Sehun’s mouth in a strangled moan, both a plea and a warning, and then Jongin’s tongue was being coated by a hot gush of come. What he couldn’t swallow escaped the edge of his mouth, and Jongin carefully wiped it away with a finger. Slick dripped out of him as Jongin sat on his knees, startling a bit when Sehun swooped in for a messy kiss that he quickly welcomed.
“God, you’re so hot,” Sehun praised against his lips, warm hands roaming across Jongin’s heated skin. “I’ve never seen anyone hotter with their lips around my dick.”
Jongin arched into his touch, biting his lower lip at the effortless breach of Sehun’s fingers inside him after sitting astride his lap. “I should hope so. You will never find anyone else like me.” He grasped Sehun’s shoulders, hips moving to the tempo his fingers set. Fiery pleasure prickled Jongin’s skin, Sehun’s fingers relentless in their pursuit of unraveling him.
“You’re so wet, hyung. You’re soaking my hand,” Sehun whispered in his ear, both wonderment and arousal audible in his voice. Prodding fingers pressed the right amount of pressure that coaxed Jongin’s hips into motion. “You smell absolutely divine.” A moist tongue dragged over Jongin’s pulse point. “I can’t wait to devour you.”
Each roll of Jongin’s hips drove him wild with need until the building tension broke and he was crying out, hunching forward and holding onto Sehun while his body shook with fulfillment. He sagged against Sehun’s form, limbs jellied, familiar stickiness fusing their bellies. Sehun gently laid him down, peppering butterfly kisses all over Jongin’s face as he took a few moments to regulate his breathing.
Wiping him up and sponging him down, changing the sheets when possible, talking to him about anything to test his lucidity—Sehun’s attentiveness during the lulls between clarity and concupiscence warmed Jongin. Eating and hydrating was another solution to prevent oversensitivity for both of them. Jongin didn’t even need to get out of bed; Sehun willingly brought whatever food he was in the mood for, whether it was a proper meal or hwajeon. Sehun persuaded him into eating one bite more if Jongin didn’t have much of an appetite because there’s two more days left, I don’t want you passing out.
And Jongin would acquiesce, mostly to stare at Sehun’s adorable expression while chastising him.
It was easy to assume Sehun wasn’t the most expressive person at first glance, or if they weren’t close to him. Jongin was ready to prove them wrong. But there were certain expressions he wanted to keep for himself. Expressions that Jongin cataloged to memory, not wanting to forget.
Like the way Sehun’s eyes fluttered close, mouth opening in a soundless moan as the first few rending centimeters of his cock slid inside Jongin’s welcoming body. The overwhelmed look on Sehun’s face as he sank the rest of the way in, stretching and filling Jongin to a delicious degree. How Sehun’s chest expanded and contracted in large, heavy breaths, the bead of sweat slinking down the side of his face as he held himself still, forearms trembling on either side of Jongin’s head.
“I knew you would feel so good inside me,” Jongin murmured, locking an ankle around Sehun’s tapered waist. He trailed the toes of his other foot down Sehun’s leg, savoring the length and girth of him, making Jongin acutely aware of his impressive size. “But you need to move, it can’t end here.” More urgent pleas rushed past Jongin’s lips until Sehun acquiesced, moving his hips in restrained, shallow lunges that were rewarded with small cries and low groans. “Oh, yes, right there… don’t stop.”
“I won’t.” Sehun possessed him in a deliberately-measured cadence, slick dripping out of Jongin with every plunge and retreat. “You just… you feel so perfectly right.” He sounded gruff, voice thick with arousal. He pressed heated kisses down the curve of Jongin’s cheek. “It’s like you were made for me.”
“No, you were made for me.” Jongin turned his head just right so their lips met in a kiss as Sehun worked him into a writhing frenzy of want. Molten heat filled his entire being, twisting and churning as each stroke grew stronger, reached deeper, stealing Jongin’s breath and fraying rationality. His fingernails dug into Sehun’s shoulders, sliding down the flexing muscles of his back, then cupped his firm buttocks, striving to push more of him inside. “You were made to fit inside me. You were made to fill me.”
Sehun’s responding laughter was breathy and strained. His hips raced, coordination starting to slip. A wicked smile curved his lush lips. “That won’t be a problem, as long as I get you all to myself like this: beautifully spread out and helplessly, uncontrollably wet for me.”
Jongin clung to him, dizzy with pleasure, helpless to do anything but receive. He was mindless to everything except for the erotic bliss spreading through his body. His moans grew in volume; his breaths were becoming ragged. Sehun’s abs kept stroking Jongin’s cock with every push, the precome flowing from the tip smearing their navels. Soon enough, Jongin felt an odd roundness starting to form at the base of Sehun’s cock with each inward stroke. With it came a thrilling stretch that reminded him of what was going to happen; of what he had been hungering for.
Sehun’s unhurried pace gradually evolved to a pulsing rush, body rolling against Jongin’s with fierce determination until he was brought to an arching, gasping climax. Wave after blistering wave of bliss scorched Jongin, each one stronger than the last. It was a long while before the roaring in Jongin’s ears subsided. As it did, the various sounds of his surroundings rushed forward: the lewd smack of their bodies, Sehun’s muted groans, the obscene squelch of leaking slick.
Jongin hissed at the snag of Sehun’s growing knot on his rim. A tiny amount of hurt came with the withdrawal during the first stage of knotting sometimes, but it quickly faded to a pleasant burn, and the veritable amount of slick helped for a smoother glide. Arousal flooded Jongin anew, melding with his fevered state brought by the heat. He clung and pressed himself tighter to Sehun, kissing where he could, helping him seek release by clamping down on his cock. Tremors of restless anticipation rippled across Jongin at the knot’s increasing thickness. Impassioned moans turned into words, forming a single demand he repeatedly husked in Sehun’s ear: “Knot me.”
Sehun surged forward with one last brutal thrust, lodging his fully-engorged knot into Jongin’s awaiting body with a long, low groan. Jongin sobbed at the unbelievable stretch but immediately tightened around the hefty knot, whimpering at the hot, heavy streams of come filling him. Sehun’s forearms flanking him buckled, and he collapsed on top of Jongin, still shuddering from the aftershocks. Jongin savored Sehun’s weight, Sehun’s warmth, Sehun’s sweat-filmed skin beneath his palms. He savored the sweet press of Sehun’s mouth upon lifting his head from Jongin’s shoulder; the gentle way he turned them onto their sides facing each other as they searched and settled into a more comfortable position.
“How are you feeling, hyung?” Sehun rubbed soothing circles into Jongin’s lower back until his breathing steadied. “Are you aching anywhere?”
Jongin hiked his leg over Sehun’s hip. “Not now, but I’m sure my legs are going to give me hell later after staying too long in this position.” The movement summoned a new stream of come. He sighed contentedly at the sensation. “You’re lucky I like your knot, or I would’ve been grumpy throughout.”
Sehun pecked Jongin’s nose through a chuckle. “We were both too immersed in each other to bother with changing positions. Tell me what I can do to help you endure it, hyung. We’ll be joined together for a while—half an hour, at most.”
Jongin had no idea when or how long he closed his eyes until the soft rasp of sheets roused him. His irrational side begrudged the absence of Sehun beside him on the bed. The only evidence he hadn’t left long was the lingering scent of patchouli and magnolia in the nesting room. It fused with his peach blossom scent, marginally sweetened by the heat pheromones. He slowly rose to one elbow, body aching pleasantly, despite the dried come flaking on his abs and the inside of his thighs. Rising higher had him whimpering at the gush of what was unmistakably come, mixed with his slick, dripping out of him. Jongin couldn’t help pouting and mourned its loss, the disconcerting emptiness of his ass.
“Hyung, why are you pouting?” was Sehun’s first question on his return, armed with two water bottles and a plate of hwajeon.
Jongin ate two pieces before replying. “I feel empty.”
“You were knocked out for around two hours. You’ve burned a ton of calories since. Eat two more, and you won’t feel as empty.”
“Nice try. I’m not talking about food.”
Sehun clucked his tongue in feigned reproach. “You have to gain back some of your energy first if you want another round. Please, hyung?”
It shouldn’t, but even if Sehun looked so adorable with a slight pout and pleading look, all Jongin could think of was being railed and hanging off his knot.
The fifth and sixth days of heat struck the hardest most times during Jongin’s cycle. Whether alone or with a partner, his libido usually skyrocketed, turning him insatiable and raising his temperature to near-unbearable degrees. Jongin now spent long stretches of time attached to Sehun’s knot in all possible positions, sating the simmering heat until his body craved for it again not long after separating. Clinginess became almost second nature in the way he refused even a millimeter of space between their bodies, wanting to be wrapped up in Sehun’s scent and Sehun’s body warmth for as much as possible. Couplings became more delirious, the intervals between each one shortening. A primal sense of possessiveness flared to life whenever Jongin admired the love bites he left on the smooth canvas of Sehun’s chest and neck; the long, angry red lines on his back. He wasn’t a harsh lover by any means, but heat had a way of inducing certain urges he otherwise wouldn’t entertain.
Sehun took responsibility for both their wellbeing, making sure they took their pills first thing in the morning, cleaning up Jongin, and had become somewhat of an expert at changing sheets. During the periods of staying stuck together, Sehun provided nourishment in increments. Jongin leaned back against his chest, knot nestled snugly in his body while nibbling on bread slathered in strawberry jam. Feeding during an omega’s heat was considered a courtship gesture by their forefathers that managed to be preserved and transferred over to modern times. While Jongin was more casual on traditions, it warmed him when his partners fed him by hand rather than using utensils. An added bonus was being able to lick Sehun’s fingers clean from crumbs and sticky jam, feel him slightly tremble from his ministrations, followed by a fresh release of come that had Jongin jumping him immediately once the knot came down.
Come the seventh day, the heat had mostly broken. The need for sex and knotting wasn’t as frantic, which meant Jongin could enjoy his sweet time taking himself apart on Sehun’s cock, languidly moving his hips, moaning how good he felt. Sehun guided him through it, holding him by the waist securely, whispering praise and encouragement for him to take what he needed. Jongin drenched him for the umpteenth time with the combined slick and come, muffling pleasure-filled cries against Sehun’s shoulder as wondrous delight spiraled through him.
Jongin always lost track of time during his heats. He could only distinguish the passage of days between being knot-crazed and wholly satiated. Opening his eyes after what felt like a long, long nap, his body hummed with satisfaction through the pleasant aches. The scent of heat had largely receded in the air of his nesting room. The sweetness of his peach blossom scent had also returned to its usual. The sheets had been changed again, and he was lucid enough to look for the clock to check the time.
On cue, Sehun arrived, dressed only in a pair of gray sweat pants and carrying a tray of food. The amalgam of savory and mouth-watering scents suddenly injected some energy in Jongin’s leadened limbs, although dragging himself upright proved to be a challenge. Sehun was quick to assist him by putting a pillow between his back and the headboard. The twinge in his ass was bearable, feeling more like a gym sore than excruciating pain, so he could sit for a while as he whetted his suddenly-alive appetite.
Sehun fed him patiently and slowly, smile growing with each bite Jongin took; grinned when he asked for seconds. “Your heat has passed. What do you want to do today?”
“Not sex.” Jongin laughed when Sehun did. “I want a bath after this.”
Sehun drew him one, dropping a few of the scented bath bombs he usually gave Jongin in his post-heat care packages. The scents of lavender and lemongrass were pleasant and calming; the warm water soothing used and stretched muscles. Jongin closed his eyes and exhaled a relaxed sigh as Sehun washed and blow-dried his hair for him; helped him apply the lavender lotion on body parts he couldn’t reach. Wearing clothes after going without it for a bit of time always felt strange, but Jongin donned pajamas anyway and was reminded of why he missed them.
Stepping out of the nesting room always felt like entering a new world, but Jongin couldn’t be happier seeing the other areas of his penthouse. He opened the blinds of his living room, welcoming and relishing the warmth of spring’s noontime sunlight spilling through the slats; admired the bird’s eye view of Seoul, the sparkling Han River slithering between the gaps.
“Anything else you want to do today?” Sehun appeared beside him, curving an arm around Jongin’s shoulders. His presence here meant he’d finished cleaning and tidying up the nesting room.
“I don’t know if it’s possible, but I want to take a walk in the park.” Jongin leaned his head against Sehun’s. “I want some fresh air, and I haven’t seen the rabbits in a while.”
“The rabbits you’ve been pestering since you moved here?” Sehun joked.
“We’ll be friends once they understand my heart,” Jongin joked back. “Ah, but the sun makes me want to sleep in. Suddenly, there are so many things I want to do.” He planted a kiss on Sehun’s cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“I’m your boyfriend; of course I will.” Sehun leaned back to look at Jongin in the face. Adoration overflowing and palpable shone in his eyes. “Whether in heat or on ordinary days, you won’t have to worry about anything. I will always take care of you.”
Jongin’s chest felt so full and warm staring into his loving gaze as he fell just a little more; just a little harder.
☆彡
Spring swept through Seoul in a gentle-flowing wave, bringing with it the touch of life that resurrected bare tree branches and bushes. Flowers bloomed and dotted the scenery with their colorful petals. In parks and mountains, sidewalks and private properties, the cherry blossoms gradually woke up from their slumber to color the ground once again with their pink petals.
The season heralded new beginnings, the blossoming of newfound relationships platonic and romantic, and the arrival of Sehun’s birthday.
Jongin thought of the many things he wanted to prepare. One of them was signing up for a baking class to help him create a birthday cake from scratch. He attended the classes after work, but having to hide that from Sehun to not ruin the surprise proved to be a bit of a challenge. Jongin came up with workarounds for that, such as bringing a change of clothes or making excuses so Sehun wouldn’t come over if the smell of flour and sugar was impossible to get rid of.
His efforts in keeping it under wraps had been worth it when Jongin brought out the cake on the special day. Sehun’s face was so bright with happiness marveling at the cake. Relieved but not complacent, Jongin started nervously babbling about how he should’ve applied the icing better, or drew the chick prettier, or worrying if the sweetness of the cake would be to his taste. Sehun thanked him with sincere words and a long, sweet kiss that squashed the last of Jongin’s doubts to smithereens.
Jongin also gave him another present in the form of a Rolex, one that matched his; the one he frequently wore, whether at work or in casual settings. “A watch would look nice around your wrist. It’s something you can wear every day, too—just like our matching bracelets.”
Although it had taken some getting used to, Jongin could no longer imagine what it was like to leave the penthouse without the bracelet on his right wrist anymore. He wore it everywhere now, and every time he glimpsed the sun charm, fondness would swell from within as Sehun’s smile came to mind.
“This is a very beautiful gift. Thank you so much.” Sehun beamed, holding up his wrist where he wore the watch. It looked really good around his wrist; better, with the bracelet that matched Jongin’s, the moon charm glinting from the lights above them. “I’ll wear it well and cherish it, too.” He let out a tiny, satisfied-sounding sigh. “I think you’re spoiling me too much. First, a cake you baked. Next, a Rolex that I didn’t even dream of buying—not because I can’t afford it, but wearing a watch everyday just never crossed my mind.” He looked around their hotel room in awe. “Also, taking me to Jeju? I can’t ask for anything more.”
Jongin chuckled. “Nothing’s wrong with spoiling you. You did it on my birthday, too. And I’m just getting started. You’ve always been deeply enamored with Jeju, so why not take you here? If we only had more time at hand, I would’ve taken you to France to celebrate, instead. Or wherever you want.”
“As long as we’re together, hyung.” Sehun smiled tenderly at Jongin. He proceeded to slice the cake and taste it, too. His eyes widened, grin following suit. “This is good! And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better—it really is.”
Jongin had only tasted the cake twice when baking it. After eating a tiny slice, he agreed that it had the right amount of sweetness even he would love. They took turns feeding each other until about a quarter of the cake vanished, the wine further lifting their spirits.
Later, Jongin declared the celebration hadn’t ended. It meant Sehun with his back pressed against the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. Jongin sank to his knees, tugging down Sehun’s pants and boxers, holding his narrow hips to suck him off. Sehun’s flushed face and labored breathing complemented the lovely Jeju night view behind him, an exquisite sight that Jongin would never forget as he brought him to completion.
Black Day fell on a workday that week. Singles in the office and those fresh from breakups made plans to grab jajangmyeon, or hit the karaoke to belt out their feelings. Some treated it like a regular day and agreed to spend it by bar and club hopping, never mind they had to work tomorrow. After the meeting concluded at midday, Jongin told the employees he would be buying them lunch, much to their surprise, but not more than when he told them to take a walk at the nearby park if they were feeling sleepy on their desks to enjoy the cherry blossoms.
“Director, were you always so romantic? Are you trying to comfort us singles?” one of them asked, after exiting the meeting room.
Jongin chuckled. “I’m just in an especially good mood today, that’s all.”
He took his own advice of taking a walk at the park somewhere close to three in the afternoon. The faint scent of the cherry blossoms greeted him upon arriving. Many people were enjoying picnics, couples flying kites, and children playing with each other. A bite of coldness was present in the breeze even if winter had long left. Good thing he took a scarf with him—a birthday present from Sehun this year, telling him he should dress warmly during cold weather since he easily fell sick. Jongin buried his face in the scarf, repeatedly taking in a calming whiff of patchouli and magnolia that Sehun left on it after wearing. He now took this scarf with him on his afternoon strolls to recharge before returning to the office.
At seven in the evening, the employees at Ginkgo Garden greeted him with extra cheer in their voices. Jongin reciprocated with a smile. He wasn’t sure if any of the employees were aware about his relationship with Sehun, but Jongin didn’t mind as much. Maybe some did—one of them nudged their co-worker, who rushed to tell Jongin that Sehun was in his office taking a call but could go right ahead inside.
Sehun had just ended the call when Jongin opened the door. His initial surprise faded right away, a huge smile appearing on his face that had Jongin’s heart cartwheeling. It had been months, but reacting like this to Sehun’s smile—Sehun’s everything—hadn’t changed.
Sehun walked around his desk to meet him halfway, and Jongin exhaled a happy sigh the moment their arms wound around each other.
“Missed you today, hyung,” Sehun whispered in his ear, followed by a kiss to Jongin’s forehead.
“We saw each other this morning before leaving for work,” Jongin couldn’t help but tease, smiling into the wool of Sehun’s sweater.
“Who cares? Even if it’s only been hours, and we texted a bit during lunchtime, I still missed you.” Sehun tightened his embrace. Moments later, he pulled back so they were facing each other. “Are you ready to go? I’ve sorted the last of my business, and a relative will take over until closing.”
They went to the same jajangmyeon restaurant from the previous year. This time, however, they entered the establishment as a couple. Still, despite what Black Day signified and what eating jajangmyeon symbolized, it didn’t stop them from indulging in the famous dish as they talked about work then shifted to other topics.
“Whoa, Sehun!”
Like some sort of funny déjà vu, Jongin watched, with morbid amusement, as Kiwoo appeared out of nowhere and walked up to their table. There were no marked differences on Kiwoo, as Jongin recalled, except the clothes and the dyed hair in shocking pink. “What a coincidence running into you here—again.” He grinned, hinting he wasn’t clueless about this strange but familiar turn of events.
Sehun laughed, indicating he picked up on his meaning. “I hope you’re not alone this time.”
“No. My girlfriend went to the washroom, and I was in charge of finding us a table. But, say, this is such good timing, even if it’s weird.” Kiwoo reached into the side pocket of his jeans, grin already widening and full of intent as he slowly brought out the familiar tin box.
“No.”
Both of them gaped at Jongin, who chimed in with Sehun right when he gave his answer.
“No,” Jongin repeated, wearing a smile of his own. “I’m sorry, Kiwoo-ssi. You can’t take my boyfriend to a group blind date,” he said as sweetly as possible. It didn’t mean he wasn’t serious with his words.
“What my boyfriend said,” Sehun spoke, giving Kiwoo an unapologetic smile. “He doesn’t like sharing.”
Kiwoo’s reaction was one for the books, and then he was doubled over in laughter. “Oh, man! This is going to make a lot of people cry. Oh Sehun, the desirable alpha bachelor, is now shockingly off the singles market! They’re gonna go into mourning when they hear.” Straightening up, he added, “But congratulations on your relationship. I sincerely wish for it to last a long time.”
“Kiwoo-ssi is a nice guy, huh?” Jongin remarked, after they were left alone to eat once again. “Hopefully his current relationship lasts a long time, too.”
“He’s going to look for other people to use as a ground blind date attractor from now on.” Sehun lightly pushed side dishes Jongin’s way in a silent request for him to eat more. “Thank god I’ve graduated from that. But I will never graduate from being treated to jajangmyeon every year on the same day, though. Right, hyung?”
“You’re ridiculous.” Jongin gave a small laugh but didn’t refute it.
To aid in digestion, they walked around the streets, browsing for interesting deals and marketing ploys by various stores to attract single people. In hindsight, Jongin opined that going on a date on a day that emphasized singlehood celebration seemed a tad bit ironic; then again, nothing would stop him from enjoying today.
They passed by a café offering friendship bundles comprised of limited-edition pastries and drinks when Sehun suddenly said, “By the way, either by the end of the year or the next, Grandma Insook is looking to open a Lotus Pond branch in Busan. There’s a high demand for it in a recent survey conducted online. Many Busan locals haven’t stopped clamoring for a branch, and that was probably the push my grandmother needed to take another chance.” Sehun’s forehead creased a bit in worry as he said his next words. “It’s not final yet, but I might become busy in the second or third quarter of the year. That means traveling back and forth again, or staying in Busan for weeks like last time.”
“Why are you so worried about that? You’ve seen me at my busiest. You never complained if we only saw each other twice a month, even before we became a couple.”
“I worry because you might miss me too much.”
Jongin mimed whacking Sehun on the shoulder. Sehun barked out an amused laugh and held his hand tighter to prevent escape. “I just wanted to be transparent with you about this. I want to talk to you about things that are important to me.”
Tried as he might, Jongin’s annoyance never stayed long. Not when he was up against Sehun’s assurance and honesty.
“You sure are working hard.”
“If I don’t work hard, how can I secure our future?”
Jongin’s eyes widened. “‘Our future?’ You’ve thought that far off?”
“Isn’t that natural? We’re adults, hyung. Romance is nice and gives us warm fuzzies, but that’s not going to be enough to sustain us if we’re thinking long-term.” Despite the seriousness of Sehun’s expression, a flicker of hesitation appeared, as if wondering if he should’ve mentioned this at all. “Am I moving too fast? Is it… too sudden to be thinking about such things?”
Six months of dating, going on seven. Six years of friendship before that. If Jongin thought about it, his feelings in that timeframe had only surged stronger as opposed to having them wane. Every relationship was different; theirs was no exception. If Jongin felt this was going too fast, he didn’t sense it. The absence of hesitation and fear hearing Sehun’s words were not only enlightening but also, surprisingly, gave him an assurance that at this point, there was no other hand he wanted to hold for a long, long time.
“I will rely on you in that future then,” Jongin said, giving Sehun a warm smile. “But let’s take it one step at a time. Let’s start by seeing each other every day.”
Sehun made a noise of confusion, brows furrowing the slightest bit. “Don’t we already do that?”
“Yes, but let’s go one step further. Move in with me.”
Sehun’s mouth formed an ‘O’ in realization. He listed his head, feigning contemplation, and then blew out an exaggerated sigh. “In some way, I am beginning to think I was destined to be your doormat.”
Jongin caught the teasing tone underscoring Sehun’s words. “Are you regretting it already? I didn’t know your determination ran this shallow.”
“One day, I want to put a ring here.” Sehun lifted their clasped hands to press a kiss on Jongin’s ring finger. “Until that day comes, I’ll continue working hard to be a man worthy of giving you that ring. So if I have any missteps, please be patient with me and continue staying by my side.”
Jongin’s heart felt so full to the point of bursting. He had no idea it was possible to feel like this. Had no idea happiness like this could exist. “Oh Sehun, when did you learn to talk so sweetly but so adult-like, too?”
“Simple. You bring out the best in me.” In Sehun’s eyes shone an unmistakable adoration. “And I hope I do the same to you, too. You’ve always been guiding and protecting me, but I want to do those, too.” He pushed a lock of hair away from Jongin’s forehead, fingers tenderly trailing down the side of his face. “I’ll take care of you now, hyung. Let’s continue getting along well while growing together and learning from each other.”
Sehun gave Jongin’s cheek a light brush with his palm. Jongin instantly nuzzled into it, turning his head to place a kiss.
The future was a nebulous entity, thickened by an impenetrable fog that obscured one’s view of what laid in store for them. But as long as Jongin held Sehun’s sure and steady hand, as long as the foundation of their relationship and feelings remained consistent and unshakable, he was more than ready to face all the obstacles tossed their way to protect a future where they would one day wear matching rings. A future where their household would hear the laughter of children and the pitter-patter of their feet. A future with financial stability, well-developed careers, and a solid support system from family and friends.
A future where only happiness and love existed.
fin.