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Lee Donghae has been in Seoul for approximately one month when he receives his first courting gift.
It’s a small, innocuous thing. A Shinhwa CD, sitting right on the table where Donghae usually takes his morning coffee after his jog. When he lifts the case delicately, confusedly inspecting the present, the sweet fragrance of roses wafts up to his nose. An omega’s scent.
Donghae has never received a courting gift before. He’s tempted to glance around, as if anyone in his perimeter could be the suitor. But, he supposes, if that person were nearby, he’d smell them first. He’s never come across such an audacious floral scent before, at least not outside of heat. The boldness of the fragrance makes him wonder who this other person could be—a daring one, for sure. But daring enough to court an alpha as an omega?
His CD player, which he always brings out at this time, feels a little weightier in his bag now. Fishing it out, he places the Shinhwa CS into the player, watches the graphics on the disc’s front blur into a flash of color, and listens in satisfaction as the music flows out, perfect and clear.
Thirty minutes later, he has to run out of the cafe because his coffee has gone cold and he’ll be late for work if he doesn’t hurry. But still, he can’t stop himself from pressing his nose to the CD case one more time, a small smile reaching his lips.
***
Donghae finds his second gift next to his gym locker—a white sports headband to keep his hair out of his eyes. Gently scenting the soft fabric, he finds none of the roses from earlier. Instead: something a bit rougher. Sage. Wood. Confused, he spends almost five minutes deeply scenting it until his alarm reminds him to get in the shower before the gym closes.
The night air is crisp and cool tonight. Winters are colder in Seoul, he’s learned. But winters have been cold even before he came here, since he first left his hometown for university, leaving everyone he loved behind. He can still remember his best friend’s smile stretching on for kilometers ahead of him, disappearing into the dark horizon. In Seoul, the horizon is lined by bright lights and skyscrapers. Here, the cold winters are normal, and the dull pain is just a symptom of another day passed.
Donghae likes to think about it like that, if only to imagine a whole city of people aching just as deeply as he is.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. Donghae checks, but he doesn’t answer. He lets the call go to voicemail as he steps into the heated interior of the subway station. Swiping his card, he doesn’t think anything about the myriad of scents drifting around him. In his first few weeks in Seoul, it’d been almost claustrophobic, all those scents at once. Now, he simply pulls up his mask and continues on as though his nose isn’t twitching. Only to be assaulted with a putrid rose scent as soon as he descends the escalator.
Suddenly, Donghae cannot breathe. There’s a woman on the ground, unconscious. A group of policemen surround her, trying to wake her up and failing. Another sniff, and Donghae can tell that awful distressed scent isn’t coming from her. No, not when there is an odor of alcohol emanating from her that tells him all he needs to know.
Before he realizes it, he is desperately searching for the origin of that rose scent, desperately hoping that they are safe and that they have not been too badly scarred by the encounter. But the last train is bound to leave soon, and he must catch it before he’s stranded in a city where he has no one to drive him home.
The headband lays, forgotten, in his gym bag.
***
As expected, Donghae does not get much sleep that night, his mind conjuring images of a helpless omega being cornered by a drunk stranger. No one around to help. No one around to care.
Except, he knows that’s not how it happened. He remembers seeing a welt on the drunk woman’s cheek from the night before. At the very least, the omega was able to defend themself. He clings to this fact even as he slinks into the nearest convenience store half an hour earlier than he usually would be awake and buys a bottle of scent distresser. The kind that can bring even the strongest alpha to their knees.
Donghae doesn’t particularly care how expensive it is. When he arrives at the cafe, ragged and running on approximately two hours of sleep, he’s just glad that there is no gift, yet. As normal, he orders his coffee, heads to his seat, and waits for his number to be called. Only, this time, he leaves the little spray bottle on the table next to him as he waits, nervously, for this omega to approach him.
But that never happens. The next time he opens his eyes, the bottle is gone, replaced by the cup of coffee he had ordered an hour ago but forgotten to retrieve. Next to the cup is an avocado toast and a pink sticky note with several words scrawled in neat handwriting.
thank you!! it reads. don’t worry!! i slapped that fucker so hard her eyes flew open <33
BTW i gave you an extra shot of espresso so you don’t pass out at work ;33
Startled, Donghae laughs. He pulls out his CD player, with that Shinhwa disc still inside, and loses himself inside the music again until, like a sudden rainfall, he recalls the second gift he had received the day before. The headband that he had left at home, buried underneath his boxing gloves and his kinesthetic tape.
Curiously, he turns the little present over in his head, remembering its scent, its feel, its softness in his hands. Whoever had given him the headband had known of his fondness for Nike branded sportswear. Had seen his sweat-sticky hair hanging beside his face as he did his reps on the row machine.
But Donghae is an alpha, and he knows it is not customary to give two gifts in one day.
He finishes the rest of his coffee quickly and gives his sleeve a small sniff before he heads out. There is no way his coworkers aren’t aware of his possible courtship with an omega now, with how strong the roses are. The fact makes him burn up inside, a little, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
That night, when he goes to the gym again, he goes a bit earlier with his new headband in hand. He has a bit of a hunch, but he needs to confirm it. Holding the headband to his nose, he can taste the ever so subtle scent of roses beyond the sage. The shadow of a second suitor.
Donghae knows that it will be at least a week before he meets both his suitors face to face. Yet, he cannot help the thrill, the exhilaration of the chase. Carefully, he loops the headband into his hair and smiles at himself through his shiny reflection in the locker door. For the first time since he has arrived in the dreary city, he feels excited to be alive.
Although he is earlier than normal, it is still late. No one populating the brightly lit gym except for motivated office workers who lack lives at home. Self-deprecatingly, Donghae finds himself slotting neatly into the demographic, his entire family kilometers away in a town he doesn’t want to return to. His phone is still laden with unread messages, lead in his stomach. He does not want to read what has been said, but he cannot bring himself to block the number. Not yet.
As he works out, he tries to not let his eyes wander. It is impolite, especially being an alpha, to stare at the others in the gym. But he seems to be grasping particularly hard today for some sort of reason to stay tethered to the world. A burst of energy provided by the morning gift, he assumes. He wonders mildly what kind of gift may show up at his locker today and nearly trips over the leg of a weight rack, if not for a pair of large hands, steadying him before he can plummet towards the ground.
When Donghae looks up, he meets the eyes of an absolutely gorgeous man.
“Are you—are you okay?” the man stutters, his cheeks strangely flushed. Donghae inhales on instinct and, oddly, does not smell anything.
“Yes. Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Pulling himself upright, he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. When the other man lets go of his hand, strangely, he feels a strange sense of loss pierce through him. As if to remedy the sudden emptiness, he offers his hand again. “I’m Lee Donghae. You are?”
Perhaps, it is his unfamiliarity with the city that prompts him to ask. In the town where he used to live, everyone knew each other’s names. A stranger meant an opportunity to ask, a new neighbor to fawn over and a new friend to make. A new person to invite over for food and drinks. Donghae watches the man’s eyes—liquidy, brown, gorgeous— widen in surprise and immediately curses his own country-bumpkin instincts.
“Sorry. You don’t have to answer. I—”
“I’m Cho Kyuhyun. Kyuhyun.” The other man accepts his hand slowly, a cherry-blossomed pinkness flooding over his cheeks and cascading down the soft curve of his ears. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Donghae blinks. Then smiles. “Nice to meet you too.”
Kyuhyun smiles back shyly. He lets go of Donghae’s hand, and, oddly, the dwindling warmth tugs at something inside him. An old, familiar soreness. As Kyuhyun scurries towards the bench press, Donghae allows his eyes to river down the outline of his body.
And then he cannot stop himself from moving, from jogging up to that stranger and offering, recklessly, “Let me spot you?”
Kyuhyun pauses, no less flushed than before. “I don’t lift enough to need a spotter.”
“It’s unsafe to not have one. Plus, you can push yourself a little more if I’m there?” Donghae feels breathless for some reason. “I’ll leave you alone if you really want me to, but even I need a spotter.”
The other man thinks for a moment, tugging on his lips with his teeth. Then, he nods.
“Okay.”
Kyuhyun really does not lift a lot, at least not at first. Donghae asks him his starting weight, the amount of reps he wants to do, if he needs help lifting off. The bar is cold in his hands. Kyuhyun has beautiful hands, Donghae observes. Rosy knuckles. Calloused yet nimble fingers. He stares down at Kyuhyun’s concentrated expression, sweat pooling on the bright moon of his forehead, and thinks that it has been years since he’s been so close to another man. Not in a romantic or sexual way but in the way that you can be so close to someone that you are sharing the same region of air.
When Kyuhyun holds his breath, Donghae tenses. When Kyuhyun breathes, Donghae relaxes.
He does not remember how long they spend like that, one man standing over another, his hands open and ready. Kyuhyun’s life rising and falling between the cracks of his fingers. But it only takes a moment—Kyuhyun’s large eyes catching a glint of light above Donghae’s head—and then he’s failing, gasping as Donghae rescues the bench press from his grip.
“Done?” Donghae asks, not unkindly.
Kyuhyun drags himself upright and steadies a hand on his chest. His undershirt peeks out from underneath his collar, damp with perspiration. “Done,” he affirms. “Thank you.”
Donghae pulls himself up into a long stretch, attempting informality. “You’re good, you know. With a spotter, you can push yourself a bit more.”
“I suppose I’ll have to look for you then,” Kyuhyun says, almost casual. His gaze slowly slides up to meet Donghae’s, betraying his nerves. “If that’s okay?”
“Oh! Yeah, sure. I’d like that!” Donghae grins. An old knot loosening inside him.
They part ways then. He does a few more reps around the gym, feeling awfully restless no matter how many weights he piles onto the machines. An arrangement of light keeps returning to the forefront of his mind—Kyuhyun. The wide slopes of his hips. The pale bend of his knee. The generous swell of his ass.
The showers are empty when Donghae roils in with only a towel and burning urge. There is more than enough privacy for him to wrap his fingers around his cock and jerk until he is seeing white in the reflection of the shower tiles. Kyuhyun’s sweet face contorting in the trembling luminescence. Fist against the wall, Donghae remembers the headband, the toast, the CD, and wants to die.
But he still checks his locker before he leaves, finding a small roll of Kodak Gold and a sticky note.
Thank you.
Donghae doesn’t know what exactly the suitor is thanking him for. He feels like shit, having jacked off to a man he’s only just met when he probably has two people courting him. The note smells the same as it had the night before, sagey and woody. He tucks it into his pocket and retrieves his bag, all too aware of the heady arousal leaking off of him in waves. Behind him, his footsteps echo like rocks thrown into empty rivers.
***
Donghae receives several more gifts after that—a notebook of blank music sheets, an expensive photography book, a new blender. Even a straight-up avocado, which has Donghae laughing into the office, blanketed in a rose scent.
He gets notes too, from that hidden suitor. Although the handwriting is atrocious, Donghae cannot help but to be charmed. The sticky notes are always pink, always fiery, always wishing him a good day, sometimes complaining about their own day.
this dick tried to shove past me on the subway but slipped and fell instead. i wanted to laugh at him SO hard but i held it in :P
one of my employees cried because she dropped a pan of cookies :((( i feel so badddd
do you like ballad music? asking for someone else :3
included a tart with your order today <33 looks like you needed a pick-me-up
It’s cute. Donghae likes them, this spunky omega who loves and hates so fiercely.
But he is sure, now, that the Gym Suitor and the Cafe Suitor are two different people. One, distinctly omega. The other, unknown. Donghae has no preferences—he knows this very well. But knowing himself, would he even be able to choose between both his suitors? Knowing himself, would he just break both of their hearts and flee, intent on protecting his own emotional integrity? Donghae has never been courted of course. Not just because he is an alpha but because he is prone to falling first. Diving headfirst without calculating the distance downwards.
But somehow, he puts aside his brief shameful infatuation with Kyuhyun and becomes gym buddies with him. Talking to someone makes working out more bearable; otherwise, Donghae’s just left with his own, degrading self-talk—why are you so weak, you’ve been here for so long and you’re still weak, fucking finish the set—which lingers even though it had been the whole reason he had started going to the gym in the first place. Scentless, Kyuhyun’s secondary gender remains a mystery to him, still, but the lack of information feels like a comfort. A steadfast reminder of Kyuhyun’s boundaries, even if Donghae has started calling him Kyu and Kyuhyun has started bashfully calling him Hae-hyung.
“Do you have a partner, Kyu-yah?” he asks one evening, unable to help himself. The impending gift at his locker only gives him dread now. A reminder of his failure to decide. Heartbreak rushing towards all three of them at once. Only this time: Donghae’s finger on the trigger.
But he grasps. He watches Kyuhyun’s expression flitter through several emotions at once—surprise, thoughtfulness, caution. “I have one partner, hyung,” he reveals, glancing at him skittishly, “for now.”
“For now?” Donghae tilts his head at him, but, stubbornly, Kyuhyun refuses to meet his eyes again.
“Yeah. For now.”
The admission unlatches something. A door swinging open inside him.
Donghae does not speak for the rest of that night, deep in thought.
***
It is the morning of the final day of the second week of his courting. The cafe is peaceful today, somehow quieter despite its usual hustle and bustle. Sweetly, a light scent wafts through the air, but Donghae cannot find it within himself to identify it now.
He has spent the last two months ignoring phone calls. But he cannot ignore this one.
“... Eomma?”
“Donghae-yah.” She sounds relieved. A twinge of guilt suddenly passes through him, for having worried her. For disappearing.
“Eomma, I’m here.”
“I’m so glad. Hyukjae said he couldn’t get ahold of you. I was so worried that something had gone wrong.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay. What’s up?”
His mother must hesitate for a second before she chooses to speak. As though she is about to deliver a death sentence.
“Hyukjae wanted to invite you to his wedding? It’s happening in a few months. I can text you the exact details later, but he wanted me to get confirmation from you. They’re finalizing the guest list soon.”
Donghae swallows. The world feels as though it is crumbling around him. His mother must know, for her tone softens.
“Hae-yah, you don’t have to go.” she says, gentle.
But he must. “He was—is my best friend. I can’t not go. He’d be miserable.”
“You’ve been avoiding his calls for a while,” his mother replies, not unkindly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t come.”
The response hurts more than it should. Donghae knows she is right; he has been avoiding Hyukjae. Ever since he stopped responding to texts, he’s been looking for reasons to not see Hyukjae standing beside him in the bathroom mirror, Hyukjae watching him from street corners, Hyukjae crying in the reflection of the sunglasses right before he left for university.
“I’m going. Tell him I’m going.” Donghae’s voice hardens.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.” He hears his mother take a deep breath. “Then I’ll tell him that. Take care, okay? Of yourself. Of your heart.”
“I will. I love you?”
“I love you too. Call anytime. We miss you.”
The line goes dead. Woodenly, Donghae reaches for his morning coffee, only to find that it has gone cold. Outside, the snow has started to layer the streets, coating the scenery in a film of powdery white. The cafe has been heated up accordingly, but all he can feel is the chill.
“Are you okay?”
Startling slightly, Donghae looks up to see one of the most beautiful omegas he has ever seen. The omega smiles at him kindly, then carefully places a new, steaming cup of coffee on the table.
“I noticed yours was getting cold,” he explains, a note of sympathy in his voice. “It’s too cold outside to be drinking cold coffee.”
Donghae blinks at him. “Thank you,” he says. Carefully, he wraps his hands around the hot paper cup, the warmth spreading from his fingers through his body. Turning his gaze upwards once more, he finds that the omega has not left. Instead, he is eyeing him with expectation, a mischievous twinkle in his gaze.
“I’m sorry. Do you need something from me?” Donghae asks cautiously.
Beautifully, the omega throws his head back and laughs, the sound as bright as ringing bells. A hand combing through his honey blond hair, his bright eyes curve comfortably into soft, coy crescents. “Hyung, I’m wounded. You can’t recognize me? The CD and the blender meant nothing to you?”
He pushes his bottom lip out into a pout. Donghae’s eyes grow large.
“You—?”
The roses. The woman in the subway station. The pink sticky notes. The coffee. The gifts.
“Me.” The omega replies, giggling. “Sorry, I should introduce myself properly.”
Donghae watches, entranced, as the rosy fragrance wreaths around him. Like a warm summer breeze embracing him in the midst of winter. Gently rescuing him from the snow, he can almost feel the thorns on the vines pricking him as they deliver him right into the hands of this mesmerizing, radiant omega.
The omega smiles, confident, and thrusts a hand towards him,
“I’m Kim Ryeowook. And I’d like to officially court you.”
***
Ryeowook is cheerful, somehow beatific despite apparently waking up at 5am for his morning shift at the cafe. He’s a baker, and he’s apparently one of the owners of the cafe, alongside an old friend.
“Kanghoon-hyung covers the coffee. I cover the pastries.” Ryeowook laughs, airy and sweet. “It works out nicely that way.”
Somehow, he knows Donghae’s work schedule, which is why he promises to meet him for lunch later that day. This unfortunately means that Donghae cannot focus the entire morning, especially when the entire office can smell Ryeowook on him. For the trouble, he gets a few claps on the back and friendly smiles from people his age who have already settled down with their husbands or wives and had several children. Better late than never! they tell him as though they are expecting him to smile in response. Donghae does.
By the time lunch rolls around, he feels like he is vibrating out of his skin. Ryeowook’s smile is seared into his brain, the way it lifts his cheekbones towards his eyes, the way it shapes his lips into a wide heart. Donghae wants to see it again, that smile.
When he reaches the little park Ryeowook had found between both their workplaces, the little omega is already there, shivering visibly. His big, fluffy coat does not look like it fits him in the slightest, creating sweater paws where he cups the two large boxes in his lap. Donghae’s breath turns to mist as he jogs over, heart thudding in his chest.
“Isn’t it cold out here?” he asks. “Let’s go inside.”
Ryeowook blinks at him, his cheeks flushed with cold, his eyes glassy. He doesn’t protest when Donghae gently tugs him to his feet and back towards his office building. If he earns a couple of stares from his coworkers, he does not care. The building has never been closed off to visitors, being one of those large modern ones you could practically live in. Gently, Donghae pushes Ryeowook into a padded seat and lowers himself into one right across from him.
“Too far.” Donghae hears Ryeowook mumble. “Closer.”
And then the omega is picking himself up and plopping down right next to Donghae. They are a tight squeeze, but Donghae can’t really think about lost space when he feels as though all the air has just been crushed out of his lungs. All of that oxygen, replaced by something he can only describe as reckless infatuation. Something new to think about. Something that isn’t Hyukjae.
“Is this okay?” Ryeowook’s voice seems so small now. But he is smiling. Dumbly, Donghae nods, and the omega nestles a bit closer, the crown of his head brushing gently against Donghae’s cheek. The LED lights above, normally so nauseatingly bright, soften in the warm brown of Ryeowook’s eyes. Rolling his sleeves up, Ryeowook finally cracks open one of the large boxes in his lap.
Donghae’s mouth goes dry. “You made me lunch?”
There is kimchi fried rice and fried egg and stir fried anchovies and what looks like a million other things all crowded into the same perimeter. Even a small thermos of warm doenjang-jjigae is hidden on the side.
“For your gift today. The coffee doesn’t count,” Ryeowook says. “For the record, I didn’t make this all myself. I had help.”
“Help—?”
Ryeowook holds a finger to his lips, his eyes twinkling again. Entranced, Donghae can only lace his own lips together, watching in silence as Ryeowook’s blued fingers reach for a pair of chopsticks.
“Wait, your hands.” Gingerly, Donghae captures Ryeowook’s frigid hands with his own. They are larger than his, somehow, and they feel like icicles between his palms. “You should wear gloves in this weather,” he scolds gently.
Ryeowook is pink. “It’s okay. I knew you’d warm me up.”
The words hang in the air like thin curtains. Steadying his heart, Donghae dares to peek through. “You’re good at this. Flirting.”
“I’ve had practice.” Ryeowook blows some hot air into the canyon of their joined hands. He does not elaborate. Instead, he looks towards the food once more. “It’ll get cold if we don’t start eating soon.”
“Oh! Yes. Right.”
There is so much that Donghae is not sure he can finish everything. Ryeowook attempts to feed him, but his frigid fingers can barely hold chopsticks. Donghae hands him a spoon instead so that he can hold the thermos of soup in his lap and let the steam waft over his face. Like this, he is a little less sparkly than he was at their first meeting. Just a man, surviving through the cold.
“You’ve been here your entire life?” Donghae finds himself asking. It is a mistake, the way his thoughts always drift back towards home. The home he left behind.
But Ryeowook grants him a small mercy. “Not really? I grew up in Incheon. Moved to Seoul for pastry school.”
“So you’ve known what you’ve wanted to do—since high school?”
“Basically, yes.” Ryeowook smiles at him through a screen of steam. “I like making people happy with what I make. And sweets make people happy.”
They are remarkably unalike, Donghae realizes. In high school, he’d been convinced of his love for music, of his love of his small town, of his love. But all things must come to an end. Some things, not fast enough.
“Why me—?” he blurts out. Before his hand remembers its place over his heart.
“It’s a bit early in the process to ask,” Ryeowook says, a bit humorously, “but I’ve never really cared for things like that. The truth is, you’re handsome, and you’re a kind person. That’s all I can say. Or else, I’ll get killed.”
He giggles a little. Donghae, momentarily, forgets his internal angst and becomes transfixed on the beautiful omega in front of him. Who had cooked for him and bought him gifts for the last two weeks.
“We should exchange numbers,” he says.
Before he can even blink, Ryeowook’s phone is in his hands.
In the last moments they have together, Ryeowook is strangely evasive. He keeps giggling about something, and when Donghae asks about what?, all he receives in return is oh, you’ll find out very, very soon!
Donghae’s chest feels so close to bursting that he forgets all about the Gym Suitor. Forgets all about the headband and the roll of film and the gym buddy with pretty eyes who he wishes would be The One. All he can see is Ryeowook, so small and so pretty in the dull sunlight that, for once, he thinks winter may not be so bad after all.
***
Kyuhyun is not at the gym. Not in the locker room or near the arm machines or even his favorite stair climber. Donghae almost contemplates ditching his workout for the day and sitting at home, miserably counting the hours until he can see Ryeowook again. A month ago, such a thought wouldn’t have even ghosted through his mind. Now, it closely accompanies the squeak of his shoes against the rubber gym floor.
He is about to give up and head towards the showers thirty minutes early, when he suddenly smells something in the air. Sage.
“Hyung?”
Donghae turns to find Kyuhyun standing before him, his soft brown curls mussed up and his chest heaving. He is wearing a long coat and a crocheted scarf—both of which are, evidently, not things that one should wear while working out. He is staring at Donghae with such emotion in his eyes that Donghae is thrown back to the moment they had met.
He smells like the gifts that have been appearing at the gym.
“It’s you,” Donghae breathes. “Kyuhyunie.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to get here as quickly as possible, but there was a meeting at the office. I didn’t have time to change into workout clothes either so I just came over here like this,” Kyuhyun rambles. “I was supposed to get you flowers also, but they didn’t arrive in time so I didn’t bring anything. I’ll make it up to you, hyung, I promise. I’ve got your gifts right here.”
Fumbling his phone out of his bag, he clicks frantically before showing him his phone screen. A ticket. No, three of them. To the small, indie rock band whose breakup songs he’s been looping every day while at the gym.
“Oh my God,” Donghae utters. “Thank you?”
“Yes, um. I was meaning for us to go with you, but you can totally go with your friends instead if you want! It’s just—you listen to them every day so…”
“No, I’d love to go with you. Wait, us —?”
“Yes.” Kyuhyun nods rapidly. “Me and you and Ryeowook.”
Ryeowook. Donghae’s mouth drops open. “You and him…?”
A length of silence stretches between them.
Kyuhyun squints. “We’re together, yes. I thought you knew? From the scents of the gifts I gave you?”
Donghae stares at him, lost, and Kyuhyun recoils. The acrid scent of fear fills the air.
“You didn’t know?”
He steps away, clutching his phone to his chest, and Donghae steps forward, reaching desperately.
“I only suspected. But it’s okay! This… I like this.”
He must smell honest, for Kyuhyun relaxes, his scent softening. Suddenly, Donghae does not want to be here, in the middle of the gym where there are others who will notice the air sweetening around them and will want to know why. Why Donghae is standing alone with a man dressed as though he is coming from a fancy work meeting. Why he wants to knit his fingers into Kyuhyun’s soft hair and snarl his name into his pretty neck. Why he cannot stop imagining him and Ryeowook entangled together. Reaching towards him.
“Let’s take this somewhere more private?” he suggests. He offers a hand to Kyuhyun, and shyly, Kyuhyun accepts.
They find themselves a secluded corner of the building where no one usually ventures. Kyuhyun’s hand is cold but soft, somehow. Donghae squeezes it gently.
“So. How long have you and Ryeowook been a pair?”
Even in the fluorescent gym lighting, he can see the way the question makes Kyuhyun light up.
“A while now. We’ve been together since school—? So maybe about a year now,” Kyuhyun says, a small smile stretching his lips. “He told me about you. Said you were very sweet to him.”
Donghae cannot help but to blush. “He’s magnetic.”
“I know. No one can resist him. It’s a bit of a problem.” Kyuhyun laughs. His eyes hold something knowing in them, creasing downwards as they survey Donghae’s form with shrouded caution. “Thank you though. For the scent distressor. He carries it with him all the time now when I can’t be with him.”
“I’m glad. I was so worried? I just… I just went to the subway, and I smelled him.” Donghae sighs.
Kyuhyun nods. “It was so scary. I told him to take the day off afterwards, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s so stubborn, hyung!”
His voice tapers off into a bit of a whine. A faint sweetness curls in the air, present but restrained. Timid. A veil that will have to be inspected soon but not now. Donghae simply squeezes Kyuhyun’s hand and breathes in the rest of what the other man allows him to have.
“Ryeowook will be expecting me soon,” Kyuhyun says apologetically, “but we’ll meet soon for the concert. I’ll send the tickets to you by text. Ryeowookie gave me your number.”
He lets go of Donghae’s hand. Donghae’s hand closes again, except, this time, around nothing.
“I’ll see you then. It was nice seeing you, Kyu.”
Kyuhyun blushes again. “You too, hyung.”
And then he’s gone, hurrying away into the dimly lit hallway. His long coat flutters behind him, casting a shadow that, for a split second, lingers even after he is out of Donghae’s sight. Struck by a sudden impulse, Donghae pulls his phone out.
Hyukjae’s name. The eleven unread messages. The five missed calls. The wedding.
I can have love too, Donghae thinks. I can have love too, Hyuk.
Hyukjae’s profile photo only stares back, suspended in the joy of that moment. Mustering a smile, Donghae closes his phone and rises. Heads home.
***
Donghae begins planning his outfit a day before the concert itself. Not because he is particularly stylish or organized but because he cannot sleep.
Back when they were still students, Hyukjae had been the one who loved fashion. He’d save a bit of change each week from his part-time job to buy a new fashion magazine every week. Feet kicked up, stomach flattened onto Donghae’s hard mattress, he could spend hours commenting on each outfit, each model, each pose. And Donghae could imagine Hyukjae in every one. Hyukjae, bathed in bright lights. Hyukjae, walking down the runway. Hyukjae, loved by all.
But then he’d close the magazine and smile at Donghae, his gums shining, and Donghae would see him caged by reality once more: the country boy he’d loved since middle school. He never quite believed him when he said he’d be happy working at his family restaurant until retirement. But, then again, did Donghae even know Hyukjae anyway?
What is a dream?
“—hair is ruined, Kyu! How am I supposed to meet him like this?!”
A wail. A placating hand.
“Let me fix it for you. It’s not ruined. See? It’s all pretty again.”
A couple of sniffles. The scent of roses unsouring.
Donghae reaches their meeting point to find Kyuhyun tucking a few stray hairs beyond Ryeowook’s ears. Ryeowook’s large hands are tucked snugly in Kyuhyun’s coat pockets, and when he tilts his head up again, pout melted off his face, he giggles and rises up onto the tips of his toes. Eyes closing as he kisses him.
Under the light of the late afternoon sun, they are resplendent. Untouchable.
Donghae cannot do anything but watch them.
“Oh, hyung! You’re here!”
But Ryeowook pulls away first, bouncing over to grasp Donghae’s hand. He smells like both himself and Kyuhyun, and he is grinning so widely it almost looks like it hurts. Kyuhyun follows closely behind him, silently flashing him a small smile as Ryeowook tugs him towards the concert venue. His grip is surprisingly strong; Donghae cannot help but to be pulled along.
“I listened to all their albums before coming—of course. I wish I’d started listening to them sooner!” Ryeowook chatters excitedly. “Did you have an easy time getting here? Do you need a ride back? Kyu is great at driving!”
Blinking dumbly, Donghae just stares at him. Kyuhyun very gently raps his knuckles on the side of Ryeowook’s head. “Baby, you’re overwhelming him.”
“Oh! Sorry.” Ryeowook smiles sheepishly. He does not let go of Donghae’s hand. “Are you okay, hyung?”
“Oh, yes. Um—you guys are cute together.” Donghae does not mean to sound as strained as he does, but Kyuhyun must hear the odd note in his voice, for his eyes soften.
“Ryeowookie insisted on coming here early because he was so excited to see you. I was too, of course,” he reassures.
Ryeowook nods rapidly. “Kyuhyun’s been fussing over his outfit ever since we bought the ticket! Which was weeks ago.”
“You’ve been thinking of courting me for so long?” Donghae breathes.
Kyuhyun smiles. “Of course. We took the decision very seriously.”
Donghae wants to ask him to elaborate, but Ryeowook gasps instead, jerking at his arm. “We need to get in! The show’s about to start!”
Around them, flocks of people pour towards the entrance of the venue. Donghae reaches into his bag.
“Earplugs. Just in case you didn’t have any.” He offers.
Thankful fingers reach into his opened palms. Kyuhyun reappears on the other side of Ryeowook and smiles nervously as the omega leads them forward.
The night begins.
***
In hindsight, Donghae is not sure if a band that mostly makes breakup music is a good choice for a first date. But Kyuhyun seems to be into it, and Ryeowook seems happy to be… anywhere, really. The only problem is Donghae. Or, rather, his tendency to love beyond reach.
The lead singer of the band is very good at singing. The atmosphere of the concert is great—intimate yet cheerful. Not everyone knows every lyric to every song, but it’s okay. There’s no pressure. It’s perfect.
Donghae keeps his eyes wide open. If he closes them, he might see Hyukjae lazing on his bed again, his pink tongue grazing the torn edges of his plump lips. Sheet music littering the covers. Where are you looking, Ddohae? he would have asked, dangling his head over the edge of the mattress. His teasing smile upside down. At your stupid face, Donghae would’ve probably replied, by reflex, if only to receive the shove he knows he deserves. He would’ve grinned, then, and turned back to his guitar. He would have pretended.
Someone touches his shoulder. Donghae turns to find Ryeowook offering his hand to him. Something to hold. Suddenly, he realizes that he has been crying. He takes the omegas hand and laces their fingers together tightly.
“Thanks,” he says, not entirely sure if Ryeowook can hear him, but Ryeowook smiles anyway. He gestures towards Kyuhyun’s seat, suddenly empty, and points at the scent glands on his neck.
Donghae frowns. He moves to stand, but Ryeowook shakes his head.
He’s okay, Ryeowook mouths over the music, but needs a break.
Donghae meets his eyes, unsure. But the omega does not back down, so he stays, clutching Ryeowook with one hand and dabbing tears out of his eyes with the other. A small cloud of roses settles around him, subtle but unmistakable.
By the time the concert ends, Donghae feels like his heart has been torn out of his chest. This was a mistake, he thinks as he stumbles out of the venue. His tears still haven’t dried on his cheeks.
Ryeowook touches his arm. His honey blond hair is a bit more mussed up than before while his lip gloss sparkles, perfectly intact. He is beautiful, his worried eyes shimmering in the light. “Do you need a hug, hyung?”
Donghae swallows. “Would that be… okay?”
“Of course!”
Ryeowook surges forward and wraps Donghae in the warmest embrace he has felt in ages. A panicked gasp escapes him; he cannot fall apart now, not when they are in public and Kyuhyun still isn’t anywhere to be seen. But when Ryeowook’s fingers stroke over the tense muscles of his back, like playing notes on a piano, he finds that, somehow, he can put himself back together.
“Where’s Kyuhyun?” he asks, snuffling as he pulls away.
Ryeowook smiles. “Probably somewhere more private. Let’s go find him?”
Their hands come together naturally. Donghae lets him lead the way, something inside him lightening.
They find Kyuhyun a hallway away, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. His nose is cupped in his hands. When Donghae and Ryeowook approach him, he opens his eyes immediately and frowns.
“Hyung? Have you been crying?” He reaches towards Donghae’s face as if to thumb the tears away, only to pause. Then, he reaches into his pocket and offers him a tissue instead. Donghae takes it gratefully, dabbing at his cheeks.
“Are you feeling okay, Kyuhyunie? Was it bad?” He hears Ryeowook ask.
“No. Just a bit overwhelming. I should have brought some nose blockers or something,” Kyuhyun wrinkles his nose. “Just… People everywhere. Concerts always make them lose their inhibitions.”
Ryeowook pecks him on the side of the lip. “Just be careful when you’re alone out here, okay? Bad alphas sometimes can sometimes creep around in situations like this.”
The question that had been lingering on Donghae’s mind rises to the front of his mind now. He opens his mouth, ready to ask, but the words do not taste pleasant on his tongue. Kyuhyun turns to him, his expression carefully blank. Donghae does not like them, the shadows behind his eyes.
Ryeowook tugs at his sleeve. They exchange silent words with only looks. Then, Kyuhyun squeezes Ryeowook’s arm and directs his attention to Donghae again.
“I’m an omega. We’re both omegas.”
“Oh!” Donghae flails a little. “Okay, that’s what I was kind of suspecting. But I didn’t want to assume and well…”
“I don’t really smell like an omega. And I don’t look like one either,” Kyuhyun finishes, his lips pressed into a thin line.
“I wouldn’t say that. After all, I’m a bit small for an alpha. And I just cried at a band concert.” Donghae laughs tearily. “Last time I checked, that wasn’t supposed to get me two of the prettiest omegas I’ve ever met.”
The chagrin melts off Kyuhyun’s face. “Don’t be too presumptuous, hyung. We’re the ones bagging you ,” Kyuhyun mumbles, blushing.
It is late, but they insist on driving Donghae home. Kyuhyun, wanting to make up for disappearing, stops at a convenience store on the way back and promises to buy anything that Donghae-hyung wants. Even in the darkness, Donghae stands no chance against his puppy-eyed pleading.
“How do you deal with that?” he asks Ryeowook when Kyuhyun is gone.
Ryeowook giggles at him. “I don’t. I let him do whatever he wants. Though he doesn’t ask for much.” There is a wistful note in his voice that Donghae longs to unearth and examine, but it is much too late, and there are bags underneath Ryeowook’s eyes. Kyuhyun comes toddling back mere moments later with a plastic bag full of savory snacks and sweet drinks.
They spend the last half hour of their date eating in the car, a comfortable silence filling the gaps between them.
“We had fun today, hyung. We’ll see you on Monday in our usual spots.” Kyuhyun’s voice is warm, and his big eyes have not yet lost their glow. In contrast, Ryeowook is tucked in his arms, his eyes drooping.
He yawns. “Bye hyung.”
Donghae cannot help the wave of fondness crashing through him. “Bye, Ryeowookie. Kyuhyunie.”
The last thing he sees before the door closes are the two omegas waving at him, drowsy but happy. Pressing his back against the door, Donghae lets himself slide down to the floor.
His heart aches, but he does not try to push it away. Instead, his hand over his chest, he smiles. For once, the throbbing leaves him anew. The pain of finally, finally moving forward.
***
They settle into a bit of a routine: Ryeowook in the morning and Kyuhyun in the evenings. So we can figure you out for ourselves first! And then compare notes, explains Ryeowook in their newly created group chat. Then, dates with everyone together!
Donghae can’t see anything wrong with that. He likes it, even, having an omega to himself for an hour or two, even if their conversations have never progressed beyond light topics. He begins waking up for his jog at sunrise just to meet Ryeowook at the cafe when it opens, and he begins to go down to the gym earlier so he can surprise Kyuhyun while he’s walking in.
Those two, despite being of a pair, are remarkably dissimilar. Donghae notes each difference with each meeting, unconsciously slotting them away in his head. Ryeowook is affectionate, simpering, and flirty—the image of an ideal omega boyfriend. On the other hand, Donghae’s interactions with Kyuhyun at the gym somehow feel more… bro-coded. Platonic, almost, if not for how often Donghae ogles his ass.
But he always holds himself at a distance, never giving himself the way Ryeowook seems to. Donghae yearns for him, even as he slips inside the gym.
“Hyung!” Kyuhyun squawks, nearly dropping his gym bag when Donghae appears next to him. “You’re early!”
“I wanted to see you.” Donghae laughs. He isn’t allowed to hug Kyuhyun without asking yet, at least not without Ryeowook, so he offers a hand and smiles. Kyuhyun’s scent, subtle but sweet, curls in the air. Averting his eyes, Kyuhyun takes the hand and, pinkly, allows himself to be led into the locker room.
Standing side by side at adjacent lockers, they parallel each other’s movements. Donghae loops Kyuhyun’s hairband in his hair and pretends to not watch Kyuhyun shrug his coat off his shoulders, the skin paling from the cold. His biceps, once soft and skinny, have filled out into curved expanses of tight muscle, flexing with every movement. His chest now swells out of him, as his ass already did.
Donghae is mid-thought when he feels something thunk the crown of his head. Kyuhyun’s water bottle.
“Are you done being a pervert now?” Kyuhyun huffs. He turns his heel for the exit, nose raised in the air. “Ryeowookie was right—you do stare.”
Flushing, Donghae chases after him. “I don’t!”
“You so do! I definitely saw you staring at him at the concert. If I weren’t courting you, I’d have clawed your eyes out!”
“But who would spot you at the gym then? Who would be in charge of your gains? Who would help you impress your little boyfriend?” Donghae grins.
Kyuhyun swats him, but he cannot deny Ryeowook’s scent on him, stronger than ever. A mark of possession. Donghae dreams of the day he can do the same—leave his scent so strong on both of the omegas that anyone passing by will be able to smell that these two omegas are claimed by him .
They make small talk about work on the way in. Kyuhyun works in an office too, as a computer analyst. His nose scrunches cutely when he complains about the smell of putrid coffee crowding the hallways, the alphas always trying to one-up each other, the overtime he does unwillingly when something goes wrong. “For the first few months, I was constantly on-call,” Kyuhyun tells him. “I would wake Ryeowookie up in the middle of the night because my pager had gone off, and I needed to be at my computer.”
Donghae can’t relate to that anymore, the feeling of constantly being on edge. When he says this, Kyuhyun’s expression goes carefully neutral.
“That makes sense,” he says, “but be careful, okay, hyung?”
Donghae doesn’t quite know what he means, but he nods regardless.
The gym is populated with its usual inhabitants, except for a few new faces. Donghae doesn’t pay them any mind as he walks with Kyuhyun towards the arm machines. Kyuhyun bounces a little next to him; weirdly, he seems to like these days the most. His face is always tinged with color while he watches Donghae work his back on the rowing machine.
Today though, his eyes are narrowed, face tight as if he is anticipating something. Donghae pauses.
“Are you okay? Do you need a break?” he asks, concerned.
Kyuhyun shakes his head and goes to find a machine. “Maybe I’m just seeing things.”
The next thirty or so minutes pass as they always do—their breaths slightly out of sync as they both work at their own paces, their eyes meeting shyly when they take breaks from their sets, their mouths opening around laughs when they realize the ridiculousness of blushing around a man you’ve worked out with for ages. But they’re not only gym buddies, are they?
Sometimes, Donghae thinks about the future. About Ryeowook and Kyuhyun together, by his side, never letting him go.
He is in the middle of a thought, reaching for his water bottle, when he is suddenly knocked off of his feet and onto the ground. His bottle, unsealed, makes a bright sound when it bangs to the ground and releases a quick burst of water onto the rubber ground.
“Oops.”
The other person does not sound remotely sorry. He does not offer to help Donghae up or pick up his water bottle. Instead, he simply stands and waits, as if he is reveling in seeing Donghae knocked to his knees below him, his eyes on the ground. Face burning, Donghae cannot breathe. It is as if he’s been transported two decades into the past. The boys surrounding him in the field, their smiles like reflections. His disappointing body, smaller than an alpha’s should be.
“Apologize.”
Kyuhyun’s voice. The air around them stills. Donghae raises his head to find the omega facing the offending man, his eyes blown wide in fury, his scent surging out of him in angry waves.
“ Apologize ,” Kyuhyun repeats, much more forcefully.
The man seems to falter, wavering between keeping his pride and admitting his intentional wrongdoing. But the entire atmosphere has frozen over, and most of the people in the gym are looking at them now, their noses prickling with unease. All they see are three men: one on the ground, one with his shoulders raised, and another towering over him, not wider but taller. Stronger.
“I’m sorry,” the man mumbles. Under Kyuhyun’s glower, he lowers himself and picks Donghae’s water bottle up. Kyuhyun, meanwhile, extends a hand towards Donghae, and Donghae gratefully drags himself back up. When the man gives him back the water bottle, kneeling, his ears are the color of blood.
Without another word, Donghae accepts it. The other man, scraped against the ground and left for dead, leaves the gym.
Kyuhyun’s eyes sharpen. “What an asshole,” he says. He has not let go of Donghae yet. Instead, his hand has migrated from his arm to the valley of his lower back, a small but steady presence. Dizzy, Donghae suddenly feels small. Not just small but protected.
A memory sears through him. Or, rather, a dozen of them, all ending in the same way: Hyukjae standing in front of him, his knuckles bruised and bloody. Shielding Donghae’s broken body from sight until the bullies disappeared into the streets. I’m here now, Donghae-yah. You’re safe.
Kyuhyun and Donghae don’t finish all their sets. Instead, they pack up early, and Kyuhyun walks Donghae home.
***
“It was just—I’ve never felt anything like it before. Like I was really… safe?”
They are in the cafe again, right at opening hours. Ryeowook is sitting with him at a table, having been relieved of his duties temporarily by Kanghoon. Both of them are sharing a single slice of cake, a new recipe.
Ryeowook carefully slides his fork into the plump vertex of the cake’s shape. He hadn’t spoken for the entirety of Donghae’s recounting of the previous night, his eyes glazed over in memory. Now, he slips the cake into his mouth and stares out the window. His tongue purposefully darts out and wets the inside of his bottom lip. The air is scentless. Donghae has never seen him look so closed off before.
“That sounds like Kyuhyun, alright,” Ryeowook comments, scraping his fork against the side of the plate. His expression is unreadable. “The next time something like that happens, call the staff, okay? They’re very conscious of these kinds of things. We’re good friends with them.”
Donghae nods, sipping his cup of coffee. He finds it hard to believe that anyone would care about an alpha-to-alpha scuffle. Back in school, no one had called what they’d do to Donghae bullying. They’re just sizing you up, Donghae’s mother had always told him when he came to her crying. They want to see how strong you are. Except Hyukjae, but he’d been a victim of it too, before he grew ten centimeters and started beating up everyone who gave Donghae trouble.
But what good is strength if it can only earn you wounds that don’t close, even after decades? Donghae watches Ryeowook’s faraway gaze river through the floor tiles and swallows. “When’s your next break? Let’s meet up again. Today.”
Ryeowook pauses for a long second. “I don’t get many breaks,” he says slowly. “I have employees to train.”
It is the first time Ryeowook has rejected him.
Stung, Donghae finds himself nodding, leaning away. “That makes sense.”
Another moment lengthens between them. Ryeowook shifts uncomfortably in his seat, shrinking.
“But I’ll have a free night tomorrow because Kyu will be with friends. How about let’s go out together, just the two of us?”
Donghae blinks at him. Ryeowook does not look any less withdrawn, but there is an apology between his strained shoulders and fisted hands. An apology Donghae realizes he has unconsciously guilted the omega into offering. As though he, as an alpha, deserves one because he has been rejected.
“Didn’t you say you’ve been looking forward to the solo night?” Donghae asks, lightly.
This time, it is Ryeowook’s turn to appear surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”
“Then stay home. Of course, I’d be happy to go out with you. But I’ll see you in the morning anyways.”
Ryeowook does not seem to know what to do with what Donghae has just said. Unconsciously, his eyes narrow as if he is trying to decipher a hidden meaning behind Donghae’s words.
“Okay,” he says carefully. “I’ll take my solo night then—?”
Donghae nods. “Good with me. This cake is very good, by the way. You should add it to the menu.”
The hesitant relief on Ryeowook’s face feels like a precious, small thing inside Donghae’s chest that feels like it could burst at any second. He tastes the air and finds the roses still hidden in their shells, scared to emerge. Consciously, a wave of comforting pheromone gushes out of him, honest and undeniably real, and Ryeowook finally sighs, the tension melting off his shoulders.
The rest of the morning passes as normal. A few days later, Donghae receives a text from the little omega, inviting him to eat at a new Japanese restaurant on the other side of town, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside a happily chattering Ryeowook.
“Hyung, if we get this, can we share? I wanna try a lot of things, but I don’t think I have the stomach for it.” Ryeowook pouts at him, the scent of roses oozing out of him, sickly sweet. His arm curls around Donghae’s, soft and fragrant. “Please?”
“Of course. Order whatever you want. You were the one who offered to pay, after all.” Donghae giggles a bit at Ryeowook’s indignations, allowing his hand to rest securely on his thigh. These kinds of things are so much easier with Ryeowook than they are with Kyuhyun, these small affections. He almost forgets the uneasiness of the interaction from a few days earlier, the power he had wielded over the omega with just a frown and a pitiful gaze. The way Ryeowook had, so easily, jumped immediately to placating him after merely turning down an invitation.
They end up ordering almost half of the menu. Donghae is sure they’ll have to pack some up for home, but at the very least, Ryeowook is happy, picking a little off each plate to try.
Something is up, Donghae thinks. He smells the roses and, for the first time, realizes how he cannot smell anything else. Only that sugary omega fragrance, genetically formulated to be as pleasant to alpha noses as possible. Ryeowook’s true feelings are hidden behind a thorny shroud, obscured by the strength of his scent. He must have been truly distressed that day, on the train, for the scent to have soured that noticeably. Or, he had purposefully done so in order to inform the others on the train of his situation.
“How did you two meet? You and Kyu?” Donghae asks suddenly.
Ryeowook thinks. “He was in the right place at the right time,” he decides.
It is not hard to see that he is obfuscating. Still, Donghae hums, satisfied. Whatever the omega chooses to disclose at this time is none of his business—they have only known each other for a month. He has to earn the right to know the whole story. He has to earn Ryeowook’s trust. At least, this is what Donghae has to tell himself in order to soothe that invasive, aching part of him that longs to know everything about Ryeowook.
He is just starting on his second entree when Ryeowook leans against him and looks up at him with those large eyes of his, glittery and innocent. He simpers.
“How about you, hyung? What’s something about you that I don’t know?”
Donghae stops mid-bite. A montage of memory shoots through his mind, and, at that moment, the problem isn’t the fact that Ryeowook is asking for a previously unseen part of him but, instead, which part?
“I came from the countryside,” he says finally. “A small town in Jeonnam.”
Ryeowook nods. “I can hear it in your voice.” His fingers trace over Donghae’s arm lightly as if he’s trying to soothe a small animal. He suddenly smells like the roses that Donghae’s mother used to get his father when they were both younger, tender and loving, and even though Donghae is fully aware that it might not be genuine, he falls for it. He will always reach for the fires that burn him.
And, like water, a raw truth spills out of him.
“My first love is there. I was supposed to go back after uni, but I came here for something new. Away from all I knew. Away from him,” he confesses.
It takes Donghae a second to realize that he probably shouldn’t be saying this to an omega that is actively courting him. But the look on Ryeowook’s face is nothing but pure understanding. As if he understands what it is like to stand in the flames and revel in the pain.
“Have you found what you’re looking for here?” Ryeowook asks, his voice soft. Suddenly, he looks vulnerable.
Donghae searches his eyes for deception, for false doors. When he finds nothing, he reaches over and grasps Ryeowook’s hand.
“I’m hoping so,” he whispers, squeezing his palm gently, “but you know I don’t need to be treated to a fancy lunch just because you turned me down a few days ago.”
Ryeowook blinks, startled. Then, he laughs, a thick, real thing. “Well, I know that now. Sorry, it’s just a habit of mine.”
Donghae guesses, “Kyuhyun?”
“Yeah. He can get… pouty.”
He doesn’t elaborate. Donghae doesn’t ask him to. When the waiter comes by to get their cards, they decide to split the bill. Ryeowook clutches onto Donghae’s hand until they leave, and although the affection isn’t new, this time, it sends a zing of warmth up Donghae’s arm that stays for days afterwards, vivid and bright.
And a week later, he is invited to have dinner—not at a restaurant or at a street food stall—but at Ryeowook and Kyuhyun’s apartment.
***
To say this is one of the most nerve wracking moments in his life is an understatement. Standing in front of Ryeowook and Kyuhyun’s door with a bouquet of roses in one hand and a cake in the other, he feels undressed. Raw.
In order to be let into the apartment itself, the omegas had to add him to a digital database of permitted visitors a week earlier, which required verification of Donghae’s government ID and contact information. Then, when Donghae had actually arrived, they could only allow him upstairs after calling Kyuhyun and Ryeowook first and making sure Donghae was a real visitor.
Only after all this had Donghae realized how enormously meaningful it had been for the couple to invite him to their home.
He is checking his reflection in the phone camera for the nth time when the door finally opens. Kyuhyun greets him with a nervous smile, his curls tumbling over his eyes. His lips look shinier than they usually do. His cheeks are pink.
“Sorry, Ryeowookie wanted me to help him with his makeup. Let me get this for you—”
Kyuhyun grabs the cake and opens the door wider, allowing Donghae to step into the warm, golden light. There is a delicious fragrance in the air wafting over from the dishes sitting on the dinner table. Steam rises from the plates in rivers of white, floating towards the ceiling. Mesmerized, Donghae almost does not notice Ryeowook skidding out of a long hallway. At least, not until he smells him.
“Ryeowook? Oh—!”
He barely has enough time to put the roses down before Ryeowook flies into his arms, screeching with laughter. Donghae hoists him up instinctively, twirling him in crooked circles. He smells wonderful, so strong and sweet that the scent of the food fades into the background. Pressing their foreheads together, Donghae revels in having the small omega gripped in his hands, Ryeowook’s legs curled securely around his waist, his arms thrown around his neck. When their eyes meet, they both laugh.
“Hi, hyung,” Ryeowook says warmly. “Sorry, I was fixing my eyeliner.”
“It looks gorgeous,” Donghae says, setting him down gently. He meets Kyuhyun’s eyes from across the room and, for a second, he thinks he sees something resentful shining deep in his large eyes. But it’s gone a second later, replaced by a wide smile.
Kyuhyun gathers the roses into his arms and places them to the side. “Come eat,” he says, almost fussily. “The food will get cold.”
“Kyu cooked tonight,” Ryeowook tells him, pulling Donghae eagerly to the table.
Donghae can tell because, truthfully, he hasn’t had such home-cooked food since he left his parents’ house without any plan of returning. The only reason he doesn’t bulldoze through all the food in one go is Kyuhyun, who is staring at him with the intensity of a predator watching its prey. He sees Ryeowook elbow Kyuhyun from the corner of his eye, but Kyuhyun does not seem to pay him any mind. Instead, he stares and stares until Donghae feels too awkward to continue.
“Yes—?” he asks, genuinely confused.
Caught in the act, Kyuhyun fumbles. “Nothing, hyung! Just go back to eating.”
But Ryeowook rolls his eyes. “Is the food good?” he asks Donghae.
“Oh! Yes. Yes, it is. Probably the best thing I’ve had since coming to Seoul.” Donghae offers a genuine smile, and Kyuhyun breathes a sigh of relief.
“I’m so glad, hyung. I know you gym, so most things are high protein, but I also thought you wanted to have something a bit more homely, you know. Like traditional Korean cooking. So I substituted a lot of the sugar out. I had Ryeowook teach me the right ratios,” he rambles.
Touched, Donghae cannot help but to let him babble, enjoying the sound of his voice as he goes through all the steps in his preparation. When his gaze wanders to Ryeowook, the omega’s expression is unexpectedly soft. Something painfully tender glistening in his eyes. Donghae recognizes the flickering flame, the great loss. The moment that you realize your life is not in your hands but, instead, in the whims of an enormous, uncontrollable love.
He has never looked at Donghae like that before. This gaze must be reserved for Kyuhyun only.
“You did great, Kyuhyun-ah,” Ryeowook says, grasping Kyuhyun’s hand. “Don’t forget to eat, though. You worked so hard for this.”
Kyuhyun grins at him. He leans in to peck Ryeowook on the mouth, nuzzling his cheek quickly before retracting back to his seat. Knowing how reserved the taller omega usually is, Donghae is almost expecting him to startle, to act as though he had accidentally shown genuine affection to Ryeowook right in front of him. But instead, Kyuhyun remains calm, albeit a bit flushed. He peeks at Donghae through his eyelashes and licks his lips.
Heat rushing through him, Donghae looks back at his bowl. His fists clenched under the table. He ignores the way his heart is pounding in his chest and shovels more food in his mouth. By the end of dinner, there are barely any leftovers to pack up. Kyuhyun practically beams with pride as they pick up the dishes and pile them into the dishwasher together.
“I’m going to go mix the drinks now,” Ryeowook says, pecking Kyuhyun on the cheek. “Any preferences, hyung?”
“Oh! I—uh—I don’t drink? My tolerance is super low.” Donghae flushes.
Ryeowook waves his hand dismissively. “That’s alright. I’ll mix you a virgin cocktail. Go wait on the couch with Kyu Kyu. Keep each other entertained.”
So there they are, sitting on opposite sides of the massive couch. Kyuhyun had put the distance between them as soon as they had sat down. Donghae does not quite know why—only yesterday, they had been spotting each other at the gym, their bodies so close that they could feel the heat radiating off each other. The situation right now is arguably less sexually-charged than holding your suitor’s life in your hands, Donghae thinks. But Kyuhyun does not seem to agree, curling his knees towards his chest and plucking at his own cuticles, his expression carefully blank.
Daringly, Donghae scoots a little closer. “Ryeowookie said we should entertain each other,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Are you entertained by sitting alone?”
Kyuhyun cracks, a small smile forming on his lips. But he still does not speak, worrying his bottom lip as though to stop the words before they come out. Under the soft light, his eyes almost seem to shimmer with specks of gold. His hands, flushed at the knuckles, reach anxiously for his neck. His scent glands.
Donghae quickly retracts. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I can go now. I can find Ryeowookie.”
“No! I mean—” Kyuhyun takes a deep breath and finally meets his eyes, pink— “Ryeowook trusts you, so I trust you too. I’m just—I’m just not used to being with someone else like this. Just sitting together in our home.”
“The gym is a little different, isn’t it?” Donghae says, finally understanding.
“Yeah. It’s okay though. You, uh. You smell really nice. I haven’t smelled you like this before. Without anyone else around.”
“Do I smell okay?”
“You smell good. Really good.”
Kyuhyun inches a little closer, lifting his nose into the air. The hairs on Donghae’s arms rise, but he does not move. He allows the omega to slide towards him until they are sitting mere centimeters apart. Something like static buzzing between them.
“Would it be frightening if I took a deep whiff of you?” Donghae suddenly asks, unable to help himself. “I know what Ryeowook smells like, but your scent isn’t as potent.”
Kyuhyun, to his surprise, giggles. “Ryeowook’s very strong smelling, isn’t he? Here.”
He cranes his head upwards, exposing his scent glands. The skin on his neck is flushed, as though he’s just had a very strong drink. Donghae’s mind suddenly conjures Hyukjae, whose neck had been dotted with a constellation of small black moles. His first girlfriend had loved marking him there, right over the little dots. Donghae had hated her.
Kyuhyun fidgets, whispering, “Hyung?”
Donghae suddenly sniffs, and all at once, Kyuhyun’s scent floods into his nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. He’s only had little tastes of him before: the gifts, the reveal, the encounter with the asshole at the gym. This is different—this is Kyuhyun with no walls, no veils, no doorlocks. This feels like stepping into a forest for the first time and breathing in the fresh, unfiltered air.
Kyuhyun sighs happily. His desire gushes over Donghae in waves, and Donghae nearly feels drunk on him, this pretty omega who wants nothing more but to crawl into his lap and stay there. Kyuhyun would fit there perfectly, he fantasizes. Kyuhyun and his gorgeous, long legs and his full chest and his thick ass. Donghae knows Kyuhyun thinks the same—knows that, during late nights, he touches his lips and imagines Donghae kissing them.
But right as Donghae gets close, feels that tingle in his fingers, the door closes. Kyuhyun leans away, blushing furiously, and Donghae recoils sharply.
For a few seconds, they simply stare at each other, their pupils dilated and mouths dropped open.
“You’ve never smelled like that before. In front of me, at least,” Donghae finally manages.
Kyuhyun ducks his head. Ears flaming red. He clears his throat. “I tend to suppress my scent when Ryeowook is around. Since he’s so strong-smelling and all.”
“Ah. You don’t smell very… floral?” Donghae doesn’t know how else to say it. But Kyuhyun only shrugs.
“When me and Ryeowookie go out together, people think I’m his alpha.”
A sour note has crept into his voice, erasing any remnants of his fresh, woody scent. On instinct, Donghae reaches for his hand. “I love your scent,” he says. “You smell good.”
“Ryeowook smells good too. I like burying my face into his neck,” Kyuhyun says, blushing furiously. His eyes flicker towards their joined hands. Then quickly away.
“You smell good,” Donghae repeats. He feels hazy, like he is half here and half still buried in Kyuhyun’s emotions, his forest. Unconsciously, his body begins to tilt forward on its axis, and Kyuhyun does not appear to want him to stop. They are drawn together like two stars in a helpless orbit.
“Drinks are done!”
Ryeowook’s voice slices through the tension like butter. Kyuhyun and Donghae scramble apart. Both are panting.
Ryeowook sets the drinks down but, instead of settling between the two of them as he had during the concert, he sits on the other side of Kyuhyun, squishing the taller omega between himself and Donghae. Kyuhyun nearly topples into Donghae’s lap, and Donghae yelps, steadying him as a series of debauched images enters his mind.
“Ryeowook!” he scolds.
Ryeowook shrugs. “Seems like you guys were halfway there already.”
Whining with embarrassment, Kyuhyun immediately throws himself back into Ryeowook’s chest, and Ryeowook catches him easily, as though he is used to it. With a hand stroking Kyuhyun’s hair, he observes Donghae coolly. In a flash, cold air rushes into Donghae’s system and clears his senses, returning his conscience to him.
Chastised, Donghae averts his eyes. Ryeowook clicks his teeth before he gently nudges Kyuhyun’s nose away from his scent glands. When Kyuhyun finally lets go, the scent of roses spreads evenly through the air, thick and heavy.
“You like the way he smells, don’t you, baby?” Ryeowook asks, his voice soft. “Your pretty nose is twitching.”
Kyuhyun nods, eyes molten. Ryeowook fondly brushes back his bangs and peppers kisses all over his face, leaning in and whispering something into the other omega’s ear. Donghae is tempted to silently and sullenly hug his drink, but before he can even begin sulking, Kyuhyun turns back to him. Something firm in his eyes.
“Hyung, you should pat my head,” he says, very decisively.
Donghae flushes. “Where did this come from? Suddenly?”
“Are you against it?” Kyuhyun frowns.
“What? No! I just—” Donghae rubs his temples— “Sorry, my words aren’t working. I think scenting you made me drunk or something. Or just horny.”
Ryeowook screeches with laughter. “Sounds about right. Kyuhyunie’s good at exuding ‘fuck me energy’ in his scent despite being so proper.”
“I don’t want to hear that from you. You’ve been touching him since day one.” Kyuhyun shoves Ryeowook lightly, spluttering.
“Because Donghae-hyung likes it when I hug him. Right?” Ryeowook beams in Donghae’s direction, and Donghae giggles.
“I will have to say, if that is your version of flirting, then it is very effective.”
“Not fair!”
Kyuhyun crosses his arms, jutting out his bottom lip, and Ryeowook coos, petting his head gently. He glances at Donghae as if to say you too , and Donghae hurriedly joins him. He nearly gasps—Kyuhyun’s hair is impossibly soft, thick and curly and cushiony. Now this, he thinks, was a head made to be petted.
Under their touch, Kyuhyun immediately relaxes. He smoothly segues into a conversation about the things from their childhood they wish still existed, which Donghae easily falls into. After all, despite the pains of growing up, there is so much he misses: the lack of cellphones, the mornings spent biking to the beach, the CD player he’d carry around everywhere. Back then, he had thought he’d be settled down by his mid-twenties. But here he is in his late twenties, thousands of miles away from the hometown he thought he’d never leave. From the boy he thought he’d never let go of.
How long has it been since he has felt desire so shamelessly? Donghae has only ever loved one other person, who he has known for nearly his entire life. When Hyukjae had moved to Donghae’s small town, a seven-year-old crybaby with no friends, Donghae had adopted him, had played football and eaten popsicles with him until late afternoon, when their parents would pick them up. When Hyukjae had his first boyfriend and, subsequently, his first breakup, Donghae had been there to pick him up on his motorcycle, drive him back to his place, and feed him strips of fried chicken until he understood that no, you are perfect; someone will love you perfectly; you will have a perfect love.
Watching Kyuhyun ramble on about the dying careers of his favorite pop artists of the early 2000s while Ryeowook takes long but thoughtful sips from his brightly colored cocktail, Donghae wonders if this is the perfect love he had always thought would be out of his reach.
He doesn’t realize how much time has passed until he catches Ryeowook draping himself over Kyuhyun languidly, a hazy look in his eyes. He stretches a hand out for Donghae, but Kyuhyun catches it, holding it against his own chest.
“Ryeowook, no.”
“Handsome alpha,” Ryeowook slurs. “Wanna kiss.”
“It’s only been a month. It’s improper,” Kyuhyun scolds. He looks over at Donghae apologetically, and Donghae just laughs, though he can’t help but to let his eyes wander over Ryeowook’s enticingly curved body, rosy in the golden light. He momentarily wonders how many partners Ryeowook has had before, but as he sees Kyuhyun tweak Ryeowook’s nose chidingly, he realizes that he is staring at the only one that matters.
Ryeowook whines, “You were just over him thirty minutes ago. He wants me, and I want him! I can smell it!” Pushing himself out of Kyuhyun’s arms, he gropes for Donghae. Donghae watches Kyuhyun’s expression go abruptly dark and quickly steadies the smaller omega, holding him away at arm’s length.
“Listen to Kyu, Ryeowook-ah. Behave,” he says firmly, gazing directly into Ryeowook’s eyes. He expects Ryeowook to snark back, like he usually would have, but instead, Ryeowook just whimpers. Quietly, he returns to Kyuhyun and curls into his lap, whining softly.
Kyuhyun stares at Donghae, half awed and half disturbed. “I’ve never seen him listen to someone like that before. Did you use alpha speak?”
Donghae winces. “I didn’t mean to. Is he okay?”
“Yeah. He’s just a bit drunk. Whiskey tends to hit him pretty hard,” Kyuhyun strokes Ryeowook’s hair carefully. “If you remove your rings, you can pet him too. He just doesn’t like getting his hair pulled.”
Donghae nods, dutifully sliding the rings off his fingers before rivering his fingers into Ryeowook’s hair. Ryeowook preens loudly and tries to climb towards Donghae once more, his scent sugaring in the air like an aphrodisiac. This is not the Ryeowook he is familiar with, he realizes. This is Ryeowook without inhibitions. His desire, thick in the air.
“Stop it,” he says, pushing away Ryeowook’s wandering hands. Ryeowook freezes again, blinking at him owlishly, and Donghae curses, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“You’re doing this without realizing?” Kyuhyun asks, cautious. He takes Ryeowook back into his arms and rubs comforting circles into his back.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t like it.” Donghae inches away.
Kyuhyun looks from Ryeowook to Donghae, something dawning in his eyes. “Ah. I think it’s okay though.”
“It’s not. I just—I shouldn’t be able to control him like that.” Donghae rubs his temples. “A few days ago, he turned me down for something. But he felt bad and kept trying to make up for it. Like I had to comforted just because he wanted some time to himself.”
“Oh. That’s… my fault. This is different,” Kyuhyun says. “Hyung, do you know why omegas don’t like drinking in public?”
“Because it lowers your inhibitions? Same for alphas too.”
“Yeah. But Ryeowook mixed the drinks today,” Kyuhyun says meaningfully. He scratches Ryeowook’s scalp lightly, and Ryeowook purrs, nuzzling him happily. “It means he feels comfortable with you.”
Donghae blinks, startled. “You too?”
“Well, let’s just say I have a much better tolerance than him, among other things.” Kyuhyun stares at him unabashedly, his eyes half lidded and dilated, glowing faintly under the light. Somehow, Donghae smells him through the roses, and he tightens his grip on his virgin cocktail, if only to control himself.
“You’re very pretty, you know?” Donghae whispers.
Kyuhyun just smiles at him, kissing Ryeowook’s cheek when he whines for attention. “Do you want to hold him, hyung? It would make his night.”
“If that’s okay?”
“Well, Ryeowook would claw your eyes out if you cross his boundaries, no matter how drunk he is,” Kyuhyun says humorously, “but I think you’re okay.”
Donghae does not doubt him for a second. He allows Kyuhyun to carefully drape Ryeowook over his arms, breathing in slowly so he does not inhale all of Ryeowook’s overpowering scent at once. Ryeowook immediately starts purring loudly, shifting until he finds a comfortable place to nestle into Donghae’s hold. He is like a small kitten, all curled up against him without a care in the world. Donghae has never seen Ryeowook so docile, so defenseless. He carefully strokes his hair and delights at the satisfied mumble it draws from the small omega.
“Are you okay with this?” he asks Kyuhyun, suddenly feeling as though he has overstepped.
Kyuhyun nods, smiling. “If he’s happy, I’m happy.”
Donghae stares down at Ryeowook, his peaceful expression. He brushes a stray hair away from his cheek and wonders, suddenly, “One day, would I be able to do this with you?”
“Sure, if I can fit in your lap,” Kyuhyun jokes, though his lips are curling as if he has just eaten something bitter.
“You will,” Donghae says, his voice unexpectedly firm. “I know you will.”
Kyuhyun hums, reaching over to kiss Ryeowook’s cheek. Ryeowook stirs, blinking his eyes open slowly.
“Kyu Kyu? Kyu?” he purrs happily.
“Hi baby. It’s your bedtime now,” Kyuhyun greets.
“But handsome alpha.” Ryeowook snuffles, clinging onto Donghae harder. Endlessly endeared, Donghae cannot help but to smile at the sulky note in his voice, which has dulled with drowsiness.
“Listen to Kyuhyunie, Ryeowook-ah,” Donghae says softly. “Be good and go with him?”
Ryeowook pouts at him, but he unhooks himself from Donghae, allowing Kyuhyun to scoop him up and carry him to their bedroom. When Kyuhyun emerges from the hall alone, his hair mussed and his mouth covered in lip gloss stains, Donghae feels an unwanted, deep pang at the center of his chest.
As he is slipping his shoes back on, he asks, “I’m not intruding, am I?”
Kyuhyun tilts his head at him. He is helping Donghae button his coat back up, and they are so close that Donghae can faintly smell him. His nimble fingers glide in and out of the button holes, making quick work of them. “What made you think that?”
“Well, you guys seem practically married already. I wouldn’t want to come in the middle of that?” Donghae grabs his scarf from the side, but Kyuhyun gently wrestles it from his hands. He drapes it over Donghae’s nape and to Donghae’s shock, plants a bashful kiss on the side of his neck.
“Hyung, we wouldn’t be courting you if we didn’t think we needed you,” Kyuhyun says.
Donghae flushes. “You can’t just say that and expect me to not want to kiss you back.”
“You can kiss,” Kyuhyun says shyly. He points to the corner of his mouth. “Here.”
“Really?!” Donghae wants to jump for joy. It must show on his face, for Kyuhyun blushes even harder.
“Yes, just don’t tell Ryeowook. He’ll sulk about it.”
“I won’t,” Donghae promises, his heart beating out of his chest. Carefully, he draws himself up to his tiptoes and kisses Kyuhyun, very lightly, on the edge of his lips. When he draws back, Kyuhyun is staring at him with pupils blown out in desire. He steps away and cups his own flaming cheeks.
“I’ll see you later, hyung,” he says softly.
“See you later, Kyuhyun-ah. Tell Ryeowook I said good night too.” Donghae grins.
Giving a final wave, he pulls his scarf over his nose and plunges into the cold. Only when he is halfway to the parking lot does he finally allow himself to pump his fist in the air and let out a cry of pure joy.
***
Donghae is sitting peacefully in the cafe when Ryeowook practically charges towards him, his roses bright with anger.
“You—” he jabs a finger at him— “kissed my Kyu!”
There isn’t much Donghae can do except stare. “Well—I—how do you know?” he gapes.
Ryeowook turns his little nose up. “I could smell you on him. You’re not exactly subtle, hyung.”
Donghae’s face feels so hot he can’t do anything except duck his head in embarrassment. Except, a mere moment later, Ryeowook’s ungloved hand meets the soft, freshly shaved skin of his lower jaw, his thumb grazing Donghae’s slightly parted lips. Donghae feels his chin being tilted upwards until his gaze meets the deep, smoldering umber of Ryeowook’s irises.
“May I kiss you then, hyung?” Ryeowook asks, his voice edged with a rosy curl. His eyes dark with pure desire.
Dizzy, Donghae can only nod. He opens himself, reaches, and Ryeowook meets him there, pressing their mouths together in a searing kiss. At that moment, the cafe disappears around him. There is only Ryeowook—Ryeowook sliding long, thin fingers into his hair, Ryeowook tonguing the sharp edges of his incisors, Ryeowook gripping him so tightly Donghae thinks he might just dissolve into nothingness when he lets go.
They only stop when Donghae begins to buzz on the table. Ryeowook pulls away, and the cafe returns, reminding Donghae of the time. He needs to leave in five minutes. But he does not go, too breathless to do anything but pant like a dog. Ryeowook’s taste still so sweet in his mouth.
“Hyung, your phone,” Ryeowook says, sounding equally out of breath, when the phone vibrates again.
Donghae knows this ringtone. It is the one he has for Hyukjae, which he has not changed, even in the years they have spent drifting apart. Slowly, he goes to pick up the phone, and a couple message alerts flash on his screen. He does not have to read the actual message unless he unlocks his phone.
“Is that him?” Ryeowook’s voice shoots through him like an arrow. He grasps Donghae’s hand and squeezes.
Donghae swallows. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to read it.”
“I know.”
But he has spent so long hiding from Hyukjae. So many cowardly hours spent staring at those unread messages. The apologies. The accusations. The pleas. If there is anything he has always loved about Hyukjae, it is that he does not know when to let go. Even now, he is reaching for Donghae, his wayward best friend who fled to the city. And, for once, Donghae allows himself to miss him. Not as the lover he never could be but as the best friend he was.
Taking a deep breath, Donghae unlocks his phone. He meets Ryeowook’s gaze one last time before he begins reading.
Hyukjae: Hi Donghae. This is the last time I’ll be reaching out. You probably think I’m so stupid, if you do read these messages. But I just had to. Kangin-hyung is hosting a party for alumni of our high school. In about two weeks. I just… I wanted to let you know it was happening. Just in case.
Hyukjae: If you come, you don’t have to meet Donghee-hyung. I promise. It can just be the two of us. Like old times.
Hyukjae: Donghae, I miss you. I miss my best friend. I hope you miss me too. If not, I understand.
Donghae’s eyes burn. He does not realize he is crying until Ryeowook is pressing a tissue against his cheeks, catching the tears as they slide down his face and onto his lap. The omega is whispering to him, his voice soft and sweet, but Donghae’s ears feel as though they have been stuffed with cotton. Once again, the cafe has fallen around him, except he is alone. He is alone, holding a phone with messages from the best friend he’s been ghosting. Who still misses him even after all this time.
He wants to see Hyukjae again, Donghae realizes. And, more than anything, he wants Kyuhyun and Ryeowook to meet him too.
He wants his best friend to meet the loves of his life.
“Hyung?” Ryeowook says softly. “Do you want to sit in the staff room in the back? There’s more privacy there.”
Donghae nods, sniffling. He knows he will miss his first meeting now, but his chest hurts too much for him to care. Even though Ryeowook offers to grab him a cup of hot chocolate for free, Donghae pays for it anyway and nurses it like a lifeline as he enters his meeting remotely, acting though his eyes are not red-rimmed or swollen.
Before he leaves, Ryeowook offers him his own jacket. Donghae cups his cheek and kisses him again, sweetly.
“I’ll talk to you again soon,” he promises.
Ryeowook nods, holding Donghae’s palm against his cheek. He presses a final small kiss against the side of his hand before letting go, a faint smile on his lips.
“I’ll be waiting,” he says.
Donghae pulls Ryeowook’s jacket over his shoulder and dully notes that they wear the same size, despite the omega’s small stature. He presses the thick, water repellant sleeve of the coat to his nose and lets the scent of roses flood into him, temporarily filling the cracks in his heart.
***
The idea of taking Kyuhyun and Ryeowook to his hometown nags at Donghae all week. He goes out with the pair a couple more times and keeps meeting with them one-on-one, but a narrative can’t quite leave his mind. One where he goes home, his two beautiful omegas by his side, and proves to everyone—his parents, his bullies, Hyukjae —that leaving wasn’t a mistake, that he isn’t the runt of the town anymore.
But, at the same time, the possibility of being humiliated in front of the people he loves most sends a tsunami of panic crashing through his gut. Even after all this time, the wounds have not closed. The searing memory of children’s shoes pounding him into the ground. The laughter, ringing in his ears. It has been so long, but they still haven’t stopped laughing. If Donghae lets himself listen for too long, he’ll realize that, even now, he is still the same small, broken boy in the grass, begging God to make the hurt stop. If Kyuhyun and Ryeowook saw him like that—he doesn’t want to think about the ways in which they’d be disgusted with him. His weakness.
Donghae is running through a sequence of worst-case scenarios in his mind again when Kyuhyun slams his locker door closed, his expression stormy and his shoulders tight.
“Kyu—?” Confused, Donghae jogs after the omega. “Hey? Are you okay?”
The look Kyuhyun gives him is furious—but only for a moment. Meeting Donghae’s eyes, he quickly deflates. He drags a hand over his face and sighs.
“I’ll tell you later, hyung. It's not that big of a deal.”
One hour later, they are sitting together on the very same bench where they had talked after Kyuhyun had revealed himself to be Donghae’s suitor. Kyuhyun works his teeth against the plastic straw of his water bottle while Donghae rubs his thumb over his knuckles. He does not dare to get any closer—after all, Kyuhyun is not Ryeowook. The most they’ve ever done is kiss chastely and hug.
Although, Donghae admits, Kyuhyun is awfully hot when he’s pissed.
But the tension has faded now. Instead, Kyuhyun just looks tired.
“Sorry, hyung. I swear I’m fine. It’s just—something happened yesterday. To Ryeowook. I couldn’t pick him up immediately after work yesterday and apparently he got harassed by a group of people hanging around outside. They kept him there for a whole hour . I filed a police report for loitering just in case, but God—I feel like I could have lost him. My Ryeowook,” Kyuhyun says, his breathing quickening with every word.
Donghae stares at him, feeling like the floor has disappeared beneath him. “Ryeowook didn’t tell me about this.”
“He wouldn’t. He just said it was fine, that he was used to it, that it was an occupational hazard for owning a business as an omega. Bullshit!” Kyuhyun spits, suddenly livid. His hands have curled so tightly into fists that the skin has blanched, turned a sickly white where his nails have dug in. “I hate it. I hate how he has to deal with this. I hate how the police don’t do anything to help. And most of all, I hate how, even after all this, I’m so… I’m so jealous. ”
“Jealous?” Donghae echoes, confused.
Kyuhyun purses his lips. “Not of the harassment, obviously. But Ryeowook is just so small and precious and cute. Everyone loves him instantly, thinks he’s the perfect omega. He loves going out with me because I can scare people off. But I hate it so much. I hate being this tall and big. I feel like a fucking ogre.
“But it protects me. I don’t have to deal with the creeps Ryeowook does. I don’t have to worry about being harassed wherever I go. It’s horrible because I know firsthand how much he goes through. But I still… God, I’m just dumping everything onto you now, aren’t I? I’m so sorry.”
He crumples forward, holding his face in his hands. For a moment, Donghae simply stares, not quite knowing what to say. Not because he can’t relate, no, but because there is too much to remember. Years ago, he had fallen on his side in a wide field, wreathed by boys with bruised knuckles, staring not at the viciously green grass or that broad expanse of blue sky or the dazzlingly red blood pooling beside his head, but at his own thin arm, stretched out towards the sun. Blindly reaching for the most beautiful thing in the world.
The gym light above them, as bright as the sun, illuminates them like a cruel god. Or, rather, a mirror. Because when Donghae looks at Kyuhyun, all he sees is himself. Reaching for something that he can never quite grasp. You just need to get stronger, Donghae-yah. You just need to beat them back.
Gently, he peels Kyuhyun’s hands away from his eyes and pulls him into his arms. Kyuhyun stiffens against him, but when Donghae nudges his nose into his neck, he immediately goes limp, sagging against him.
“Have I ever told you why I started going to the gym?” Donghae asks softly, stroking Kyuhyun’s back.
Kyuhyun sniffles. “Because you’re super into fitness?”
“No but that too,” Donghae laughs. “When I was younger, I used to get bullied for my size. It seems silly, since there were plenty of alphas smaller than me, but I often didn’t have enough to eat at home. I was small and skinny and kind of pretty like an omega. A really easy target. Everyone told me that I just needed to fight back, but I just wasn’t strong enough. So I started working out when I got to university. I wasn’t any taller, but I got a lot bigger. And I was more respected immediately. It was so strange.
“But I feel like… If I had the choice to press a button and suddenly become ten centimeters taller and twenty kilometers heavier, I would. I know I shouldn’t be thinking like that, since it’s kind of narrow minded. But God, if I could have my biggest insecurity erased, just like that…”
This time, it is Kyuhyun who pulls him close, who wraps his arms around him and rubs his back. “You didn’t deserve that, hyung. I’m sorry.”
Donghae shrugs. “It’s fine. We were just kids. Kids beat each other up all the time.”
“No—” Kyuhyun suddenly pulls away, his eyes ablaze with fury— “I meant whoever told you that you just needed to get stronger was on some bullshit. They didn’t pick on you because you were small—they picked on you because they were dicks. It wasn’t your responsibility to become less of a target. It was everyone else’s responsibility to stop being so fucking narrow minded.”
Donghae has never heard Kyuhyun sound like this before. Without thinking, he leans forward and kisses Kyuhyun deep on the mouth. Kyuhyun makes a little sound, not unlike the ones he makes when he fails while lifting, but now, instead of relieving the pressure, Donghae presses forward even harder, crushing Kyuhyun to the wall behind him and pressing in until he begins to squirm against him. Trapped between their chests, Kyuhyun’s fingers curl tightly into the front of Donghae’s shirt. His eyelashes trembling in pleasure, cheeks a delicate pink.
Beautiful. Donghae disconnects from him slowly and watches a string of saliva glisten between them, shimmer in the light, and then fall away.
“Sorry. That was just really hot,” he apologizes, suddenly blushing.
Flushed, Kyuhyun dabs at his mouth with a handkerchief. “You thought me calling all the adults in your childhood stupid was hot?”
“Well yeah. No one’s ever said that to me before.” Donghae takes Kyuhyun’s hand. “You know, I actually got an invitation to go back to my hometown for an alumni reunion party. I was wondering if I should go or not.”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. You don’t have to prove anything, hyung.”
“I was just thinking that it would be a lot more bearable if you were there. And Ryeowookie.” Donghae smiles nervously at him, stroking his knuckles.
Kyuhyun blinks owlishly. “You mean, you want us to meet your parents?”
“Well, if you’d like? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course.”
“No! I mean, yes! I’ll have to ask Ryeowookie about it but—” Kyuhyun beams— “I’d love to go.”
Donghae sighs in relief. “Thank you, Kyuhyun-ah,” he says sincerely. He lifts Kyuhyun’s hand to his mouth and kisses him again, on every knuckle. And when Kyuhyun begins to giggle sweetly, he thinks to himself that he loves him.
***
Hi, Hyuk. I’m coming. Will be there by noon today.
Donghae watches the message send before he puts his phone down. Behind him, Kyuhyun shoves the last suitcase into the car’s trunk while Ryeowook dozes peacefully in the backseat. He’d been hesitant to come, unlike Kyuhyun, and had even suggested that they take the trip just the two of them. Only after Kanghoon had promised the cafe would be okay without him for a weekend did Ryeowook finally admit to wanting to go.
He still has walls up, Donghae knows. Since Kyuhyun told him about the incident at the cafe, he’s been watching the little omega like a hawk, monitoring if he’s okay. Ryeowook seems to be fine, but he’s also exceptionally good at covering things up. Especially with that intoxicating scent of his.
“Tell me when you’re tired, hyung. I’ll drive,” Kyuhyun says, slipping in beside Ryeowook. Carefully, he leans the other omega’s head onto his shoulder before he flashes Donghae a wide grin.
Donghae smiles back, the corner of his mouth straining at the edges. His phone sits next to him, silent, a ticking time bomb. Quickly, he picks it up and switches it to Do Not Disturb. The tight feeling in his chest eases marginally.
The drive is long but peaceful. Donghae wants to meet his parents for lunch, so they only make stops when they really need to. At some point, he glances into the rearview mirror and finds Kyuhyun asleep against Ryeowook, snoring softly. Briefly, the conversation in the gym from two weeks ago reenters the forefront of Donghae’s mind, and he exhales slowly, remembering the way Kyuhyun had held him. There will always be a small, scared part of him that fears the vulnerability, the retelling of his past. Had it not been for Kyuhyun’s reassurance, he would not be driving back to his hometown now. Back to the place that had taught him true pain.
Somehow, his eyes wander back towards his phone. He wants to check it now. He wants to know what Hyukjae has responded with.
But, thirty minutes later, at the rest stop, Donghae unlocks his phone and finds nothing. No text. No voicemail. No missed calls. His text hasn’t even been read.
Immediately, he contemplates turning back. He contemplates telling Kyuhyun and Ryeowook that he had made a terrible mistake, that the party was actually a week after , that they’d better just spend this vacation time in Jeju or something. They’d be happy there, splashing around in the cool, sky-colored water and eating so much seafood that they’d be sick of it by the time they return to the city and curling up in the same king-sized bed. Maybe they could make out some more. Or even fuck around a little. God knows how much Ryeowook might enjoy that.
The lie is about halfway across his tongue when he sees Kyuhyun bounce out of the food court alongside Ryeowook, his steps so jubilant that Donghae can hear them from twenty meters away.
“I’m driving next!” he announces.
Ryeowook smiles, a touch of drowsiness still lingering in the way he slowly stretches his arms above him. “What about the food, baby? Aren’t you going to eat the tteokbokki you ordered?”
“Yes, yes! Hyung, are you hungry? I got you sotteok sotteok!” Kyuhyun peers at him with his big eyes. He frowns. “Hyung, are you okay? Your eyes are a little red.”
Donghae blinks rapidly. Hurriedly, he wicks away the tears with his sleeve. “I think it’s because of the drive. I’ve been staring at the road for too long,” he lies.
“Well, I’ll be driving next, so get some rest, okay?” Kyuhyun says, his long fingers curling comfortingly around Donghae’s arm. He chatters as he walks, Donghae following silently behind him like a shadow, a smile plastered to his face. Only when he meets Ryeowook’s worried eyes does he finally let the facade fall. Donghae offers a hand, almost pleadingly, and Ryeowook takes it, squeezing him comfortingly.
After eating, they pile back into the car. Donghae still feels heavy; his heart feels stuck in a distant memory, one where Hyukjae would reply to him immediately if he texted. But it helps that Ryeowook is beside him, emitting a soothing scent. And before he knows it, Donghae is tumbling into sleep against him.
He dreams of wide smiles and soft peals of laughter. Someone’s hand is in his hair, combing through his ragged locks gently. Donghae reaches for him, opens his mouth to ask him to stay, but no sound escapes. When he awakens again, a disorienting hour later, he cannot remember who he dreamed about. But he has no time to linger; the moment he looks out the window, he’s assaulted by the painfully familiar scenery. The football field and the kid teams practicing there. The hagwon he used to attend until his parents couldn’t afford the school fees anymore. The convenience store that only had three brands of popsicles. The ocean.
“It’s beautiful, hyung,” Kyuhyun breathes, carefully maneuvering through the small, cracked streets.
“It is,” Donghae murmurs. Stretching a hand towards the glass, he watches the town glide by, colors blurred in motion.
They are close to the hotel now. Years ago, there hadn’t even been a hotel—Donghae had previously planned for them to all squeeze into his parents house until Kyuhyun had confusedly sent him the link to the hotel’s website, asking why they couldn’t live there instead. Now, standing in front of the new building with its fancy driveway and Western architecture, Donghae wonders, for the first time since he had left, what he had missed.
Check in goes smoothly, as does carrying their luggage upstairs. When they reach their rooms, Ryeowook tears the curtains open and gasps at the view.
“The water is so blue!” he exclaims.
Kyuhyun sidles up next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I’m so excited. I haven’t been to the ocean in ages.”
Donghae cannot bear to join them. Instead, he hangs behind and opens his phone again.
One new message.
Hyukjae: Oh my God, Donghae. Are you serious??
Immediately, Donghae replies.
Donghae: Hi! Here now.
Hyukjae: You’re not fucking real. Holy shit. Wait, are you free? Do you want to get lunch?
Donghae: I’m meeting up with my parents, sorry.
Hyukjae does not reply for a minute. Chewing on his bottom lip, Donghae makes a decision.
Donghae: But I can do dinner?
Hyukjae: Great! Let’s meet at that kalguksu place. Same seat as always.
Donghae smiles. He is about to reply when Kyuhyun comes bouncing up to him, clutching Ryeowook’s hand like an overexcited kid.
“Hyung, hyung, can we go to the shore tonight? Please? After the restaurant?” He pouts a little, his lips a perfect pink, and blinks those big, pretty eyes at him. On any other occasion, Donghae would have kissed him or, at the very least, thought about it.
But he is going to see Hyukjae for dinner today. “Sure. But I’ll be meeting a close friend for dinner instead, if that’s okay?”
Immediately, Kyuhyun frowns. “But what about our reservation? You specifically recommended this restaurant,” he says, hurt shining in his big eyes.
“You guys can go without me. It’s your first time, after all, not mine.” Guiltily, Donghae averts his eyes, only to meet Ryeowook’s. Ryeowook tilts his head at him, his gaze piercing through Donghae like a knife. He knows, Donghae suddenly remembers. He knows who Hyukjae is.
Donghae looks at the ground. “We were really close. I haven’t seen him in nearly five years.”
“Oh. I guess it can’t be helped then?” Kyuhyun says. “But can we go to the shore tomorrow, at least? The weather is nicer.”
“Tomorrow’s weather is a lot better,” Ryeowook agrees, an unreadable note in his voice.
“We can go then. I promise,” Donghae says quickly. Almost too quick.
Kyuhyun’s beam is enough to ignite a thousand suns. But beside him, Ryeowook eyes him almost wearily.
Donghae’s phone buzzes again. This time, it is his parents.
“Let’s go. Eomma prepared a feast for you,” he says, deliberately meeting Ryeowook’s gaze. “They’re super excited to meet you.”
For a second, it seems that he’s lost him. There are no roses in the air, nothing. But, to Donghae’s relief, they slowly begin to bloom again, easing into something softer and sweeter.
Ryeowook lifts his collar to his nose and grimaces. “Let me change to something prettier first. I’m not meeting your parents in sweatpants.”
“Me too, oh my God. I need to touch up on my makeup too!”
“Please, I promise they don’t care—”
Donghae chases after them, only to get locked out of the bathroom, the omegas’ loud laughter ringing in the air. They do not let him in even after he moans and begs, but they do reward him for his patience once they emerge, both peppering him with kisses right before they put on their lipgloss. Their hands on Donghae’s ticklish waist make him shriek, but he is grinning, his lips stretching so far they hurt. By the time they reach his parents house, Donghae feels dizzy with love. He holds Kyuhyun’s and Ryeowook’s hands as they wait for the door to open.
“This means we’re super official, right? Like we’re officially your boyfriends?” Kyuhyun asks, his hands full of the gifts they had brought for Donghae’s parents from Seoul.
“A bit late to be asking this question, right?” Donghae smiles. Momentarily, he releases his hand so he can tuck a stray hair behind his ear. “Yes, we’re official. Unless Ryeowook says otherwise, of course.”
“Depends on how much I like your parents,” Ryeowook says primly, though he is smiling.
Then, the sound of the door unlocking. They all hold their breath, and the door opens.
***
The place Hyukjae had invited him for dinner is painfully familiar. Even though the hotel is far away from his old home, Donghae does not need to look at a map in order to get to the restaurant. The destination is engraved into him, an unerasable muscle memory. They had come here after every momentous event in their lives—failed tests, football games, breakups, everything. In the end, it had all led back to this little kalguksu restaurant. Just like now.
Donghae arrives early. Ducking into the tiny, hole-in-the wall restaurant, he cannot help but to pause. Nothing has changed, not the steam rising from the open kitchen, not the mixed scents of the diners, not the extra red plastic stools stacked in the corner. The menu is still scrawled in big letters on the wall, listing off the same few main and side dishes.
And Hyukjae. Hyukjae in the corner, scrolling through his phone with his cheek propped up against his arm. He is as beautiful as Donghae remembers, his lips thick and his waist slim. His soft, pale belly peeks out from underneath his cropped long-sleeved shirt, and his long, slender fingers curve prettily over his cheek bone. There are two steaming bowls of kalguksu sitting in front of him as if he knew what Donghae would order before even arriving. When Hyukjae finally lifts his head towards the door, almost skittishly, his mouth drops open.
Donghae, he mouths. His eyes wide as saucers.
Finally, Donghae walks in, right into Hyukjae’s arms.
“God.” Hyukjae buries his nose into Donghae’s scent glands, his hands knuckling into the back of his shirt. “You smell exactly the same as you did when you left.”
“Scents don’t change, idiot,” Donghae says. His voice comes out choked out, and Hyukjae reciprocates with a watery laugh of his own. His hand stays on Donghae’s arm even after they break away from each other, squeezing tightly like he can’t believe Donghae is real.
“You look so different now,” Hyukjae remarks, amazed.
Donghae smiles shyly. “Bigger?”
“Yeah. You’re buff . I’d never thought I’d see buff Lee Donghae in my lifetime.”
“You look the same,” Donghae nudges him mirthfully. “Just a bit more fashionable.”
Hyukjae squawks, “I’ve always been fashionable!”
It is like they had never separated in the first place. Quickly, they settle down and dig in. The kalguksu is delicious, as it has always been, but Donghae, for once, does not linger on the memories aroused by the taste. Instead, he studies Hyukjae’s face, watches him stuff food into his mouth until his cheeks are full and round. He hasn’t changed his eating habits at all, even though he’s in his late twenties now.
Donghae stares down at his bowl. Once, he would have started scarfing things down, as Hyukjae had, but now, all he can see are nutritional values, swimming above each tantalizing topping. The amount of each food group he needs to eat if he wants to maximize his bulk. Carefully, he picks through the noodles and slips a single thinly sliced cucumber into his mouth.
Hyukjae gulps down his first giant bite before he speaks again. “So, what’s new? Other than the muscles.”
Donghae has thought about how he should respond to this question for ages. He chews absentmindedly, his eyes focused on a speck of food on the edge of Hyukjae’s mouth. Nothing feels real. “Well, I’m dating now? Two omegas,” he offers.
“What?” Hyukjae pauses immediately. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Donghae smiles, trying to look confident, but instead, he just feels like a kid again, watching Hyukjae join the older, bigger boys for football while lagging behind.
But now, the look Hyukjae gives him is not of confused pity. It is awe. “That’s actually insane. I didn’t realize you were that smooth. When’s the last time you even dated?”
“Years ago. But don’t get me wrong, the omegas started courting me first.”
“Wow, the city’s so progressive.”
There is a faraway look in Hyukjae’s eyes now, reflecting the past. Donghae presses his lips together. He doesn’t want to recall all the horrible things that had been said when Hyukjae came out with his first alpha partner. The way the village had suddenly turned on him. Even now, news travels fast. Behind Hyukjae, Donghae can see a group of men staring surreptitiously, only to duck away when Donghae bares his teeth.
Returning his attention to Hyukjae, he tries to smile. “It’s nice. I can show you around one day.”
“I’d like that.” Hyukjae says stiltedly. In the corner of his eyes, there are wrinkles that weren’t there before. Signs of his aging.
He clears his throat and brightens up again. “Anyways, tell me more about these two boyfriends?”
Donghae tells him everything. About the gifts. About the first meetings. About the concert date, the dates after, the visit to the apartment. He doesn’t want to ramble, but it’s hard not to when Hyukjae is listening to him so intently, not breaking eye contact even when he slurps a few more noodles. But at the same time, the more Donghae explains, the more he finds that he misses them, his two omegas. He wonders what they’re doing now, without him. He tells Hyukjae this, and Hyukjae immediately gapes at him.
“Wait, they’re here? Oh my God, you should have brought them! Did you ditch them to come meet me? Will they hate me?” he buries his face in his hands. “I don’t want your boyfriends to hate me.”
“No, they understand,” Donghae laughs, a little touched by the display. “They know a little bit about my history with this place. With you.”
“Oh.” Hyukjae suddenly looks as though he has been struck.
“I meant that you’re my best friend,” Donghae says quickly. But it’s too late.
“Right. Yes.” Hyukjae does not lift his eyes from his bowl of noodles. He looks a little lost, all of a sudden, as if he doesn’t know why he is here, eating with the supposed best friend who had ghosted him. Who had left the village for university and never come back like he had promised to.
Donghae tries to meet his eyes. “You good?”
“Yeah, sorry. I was just… thinking.” Hyukjae snaps out of his stupor like waking up from a nightmare, shaking himself out of it. He begins to eat again, but he lacks the vigor from earlier. The pure joy.
Donghae knows that, deep inside, this is his fault. He should have answered, should have called, should have been less selfish. But now, all he can do is swallow the guilt and extend a hand.
“Hey, do you want to go to the shore? With me and my boyfriends tomorrow?”
Hyukjae blinks at him, all startled. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be. You’re my best friend. Plus, I want you to meet them.” This, at the very least, is true. He wants the people he loves the most to meet each other. He wants to watch them laugh together, gorgeously bathed in the countryside sun.
“Sure. Just um. Text me when you’re going?” Hyukjae says hesitantly. As if he doesn’t know if Donghae will really text him again.
But Donghae won’t let things slip through his fingers again. He smiles. “Yeah, I will.”
Somehow, they sit there until night falls, teasing and chatting. When Donghae finally has to go, Hyukjae strongarms his way into paying. Donghae protests, but Hyukjae simply shakes his head, tugging his coat over his shoulders. He looks so small like this, swaddled up in a big padded jacket. Smaller than Donghae, almost delectably so.
Maybe, in another world, Donghae could reach for his hand. Kiss it. Take him back to a hotel and do whatever he’d like to his body. Maybe, then, Hyukjae would let him.
“Hae? You still there?” Hyukjae tilts his head at him, confused.
Shamefaced, Donghae hurriedly turns away and towards the exit. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, ducking under the PVC strips. Hyukjae waves at him, something in his eyes frosting over, and Donghae is gone, rushing back towards the home he does know.
***
“God, the air is so nice!”
Ryeowook swings both Donghae’s and Kyuhyun’s arms back and forth as they walk down to the shore. As the forecast had predicted, today’s weather is a lot more mild, easing into the warm springs that Donghae is used to. Ryeowook’s button down shirt, flowy and loose, does nothing to hide his pleasing curves. In contrast, Kyuhyun’s giant sweater hides most of his upper body, minus his pale collarbones, gleaming in the light of the sun.
Both of them are beautiful. Donghae watches them and feels the flames of vindication lick through his belly. In a few hours, he will show up to the party with Kyuhyun and Ryeowook accompanying him, and they will earn him a place among the most accomplished alphas of the function. His bullies, probably pitifully single and marooned forever at this tiny town, will only be able to look up towards him with envy.
“Your parents are so nice, hyung,” Kyuhyun remarks, voice slicing through his thoughts. “I hope your friend didn’t bring any food with him. I’m actually so stuffed.”
Ryeowook nods quickly, happy roses floating through the air. “I really, really want your eomma’s recipe for gomtang. I can’t believe she stayed up late to make it for us!”
“I told you she would love you. There was nothing to be nervous about,” Donghae laughs.
It is true; the moment Ryeowook and Kyuhyun had stepped foot into Donghae’s childhood home, Donghae’s mother had latched onto them as if they were her own children, lavishing them with expensive gifts and local delicacies. Donghae suspects that she had been waiting for that moment for a while—the moment when Donghae would introduce a partner to them. So, when Donghae had come home with not one but two , she had been overjoyed. She had even convinced Donghae’s father to take a day off of work to meet them.
“I assure you, we are a very progressive family,” she had said that day, heaping a generous spoonful of kimchi jjigae into Kyuhyun and Ryeowook’s bowls. “No matter the amount of people, I think love should be celebrated between everyone.”
“Even between those of the same secondary sex?” Ryeowook had spoken up. His voice had been quiet yet unwavering. He still dipped his head to her reverently as he received his bowl of jjigae, but in his eyes there had been a smouldering ember.
Donghae remembers tensing up. Remembers his fisting his hands into his lap as his eomma looked at him with confusion. You haven’t told them yet? About Hyukjae?
Well, they’ll figure everything out soon enough when they meet him.
“Eomma gave you and Kyu her phone number, right?” Donghae asks. Spotting a small leaf on Kyuhyun’s shoulder, he carefully swipes it off of him. Kyuhyun blushes and nods.
“We’ll see her one more time, right? Before we leave tomorrow?” he asks, his voice small.
“Of course. And I’m sure we can come back to see her more later. Maybe summer, when the beaches are warm enough to swim in,” Donghae muses. Hyukjae’s wedding is in the summer, he remembers with a pang. All day yesterday, he had tried to ignore the gleaming engagement ring on Hyukjae’s finger. Every time he saw it, he just wanted to close his eyes.
In the sunlight, the diamond is even more dazzling. It glitters like a beacon light as Hyukjae waves at them, a bright gummy smile on his face.
Ryeowook squints when he sees him, a frown marring his otherwise delicate features. “Is that your friend?”
Hyukjae shouts at them, waving even more frantically. Around him, a couple of people turn to see what the commotion is all about.
“Yes, that is my friend.” Donghae covers his face, embarrassed. “Sorry, he’s an idiot.”
But he’s smiling as he embraces Hyukjae again, breathing in his musky scent like a free diver hungry for oxygen. Hyukjae giggles and pats his shoulder as they detach from each other. Donghae sees Ryeowook track Hyukjae’s ringless hand with narrowed eyes and, with sudden irritation, wonders what his problem is.
“Hyuk, meet Kyuhyun—” he gestures towards a curious Kyuhyun— “and Ryeowook. Kyuhyun, Ryeowook, meet Lee Hyukjae. My dumbass best friend.”
“Between the two of us, I’ve always been the brains of the operation,” Hyukjae says lightly. He extends a friendly hand towards Kyuhyun, and Kyuhyun shakes, his lips slowly bending into a smile.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“We’re Donghae’s boyfriends,” Ryeowook adds, almost snarkily, when Hyukjae offers a hand to him as well. His nose twitches, and he quickly covers it with a hand. “You’re an alpha?”
“Ah, yes.” Hyukjae scratches his head sheepishly. “I hope I haven’t offended you accidentally? I’m not so sure about city etiquette between omegas and alphas.”
For some reason, Donghae feels the need to cut in. He shoots a sharp glance at Ryeowook and lays his hand on Hyukjae’s shoulder, squeezing. “You’re good, Hyuk. Things aren’t that much different over there.”
“They aren’t,” Ryeowook says. He grasps Hyukjae’s hand almost limply and shakes as though he is already trying to slither out of his grip. Hurt, Hyukjae lets go, and Ryeowook immediately scurries back to Kyuhyun’s side, sliding their hands together. Kyuhyun sends a confused look to Donghae, who just sighs and shakes his head.
Together, they begin to walk down the edge of the shore—Donghae and Hyukjae in the front and Kyuhyun and Ryeowook behind them. The waves are calm today, lapping languidly at the sand. Donghae watches the radiant blue of the water thin out as it swells onto land, only to recede and rejoin the sea again. A slight breeze blows through them, and they all shiver in tandem. Hyukjae sneezes and, catching Donghae’s amused glance, laughs.
“How’s the place treating you?” he tries to make conversation again.
“We haven’t had much of a chance to look around,” Kyuhyun says bashfully. “We only walked around a little bit after dark.”
“Alone? Without anyone else?”
“Well, our alpha was having dinner elsewhere,” Ryeowook replies primly.
Hyukjae smiles awkwardly. “Ah.”
“We were catching up,” Donghae says smoothly. “Hyukjae-yah, do you remember when we got drunk and went skinny dipping here? As teenagers?”
“Don’t talk about that in front of others! I’m not about to out myself as a dumbass in front of your gorgeous boyfriends! We were just teenagers!” Hyukjae splutters, shooting an embarrassed look behind him.
Kyuhyun giggles a little. “Hyung never told us about what kind of teenager he was.”
“Hyung doesn’t say much about his past, honestly,” Ryeowook comments offhandedly. “But I was wondering if Hyukjae-ssi had any stories to tell? Anything we should know?”
Donghae bites his lip. He glances at Hyukjae, wondering if he can also hear the sour note in Ryeowook’s voice, but Hyukjae doesn’t seem to be perturbed at all.
“Oh? What kind of stories are you talking about here?” he asks.
Ryeowook pretends to think. “I don’t know. Like about what kinds of things he did after school? Or who he hung out with most often?”
“Ooh, well. Let me say that Donghae loved music. He always talked about how he was going to become a singer. Like those idols we see on television!” Hyukjae says, with flourish. “Can you imagine Lee Donghae, of all people, dressing up in a fancy suit and dancing onstage?”
“Hyuk, don’t,” Donghae says weakly, his ears burning. “I was just a kid. Kids say dumb things.”
“Well, it wasn’t all that dumb. Because you were damn good at singing. You could replicate a melody just from hearing it once. I still remember how you carried that guitar everywhere. You even slept with it on your bed.”
“Hyuk!”
“That’s a lot of dedication,” Kyuhyun remarks, awed.
“Right? I thought he was going to study music in university too. Reach for the stars and all that. But who knew he’d major in business instead.” Hyukjae nudges him, grinning.
Donghae grimaces. “It wasn’t practical, especially since we were poor. I had to leave music here. Didn’t have a lot of time to pursue it in university.”
“Oh. That’s… sad,” Kyuhyun frowns.
“It’s just the way life is, Kyuhyunie. But it hasn’t been too bad,” Donghae tries to meet Ryeowook’s eyes. “If I hadn’t joined the company I’m with now, I wouldn’t have met you and Ryeowookie.”
This is his olive branch to Ryeowook. He doesn’t like being angry, doesn’t like how it brings out the alpha in him, roaring to be obeyed. Truthfully, yesterday was Donghae’s fault. He should have checked with Hyukjae sooner, should have solidified their plans before he had made that reservation at the restaurant. When he had returned, Kyuhyun had put on a smile and asked him about his night, but he hadn’t been happy. Donghae had let them down. And Hyukjae doesn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his mistake.
Ryeowook walks slowly, still lagging behind the rest of him. In the sand, his shoes create large valleys. The ground opening beneath him.
Suddenly, he says, “If you wanted to do lessons or go back to school for it, we could make that happen.”
“Yes, definitely!” Kyuhyun chimes in eagerly. He squeezes Ryeowook’s hand with a relieved smile. “We can support you, for sure. You can stay at home and make your music!”
“Like a little housewife,” Hyukjae laughs a bit. Donghae does not hear the bitter note in his voice or see his eyes averting to the side. Instead, all he can feel is the sea wind, pulling him up and lifting his soul from the pit of his stomach.
He has never considered the possibility of picking music back up before. Always, it had remained in his memories as an untouchable, glorious object of the past. A symbol of a time long gone. Of dreams unfulfilled. Back when he was a teenager, no one had supported him. His father had threatened to not pay for his university if he chose to major in music. His mother, while not quite so extreme, had strongly discouraged it. We want you to have an easier life than we did, she had said. Not this. Meanwhile, Hyukjae had been too preoccupied with his own wounds. The consequences of coming out in a small countryside town.
Kyuhyun reaches and squeezes Donghae’s hand gently. Donghae blinks back tears.
“I’ll consider it,” he says. “It’d be nice to get back into music again.”
Ryeowook, finally, smiles at him, a small and precious thing. “What other things did you like as a kid?” he asks. What other things did you leave behind?
Picking carefully through his memories, Donghae talks about the football games, the days spent swimming in the sea, the composition books filled with melodies, yes, but also the times he’d go hungry when there wasn’t enough money to feed two growing boys, when he’d get his palms slapped by teachers when he fell asleep in class, when he’d sneak behind the school and smoke. Donghae almost forgets that Hyukjae is beside him; he is so engrossed in his anecdotes, memories resurfacing like old wounds. But, when he finishes a story, Hyukjae finally pipes up from beside him, quiet but sure.
“Once, I had an alpha boyfriend. The whole town went absolutely insane,” he laughs sardonically. “I’ve never seen that many ahjummas so mad.”
Donghae stiffens. He tightens his grasp on Kyuhyun, and Kyuhyun gasps.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry? That’s horrible!”
Hyukjae waves his hand around dismissively. “It’s just the way things are here. I was prepared for it.”
But the truth is, he hadn’t been. He had disappeared from school for nearly two weeks and came back with bruises on his back in the shape of hands. Donghae remembers peeling Hyukjae’s shirt off his chest and crying out in horror. He remembers Hyukjae’s fingers turning white as he gripped onto the back of Donghae’s shirt and wept, so loud he had to hold his hand over mouth so they wouldn’t be caught hiding away in the athletics closet. After that, Hyukjae had left again, not even coming to graduation.
But Donghae doesn’t mention any of that. He knows Hyukjae remembers. Knows that time has not dulled the ache.
“Did Donghae-hyung tell you that Kyuhyunie and I were in a relationship for a year before we met him?” Ryeowook suddenly says. He is staring at Hyukjae now, his eyes like lagoons, reflecting the brilliant blue of the nearly-Spring sky.
Hyukjae glances at Donghae, an unreadable look on his face. “He mentioned something kind of like that—?”
“Yeah. There was a lot of noise too, when we came out. But it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made.” Ryeowook smiles at Hyukjae genuinely. “One of the other ones being to court your dumb friend over here.”
Donghae squawks. “I’m not dumb!”
“Yes, you are.” Ryeowook and Hyukjae say, almost in unison. Meeting each other’s eyes, they begin to laugh together. It is the sweetest music that Donghae has ever heard. So sweet that Donghae almost misses the way Hyukjae’s fists clench at his side. The way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The way he’s drifting away. Or, rather, the way he has drifted away.
The distance widening between them like a chasm, wide and deep.
***
Donghae is lingering behind, watching Kyuhyun and Ryeowook skip towards the car, when Hyukjae taps him on the shoulder.
“Hey, can we talk?” Hyukjae shifts on his feet uncomfortably. “Just the two of us. Before the party. I promise it’ll be quick.”
“Sure. I have to tell my boyfriends first though,” Donghae replies.
A flash of irritation ghosts across Hyukjae’s face, uncharacteristic yet unmistakable. “Sure. I’ll wait here.”
Donghae eyes him uneasily as he jogs down to where his omegas are. Ryeowook quickly whirls around when he smells him in the air and throws himself into his arms. His scent is sweet again, rivering around Donghae like koi fish excited to see their owners after a long separation. Donghae buries his nose into his neck hungrily. He allows himself this small moment to himself, Hyukjae long behind him, before he gently pulls away and thumbs Ryeowook’s cheek.
“Hey, Hyuk says that he needs me for something. Do you mind driving to the party on your own?”
The smile slides off Ryeowook’s face. “He needs you—?” he echoes, grasping Donghae’s hand.
Donghae kisses him on the cheek, guilty. “I’m so sorry. In any other circumstance, I would go with you two instead. But it’s an emergency.”
Ryeowook’s expression goes through a myriad of emotions—disbelief, anger, grief, then, finally, resignation. He steps backwards, out of Donghae’s grasp, and nods slowly. “Just go,” he says. “I’ll tell Kyuhyunie. Just—go and be quick.”
Donghae’s bottom lip trembles. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again. He turns away and goes, chasing Hyukjae’s shadow across the beach. Behind him, he hears Kyuhyun ask why isn’t he coming? , smells the roses wailing for him to return and make everything right again.
But he does not turn back. He does not stop until he is right in front of Hyukjae, panting, head bowed. Hyukjae does not offer him a hand or a sip from the water bottle dangling out of his shoulder bag. Instead, he fixes his gaze on the distant horizon, still like a statue. Stone cold.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he finally says.
Donghae lifts his head, his blood turning to ice in his veins. “What?”
“I mean, I can’t pretend like I’m alright.” Hyukjae turns to face him, and his eyes are wet, glittering in the same way that the sunlight trembles when it reflects off the sea. “You’re so cruel, Donghae-yah. Coming back with your two beautiful boyfriends after not speaking to me for so long. Acting as though nothing has changed.”
“I’m sorry,” Donghae says, because that is the only thing he can say. His chest is suddenly so tight that it hurts to breathe.
“You dropped out of my life. Went completely silent. You told me you loved me, but someone who loved me wouldn’t hurt me like this,” Hyukjae chokes out, the tears finally slipping out of his eyes and down his cheeks.
Donghae can feel himself crying too. But he is not sobbing yet—there is still more he can say before he descends into a wordless grief. He rasps, “Don’t you dare say that I didn’t love you, Hyuk-ah. I can tolerate anything you say to me. Just not that.”
“Then tell me that you read those messages. That you were sad when I blacked out after my breakup. That you were happy when I met someone again. That you were overjoyed when I got engaged! Fuck, Donghae-yah. After everything, just give me the fucking truth !” Hyukjae hisses. “Because I’m tempted to believe that you just fucking lied to me so I wouldn’t chase your ass to Seoul. Because that’s all you do— run away .”
From the bullies. From music. From Hyukjae. From the town he had been raised in.
Donghae clenches his fists. His nails dig so deeply into his palms that he draws blood, but as the metallic scent fills the air, he finds that he likes this. This rage. He’s tired of being sad. He’s tired of hiding. He’s tired of pretending like he hasn’t hated every fucking second spent reliving his mistakes, over and over again.
So he spits at Hyukjae. “Do you want the truth? Then fine. No, I’m not happy for you. I didn’t care about your breakup or your getting together or your engagement because I was trying too goddamn hard to block you from my mind. And I don’t want to come to your fucking wedding. I can’t believe you’d even think that, after everything.”
He doesn’t realize that he’s screaming until he sees a couple of passersby watching. They scatter quickly when they notice him watching, fleeing the scene.
Before him, Hyukjae is quiet. Until he laughs, the sound hollow.
“I think I get it now. You don’t love me. You love what you left behind. The idea of a childhood dream. That’s what you use to justify all the fucked up shit inside you that refuses to move on from all the things you gave up on.
“Well, guess what, I’m not waiting around for you anymore. I don’t care if you don’t come to my wedding. I don’t care if you don’t send me your congratulations. Just don’t expect me to be your best friend anymore. We’re done.”
And then he’s walking away, his back so ramrod straight and so unlike the Hyukjae that Donghae knows that he thinks, if he reaches out, his hand will ghost right through the mirage. But this is real. This is history repeating itself, except Hyukjae is the one abandoning him. Hyukjae, who no longer snorts when he laughs or refuses alcohol at parties. Hyukjae, who has a job and a house and a fiance. Hyukjae, who does not want him anymore.
Donghae has seen this all before. Knows that he must go and grab Hyukjae’s hand again, beg him to stay, apologize for how stupid he’s been for all this time.
But Lee Donghae never looks forward. He only looks behind. He stands on the beach and watches Hyukjae disappear into the distant horizon.
***
The party is about a twenty minute walk from the hotel at some new, touristy restaurant with fancy outdoor seating. Donghae ducks in with only a few minutes to spare, his shirt wrinkled and forehead glazed with sweat. Even though the walk wasn’t strenuous, he feels dizzy, disoriented. Familiar faces swim around his vision, but he cannot put any of them to names. The only name he knows is Hyukjae, Hyukjae, Hyukjae.
From the other side of the room, Ryeowook sees him and immediately hurries over, Kyuhyun close behind.
“Are you okay?” he asks, worried. “You smell upset.”
“I’m okay. Sorry,” Donghae mumbles. All he wants to do is bury his nose into Ryeowook’s neck and let his roses smother him into unconsciousness.
But then he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns around to see an old classmate. There is another woman on her arm, also an alumni, and they both stare curiously at him. Him and the two omegas fussing over him.
“Hi Donghae,” she greets easily. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
Ryeowook and Kyuhyun glance worriedly at Donghae, but for some reason, Donghae finds that all the nervous energy has disappeared from his body. A smile blooms on Donghae’s face, fake and shiny, and he replies, “Always glad to surprise.”
“Is he your partner?” she asks, gaze sliding appraisingly over to Ryeowook.
Ryeowook opens his mouth, about to respond, but Donghae cuts in smoothly.
“Both of them, actually. Meet Ryeowook and Kyuhyun, my omegas.” He tugs Kyuhyun and Ryeowook in by the waist and squeezes them almost bruisingly. The squeak that Kyuhyun lets out barely registers in his ears. All Donghae can think is that he wants, needs , to be the envy of the whole room. If he cannot have Hyukjae, then he will have glory as the runt alpha who went to the city and came back with two gorgeous omega boyfriends. A dream come true.
“Oh! Two of them. You must feel like a lucky alpha,” his classmate—whose name, he remembers, is Miyoung—responds, grinning fakely. “I didn’t know you appreciated variety in size.”
Kyuhyun flinches. A couple of people, listening in on the conversation, begin to snicker. Donghae’s expression darkens.
“Don’t disrespect my partners in front of me. They’re mine .” He bares his teeth, presses them against him even harder.
Miyoung hums. “I can see that.”
And then she’s floating away to the next guest, the next interesting thing. Donghae watches her go, something hot and ugly welling up in his chest, before he turns to Kyuhyun and Ryeowook again. Without knowing, he had released them. Ryeowook reaches up to thumb Kyuhyun’s cheek, worried, but Kyuhyun only turns away, his expression twisted in agony. Around them, the crowd only thickens, shouts of delight echoing through the outdoor area. Donghae cranes his neck, searching wildly for those familiar, jeering faces from years ago, but he doesn’t see any of them. At least, not yet.
Plastering a smile on his face, he offers Kyuhyun and Ryeowook a hand each. “Shall we greet more people?” he says, his voice sounding unreal even to himself.
Eyes narrowing, Ryeowook takes his hand immediately. Kyuhyun hesitates, but in the end, he still allows himself to be swept away, into the fray.
Time seems to glide by after that. It is disorienting, all these familiar places in one place, all these childhood memories in one place. There is the older girl who Donghae used to have a crush on as an elementary schooler, the boy who only ate gimbap for lunch all twelve years of school, the group Donghae used to smoke with—they whizz through Donghae’s vision, sometimes waving, sometimes saying hi, sometimes pausing to ask who’s with you? Most of the people who come to talk to him ask him that, actually. They are all drawn, helplessly, towards the mythology of his romance with the two omegas at his side. Are these your boyfriends? Are they both omegas? Where did you meet them? Can you give us tips? At some point, Donghae finds himself caught in conversation with a man four years his senior, who says Seoul has pretty omegas, doesn’t it? In response, Donghae simply says yes, and Hyukjae’s absence grows ever smaller within his heart. Or so he wants to think.
An hour in, Kyuhyun tugs weakly at Donghae’s hand and asks him to let go.
“Why?” Donghae asks automatically. He’s not happy, but he thinks he likes this, walking around with his Seoul-bought shirt and his two boyfriends beside him. There are still more people to meet, more people to introduce, more people to impress. The night isn’t over yet. He still hasn’t seen the people he needs to see.
“I want a drink,” Kyuhyun says, suddenly irritated. “Am I not allowed to do that now?”
Startled, Donghae lets go. He watches Kyuhyun stalk towards the refreshments table, disappearing into the sea of people. Ryeowook sighs, long and hard, and asks to be released as well.
“I have to go chase after him. Why don’t you go to the bathroom? Your collar is all sweaty.” Almost tenderly, he swipes a finger over Donghae’s chin. Donghae wants to hold him again; without his boyfriends, he feels naked, vulnerable. But he does not protest when Ryeowook chases after Kyuhyun, the tail end of his shirt floating after him. Donghae realizes, numbly, that he had not complimented him on his outfit or his makeup. Without a word, he turns around and heads towards the bathroom.
Predictably, the bathroom is quiet. Donghae washes his hands in the sink and remembers that he has not eaten since lunch. Strangely, the hunger has not hit him yet, but he supposes it can be a good excuse for joining Kyuhyun and Ryeowook near the refreshments table. He misses them already, misses the feeling of Ryeowook’s soft waist in his hands, Kyuhyun’s firm hip.
He is about to leave the restroom when he hears someone whisper his name.
“Lee Donghae?”
Donghae whirls around, and for a moment, he can’t recognize him. The recollection of the field and the boys has always been vivid in his mind, except the solemn, regretful expression does not match with any face in Donghae’s memory. Only when he speaks again, mouth parting around a raspy echo of Donghae’s name, does Donghae truly remember him.
“Siwoo,” he breathes.
“Hi.” Siwoo smiles awkwardly. “Look, I know you don’t really want to see me, so I won’t take up too much of your time. It’s just that, uh, I’ve been thinking a lot recently, and no matter how I twist it, I can’t run away from what I’ve done—”
“Just spit it out already,” Donghae snaps.
“Right, yes.” Siwoo immediately clears his throat. “I just wanted to say that I’ve changed. And that… I’m sorry.”
Donghae’s mind goes blank. He blinks once, twice, and when Siwoo does not disappear from his sight, he just gapes. “What?”
“I’m sorry about being a dickbag when I was a kid. I’m sorry for bullying you, for following you around, for making fun of you all the time. It was a really shitty thing, and I’m sorry.” Siwoo twists his fingers together as if he has been rehearsing this speech for a long time. But all Donghae can hear is the wind rushing in his ears.
“You’re sorry? ” He feels as though he’s in a teen movie, except instead of being the handsome main lead like he had imagined, he’s the butt of a shitty joke. Just like he’d always been.
Siwoo bows his head guiltily. “I am. And I promise I’m not like doing this just to fuck with you. I just—I got divorced recently, okay? And I’ve been doing some self reflection.”
“Do you—do you want me to feel bad for you? Is that it?” Hot fury suddenly roars through him. “You know this doesn’t change shit, right? You know this doesn’t take back what you did?”
“I know. I know that me wanting to apologize to you is selfish in the first place. But you don’t have to accept it. You can beat me up, punch me, anything. I don’t care. I just—I just want to be given what I deserve.” Siwoo’s voice cracks. “I’m tired of being like this.”
Suddenly, a sour scent drifts through the air. Smelling faintly like a patch of roses. Donghae’s body runs cold.
“Donghae—?” Siwoo’s voice rings out again, and when Donghae opens his eyes again, the man is on his knees, his forehead pressed to the ground. He is blubbering incoherently, begging to be struck, to be kicked, to be punished. All those years of pain pointing itself at a single, prone body.
Caught between this once-in-a-lifetime chance and the soured note in the air, Donghae hesitates.
How long has he dreamed of this moment? One of his bullies lowering his head towards him? Pleading to be pummeled down? How long has Donghae spent at the gym, honing the body he hated because of all those times when he was beaten until he bled? How long have those memories haunted Donghae at every second, shaping the way he eats, drinks, and lives his life? How many times has Donghae been told it’s only because you’re too weak ?
But the man in front of him is so pitiful. Divorced, alone, begging the boy you used to bully for some sort of divine punishment. Somehow, Donghae looks at him and sees himself. Chasing after things he no longer has. Neglecting what he does have.
In the end, the worst punishment is to be left with yourself.
So he turns away. “No,” he says. “You can deal with what you did for the rest of your life. I’m not giving you any more of myself than I already have.”
Siwoo sobs, his head in his hands. “Please, Donghae—I would do anything. You don’t have to forgive me. Just, please. Won’t it be satisfying? To see my skull bashed in? Please—”
“No. I need to get to someone. My boyfriend. Goodbye.”
Donghae slams the bathroom door in his face and runs.
The scent is stronger now. He sees the partygoers sniff the air and grimace, only to turn back to their friends and gossip instead of seeking out the source. The past hour flashes, acute and painful, through his mind—the way Kyuhyun and Ryeowook had barely spoken, the way Kyuhyun had grown smaller with every remark about his stature, the way Ryeowook had clenched his teeth and, somehow, kept smiling.
“Get away from him!” Ryeowook’s shout, shrill and panicked, echoes through the room. Donghae chases the sound of his voice through the crowd until, finally, he reaches the refreshments table. Instantly, he sees Kyuhyun buried in Ryeowook’s arms, shoulders shaking, his ears alarmingly red. Donghae suddenly realizes why when he tastes the air and smells it. Pre-heat.
“I thought he was an alpha!” the man across from them says defensively, eyes travelling from Donghae to the omegas nervously. “I swear, I didn’t mean anything.”
“He kept trying to use his alpha voice on me!” Ryeowook screams back. He is breathing so quickly that he looks as though he might faint, his knuckles white where they clutch onto Kyuhyun. Donghae has to pry his fingers off just so he can test Kyuhyun’s temperature, but he finds that he does not have to—the sweet scent of an omega going into heat immediately blasts him in the face with such force that his mouth begins to water.
“Hyung,” Kyuhyun mewls. His hand lifts, and Donghae catches it, clasping it tightly.
“I’m here,” he whispers. “I’m here.”
Kyuhyun smiles weakly. “I knew you’d be back.” Then, he cries out, back arching painfully, before he slumps over, eyes fluttering closed.
“Ryeowook,” Donghae whispers urgently, trying to calm himself. “We need to get Kyuhyunie out of here. Can you run out and go get the car? I’ll get him to the exit.”
“I can’t leave him, hyung. He needs me.” Ryeowook snaps. He trembles almost violently, his other hand still tangled in the back of Kyuhyun’s shirt.
Donghae bristles at his tone, but upon glancing at Kyuhyun again, he calms himself. “Okay. Let’s carry him then.”
Together, they heft Kyuhyun up onto their shoulders and slowly move him across the room. The crowd parts for them, courtesy of Ryeowook’s snarls, and Donghae forces himself to not meet anyone’s eyes. This isn’t about what his old classmates will think of him; this is about Kyuhyun.
The car is parked a decent way away. Aside from their heavy footsteps, the only sound that can be heard is Kyuhyun’s heavy panting. The night sky blankets them with pinpricked darkness, stars stretching out so far apart in the sky that they almost seem to grow closer. Illuminated only by the flickering street lamps, their three figures almost seem mournful.
“Are you okay, Ryeowook?” Donghae asks as a line of cars finally comes into view.
“I’m good,” Ryeowook replies, tonelessly. “This guy—he just approached us from nowhere. He started saying that I deserved an ‘alpha’ better than Kyu. Then, he tried to get me to fall into heat. Kyuhyun fell instead.”
“Was drinking. Ruined hyung's night. His big moment,” Kyuhyun slurs out.
Donghae’s heart creases painfully in his chest. “You didn’t ruin anything, Kyuhyun-ah. Don’t think like that.”
Kyuhyun simply hums, gritting his teeth when another wave of heat crashes through him. His legs suddenly collapse, and Donghae and Ryeowook scramble to support more of his weight before he falls. Luckily, the car is right in front of them; Ryeowook smoothly slips his hand into Kyuhyun’s pocket and pulls out the key. When the vehicle whirs to life, Donghae piles Kyuhyun into the backseat before turning back to Ryeowook, hesitant. Ryeowook simply nods, understanding immediately.
“I can drive,” he says. “Kyuhyun needs your alpha pheromones right now.”
Donghae nods gratefully. Climbing into the backseat beside Kyuhyun, he shuts the door and shifts the omega back into his arms. Immediately, Kyuhyun relaxes, his long arms rivering around him easily.
“You’re here,” he utters, nuzzling Donghae’s neck.
“Yeah,” Donghae whispers, letting his scent fill the air. “I’m here.”
“‘m sorry. Ryeowookie told me to not drink, but I was too sad. I’m sorry. I ruined everything,” Kyuhyun mumbles.
“You didn’t ruin anything. We can talk about it later.” Donghae rubs soothing circles into Kyuhyun’s back, but Kyuhyun only whimpers harder, sweet-sour sage saturating the air around them.
“I couldn’t protect him. He was threatening Ryeowookie. I wanted to do something, but my knees felt so weak. I fell—I fell, and I couldn’t get back up—”
“It’s okay, baby. Look at Ryeowookie. He’s alright. He’s safe.” Donghae smiles at Ryeowookie weakly through the rearview mirror, and Ryeowook flashes them both a thumbs up in response. For once, his scent is almost nonexistent, suffocated into nothingness by the heat stench.
The intoxicating odor is so thick that Donghae needs to bite the inside of his own cheek to quiet the animal inside him. He cannot think about fucking Kyuhyun until he cries or bending him over the hotel bed or breeding him full of pups right now. Kyuhyun is still quivering against him, pushing his nose against Donghae’s neck like a starved dog. While blood, metallic and disgusting, geysers into his mouth, Donghae whispers low reassurances into his ear.
Only when they finally pull up to the hotel does Kyuhyun relax into his arms. It is not easy to haul him to the elevator, but at the very least, his scent has dulled, the forest calming inside him. Deftly, Ryeowook removes his outerwear and ties it around Kyuhyun’s waist, hiding the dark spot between his legs. Donghae is about to step out of the elevator when Ryeowook looks pointedly at his crotch as well.
“Hyung,” he says, and Donghae looks downwards to find his cock straining at his pants.
“Oh, fuck!” Quickly, he throws his jacket off his shoulders and over his front. The jacket will not stay, for sure, but he’d rather at least attempt modesty rather than stride out into the hallway with his entire dick out.
But Ryeowook just sighs. He gently leans Kyuhyun against the elevator wall so he can loop the arms of Donghae’s coat around his waist and tie them together. “You’re not going to be able to carry him if you’re fumbling,” he mutters. Donghae suddenly wants to kiss him, slow and tender, but he stops himself. They have no time.
Five minutes later, they are gently placing Kyuhyun onto the large, king-sized bed they had gotten for all three of them. Kyuhyun writhes, tearing at his clothes, but Ryeowook shushes him. A field of roses suddenly blooms inside the hotel room, weaving easily with Kyuhyun’s sage and woodland. He kicks off his shoes and climbs right into his arms, hand tangled into his hair.
“God, you smell so good. It’s been a while since I’ve marked you,” Ryeowook says huskily. He licks a stripe up Kyuhyun’s neck, and Kyuhyun mewls, arms looping around his neck and legs falling open.
“Please, please, please,” he babbles. “I feel so hot. I need you—I need you—”
Forgotten, Donghae takes the opportunity to slip into the bathroom. With shaky fingers, he unzips his pants and grasps himself. His cock is heavy and hot in his hands, achingly stiff. Every time he hears another muffled noise from outside, it weeps a little more precum onto his hand. The white sliding from his palm to the bathroom floor like rain that hasn’t quite learned how to fall yet. Exhaling slowly, he leans against the bathroom wall and begins to stroke himself, rough and fast, to the sounds of his boyfriends undoing each other. Ryeowook and Kyuhyun have never revealed details of their sex lives to him, but Donghae can imagine it—Kyuhyun’s large hands sliding over Ryeowook’s soft, white belly, Ryeowook’s mouth closing around Kyuhyun’s breast and sucking harshly as if trying to draw milk, their bodies rutting against each other. In this scenario, Kyuhyun would surrender first, begging Ryeowook to enter him, to open him, to fuck him. And Ryeowook would: Even as with his short stature, he would have no problem pounding Kyuhyun into the mattress, taking him higher and higher until—
Donghae comes with a low groan. White splatters over his palm, dappling the bathroom floor tile with cream-colored flecks. He wipes his mess up and washes his hands very slowly. Almost as if he is easing himself out of a very long nap.
When he finally opens the door, a couple things happen very quickly. Kyuhyun sees him and lurches towards him, arms outstretched. Beside him, Ryeowook tries to tug him back. Then, Kyuhyun shoves him off the bed, and Ryeowook slams to the ground, hard.
“Ryeowook!” Donghae rushes towards him, crying out. He gently scoops Ryeowook into his arms, who whimpers in pain, and shoots an incredulous glance at Kyuhyun. “Kyu, why did you do that?”
Kyuhyun’s bottom lip trembles only slightly before he bursts into tears. “He wouldn’t let me get to you!”
“I’m fine,” Ryeowook grunts. His face is nearly white, and he cradles his elbow like a newborn baby, teeth gritted. Panic bursts through Donghae like a bomb, a myriad of diagnoses flashing in his mind: opened wound, broken bone, fracture, all because he was too busy jerking off—
Which is why, when Kyuhyun tries to reach for him, fingers curling briefly around his arm, he pushes him away. “I have to check if Ryeowookie’s hurt,” he barks. “He’s delicate, not like you.”
Kyuhyun reels back instantly, as if he’s been shot. Realization floods Donghae and then he is choking on his words, reaching for Kyuhyun again, trying to twist his mouth into the shape of an apology—but it is too late. Already, Kyuhyun has disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.
Donghae stares at the bathroom door for a few moments, stunned, before he returns his energy to Ryeowook. But when he tries to roll up his sleeve, he finds himself being shoved backwards instead.
“Get out,” Ryeowook snarls. “Leave.”
Uncomprehending, Donghae blinks at him. “What?”
“You heard me. Go to your fucking parents’ house or something. You’re not staying here anymore.” Ryeowook slides backwards, away from Donghae, all while clutching his elbow. His irises, once like small embers, have ignited into a fiery blaze.
“What did I do? Tell me so I can fix it. I promise, I’ll fix it,” Donghae begs. He is reminded, suddenly, of Siwoo’s body, prostrated before him. Now, he lowers himself to his knees before Ryeowook, the world spinning around him. “Please.”
“I shouldn’t need to fucking tell you. You’ve been running off with other people this entire fucking trip. During the party, you treated us as if we were fucking trophies. You didn’t even notice Kyuhyunie getting upset, did you? Because you came here to fucking prove a point,” Ryeowook hisses. “I trusted you to take care of him, and you failed. So get out !”
Donghae searches Ryeowook’s voice for any kind of hesitation, anything that might hint that there is something to clutch onto, to convince. But he is firm, unwavering, almost as if he has been thinking about how to say this for the past day. Behind them, the sound of muffled sobbing seeps through the crack in the bathroom door. There is nothing to argue about—without question, Donghae has failed.
So he does not argue for any longer. He picks himself up off the ground and, without another word, leaves the room. Leaving his heart behind him, in pieces.
***
He arrives at his parents house in tears.
“Oh, my baby,” his mother says, taking him into her arms. He sobs against her, so hysterical that he cannot even form words, but she does not scold him, for once. Instead, she draws a steady hand over his shoulders and presses her lips to his air. Her scent drifts through the air, flowery and sweet. A few seconds later, Donghae’s father lays a firm hand over his shoulder, and together, his parents guide him to the living room.
“Have you eaten?” his father asks quietly. Sniffling, Donghae shakes his head, and his father quickly pulls away to the kitchen, where the microwave whirrs to life. Meanwhile, his mother runs her fingers down his back. It has been so long since she has comforted him like this. He must smell truly dreadful, he thinks, to be eliciting this much care. Alphas cannot be delicate or cry into their mother’s arms after a bad day. They must face the world and its sorrows without flinching or bowing their heads.
But even as Donghae’s father presses a warm bowl of doenjang jjigae into his hands, he finds that all he can do is stare at his own feet.
“I fucked up,” he chokes out. “I lost them. My boyfriends.”
His mother does not stop stroking his back. “Focus on eating,” she says calmly.
Donghae listens. He finishes one bowl of jjigae and then another and then another. The moment his lips touch the spoon, all the hunger he had buried deep inside of him suddenly resurfaces. Swallowing a bit too quickly, he coughs violently, and both his parents begin to fumble for things: a napkin, a glass of water, a thump on the back. But Donghae is fine. Only, the tears have returned to his eyes again. Along with a faint burning in his throat. All the words he should have said to Ryeowook. All the words he shouldn’t have said to Kyuhyun and Hyukjae.
Somehow, a certain heaviness settles over him as soon as he is done eating, closing his eyes and softening his waist. He tries to open his mouth, tries to explain to his parents everything that had gone wrong, but his father just shakes his head.
“We will talk tomorrow,” he promises.
Donghae expects to feel indignant, to demand that he be allowed to purge himself of all the horrible things inside him. But instead, all he feels is exhaustion, settled deep in his bones. He does not complain when he is nudged to the bathroom, where he showers, and when he finds a stack of neatly folded pajamas on the bed for him.
“They’re your father’s clothes,” his mother says, leaning on the side of the doorframe. “You don’t fit into any of your old clothes anymore, since you got so big.”
Donghae clutches the pajama set to his chest. His mind flashes with images of himself, once so tiny, running through the hallways of this old apartment with nothing but socks and underwear on, screaming in laughter as his mother scoops him up from the ground and spins him around in the air. What he would give to be unconcerned with his strength, the size of his muscles. All he wanted was to be small enough to be carried. When he outgrew that era of childhood, when the boys began picking on him, something irreplaceable had been lost.
“You’re crying again? Aish.” His mother wipes his tears away gingerly.
Donghae puts his head into her chest once more, shoulders shaking. “I’m a horrible son. A horrible alpha. I should have never come back.”
“Don’t say that, Donghae-yah. You’re going to break my heart.”
“I wish—I wish I were stronger. More responsible. Less of a crybaby,” he sobs.
“You’re already strong. You’ve always been strong. Look at me.” Gently, she lifts his chin so that he must meet her eyes. Her face is blurred, but even through the tears, he can see the way her eyes, now wreathed by wrinkles, droop downwards in regret. “Did you see those boys again, at the party? The ones who bullied you.”
Donghae nods, although that isn’t the full story. Sighing, she lays his head on her shoulder once more.
“You were so small. You were just a kid. I should have—I should have stopped them back then,” she says regretfully. “I was wrong to put all the responsibility onto you.”
“Eomma,” he whispers, his voice almost inaudible. Any louder and he fears he might burst into uncontrolled sobbing again. He knits his fingers into the back of her shirt, and she lets him.
When he raises his head again, he sees his father watching from the hallway. He offers him a small, reassuring smile, and Donghae smiles back, watery but present. Nothing is fixed, but already, he feels lighter.
The next morning, when he wakes up, there is already breakfast sitting at the table. Donghae pads out while yawning, a finger rubbing at his eyes. His father pushes a bowl of rice towards him and nods.
“We will talk after you eat,” he says.
Donghae nods, almost relieved. He wonders what Ryeowook and Kyuhyun are doing now—surely, Kyuhyun must have avoided heat, if Ryeowook was there to stabilize him. Surely, they must still be sleeping now, all tangled together on that king-sized bed. Maybe Ryeowook would wake first, to eat his vitamins and boil some water for coffee. Maybe Kyuhyun would whine and tug him back into the sheets. Maybe, even, they would remember Donghae and feel the widening gap of his absence between them.
His mother, not an early riser, emerges from the bedroom while Donghae is already setting the dishes down. Easily, she slots in next to his father on the couch. Donghae does not remember ever seeing them kiss or cuddle, but he knows a small touch on the palm or a quick swipe over the thigh can have the same dizzying effect if it is done by someone you love. The heartbreak returns to him in the instant it takes for his mother to pat his father good morning, the same thing she has done for nearly forty years. Donghae wants that routine. He yearns for it.
But first, he must figure out how to piece things back together.
“I fucked up,” he says first. He does not like how scratchy his voice sounds, but it is the inevitable result of crying so hard you lose your voice.
His parents exchange glances.
“What happened?” his father asks first, gently. “Tell us.”
So Donghae spills. The bullying when he was a child. The music. The times he spent running off with Hyukjae. The love that came after. His bisexuality. The one-sidedness. Hyukjae’s coming-out going horribly. The need to leave , to build something new. The body issues, the working out, the work. Then, the courting gifts. The two omegas who had courted him instead of the other way around.
The words flow out so easily, Donghae is surprised that he has kept them inside himself for so long. His parents know some of the story already—after all, they had raised him—but after Donghae had left, he had kept things purposefully curt. He had wanted to reinvent himself, to build something new and separate from the things he had left behind.
But then, he had come back, and all those things had come rushing back. Or, rather, Donghae had chased them. He had spent more time chasing lost loves than taking care of the love he did have. If Donghae could go back in time, all the way back to when they had arrived, he would have been honest. He would have let Hyukjae batter him, give him what he deserved. He would have spent more time with Kyuhyun and Ryeowook touring the town, the scenic spots, the ocean views. He would have decided that, in the end, the reunion party wasn’t worth it, and they would have left early to dip their toes into the seawater and eat street food on the beach.
He would have taken his lovers into his arms and held them tightly.
“I didn’t take good care of them,” Donghae states. “Ryeowook was right. I did fail. All this time, they let me do whatever I wanted because they trusted me. But I fucked everything up. They’re probably on their way out now. I wouldn’t blame them if they left.”
Donghae’s father, who has not spoken the entire time, glances out the window, his eyes focused on a point in the far distance. “It’s early to be up,” he says.
Donghae’s heart leaps in his chest. He looks at his mother, and she shrugs at him.
“What are you going to do, Hae-yah?” she says softly.
Donghae bites his lip. “I don’t deserve them.”
“That’s not up to you to decide. Ryeowookie seems like someone who would defend the people he loves with his life. Don’t forget that you are one of those people.”
“He’d kick me out. Tell me that I’m a horrible person.”
“Then let him,” she says simply. “But don’t just let them go.” Slowly, she reaches forward and takes her hands in his, her calloused fingers small around his. “Some mistakes can’t be fixed so easily. But there are many ways to mend a heart. It just takes some bravery.”
“Do you think I’m brave enough? I wasn’t brave enough to face Hyukjae.” Donghae’s eyes water.
“So what? You’re not back there anymore. You’re here, right now.” His mother squeezes his hand firmly, fixing her clear, dark eyes onto his face. “So, what are you going to do?”
Donghae knows. He stands, and he lets go of his mother’s hand. “I’m going to go,” he tells his parents. There are still tears in his eyes, but he wipes them away, letting the sweet-saltiness dissipate from the surface of his hand.
Minutes later, while he is lacing up his shoes, his father emerges with a couple of food containers.
“Take some food for them.” He gently places the containers into an old backpack and offers it to Donghae with a small smile. “I find that people are easier to please when they’re fed,” he says.
Donghae takes the backpack and recognizes its worn edges, its chipped zipper, its pins. “My old backpack?”
His father winks at him. He extends a hand towards Donghae’s mother, and she takes it with a smile.
“Be back soon,” she says. “Bring your boyfriends. I miss them already.”
Donghae’s chest tightens. “I will,” he promises. Then, he turns and slips out the front door. Outside, the sun has just begun to rise.
He runs.
***
The moment Donghae bursts into the hotel, drenched with sweat under his coat, he has the sudden realization that he has no idea what to say. Would I’m sorry be enough? I should have done better? Donghae has so much to answer for; he cannot imagine making things better in the seconds it takes to say one sentence, the amount of time he assumes Ryeowook will allow him to stay before he pushes him out again.
Although the staff do not pay him much attention as he pads towards the elevators, he can’t help but to feel their gazes on him—the disgraced alpha who was kicked out of his room the night before. But when he does actually catch their eyes, all he sees is that same service-worker cordiality. As if he had been conjuring their disgust in service of his own low self esteem.
The elevator dings. Donghae steps in.
It is a quiet morning. Indeed, no one has started dragging their suitcases or cursing their horrible lovers yet. Most people would be asleep. Watching the floor numbers rise steadily, Donghae thinks about what he’d do if Kyuhyun and Ryeowook were both still asleep. Would he wait there, staring at their dozing forms? Would he start packing his own bags? Even when he steps onto his floor, the answer eludes him.
But, instead of the happy tranquility Donghae expects when he opens the door, he only sees Ryeowook curled up miserably next to the bathroom door. His eyes ringed with dark circles, mouth bitten red, hand stroking wooden door aimlessly. Around him, the air is horribly, horribly sweet.
“Ryeowook? What happened?” Donghae asks, though, with dawning horror, he already knows. His mouth filling with saliva. Omega.
Ryeowook lifts his head towards him. There is none of the anticipated rage on his face, only exhaustion. “Kyuhyunie went into heat,” he says tonelessly.
“Fuck.”
Yet another failure. But Donghae is tired of lingering on regrets—before he knows it, he is kneeling in front of Ryeowook and guiding him towards a bed. Ryeowook is strangely docile in his arms as if he had not screamed at him to leave the night before. Now, he is quiet and pliant. Donghae hates him like this. He tucks a stray hair behind his ear and presses the still-hot containers of food into his hands.
“Eat,” he urges quietly. “I’ll get Kyu out.”
Ryeowook still does not speak when Donghae helps him open the different lids and hands him a pair of chopsticks. There is no guarantee that he will eat, but Donghae must redirect his energy now. Pinching his nose to keep himself sane, he holds his ear against the bathroom door and calls out.
“Kyuhyunie?”
For a second, he does not know if the omega can hear him. But then, he hears something shuffle slowly to the door and lean against it, heavy and hesitant.
“Hyung?”
Kyuhyun’s voice is hoarse. As if he has been crying for hours.
Donghae’s chest clenches. “Hyung’s here. I’m not leaving, Kyuhyunie.”
“You’re here. God, you’re really here—” slowly, painfully, Kyuhyun begins to sob again, his voice escaping him in between rapid breaths— “I thought you left forever. Because of me. Because I embarrassed you at the party.”
Taken aback, Donghae rushes to reassure him. “That’s not true, Kyuhyunie. Breathe with me, okay? Please. Breathe with me.”
But Kyuhyun only cries harder. “And I hurt Ryeowookie. And no one—no one’s gonna love me anymore. No one’s gonna love me because I’m so big and stupid and I’m a horrible omega.”
Donghae is about to beg, to plead more, but something pops into his head that is so absurd that he cannot help but to blurt it out.
“Then I’m No One,” he rushes out.
Kyuhyun hiccups. “What?”
“Then I’m No One. Because you said No One is gonna want you.”
“I’m being serious!” Kyuhyun retorts, so indignant that, for a moment, he does not weep. And, like the way a thirsty man opens his mouth towards the sky at the sign of rain, Donghae seizes the moment.
“I’m being serious too. I love you. Even if you don’t forgive me, I’ll always love you. Last night, I was so wrong. I should have been more cautious. I should have taken better care of you. I should have kept you safe. But I didn’t. And I’m so, so sorry.” Slowly, Donghae presses his hand against the door and hopes, desperately, that his words can touch Kyuhyun’s heart.
But Kyuhyun does not budge. Instead, he sniffles, wordless. The coarse sound of fabric rustling reaches Donghae’s ears, the sweetness briefly lightening, and in a rush, the right words find his mouth.
“Doesn’t it hurt, Kyuhyun-ah?” he says, his voice suddenly soft. “Come out. Hyung will take care of you. You don’t have to be strong anymore. I’m here. We’re here.”
Kyuhyun whimpers, “Don’t want to burden Ryeowookie.”
“Ryeowook is a very strong person,” Donghae says, “and he misses you. You don’t want to keep him waiting, do you? He’s waiting for you on the bed. I’m waiting for you too. You smell so good, baby. I want you so much. We want you. Our pretty omega,” His voice cracks. “Please.”
For a moment, there is only silence. Even the wind does not whistle, for once becoming still.
Donghae holds his breath.
Then, the lock clicks, and in a swooping motion, the door swings open. Like a Monarch butterfly finally reaching its wintering grounds, Kyuhyun flies into his arms.
Donghae catches him, fingers curling onto his naked shoulders, chest opening against him. In a burst of joy, he kisses him so hard and deep that Kyuhyun moans through his sobs, loud and needy.
“Want you, alpha. You and Ryeowookie. Please,” he gasps.
“I’ve got you, sweet thing. Perfect omega. Mine.” Donghae peppers kisses all over his face. “Gonna breed you. Gonna fill you up. Pretty little thing. I’ve wanted you for so, so long.”
Kyuhyun melts against him, becoming pliant, and when Donghae finally scoops him up and carries him to the bed, Ryeowook is already there to meet him, voracious after an entire night of waiting. He smashes their mouths together, nearly growling, already unclothed. Together, they tumble into bed, all three of them, and everything is finally right again.
***
Hours later, Donghae folds Kyuhyun into a set of clean sheets and drags a wet towel over his feverish skin. Ryeowook watches him from behind, lips pressed together. When Donghae turns back around, the omega is staring at him with something unreadable in his eyes.
“We should talk,” he says.
Donghae nods. “I’m sorry—” he tries to say, but Ryeowook shakes his head. Slowly, he reaches for Donghae’s hand and grasps it lightly like he’s not sure if this is what he wants. Only when he squeezes does Donghae finally let himself squeeze back, to smile tearfully, to take him into his arms again.
Ryeowook smells sweet and soft. Even though they’ve only spent a night apart, Donghae has missed him so, so terribly. He clutches onto him tightly, silently, and Ryeowook clutches him back, burying his face into his shoulder.
A very, very long moment passes before they finally part, staring into each other’s eyes. Ryeowook reaches upwards and thumbs Donghae’s cheek, something unbearably tender in his gaze.
“You asked me, a long time ago, how me and Kyu met,” he says. “Would you like to know now?”
Donghae nods. “Yes.”
So Ryeowook speaks. The story is this: Back in university, Ryeowook and Kyuhyun knew each other only distantly. They didn’t attend the same schools—Ryeowook was in pastry school after delaying enrollment to take care of his ailing mother, and Kyuhyun was finishing his masters. They couldn’t have been more different.
At the time, Ryeowook hadn’t been looking for a lover. He liked sex, but attachment was a different matter altogether. There was a big difference, to him, between waking up in someone’s bed, sore and tired and marked, and waking up in someone’s bed and going to make breakfast for them. He tried to make it clear to all his bed partners, this personal distinction, but not everyone understood.
“I was well known, I think. As a slut,” Ryeowook recalls. “I acted like I didn’t care. I had presented early, after all.”
And bore the scars to show it. While the other children had been rolling in the grass, tusseling with each other with muddy hands, Ryeowook had held his own body and listened to his omega father prophesize his demise. He was no longer himself—now, he was an object. A house to enter into. And if he didn’t lock his doors and put blackout curtains on his windows, then others would trespass. As if it would be his fault if anyone did.
But Ryeowook had never been an obedient child. He craved the danger, the feeling of being desired, even if he didn’t understand what he was getting himself into. By the time he left home, he had already lost his virginity.
University wasn’t like high school. Most people knew to calm themselves by then, to suppress their scents and flatten themselves out. Ryeowook did too, but he simply chose not to. Everywhere he went, he carried his scent like a trophy. A sign he wasn’t afraid to be who he was.
“Of course, people came to me because of that. I expected it. I had more partners than you could ever imagine. In a way, I earned my reputation.” Ryeowook muses self-deprecatingly.
He didn’t, of course. Even he knew that. But it got worse—an ex-friend-with-benefits who had started stalking him, leaving threatening letters on his doorstep. The police told him that unless this person was entering his room and physically harming him, they couldn’t do anything. But Ryeowook couldn’t move apartments either—couldn’t afford to—so he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the objective fact that, as he walked back to his apartment from the police station, there was someone watching him and wanting to hurt him.
Kyuhyun was a friend of a friend. By some coincidence, they found themselves sitting in the same booth in the same restaurant. He did not have to pick the cheapest item on the menu, unlike Ryeowook. His eyes were dark and soft. His nose twitched when he looked at Ryeowook for the first time.
Ryeowook strokes Donghae’s thigh. “I still remember that night so clearly. I had told my friends about the stalker, of course, to warn them. But it was Kyuhyun who had suggested that I move into his place for a little while.”
Kyuhyun lived on the other side of the city, closer to Ryeowook’s university. He had a car, which he only used occasionally, and he had an extra bedroom since his old roommate had just moved out. But, most importantly, his apartment building was gated. And, in order to enter the building itself, you had to either swipe a key card or have a confirmed connection with a resident.
Ryeowook had done dangerous things before. He had let strangers into his house to fuck him without protection, done drugs in alleyways, closed his eyes to the world around him. By all means, Cho Kyuhyun could have been another one of those dangerous things. A mistake that would flash before his eyes right before death.
But Kyuhyun saved him instead. And Ryeowook fell in love with him and stayed.
Donghae strokes his hand as he speaks, humming only occasionally to show that he was still listening. Ryeowook’s story aches inside him in an unbearable way. A history of pain that Donghae hadn’t been a part of. An urge to take this beautiful, resilient omega into his arms and never let him go.
Ryeowook is staring at Kyuhyun now, at the way he has curled himself deep into the covers and made himself small, like a baby animal searching for warmth without its mother. Gently, he bends down and presses a feather-light kiss to Kyuhyun’s hair. Kyuhyun burbles sleepily in response, a smile stretching out his cheeks.
“Kyuhyunie is used to saving people,” Ryeowook finally says, lifting his head with a regretful glint in his eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted was to save him too.”
Donghae squeezes him tightly. “You do help him though. You look out for him when he needs to be careful. You reassure him when he’s feeling down. You’re there for him in all the ways that matter. That isn’t less important than the physical protection he gives you.”
But Ryeowook only shakes his head. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” he murmurs.
Donghae tilts his head at him. Ryeowook averts his gaze.
“I’m sure you already know the places where you made mistakes during this whole… thing. But I also... I wanted you to be perfect. To be the alpha he needed. That’s all he’s ever wanted, you know? To feel like a tiny, pretty omega. Like me.” He wraps his hands around himself, expression twisting. “I was so mad when you kept running off and fucking shit up. Like—it wasn’t just you. It was also me, failing him. Since I wasn’t enough for him.”
“Did you… Was he the one who proposed courting me?” Donghae asks cautiously. Something pulling apart inside him.
Ryeowook nods guiltily. “There are so many things. He wanted to feel like an omega. He wanted a baby, eventually. He wanted someone who could relate more to him. You slotted into those things so easily. I didn’t care for anyone else, but I had to accept that I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be.”
“How did courting work then?” Donghae frowns. “You just decided to help him get me?”
“Well, no. I told him he could court you himself if he really wanted to. But… Well, you already know.”
“I already know—?”
“That you’re irresistible,” Ryeowook says, gazing at him through his long eyelashes. Cheeks pinkened like a maturing cherry blossom. Spring, arriving slowly but surely like a love that wasn’t supposed to leave the budding stage—but still decided to bloom anyways.
Donghae utters, “So you fell for me too, eventually.”
“Yes,” Ryeowook whispers. “So, so hard.”
And then he’s reaching, again, pressing their mouths together. This kiss is not unlike the other kisses they’ve shared before, and it is because of this familiarity, this reawakened routine, that Donghae falls deeper than ever before. With Ryeowook against him, he feels like he knows what a home is now, finally. Not a place or a cemetery for childhood dreams or a list of what-ifs. But the people you love beside you, whatever that may look like.
“I’m sorry, hyung,” Ryeowook finally says when they break apart, pressing their foreheads together. “For treating you like a bandaid.”
Donghae brushes over his cheek tenderly. “I’m sorry too, for prioritizing my own regrets over you two. I—”
He’s stopped by the sound of the sheets rustling—Kyuhyun stirring from his short nap. The omega sits up, blinks hazily at them, and opens his legs. A tsunami of heat scent hits Donghae at once, and his mouth begins to water again.
“We’ll talk later. After the next heat episode passes,” he promises Ryeowook, who nods easily.
“I’m okay with that.” He smiles.
Kyuhyun mewls for them, and the world dissolves into blind instincts once more.
***
Three days later, Kyuhyun’s heat breaks. Doctors will later tell them that it was because the heat was induced, not natural. Now, all they can do is thank the universe for such a stroke of luck. And for other things.
When Donghae wakes up at the end of that third day, he touches the side of his throbbing neck and finds not one but two mating bites.
“My legs feel like jelly,” Kyuhyun whines when Ryeowook helps him off the bed and towards the bathroom, which they had aired out after that first horrible day. “Hyung fucked me way too hard.” He glares.
“Hey, part of it was Ryeowookie too,” Donghae calls back, tucking a couple of pairs of pants into his suitcase.
They haven’t had much time to do anything besides fuck, sleep, and eat food from Donghae’s parents for the past few days. Luckily, the hotel had extended their reservation without issue, even providing clean towels each day without issue. Kyuhyun had refused to part from the sheets they had laid down the first day, and Donghae understood enough about omega nesting to object, even when Ryeowook complained of the growing stickiness.
Over the past few days, in between Kyuhyun’s bouts of heat-induced episodes, they’ve been speaking. About growing up smaller than the others, underestimated, used.
“I know Kyuhyun idolizes me for my appearance,” Ryeowook said just the night before, head leaned on Donghae’s shoulder. “He’s working on it, but I know he struggles with things like that.”
Donghae hummed. “I’ll be here. And I think… Maybe, I need to start going to counseling after him. If it works out okay for me, I’ll bring it up to him. Have you talked with him about it a lot?”
Ryeowook shook his head guiltily. “Maybe I should get on that," he mused.
Which brings them to now. Right before his shower, Ryeowook had tapped Donghae on the shoulder five minutes before, murmuring, “I’m going to talk with him privately. Can you wait to shower for a little bit?”
Donghae had nodded, even though he knew it would take the omegas at least an hour to finish their conversation. Tidying up the room and setting aside the used food containers his parents had brought him last, he tries not to eavesdrop. Kyuhyun and Ryeowook, after a whole year together, have surely found their own ways to deal with the things they need to talk about. Donghae trusts them.
Abruptly, he remembers Hyukjae. The way he had turned and left. The way the wind had carried his scent away. Donghae pauses for a second and glances at his phone contemplatively. But he does not do what he wants to do because he knows there are things he must do first.
As he expects, they both emerge from the bathroom an hour and a half later, swaddled in bathrobes and holding onto each other tightly. Donghae can smell Kyuhyun now, stronger than he ever has before outside of heat. Seeing his startled expression, Kyuhyun smiles bashfully.
“Do you like it?” he asks. “Ryeowookie said I should try not to suppress my scent as much.”
Ryeowook smiles with pride, squeezing Kyuhyun’s waist. “Isn’t it wonderful, hyung?”
It is. For the first time, Kyuhyun’s woody sage has joined with Ryeowook’s roses and his own musk, accompanying them not as an accompanist in the background as a singer in their trio. A braid of scents, all melding together into an exuberant song. Each of them singing their different parts yet forming a harmony beyond pure unison.
In a braid, no two strands are woven together at once. Remove one and the other two strands fall apart as well. All three are necessary to form a final whole.
Tears, for some reason, fill Donghae’s eyes. Consumed by lightness, he lets the moisture collect in his under-eyelids and tint his vision a myriad of colors. “Come here, Kyuhyunie,” he says, holding out his hands.
When Kyuhyun is in his arms, Donghae finally allows himself to bury his nose into his neck, where he knows he and Ryeowook had marked him the night before. Kyuhyun is sweet, so, so sweet, and Donghae suddenly has so many things he wants to say that he doesn’t know how to say any of them. “I let you down,” he says finally. “I made you think that I cared more about old grudges than you. I left you. I’m sorry.”
Kyuhyun hugs him back, pressing his soft cheek against his shoulder. “It’s okay, hyung. You came back. You came back to us.”
“Of course, I did. You’re mine.” Donghae cups his cheek, eyes softening. “I couldn't ask for a better omega. My Kyu.”
“Alpha.” Kyuhyun smiles back, all teary. He detaches one arm from their hold on each other—only to pull Ryeowook into the embrace with them, burying his hand in Ryeowook’s wet hair and pressing his lips to his temple. Ryeowook shudders against them but does not pull away. Instead, he draws them all closer until their breaths are mixing into one, their bodies so close together that Donghae cannot tell where one of them begins and the other ends.
Then, Kyuhyun sucks in a breath and, like the way a bird must leave its nest in order to return to it, lets go. “Hyung, you really need to take a shower,” he says, wrinkling his nose.
Donghae laughs. “I will.”
He leans in to peck both of their cheeks and puts Hyukjae aside for now. First, he must tend to the love right in front of him.
Except, apparently, the love comes right back around, for, as they’re checking out of the hotel and planning on making one last stop at Donghae’s childhood home, Ryeowook asks him about Hyukjae.
“You fought with him, didn’t you?” he asks as Donghae turns in their room keys.
Donghae cringes a little to himself, the memories of that night all flashing behind his eyes with uncomfortable vividity. “Was it that obvious?”
“You seemed upset. Only one person could make you that upset.” Ryeowook shrugs.
“Oh. Well—” Donghae bites his bottom lip— “I fucked things up with him, basically. Really, really badly.”
Ryeowook blinks at him. “Then why aren’t you rushing after him?”
Donghae glances at Kyuhyun, who usually would have insisted on being at the counter with them, but instead resigned himself to sitting on a nearby couch due to soreness. “I want to,” he confesses. “But I don’t want to make the same mistake with you two that I did before.”
“Then come clean to Kyuhyunie about it. Be honest. I promise he won’t hate you.” Ryeowook softens. “You have to let yourself trust in others a little more, hyung.”
So Donghae does. After they’re told that they’re ready to go, Donghae slowly heads over to where Kyuhyun is sitting and places a hand on his thigh. With a steady voice, he tells him who Hyukjae is, their history together, his silence, the wedding. Kyuhyun’s eyes grow clearer the more he explains as if things are finally connecting in his head.
“You have to go after him, hyung. Go!” he urges.
Donghae fumbles. “You’re okay with this? Even after I left you guys before?”
“I know you’ll come back, hyung.” Kyuhyun softens. “You’re really ours now.”
He looks at the mating bites on Donghae’s neck. Unconsciously, Donghae reaches up and traces the deep marks with the pad of his fingertip. As if responding to his touch, the bites suddenly send a pleasant twinge through him, and he breathes, “No one else’s.”
“Then go. You don’t want to let your best friend slip away, right?” Kyuhyun reminds him. Smiling, he lets go of his hand and gives him a gentle shove towards the door.
“Right.” Donghae stares at him. “Right, I don’t. Fuck.” Slinging his backpack onto his shoulders, he quickly kisses Kyuhyun on the mouth, then Ryeowook, before he begins to run for the exit. “I’ll be back,” he promises, nearly shouting.
“I know you’ll be! Stupid hyung!” Ryeowook calls back, sounding as though he is smiling. He leans against Kyuhyun, content, and Kyuhyun wraps an arm around his shoulders.
Tearing his eyes away, Donghae fumbles out his phone. Hyukjae’s contact information is still in his list of favorites, and he presses it quickly as he speeds down the hill. To his surprise, Hyukjae picks up on the first ring.
“Donghae? Is that you?”
He sounds hoarse, almost hollow. Donghae swallows and keeps running.
“I’m going to the field, Hyuk. Do you remember that field? The grass was so green,” he says, raising his eyes to the rising sun. The sunrays greet him with unequaled intensity, like God’s eyes, watching him from above, surveying him. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Meet me there?”
He expects Hyukjae to retort, to tell him to fuck off and never return. But, instead, he simply says, “Okay,” and hangs up.
Donghae’s chest expands with breath. He puts his phone away and runs.
***
The field does not look the same as he remembers. The soft green grass from his memory is brown now, still recovering from the just-fading winter. Donghae settles down on a bench and watches the birds glide across the sky, free and flapping. When the birds have finally become so small he cannot see them anymore, he hears the sound of a car halting on the curb behind him. Moments later, footsteps. Hyukjae’s shadow, falling over him from behind.
“Sorry for the late notice,” Donghae says awkwardly, throat bobbing as Hyukjae slowly settles down beside him. “Was the drive okay?”
“My fiance drove me.” Hyukjae says curtly, unabashedly searching Donghae’s face for a reaction.
But Donghae only offers a smile. “Hope it was okay for him then.”
Hyukjae does not say anything back. He is wearing sunglasses, but he takes them off, folding them into his hands and fixing his red-rimmed eyes on Donghae's neck. The mating bites from the night before are far from fading, still vibrantly crimson under the sunlight.
Donghae does not cover himself up. Instead, he meets Hyukjae’s gaze with all the openness he can muster. He explains, “Kyuhyun went into heat at the party. It only just broke this morning. We’re leaving today after visiting my parents.”
Hyukjae hums, finally tearing his eyes away from Donghae’s throat. “I suppose you wanted to tie up loose ends then,” he says bitterly.
“No. I mean, kind of. I just… I honestly didn’t expect you to give me a chance,” Donghae admits.
“Looks like I’m weaker than I thought. I guess it really is hard to let go of someone you’ve known for most of your life.” Hyukjae gazes towards the sky, his pupils following the same line of sight that Donghae had before he arrived. It makes something sting inside him, this learned sameness between them. This familiarity that never truly left.
“You were right,” Donghae says softly. “I loved you like I loved a dream. Not like a real person. I treated you badly because of that. I lumped you in with the rest of the things I couldn’t have.”
With a quick glance, Hyukjae seems unresponsive. But Donghae doesn’t miss the slight tremble in his lips, the rapid blinking.
Hyukjae suddenly says, “It wasn’t because of me, was it? That you gave up music?”
“What? No! Hyuk, no. If anything, you were the only one who supported me the most,” Donghae says, nearly incredulous. He wants to think that Hyukjae is joking, that this isn’t something that has been haunting him for years, but a single look at his haunted expression proves him wrong.
“I wasn’t there for graduation. I barely saw you in the final month of high school. When you left, I didn’t even go to say goodbye. I was so entrenched in how shitty my own life was,” Hyukjae says miserably.
“Your parents had literally almost kicked you out, Hyuk. I couldn’t ask you to make my career choices for me,” Donghae soothes.
But Hyukjae doesn’t respond to him. “I thought you’d at least come back after uni,” he says instead. “But you went to Seoul instead. You kept texting me though. You hadn’t started ghosting me yet. I always wondered—what changed?” Hyukjae wonders aloud as if he doesn’t expect to receive an answer. After all, he already knows.
When Hyukjae had first started talking about Donghee, things had been alright between them. Donghae had even considered returning to his hometown and maybe trying to get over himself. But the moment Hyukjae’s brief thing with Donghee had snowballed into something larger, Donghae had pulled himself away. It had been too much, to watch his last dream be snuffed out with such exuberance.
Donghae swallows. “I hated myself for resenting your happiness. I was scared of putting that on you.”
“I would have preferred that. What you said a few days ago, God, it hurt like hell, but it was better than those nights I spent wondering what you were thinking,” Hyukjae confesses. He stares at the ground next to his feet, scuffing at the rough patches of grass with a distant look in his eyes. “I still—I still don’t know how I’m going to get married without you by my side.”
“You don’t have to. I can be there, Hyuk. For you,” Donghae says, surprising himself with how sure he sounds.
But Hyukjae’s expression twists. “You literally just told me you weren’t happy for me. How am I supposed to invite you to my wedding? How am I supposed to just forget how much you hurt me?” he says, his voice filled with such raw agony that it hurts Donghae too, slides along his insides and splits his heart into bloody halves.
“You don’t have to. You’re allowed to hate me forever. I deserve it, after everything I did. But I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. That I’ll do everything in my power to be a better friend to you, even if it means leaving you alone forever if that’s what you want,” Donghae says, even though he thinks that he might never recover if Hyukjae never wanted to see him again. For the past three days, the haze of Kyuhyun’s heat has protected him from the realization of what he’s done, what he’s damaged; now, he doesn’t have that privilege. And he doesn’t deserve it.
But he’s tired of turning away. He holds his hand out to Hyukjae and says, “But if you did want me at your wedding, I would happily be there. And when you kiss Donghee-hyung, I’ll cheer louder for you than anyone else in the room.”
Hyukjae’s eyes fill up with tears. “Would you really?”
“Yes,” Donghae says, without hesitation. “I want to meet him. I want him to yell at me for how badly I’ve treated you. I want to have dinner and drinks with him. I want to earn my place in your life again.”
He expects silence, a moment to process, a revelation. But instead, Hyukjae just bursts into tears.
“You fucking idiot,” he cries. “Don’t you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to hear that?”
Ignoring Donghae’s extended hand, he pulls Donghae into his chest. Startled, Donghae chokes, and the tears he had been holding back suddenly flow out all at once. He curls his fists into Hyukjae’s shirt fiercely, promising to the heavens that he will never, ever let go again. As if thinking the same exact thing, Hyukjae crushes Donghae against himself like a lifeline, a precious thing that had been lost and then found again.
Two best friends, who once knew everything and then nothing, finally baring themselves to each other again. The universe righting itself with every false skin that peels off their embracing forms. Now, when they look at each other through tears, they finally smile.
Above them, the birds fly home.
***
Shin Donghee is a strong, surprisingly mild-mannered man. Donghae watches him help Ryeowook pile the boxes and boxes of local delicacies his parents had insisted he take with him back to Seoul. Laughing a little, he elbows Hyukjae on the side.
“I can see why you like him so much now, twig,” he teases. Hyukjae shoves him back, blushing. It is nice to see him so happy with an alpha he loves, especially after everything. More than anyone, he deserved a happy ending. Under the sunlight, his engagement ring practically glows.
Kyuhyun is still chatting with Donghae’s father when they step out of the house and onto the driveway, an ice box containing even more local seafood sitting heavy in his arms. Breaking away from Hyukjae’s side, Donghae hurries to help Kyuhyun shove the box into the trunk.
It is the last thing that fits for a reason. Smiling fondly, Donghae’s mother squeezes him close.
“Make sure to come back and return the ice box to us soon. It’s the only one we have,” she says, a twinkle of mirth reflected in her eyes.
Donghae hugs her back tightly. “We’ll be back soon,” he promises.
His father, patting Kyuhyun on the back once before returning to his mother’s side, offers him a final hug as well. He has never been the best at goodbyes, but Donghae finds that he doesn’t need him to be.
“I’m proud of you,” his father says to him simply, pulling him in for a final, brief embrace, and Donghae blooms.
Hyukjae and Donghee wait for them behind. Donghee’s eyes still narrow when Donghae goes to hug Hyukjae, but Hyukjae grips onto Donghae with such fierceness that he seems to melt a little, his scent mellowing noticeably. Grateful for the tacit approval, Donghae shoots him a quick smile before he allows Hyukjae’s notes of bittersweet chocolate to fully wash over him.
“Keep your promises, okay? Or I’ll find you in Seoul and beat you up,” Hyukjae whispers, his nose brushing against the side of Donghae’s neck.
“Don’t worry. I give your fiance full permission to break me in half if I don’t keep my word.” Donghae rubs his back slowly and soothingly, his fingers running over the ridges in Hyukjae’s spine like frets on a guitar. Drawing his eyes towards Donghee, Donghae nods. “Please continue to take care of him.”
“I will.” Donghee’s reply, however short, is able to send Donghae enough strength to tear himself away from Hyukjae and smile at him without tears in his eyes.
“How expensive do you want this wedding to be?” he grins. “I should know, since I’m going to be your planner and all.”
Hyukjae scoffs wetly. “I’d never hire someone as scatterbrained as you to be my planner. Now get lost.”
Minutes later, when they’ve all found their places in the car, the others are still watching them from behind. Kyuhyun rolls down the window and beams widely, shouting about visiting again soon, and Ryeowook sticks out a hand after him, waving with equal zeal. Only when their four figures have become nothing but dots in the horizon does Kyuhyun finally return to his seat, a heavy exhale on his lips.
“That felt like the longest trip of my life,” he says, flopping onto Ryeowook.
“Agreed,” Ryeowook says, carding his fingers through Kyuhyun’s mussed up curls. “Next time we go confront our worst fears in our hometowns, let’s be a bit more open about it, okay?”
Donghae can feel his pointed stare burning through the seat. He laughs, “Yes, of course.”
“I feel like we still don’t know so much about you, hyung. Your dad said that you used to smoke? What was up with that?” Kyuhyun asks, careful yet curious.
With equal caution, Ryeowook joins him. “And the fact that you were queer this entire time? Like, the town is so conservative. How was that even like for you?”
A flurry of memories resurface in Donghae’s mind but, for the first time, Donghae does not find himself engulfed in the usual well of shame that comes with their recollection. Instead, they wash over him, like tides that push in forcefully but eventually disappear beneath the sand, nourishing the minerals below.
He smiles, his eyes fixed on the horizon before him. “I’ll tell you, I promise. I’ll tell you everything when we get back.”
Together, they move forward, towards the sun. Towards the future.