Chapter Text
October air brushed past Sangwon’s face, cutting harshly through the gaps his silky scarf left around his exposed neck. He sighed inaudibly, rosy cheeks mirroring the morning’s rather cold weather and his own makeup.
He shook his head slightly, wanting to brush some of his long hair away from his view as it troubled his reading. His fingers were too cold to get them out of his jeans pocket.
Stepping into the campus, he, unfortunately, was aware of all the eyes and whispers aimed towards him, hence the book and earphones he had on to block it all out.
Lee Sangwon, whose eyes followed every little step of his way since childhood. The child of a famous singer, well-loved by the nation. A woman with an outstanding aura and a very friendly personality, who won her public attention.
Sangwon made his way through the halls, closing his book when it got crowded, keeping his eyes straight on the way to not bump into anyone. He took the stairs, leaving the elevator for solitude.
And after what felt like an eternity of loudness, he finally made it to music room number 22.
Finally able to breathe again, to remove his mask of indifference and set his belongings away. Stripping down to his raw self, just him, a mirror, and music in his ears.
He started stretching on autopilot; his muscles knew their job better than his head would. His mind went over the past week’s events.
He… ran away. For a week, he disappeared completely. None of his friends knew how he was; he was absent from classes and tests. But his family wouldn’t know. Of course, they wouldn’t. How would they?
He sighed again, standing straight, head high as he started to dance. Contemporary dance. The only form of emotion he allowed himself to show. His pure exhaustion, hatred, and loneliness.
He hated dancing. Hated his trainee days, hated his cursed childhood of discipline, and having to watch what to eat and how much to exercise. He didn’t want to hear a single pop song, as he covered half of them for heartless teachers who only picked on him.
His expression darkened as he danced more, twisting his whole body and coming down on his knees, hugging himself as he wished to be hugged. He’d laugh at the irony of it all as he stood and kept dancing.
Sangwon is well-loved; on the surface, he has fans. People would kill for his looks. But when he looked in the mirror, he only saw his mother’s eyes. The eyes that never bothered to look at him, and when they did, it was for a split second, then they were gone.
He thought if he danced well, she would praise him; if he got straight As, she’d spend the day at home. If he got into the big company she talked about in interviews, she’d finally take him in her arms for once.
But it never happened. Sangwon was never enough.
He gritted his teeth as his routine reached its end, standing in a posture with his head high and arms open, wishing to be taken in.
He once again sighed, body slumping as he reached for his towel to dab his sweat away. The room reeked of his pheromones. Sad, angry, overwhelmed.
He decided to air the room out first; years of presenting as an omega, and he still wasn’t used to his scent being so sour.
That’s another thing, he thought as he sat down near the window, letting the air brush his hair again. An omega. Another failure? He sometimes thought. Maybe his mother would have loved him more if he were an alpha; maybe his dad would never have left if he were anything else. Anyone else.
The boy sat down and brought his knees closer to his chest, hugging them and looking out at the trees that turned yellow and brown. Fall, if he remembered correctly, was Leejeong’s favorite season.
Friends, yes, he still had to face his friends one way or another. Ideally, they should know he tends to disappear now and then, but a week?
He stood again as his breath stabilized and got on his tiptoes, years of ballet practice coming rushing back in as he started to practice his double spin.
And he did—got it on the first try—yet never satisfied; he tried again and lost balance, catching himself at the last second. He looked down, hair covering his eyes as he remembered his first-ever ballet instructor when he was six; she was the only teacher to ever be nice to him. Her smile was so warm it never faded from his memory, even as he grew and forgot how she sounded.
He held himself together and tried again, and again. A voice in his head was telling him he was doing this for himself; he was alone, and he didn’t have to impress anyone anymore. He chose contemporary dance. Not his mother. Not a stranger with a card for stardom.
He wanted so badly to prove to himself he wasn’t broken. Needed to do so. Or else why was he even still here? He was supposed to make it by eighteen, but the group was canceled again. And he was sent to the practice room again.
He couldn’t handle that rejection and thought about ending it all. The thoughts were too dark to see through, and as he stood on the rooftop of his house, he glanced up for a second, and the stars shone so bright on top of him that he just burst out crying, lying on his back and wondering what had gotten him to this point exactly. What dream was he trying so desperately to get? Whose dream, actually?
And then he quit. Left the company and applied to the university. And even then, his mum only sent a message, telling him it’s okay. Nothing less, nothing more.
He majored in literature, grades never below an A, finally doing something he actually enjoyed, going as deep into his books as his heart desired. But still minored in dance. He was starting to be fascinated by contemporary dance; it felt like combining the emotions of reading and the expression of dance in one thing.
University was slow-tempered compared to trainee days. Deadlines weren’t deadly, there was room for mistakes, and he could make up for what he messed up. It gave him room to breathe—he never realized how much he needed that. And it gave him friends.
Leejeong, Harryjune, and Anxin. If Sangwon was real with himself, if it wasn’t for Leejeong’s persistence in befriending him when they were freshmen, Sangwon wouldn’t have opened up to the idea of having any friends till now.
He walked up to him in their second week and asked if he could take a seat next to him. Sangwon was reading, and frankly, he didn’t want to be bothered, but then he looked up; the boy was smiling so kindly at him that it intrigued him. When was the last time he was on the receiving end of someone else’s kindness? He didn’t know. So he just nodded.
Leejeong’s presence wasn’t overwhelming; the boy didn’t talk too much, but everything he said seemed to get kinder by the minute. He didn’t sugar-talk him; he just gave him one normal relationship, where they could talk about idle daily life things one day and discuss deep feelings when Sangwon needed it another.
He grounded Sangwon with his bubbly laughter and comforting words; after three years, he knew exactly what to say to get him back to reality when things got too heavy.
And then Harry came in slowly, freshman year, around their midterms. A small storm took the dance department. Everyone was talking about him. Sangwon was once again intrigued. But Harry stepped up to him again, with his confident eyes, and asked if they could grab lunch together. Sangwon was reminded of Leejeong’s words, and he smiled, “Only if you pay,” he said with a chuckle.
It never bothered Sangwon that the two were alphas; in fact, he knew about their silly crushes on him when they first approached him, but then soon the three molded into a strong friendship dynamic and grew protective of the omega.
Anxin came along in their sophomore year; he was a freshman from the art department, and the boy met the trio during the university festival. He was running a stall, and then his eyes shone like the stars were all poured into them when his eyes met Sangwon’s. He quickly stepped out, going close to Sangwon’s face. “Oh god. Sangwon hyung?!” He had an accent. Features not so Korean, too.
Harry stepped between them protectively. “You know him, Sangwon?” And the omega shook his head. Anxin pouted, “You really don’t remember me, hyung? We were on a show together when we were kids! The one you attended with your mum, and I was with my dad!” he supplied with his dimpled smile.
Sangwon’s eyes went wide. He recalled going to a show with his mother when he was nine, and it was a rare moment when his mother acknowledged him and played with him. He remembered a boy a year younger than him who stuck around and kept calling him hyung with awful Korean.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said finally. Anxin vibrated with happiness as the recognition settled in Sangwon’s eyes. “Yes, hyung, it’s me!”
And he stuck to them—to Sangwon specifically—but soon the two warmed up to him as well.
Sangwon’s life wasn’t that blissful, but his friends made it bearable. They gave him a reason not to dread waking up every day. To dress up and make it to classes.
To leave his big empty house and walk through the quiet, rich neighborhood till the bus stop, in hopes of seeing their smiles.
But one call shattered his process of rebuilding his life. A call he received as he was studying in his room. An unknown number that he picked up innocently, unbeknownst to him of the turmoil it would bring.
His father. He called to meet up. To see his son after abandoning him for more than half of his life. Sangwon never knew he was that angry, that the dam was so close to breaking, until he heard his voice. He shouted, his vocal cords never used to the strain, he cursed him out and told him to get lost.
And just like that, all the glass he worked hard to collect and put together shattered again. And he went into hiding. His friends tried contacting him; they even showed up at his door, but his housekeeper told them that he was fine, just wanted to be left alone.
And so he found himself dancing again. To get rid of these feelings. As if he spun fast enough, the ugly feelings would fly off him.
Then suddenly he heard the door open. Caught off guard, he slipped mid-spin and fell as the person stepped inside.
He panted, holding himself up with his arm, feeling the pain in his left hip and ankle. He heard the intruder curse and hurry his way towards him. “Are you okay?” said a rather deep voice with a tender tone, a hint of worry laced with it.
Sangwon, still upset at being cut off—and possibly injured now—looked away, trying to pull himself to sit properly. “No, thanks to you,” he replied rudely.
Sangwon could smell the alpha pheromones, and he wasn’t on high alert; years of dealing with them got him used to the feeling. “I’m sorry, the room was quiet, so I thought it was empty. Here, let me help.” The alpha stepped in front of Sangwon and offered his hand.
Sangwon finally looked up; through his long hair, he could recognize who the other was. Lee Leo. He sighed. Of course, it had to be him—the campus heartthrob and gem of the music production department. He was an intern in the company Sangwon trained at, but they never interacted.
“Can you stand?” the alpha asked, kneeling in front of Sangwon, eyes filled with concern. Sangwon looked away. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. He could feel the soreness of his hip, but his ankle was numb—he might really have sprained it.
Leo took a deep breath and nodded to himself. “I’ll carry you over to the nurse’s office then,” he said and reached over to carry the omega, but Sangwon shrank away from his touch, wincing in pain. “Don’t.”
The older looked at him, puzzled. “You’re in obvious pain; why the front?” Sangwon looked up, annoyed. “‘Cause you don’t casually allow yourself to be carried by a stranger!” he snapped. “Sue me for having self-respect.”
“Rich coming from someone who can’t even sit properly now. I’ll seat you on the couch over there. Fair?” Sangwon held his gaze, looking for a hint of venom or patronization, but found none, so he just nodded.
The alpha reached and gently carried him, minding not to touch the sore hip and letting Sangwon’s weight fully lean on him.
The younger, suddenly self-conscious, looked anywhere but at Leo’s face, taking his necklace as a good distraction. Breath coming out fast from shyness made him inhale more and more of Leo’s alpha scent. The sea, he recognized helplessly.
Soon Leo put him down carefully and rummaged through his backpack, retrieving a cold soda and putting it aside. He lowered Sangwon’s sock to show that the ankle was red but thankfully not bruised. “I’ll try to cool it down with this now. Is that okay?” he said without looking up, and Sangwon only hummed.
As Leo nursed his ankle, Sangwon couldn’t help but feel himself calm down. The careful touches of the older, his scent, his calm voice—all seemed to push the fog off his mind.
“Sangwon-ah? Can you try to move it?” The omega looked down and nodded, not surprised that the older knew his name. He moved his ankle a bit—it was sore but not sprained, thankfully. “I’m okay. Thank you for your help. And I apologize for being rude earlier, sunbae.” He bowed his head a bit. The last thing he wanted was a new rumor about his bad manners.
Leo chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re all calm and shy. I guess what they say about you is true.” Sangwon rolled his eyes with a slight blush on top of his cheeks. “You wanted the room, no? I’ll leave it for you now. I can’t practice more with this.” He moved his ankle to emphasize the reason.
Leo nodded and helped the younger to his feet, grabbed him his belongings, and watched him reach for the door. “Sangwon,” the younger turned, expression neutral, “Hyung is fine. Leo hyung.” Sangwon shook his head in disbelief, a small smile on his face as he left the room without a word.
And that’s how their first meeting went. Leo was teased beyond belief when he reached his friends later—his jacket reeked of the sweet rose scent of an omega and a bright smile he couldn’t shake off—and Sangwon was immediately engulfed in a hug by Anxin, Harry asking why he winced in pain, and Leejeong silently acknowledging the alpha scent on him.
Sangwon didn’t visit the music room number 22 for a week.
But when he finally did, the room was blissfully empty. He walked to the window and opened it, taking a deep breath and enjoying the morning breeze. And so his body went on autopilot again. Stretching, routines. Yet he was far less angry. His rosy scent filled the room. A spring in the middle of October.
He had an evaluation coming up soon—nothing he wasn’t used to. But this time, instead of survival, it was just grades. And Sangwon loved to prove himself to others—that he wasn’t just a pretty face. A nepotism baby. His mother’s child. So he danced, perfecting his spin and adding it to his routine.
It took him an hour and a half to be satisfied, till he was on his back on the floor, panting in pure bliss of satisfaction. Eyes on the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular, when a small leaf made its way through the window to him.
He smiled and sat up, holding it in his hands, twirling it and humming. Soon he found himself singing—a thing he couldn’t get himself to hate. Even when he was reminded again and again, he wasn’t as good a singer as his mother; even when his vocal coaches patronized him for his weak vocal cords, he sang to comfort himself more often than not.
You should have told me
I don’t know what to say
Why are you sorry?
How did it get this way?
My heart is broken
Down to my core
He smiled, remembering all the times he walked in the middle of the night back to his house from practice, listening to this song.
It’s not what I wanted
I don’t know what I want anymore…
I’m afraid that band aids
Are no good for heartache
Not okay, so tell me
When your world is falling down…
“Wow, never knew pretty face from the literature department could sing,” he heard a chuckle behind him. Sangwon didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He rolled his eyes, “Haha, very funny.” Leo crossed his arms and gave him a questioning look.
“If you sound like that, why don’t you sing more?” The question was innocent, but Sangwon stilled in his place for a second, hand reaching out for his belongings stayed midair, then he sighed. “Don’t you think that’s a bit personal? Or do you need a lesson in basic human boundaries, hyung?”
Leo raised his hands in surrender, smiling. “What’s all that attitude about? I’m just praising your singing, that’s all.” Sangwon turned around and raised an eyebrow. “So what? You gonna dedicate an album to me now?” he challenged. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Leo held his gaze.
“You’re impossible, hyung,” Sangwon finally chuckled. “You don’t have to go, you know. We can share the room.” Leo caught his wrist before he left the room. Sangwon looked up at the taller alpha. “Tempting to some degree, unfortunately, morning classes exist, so.” The younger shrugged.
“How’s your ankle? Hip?” Leo held his gaze for a moment, then asked. Sangwon’s rose scent spiked around him, unapologetically clinging to him and betraying the front the omega so desperately wanted to put up. “Good, thanks to the best nurse we have here.”
Leo let him go with a satisfied hum, and again Sangwon reached the door and opened it, but before he left, he looked back. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning if the offer of sharing the room still holds.” Then left.
Lee Leo took a deep breath. The room reeked of Sangwon, happy, content, and shy Sangwon. He felt his heart about to burst with all sorts of emotions. “Ah, this little brat,” he whispered and ruffled his own hair.
Leo’s thing is, he noticed Sangwon since his intern days in his company. He saw the harsh treatment, he heard the senior producers criticizing his singing abilities, and the endless comparisons to his mother. He was there in the crowd when Sangwon’s group was called off. And when his internship ended and he started university a year later, Sangwon was the talk of the year.
Everywhere he went, he couldn’t see anyone but the boy — in dance competitions, in the votes for visuals of the uni, in their social media posts — even his friends mentioned him for his beauty. And Leo couldn’t deny his crush any longer, especially when he found himself turning down anyone who confessed to him.
He told himself it wasn’t a big deal; his crush was just a silly little infatuation, and it’d pass. But he found himself coincidentally meeting the boy over and over again — in winter, when it was raining and he gave his umbrella to a girl who didn’t have one and then ran back home; in spring, when he was patting a kitten by the entrance of the uni; in summer, when he was fixing his makeup on a random chair in the university’s garden; and this fall, when he was laughing along with his group of friends, two books hugged to his chest, his eyes glistening with joy.
Sangwon was fascinating, and Leo had absolutely no idea how to approach him. He heard many, many stories about Sangwon’s attitude before. Some said he was really polite and nice, some said he was a cute shy boy, and some said he was an arrogant omega who looked down on those who approached him with romantic interest.
But he didn’t care. He wanted the perfect chance to approach the boy, that’s all. But time was ticking, and he was a senior now with still no plan. So imagine his shock when he opened the music room number 22, his favorite for three years, and found his — allegedly, according to his friends — love of his life dancing.
Leo counted himself lucky. Yes, he almost ended the boy’s dance career with something as insignificant as opening the door, but it was a step toward talking to his crush. Sue him.
He looked around and noticed Sangwon had left his scarf lying on the couch. Oops, seems like Leo has to make it to this room again tomorrow. Preferably an hour earlier — he can’t let Sangwon’s neck be cold now, can he?