Archive of Our Own

Seokmin is at yet another party Mingyu convinced him to go to when he meets Jeon Wonwoo for the first time.

In retrospect, it probably was all Mingyu’s scheme, with all his whiny insistence and his continuous “you’re not unlucky in love, you just need to meet new people”. As if Seokmin doesn’t work in a coffee shop while doing theater on the side, hence meeting a whole lot of new people daily. “It’s really not the same thing,” Mingyu would pout in response. And Minghao. And Seungkwan. And really anyone whom Seokmin would have this conversation with.

It doesn’t matter, Seokmin had thought while grumpily getting ready after Mingyu coaxed the promise he would come out of him. It doesn’t really matter how many new people Seokmin meets when the problem clearly lies within himself. It’s no one’s fault.

Yet, he still spent his good amount of time obsessing over his outfit, a whole hour changing clothes and standing in front of the mirror. No matter what Seokmin thinks about the way the khaki shirt he chose enhances his broad shoulders, or how the pants hug his waist, his personal thoughts always get tarnished about what he thinks people – alphas, to be more specific – are going to think. It’s an immediate thought, by now. Seokmin’s mind is well trained, so he forewent the shirt in favor of a sweater one size bigger, so as to look a little smaller himself. Cuter, hopefully.

And now, while Seokmin is nursing the beer Minghao has placed in his hands as soon as they got to the party, it doesn’t matter how he thinks the whole “meeting new people” talk is stupid, his eyes still roam around the room, looking for possible partners. The silly spark of hope that maybe, maybe tonight he’s finally going to find someone, is hard to kill.

That’s why Seokmin’s ears perk up the moment Mingyu arrives with a huge grin plastered on his face, half-dragging  quite a – if the strain in Mingyu’s bicep is of any indication – reluctant guy.

“Here you are!” Mingyu sounds both breathless and excited as he makes half a spin to push the mysterious guy forward.

It’s like a scene from a movie. The music getting lower, the slow-motion effect as the guy appears from behind Mingyu’s back, brushes a strand of hair away from his forehead and sets his eyes on Seokmin.

He’s tall, that’s the first thing Seokmin notices. As tall as Seokmin, maybe a little more. Huge cream-colored cardigan that Seokmin could see himself wearing when he wants to look cute. Dark hair, a little wavy, bangs touching the frame of round glasses.

Above anything, he’s ridiculously handsome.

Seokmin is so focused on trying to keep himself in check to realize that he’s staring and that Mingyu is still talking.

“I’m so happy you finally met,” he’s saying while patting both of their shoulders at the same time. “Now I have to say hi to some friends, can I leave hyung with you? Make him dance a little, okay?”

Seokmin doesn’t find it in himself to resent Mingyu for making him babysit his friend, nor for the greasy wink he sends his way before leaving. He’s too busy spiraling. Could it be... Mingyu? That Mingyu? Popular alpha who knows about half of Seoul and who so far has only introduced to Seokmin guys who ended up not being  interested in him, and whose looks weren’t comparable to this guy’s anyway. Is that Mingyu trying to redeem himself by sending this spectacular looking man into Seokmin’s arms?

His insistence about Seokmin’s attendance tonight would make a lot more sense, if that was the case.

The guy looks quite antsy while he stares in the direction Mingyu has disappeared to. Meanwhile, Seokmin is racking his brain in search of something to say, something that would make this person stay, but then the guy heaves out a sigh and joins Seokmin on the lumpy couch. He sits close, Seokmin notices, but leaves several inches between them, so as not to make Seokmin uncomfortable in case he didn’t enjoy the proximity.

A gentleman, Seokmin thinks with a mental, dreamy sigh.

“Please, don’t listen to Mingyu. I hate dancing.”

And oh. Oh, his voice. What the fuck.

It’s low, deep. A velvet touch against Seokmin’s skin, inducing a full shiver to run through his body. He can feel the back of his neck warming up.

What the fuck.

Where has Mingyu been hiding this guy?

“Oh, don’t worry,” Seokmin somehow musters up to say. “I don’t really dance, either.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, but not even the full truth. While Seokmin can be quite an introvert most of the time, he completely transforms when surrounded by people he’s comfortable with. Ask any of his friends and they’ll tell you about how many hours he can go on a dancefloor or at the noraebang, enthusiasm and silliness unmatched. At a party like tonight’s, however, where he only knows Mingyu and Minghao, he would dance only after a couple of drinks, and only with a specific goal in mind.

The guy tilts his head in mild surprise (and now, what would that mean?) but it’s soon been replaced by a soft smile. He looks relieved as he slumps against the backrest of the couch.

“That’s good. But please don’t hesitate to ditch me if you want to have some fun. I’m afraid I’m not really a party animal and I’m sure you didn’t come here to babysit a guy you don’t know.”

The smile he sends Seokmin is apologetic, a little sheepish. He might be faking it, sure, but he’s... nice.

That’s true. While Seokmin wasn’t in the mood to party, he still came here hoping he would find someone. And sure, he met someone new, but it’s clear from his body language and words that things aren’t going that way tonight, for Seokmin.

He wasn’t expecting this turn of events, but somehow he finds himself shaking his head in reassurance. “It’s no big deal, really.”

It’s worth it, for the genuine smile the guy gifts him.

Seokmin doesn’t usually go for guys so calm, but there’s something quite compelling about his shyness. Something that makes Seokmin turn and fold the left leg under his right thigh to face him better and confess, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

His laughter is breathy and deep and, thankfully for Seokmin’s mental wellbeing, it doesn’t last long. He shivers anyway when the guy properly sets his eyes on him, lips still curled up.

“I’m Jeon Wonwoo. I don’t know if Mingyu-”

“Oh! The professor!”

It seems like Seokmin’s brain hasn’t turned completely into mush, because the name rings a bell.

Wonwoo laughs again, fiddling with the still closed can of energy drink. He has pretty hands, Seokmin can’t help but notice.

“I’m just an assistant.”

“That’s not what Mingyu has been saying,” Seokmin replies, remembering Mingyu gushing about this “Wonwoo hyung” he made friends with during a photography course back in college, who was so smart to become a university professor at just twenty-seven. Seokmin never got to meet him, but he remembers Mingyu clearly adoring the guy.

And the warmth in Wonwoo’s eyes when he says, “Mingyu always exaggerates,” confirms that the feeling is mutual.

It makes something stir inside Seokmin’s belly. It’s not jealousy, but something he can’t really put a name on. Something that makes him lean closer as he asks Wonwoo about his job and whatever comes to his mind, unable to stop listening to him talk and somehow knowing Wonwoo wouldn’t chat this much if not prompted.

The more they talk, the more Seokmin finds himself attracted to him, and not just because of how Wonwoo looks. He genuinely seems like a sweet guy, and while two of Seokmin’s best friends are two nice alphas, he hasn’t had much luck in that department, so far.

And... that’s the weird thing.

The part of Seokmin who isn’t busy developing a crush on Wonwoo is instead obsessing over every little contrasting detail about him.

As the night proceeds, Seokmin’s stomach drops with the realization there’s no way Wonwoo can be an alpha.

He’s tall and handsome, yes. And his voice is deliciously deep. But other than that (and yes, Seokmin more than anyone should know to not judge a book by its cover, but he can’t help it), Wonwoo doesn’t really look or behave like one. His soft hair, his gentleness. The shy little smiles when he listens to Seokmin talking. The way the sleeves of his cardigan go past his wrists, covering most of his hands.

And sure, Seokmin is aware that Minghao is quite graceful for an alpha, and Mingyu can be really cute when he wants, but this is different.

Wonwoo has this sort of soft cuteness that Seokmin can’t really place anywhere.

There’s also the fact that Seokmin can’t smell him for the most part of the night, even with his neck free from any scent blocker.

He could be wearing one under his clothes, the hopeful part of his brain provides.

Or he could simply be a beta, the other, more predominant part counteracts.

Which prompts Seokmin, at some point, to lean in during their conversation, subtly diminishing the distance. If Wonwoo notices it, he doesn’t do or say anything, and isn’t that another sign?

At first, there is nothing. Then, Seokmin catches something that definitely kills all his hopes. He sniffs the air once, twice, hoping to not be too obvious, until he’s sure it’s Wonwoo’s scent. It’s not very strong, but that’s not the problem.

It’s sweet. Not too much, not like a pastry shop like some omegas feel. There’s something fruity about it, balanced by a bitter undertone. But still, sweet. Like mature peaches. It’s delicious, sensual even, but it’s not the scent of an alpha.

Oh, well. Maybe Mingyu really only wanted for Wonwoo to not be alone at the party. And Seokmin, a friend, another omega, was the obvious choice to keep him company.

Wonwoo is asking him something about his theater company. He looked so impressed when Seokmin mentioned it, eyes going adorably round behind his glasses as if he was talking with a Broadway actor.

Seokmin swallows before answering.

If a part of himself is disappointed by the turn of the events, he hopes he doesn’t make it obvious. After all, talking with Wonwoo is nice. Seokmin styled his hair, chose one of his softest sweaters, he came prepared to the party, but it doesn’t matter.

One more night of not getting laid, but he’ll come out of this with a new friend, at least.

“Jeonghan hyung told me you met someone at a party.”

Seokmin makes a little jump, ruining the latte art he was focused on making. He quickly glares at Seungkwan, who somehow manages to look at him knowingly while simultaneously preparing three different drinks.

“Hyung isn’t even in Korea,” Seokmin mumbles.

“He knows you spent an entire night talking with a hot guy.”

“I talk all the time,” is the only thing Seokmin says before getting to try and fix the small heart by adding more foam. After half a minute or so, he finally straightens his back to assess it from a distance. It’s a little wobbly, not the best work their shop has produced, and if Seungkwan saw it, he would probably force him to make the drink again. However, Seungkwan is still too busy staring at Seokmin expectantly, drinks made and served to their customers.

Seokmin sighs, placing the latte on the bar counter and automatically smiling brightly at the lady who takes it. Sadly, he doesn’t have any juicy gossip to feed Seungkwan with.

“Mingyu only needed someone to stay with his friend.” Seokmin shrugs, hoping he sounds disinterested enough that Seungkwan will drop it. He turns to the wall behind the counter at the same time Soonyoung comes out of the backroom, finishing tying up the apron around his waist and ready to start his shift. And who crushes all Seokmin’s hopes for the conversation to die down.

“Who, the professor?”

“Professor?” Seungkwan’s ears visibly perk up.

“He’s an assistant.” Seokmin hurries to clarify, one arm extended as to stop Seungkwan from getting too excited about the idea of Seokmin meeting some hot professor. Then, he turns to Soonyoung. “And how do you know about him?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Oh, Jihoonnie. He said something about some friend of Mingyu moving here.” And then he’s gone before either Seokmin or Seungkwan can prod any further, a tray in his hands to collect empty glasses and mugs from the tables.

Seokmin can feel Seungkwan’s eyes on him, his mouth opening to say something, probably to ask more questions, but he doesn’t give him the chance to do so. “There’s nothing else to say, Seungkwan. He’s an omega.”

And that’s enough, thankfully. Be it a few years ago, when they still didn’t know each other so well, Seungkwan would have arched up an eyebrow at him and rebutted with a “so what?”, but after so much time he knows better than that. Still, Seokmin has to turn to the sink and start washing some cups to not directly feel Seungkwan’s concerned gaze on himself.

Seokmin winces when his hands are hit by hot water. Such concern is silly, as is the way Seungkwan presses his lips together or how Soonyoung and Minghao’s eyes get tinged with sympathy whenever the topic of Seokmin’s (very scarce, very depressing) dating life comes up. It’s not like there is someone pointing a gun at his head to force him to only date alphas. It’s just… what Seokmin wants to do. The fact he still hasn’t found one that is satisfied with him and wants to keep him is no one’s fault but Seokmin’s.

He didn’t mean to cut off Seungkwan like that, but since the party he’s been feeling… not upset, no. Dejected, perhaps. At Mingyu, a little, for being so weirdly enthusiastic about introducing Wonwoo to him, for acting a bit as if he was setting them up despite knowing perfectly well Seokmin doesn’t date omegas. However, Seokmin’s harsh feelings are mostly directed at himself. He should know better than get excited before having the complete picture. Allowing his head to spin at the mere sight of a good-looking, gentle guy. He should have known there would be a catch, somewhere.

Besides, it’s not like Seokmin would have had any chance, even if Wonwoo was an alpha.

Heaving a sigh, he takes the mugs Soonyoung just brought and his eyes briefly fall on the other’s hands curled around the handles. They’re cute hands, Seokmin always thought that. Small and soft, little rounded nails and short, proportionate fingers. Just like Soonyoung’s face, they never lost some of the softness of childhood, no matter the hours Soonyoung spends at the dance studio, shaping his body in some flexible, lean thing. One could read those cute hands as the first result of his transitioning process, but the truth is that Soonyoung has always been the cutest person Seokmin ever met, even as just a beta.

Unwillingly, but somehow unable to stop, Seokmin glances at Seungkwan's hands, fastly pressing buttons on the cash. His are so different from Soonyoung’s but still so typically omega. Trim wrists widening in smooth palms, and then those long, elegant fingers with perfectly manicured nails. They’re some textbook omega’s hands, ones people constantly envy him for.

Seokmin swallows and focuses back on the cups he’s washing. He knows better than to hyper-fixate on things like that, especially when he’ll be stuck staring at his own hands after that. Trying to focus his attention on cleaning the cups and drying them is a vain effort, and Seokmin feels his lips twisting unpleasantly. Those long, bony fingers. Those big palms, still carrying the signs of when he used to play the guitar more consistently. The dry skin peeling off in some parts, kindly caused by the seemingly unbeatable eczema. The back of his hands, strong knuckles and visible veins.

They’re not ugly hands. But they don’t look as the hands of an omega should - how the hands of an omega Seokmin thinks should look, any of his friends would correct him, but that’s not really the point.

The point is that Seokmin has to put his task on hold, unable to look at his hands a second longer.

And then... then Seokmin isn’t thinking about his hands anymore, because the shop’s door opens and lets in a gust of wind carrying the faintest scent of peaches. An “oh” resonates in the air, said by a deep voice Seokmin can’t mistake despite having heard it only once (but for many hours, and then after that, too, when Seokmin kept replaying that night’s conversation in his head against any better judgment).

Seokmin lifts his eyes and yes, there is Wonwoo right in front of him, as wide-eyed as Seokmin probably is.

“Welcome…?” Soonyoung’s greeting evolves into a question as he darts perplexed looks between Seokmin and Wonwoo.

“Wonwoo hyung?” Seokmin breathes, and the glances of his two coworkers feel like daggers being thrown at him.

Not that Seokmin is thinking much about them, with the way Wonwoo is staring at him from the entrance of the shop. His glasses are different, that’s the first thing Seokmin notices. These are black rimmed, less rounded at the corners. Wonwoo’s hair is fluffier than the other night, and he’s swimming in his clothes once again, this time inside a big, black hoodie.

It’s the first time Seokmin can look at him under the sunlight and he looks… incredibly good. And cute. Way too much for Seokmin’s heart, which makes a strange jump inside his chest.

The door closes behind Wonwoo, taking the wind away with itself, but Wonwoo’s scent is so weak in the first place that Seokmin hasn’t been smelling it much since that first moment when he came in. He vaguely hears Seungkwan inviting Wonwoo to choose a seat, and is about to say something, when Wonwoo finally speaks.

“I swear I’m not a stalker,” is the first thing he says, and Seokmin can’t help but laugh.

Soonyoung is still staring at them. “You know each other?”

“Yeah, I…”

Of course, Seungkwan is the first one to connect the dots. “You’re Mingyu’s friend?” Wonwoo only nods, not even looking surprised that the employees know who he is, and Seungkwan is beckoning him over, voice pitched an octave higher than usual. “Ooh, come here, come here.”

Despite Seokmin still not having uttered a single word from the shock, Wonwoo’s sheepish eyes are on him when he reaches the counter. Not on the welcoming and put-together Seungkwan, not on the curious and cute Soonyoung. He’s looking straight at Seokmin.

“My apartment is in this neighborhood, and when I asked for a recommendation about where to get a good coffee, Mingyu pointed me here,” Wonwoo explains. In the quietness of the shop, his voice sounds even nicer than Seokmin remembers. “I didn’t know you worked here.” H ducks his head down, as if he’s apologizing. As he would ever need to.

“Th-there is no problem, hyung. Really,” Seokmin manages to stutter eventually.

Wonwoo smiles, and why does he look so relieved? Why is Seokmin feeling so flustered? He doesn’t have time to dwell on these interrogatives though, because Seungkwan sneakingly pinches his butt.

“Take his order, would you? I’m taking a break,” he says way too sweetly, and he’s gone before Seokmin can realize it.

With Soonyoung being busy with the other customers, there really isn’t any way out for him, and why would Seokmin need one anyway? Whatever happens, Wonwoo couldn’t be anything more than a friend for him. No matter how nice he looks and how sweetly he smiles.

Regardless, after taking Wonwoo’s order (a simple americano, chosen after much deliberating over the menu) and letting him choose a table (he brought his pc to get some work done, but Seokmin sees him getting his phone out and opening some game, too), Seokmin mutters to Soonyoung he’s taking a quick break and rushes to the backroom to have a proper mental breakdown.

Too bad he forgot about Seungkwan, who’s onto him the moment the door closes.

“He’s hot,” is the first thing Seungkwan says, obviously.

“Then go after him.”

He tries to move, but Seungkwan quickly grabs his biceps, showing more strength one would give him credit for by looking at him.

“I’m a taken man,” he rebuts easily. “Besides, we’re not talking about me. You’re calling him hyung already.”

“He gave me permission the other night.”

Seungkwan lifts his brows as if he just proved a point. “He has a really nice voice.”

“... I know,” Seokmin begrudgingly admits.

“And he’s hot.”

“I know…”

“And he seemed flustered in finding you here.”
“I know, but-”

“So?” Seungkwan asks, eyes wide. “Where is the problem?”

Seokmin shoves him away, finally finding the strength and the will to free himself from his grasp. 

“I told you! He’s an omega.”

“Are you even sure?” Seungkwan huffs and crosses his arms on his chest. “I couldn’t smell him at all. Maybe he’s wearing blockers?”

Seokmin shrugs. It doesn’t really matter.

“No, his scent is simply very weak. But the other night I…” he scratches the back of his head, suddenly embarrassed. “I kind of managed to smell him and… that’s not the scent of an alpha, Seungkwan. It’s way too sweet and, added with anything else about him, well…”

Seokmin doesn’t finish the sentence, because he doesn’t need to and doesn’t want to. He suddenly feels very tired and also very stupid for caring so much about a guy he doesn’t even know well. He can see Seungkwan swallowing back a and who the fuck cares if he’s an omega, if you’re interested in him, opting instead for a pat on Seokmin’s back.

“Well, he seems nice at least. Let’s treat him well so that he keeps coming.”

Wonwoo does, in fact, come back. Multiple times, actually.

He mostly shows up during the weekends, when he doesn’t have school, and hoards the table near the window for a good part of the morning or of the afternoon, working or reading a book. He looks nice, all focused on what he’s doing and cutely sipping his drink from time to time. There are some moments when the light would filter through the windows with just the right angulation, making Wonwoo glow and his face scrunch up when it reaches his eyes.

Seokmin has yet to decide if he looks like a painting or like a cat basking in the sun.

He tries to not think too much about it and focus on his job. Some days it’s easier, when Seokmin is too busy to go chat with him. Most of the time, though, he can’t seem to be able to leave Wonwoo alone. Both because he’s apparently a masochist, and because Soonyoung and Seungkwan have tacitly decided he’s Wonwoo’s designated waiter.

“Poor guy always sits there alone, I bet he’d appreciate a little chat,” Soonyoung explains innocently the time Seokmin asks.

Seungkwan is way more practical and believable. “You two are close, convince him to get our most expensive drinks.”

And so here Seokmin is, trying to sell Wonwoo their current limited edition drink, some sugary abomination with chestnut milk, caramel, whipped cream and way too many other components. He’s having a hard time not to laugh as Wonwoo’s face crumples into horror while he lists the ingredients.

“Please spare me,” Wonwoo pleads before the list is over.

“I’m taking it as a no, then,” Seokmin says, this time letting his laughter free. He thinks of it as a marketing skill and not him being dumb just to make Wonwoo laugh, when he sighs in fake despair. “I get it, dear customer. Should I bring you the usual, boring coffee?”

“I also drink tea.” Wonwoo is frowning, but there’s the ghost of a smile on his face and Seokmin takes it as a win. “And I like juices too, but you don’t have any.”

“You do?” Again, marketing skills and not Seokmin being a sucker for that hint of a whine in Wonwoo’s voice. “Tell me your favorites, I’ll ask Seungkwan if we can add them to the menu.”

“You would?”

Seokmin isn’t imagining the way surprise blooms on Wonwoo’s features, or how his eyes sparkle. He isn’t imagining the sudden sweet scent of peaches permeating the air and engulfing Seokmin like a warm embrace. How pleased and bashful Wonwoo looks as his lips curl into a proper smile.

“Thank you, Seokmin-ah. You’re so kind.”

Seokmin could tell him all about his non-existent Business degree, or how he’s literally doing his job. That he’s not doing that for Wonwoo, specifically. He doesn’t, though, instead grunting an half-answer and pointedly ignoring the way something in his core stirs as Wonwoo keeps staring at him.

Seokmin shifts uncomfortably, focusing his thoughts on how he must have put on an older shirt this morning, because he surely feels cramped inside it.

“I can’t guarantee anything, though,” he somehow manages to breathe out, and there’s no mistake this time in the scent coming to his nose, or in the slightest flush painting Wonwoo’s cheekbones. Seokmin’s insides churn, and he can’t say it’s completely unpleasant.

That’s the thing. Seokmin has been around plenty of pretty omegas (he works with Seungkwan, afterall. He’s known Jeonghan for half his life, for god’s sake), but no one has ever had on him the effect Wonwoo has. And maybe it’s a hard reach, maybe Seokmin is going crazy, but even most alphas don’t make him feel like this. Which is… crazy, and goes against everything Seokmin always said he wanted.

Wonwoo is about to say something, rosy lips slowly parting, when Seokmin’s poor, struggling shirt decides this is the perfect moment to pop out a button, precisely the one in the middle of Seokmin’s chest.

There are five full seconds of silence, only broken by the sound of the button falling to the ground, during which Seokmin feels a gust of air touching his bare skin. The flames of embarrassment are only fueled by the way Wonwoo’s eyes instantly fall to his chest and Seokmin needs to go now.

“Uhm. Right. I’ll go, uhm, make your drink, okay?”

It’s only when he’s made his retreat behind the counter that Seokmin realizes Wonwoo hasn’t ordered anything, but he can’t bring himself to worry about that, too.

“Our Caramel Chestnut Sparkle is so bad you thought to get naked to make him buy it?”

From the look in Seungkwan’s eyes, Seokmin knows he’s only half-joking.

“That’s a very stupid name, you know that?”

“You come up with the next one then, mister Theater Actor,” Seungkwan sniffs, but his next words are softer. “We should have some spare shirts in the back.”

Self-consciously, Seokmin looks down at his chest. Even with one button undone, the shirt is still straining to stay closed. The swell of his pectorals, the dip between them, is perfectly visible through the gap and Seokmin feels hot all over thinking Wonwoo saw it.

“Seungkwan,” he calls quietly. “Do you know if there’s an empty spot in your pilates classes?”

Seungkwan narrows his eyes in suspicion, cocking his head right. “Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m…” he vaguely gestures at his broken shirt. “Maybe I’m getting too big.”

Seungkwan doesn’t answer immediately, leaving Seokmin feeling even more self-conscious while being stared at. When he talks, though, his voice is hard.

“But you hate pilates.”

He says it with a definitive tone, and Seokmin understands that he won’t say anything more, refusing to indulge Seokmin when he gets like this.

Not that Seungkwan is wrong, for what is worth. Seokmin doesn’t like pilates. He much prefers working out at the gym, doing some heavy cardio and weight-lifting. More than that, he likes the evolution his body has undergone since he started working out regularly. Going from scrawny and gangly to his current hard, strong body. Compared to narrow shoulders and thin, long limbs, Seokmin much prefers his new broadness, the defined muscles all over his body. Even the hint of softness still present on his belly, his hips, his thighs, the only thing that reminds him he is an omega, after all.

But how Seokmin feels about it doesn’t really matter, not when he knows alphas prefer their omegas to be softer, tinier. Cute little things easy to cuddle, not some broad dude taller than them.

And Seokmin craves it.

He’s happy about the society evolving to the point people feel more comfortable in being open and fluid with their sexuality, going beyond the inflexible boxes they’ve always thought they were restrained into. He’s glad everyone can love who and how they want, alpha, omega and beta alike.

However… Maybe he’s old-fashioned, but that’s not what he wants for himself.

He wants an alpha to hug him and cuddle him and tell him how cute and perfect he is. He wants an alpha all over himself, a strong body pressing him on a bed and making him feel wanted, filling him completely. He wants to be wrapped into his alpha’s scent all the time, to be claimed and protected by them.

Seokmin craves it so much he feels like going crazy with it sometimes, a deep hole in his chest he doesn’t know how to fill. And it’s so at odds with everything else about himself that he’s at loss at what to do, what to feel. He looks at himself through the mirror and he doesn’t know from whose perspective he’s looking, to whom the voices in his head belong to.

He could power through and modify some aspects of himself, but he knows it wouldn’t change much. He could stop going to the gym, but there is nothing he can do about his big hands and tall body. Or about his scent, too woody, too musky. Not sweet enough for an omega, with that vague hint of pear and jasmine.

There is nothing Seokmin can do about everyone around him being a better omega than he’ll ever be.

Seungkwan is a given, all round, cute face, his body lean but soft in all the right places, his pleasant scent of creamy tangerine tart. His natural tendency to care about his looks and to choose the best clothes to make himself look smaller and cuter than what he already is.

No, Seokmin doesn’t need to think about Seungkwan to feel miserable. Not when he works with Soonyoung, who even as a beta who’s just started the transitioning process with the help of his boyfriend, still looks… no, he still is more of an omega than Seokmin will ever be, with his earth-shattering cuteness and plump cheeks and huge hoodies.

And now there is Wonwoo, too. Who is as tall as Seokmin, sure, and whose shoulders seem kind of nice, from what little Seokmin can imagine with the loose clothes Wonwoo always wears. Yes, his voice is deep and his scent is a bit weak, but there’s this cuteness in him that makes Seokmin think he must be a popular omega. Handsome face and fluffy hair, calming voice and sweater paws, Wonwoo has this something going on that Seokmin can’t really define.

Maybe… Seokmin can't help but wonder, sometimes, if there's ever been anything between Wonwoo and Mingyu. They seem so fond of each other, afterall. He can't picture Wonwoo with some rough, boisterous alpha, but Mingyu is sweet enough. They'd make a nice couple and–

Seokmin huffs, removing his shirt once in the backroom. It's none of his business. And he'd never date a fellow omega anyway.

Not even a handsome one like Wonwoo.

Seokmin catches the reflection of his upper body in the small mirror hung on the wall.

His mouth twists, his scent gets sourer.

Yes, maybe he'll tone it down with the gym.

One day, Wonwoo comes to the shop on a Thursday evening, twenty minutes from closing time. He catches Seokmin alone, already cleaning the place since the last customer left a while ago.

It’s a slow evening, and Seokmin isn’t used to seeing Wonwoo in the middle of the week. That’s why, he says to himself, the sight of him makes his stomach swoop, his faint scent going to Seokmin’s head instantly. And it’s so strange, because since when could Seokmin smell Wonwoo so well? Has he become that attuned to him, or is it just Wonwoo’s scent spiking up randomly? If it’s the latter, surely Wonwoo doesn’t make evident what’s the reason for it. His face stays blank for the most part, the only sign of surprise his slightly widened eyes and the way he stopped as soon as he entered the shop.

Wonwoo looks… a little ruffled up. His hair is messy and his cardigan is a bit crooked, threatening to slip down from one shoulder. As if he came here in a rush, or as if he just woke up from a nap. As if, Seokmin’s treacherous brain suggests, his heat is due soon. The thought shouldn’t be half as arousing, and Seokmin has to steady his body with the mop, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“We close earlier during weekdays,” he says eventually, seeing how Wonwoo keeps darting his eyes from the mop in his hands to the empty shop.

The result is vaguely devastating, with Wonwoo snapping out from any thought he was having and self-consciously running a hand through his hair. If it is an attempt at taming his impressive bedhead, it doesn’t go well.

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” There’s a strand of hair sticking up on the right side of his head, and Seokmin’s fingers are itching to smooth it down. “I… I went out to buy something to eat and I saw the lights were on, so…” Wonwoo stops, hand moving from his head to his cardigan, fixing it on his shoulders.

Which is… unfortunate. No, it’s good. It’s a good thing.

Seokmin shakes his head, reminding himself he shouldn’t have any opinion on how Wonwoo dons his clothes.

He gets out of his head and focuses back on Wonwoo. He’s blinking at him, probably thinking he’s alone with a madman.

“I’ll just… go, then.”

The gurgling sound of Wonwoo’s stomach saves Seokmin from looking for an excuse to not make him leave.

The fog around Seokmin’s head dissipates in front of Wonwoo’s flustered face, and gets replaced by endearment at how he looks down and unconsciously rubs at his tummy. The need to wrap him into a hug isn’t any less dangerous than what Seokmin was feeling a moment ago, but at least it makes it easier for him to lock the door, put the closed sign out, and laugh as he drags Wonwoo to the small kitchen in the back.

“Sorry, we don’t have much here besides cakes and pastries,” Seokmin says while rummaging through the cabinet until he retrieves three packs of instant ramen.

“You really don’t need to make me dinner,” it’s what Wonwoo says while still taking his seat at the small table when Seokmin gestures to him to sit down.

One thing he has learned in the past weeks, is that Wonwoo might pretend not to just out of courtesy, but he actually likes it when people take care of him. He enjoys the little gestures, the small thoughts. Seokmin silently refilling his drink, or making him find a big glass of apple juice ready at his usual table when they finally added it to the menu.

As if anyone could have any doubt left about him being a precious little omega, with the way he purses his lips and his cheekbones rise whenever is on the receiving end of gentleness.

As if he doesn’t make Seokmin’s instinct to nurture instantly kick off every single time.

Seokmin swallows and focuses on the noodles boiling. It would be mortifying to mess the cooking time up.

“It’s no problem,” he reassures Wonwoo. “I had to eat here anyway since I have rehearsal later.”

That’s a safe enough topic, thankfully, and one that always picks up Wonwoo’s interest. Seokmin is not sure if all his questions and his curiosity are just him being very polite, but he can’t say he hates to be on the receiving end of Wonwoo’s undivided attention. It gets a little less safe when Wonwoo asks him if theater is what he wants to do in the future, if he ever thought about trying to make a career out of acting.

“You don’t even know if I’m good at it,” Seokmin jokes, keeping facing the stove pretending to be too busy with the ramen to look at Wonwoo.

He can perfectly picture Wonwoo’s face in his mind, however, when he answers with that low, calming voice of his, “It doesn’t have anything to do with being good or not.”

Seokmin winces at the truth being spelled out so clearly.

He thought about it, of course he did. Not only about being an actor, but about adding more vocal classes to his schedule and finally putting them to good use by auditioning for some musicals. But working at the coffee shop and staying with his theater group is so comfortable, right now, that he doesn’t have any confidence in making the jump and risk falling. How could he confidently show up at any audition, when he can barely look at himself in the mirror?

“I like it here,” he says after a while, when the ramen is ready and he can’t stall on facing Wonwoo anymore. And he wanted to stop here, close the discourse and not get too personal, but there’s something, in Wonwoo’s pretty, serious face, that makes him keep going. “It’s not that I’ve never thought about it, but… I don’t feel confident enough to try, I guess.” He finishes with a noncommittal shrug, not wanting to burden Wonwoo with something heavier than they’re used to. The future and Seokmin’s self-esteem are not exactly what their conversations are usually about.

But Seokmin should have expected it, by now. That some higher entity must have built Wonwoo with the precise goal to surprise Seokmin and warm him up at any given occasion. Because where Seokmin was expecting the usual “I’m sure you’ll make it,” Wonwoo smiles sweetly and says, “I’m sure you’ll find the answer that’s right for you, one day.”

It leaves Seokmin gaping, something unknown pressing at the back of his throat. It’s an exaggerated reaction, he’s aware of it, but something about Wonwoo’s words, of the implication that there isn’t only one answer, something that can fit everybody. That there might be an answer that’s made for Seokmin only.

It’s exactly what Seokmin needed to hear, and he didn’t even know about it.

Seokmin’s throat burns, his legs shake with how his insides are twirling around themselves. He wants… He wants to take Wonwoo’s hand. He wants Wonwoo to hug him and tell him he’s okay, and then do the same to him. But…

Feeling his own scent getting stronger and seeing Wonwoo’s nose scrunch imperceptibly, Seokmin forces himself to calm down.

“Wow, you really sound like a teacher.”

And even if the words are accompanied by a dry laugh, Wonwoo gets flustered, not meeting Seokmin’s eyes as he fumbles with the chopsticks and finally tastes the ramen. His eyes instantly light up.

“Wait, this is delicious!”

Wonwoo makes it sound like a question, surprised and excited at the same time, and it’s Seokmin’s turn to blush.

“So, are you rehearsing something in particular?” Wonwoo asks while keeping digging in.

Seokmin stays eating by the stove, deciding to not sit down at the table with Wonwoo. Somehow, he feels a little too weak for that.

“Yes, we’re preparing a small show for next month.”

Wonwoo tilts his head. “You don’t like it?” he asks, and Seokmin realizes his mouth has twisted at the thought of the show.

“No, it’s just that…” He shrugs again, feeling stupid. “I mostly get the same kind of role, you know?” Wonwoo blinks, clearly not knowing. “The male love interest. Like… the typical alpha man.”

The last part is said in a whisper and Seokmin looks down at the bowl in his hands. With Wonwoo’s interest in his theatrical activities, Seokmin has thought more than once to invite him to the upcoming show, but in the end he still hasn’t asked because, deep down, he doesn’t want Wonwoo to see him playing the stereotypical, dominant male lead. Which is stupid, because first of all Seokmin would be acting, and because it’s not like Wonwoo doesn’t have eyes. He knows how Seokmin looks. How little he appears like the omega he is.

However, the reminder that everyone else thinks the very same - how would Seokmin always get that role, otherwise? - and admitting it in front of Wonwoo is mortifying.

Wonwoo, in his typical fashion, seems completely unfazed by it. He has already finished his noodles (crazy, with how little he takes in with every bite) and Seokmin gets closer to refill his bowl with what’s left in the pot.

“Doesn’t it mean that you’re good at playing that kind of role?”

“Well, maybe,” Seokmin snorts before going back to his safe place near the stove. “But when I talked about trying to not act as an alpha for once, the refusal was pretty hard to go against.”

Seokmin perfectly remembers how the head of the company laughed thinking Seokmin was joking, and then the disbelief with which he said, “But Seokmin, you look perfect for this role.”

The blatant confusion on Wonwoo’s features is only partially reassuring, mostly because it forces Seokmin to further elaborate.

“I mean. I’m not exactly petite.”

Seokmin burns as he says it, the admission making him want to crawl underground, but he refuses to look away. And he’s not sure how he feels about the way Wonwoo’s eyes finally light up in understanding.

But again, Wonwoo has eyes. Seokmin not looking like an omega isn’t anything new.

Wonwoo has his lips pressed together, seemingly thinking. He’s probably looking for a nice way to show sympathy without explicitly saying they’re right at not making him play anything but an alpha.

“I’m sorry, Seokmin-ah,” is what Wonwoo says, instead, and Seokmin’s stomach drops.

“What?”

“We like to think we evolved as a society, but that way of thinking is hard to eradicate.” Wonwoo is keeping his gaze on the table, his fingers fiddling with the paper napkin Seokmin got him earlier. “As if people’s looks, how tall they are or anything like that have anything to do with one’s possibilities.”

Seokmin stays silent, not really knowing what to say in seeing Wonwoo so upset. He never really thought about it, but Wonwoo, too… It doesn’t matter how cute he is, he’s still pretty big for an omega. Seokmin always thought no one could understand him, but maybe their experience hasn’t been that different.

“Hyung, you… You feel it, too?”

That pressure to live up to a standard, that feeling of not being enough. Of looking at himself in the mirror and only seeing all those things other people won’t like.

“As much as anyone else, I suppose,” Wonwoo mumbles, keeping his gaze lowered. He’s closed off in a way Seokmin has never seen, as if this isn’t a topic he particularly enjoys talking about. And who better than Seokmin can understand that?

Rationally speaking, Seokmin knows he isn’t the only one struggling. He knows that things aren’t always necessarily black or white. How could he, with so many examples right next to him?

He thinks about Seungkwan, the perfect omega in Seokmin’s opinion. Seungkwan, who can be incredibly insecure about his looks despite all the confidence he flaunts around, who works so hard to maintain his appearance. Who took a long time before looking at himself and deciding he could like what he saw.

He thinks about Soonyoung, an exemplary omega trapped in a beta’s body. Who finally found the right person for him, willing to help him through his difficult transitioning journey, which results are uncertain. Which may not even produce any result, for all they know.

And then Minghao, graceful and elegant unlike any alpha Seokmin has ever seen. And Mingyu, the textbook alpha who stress-bakes and cries at videos of baby animals.

Seokmin thinks about Wonwoo, too. Who is just like his scent, sweet but subdued. Who is tall and clever and a little shy. Who sometimes makes dad-jokes that always make Seokmin laugh. Who smiles so prettily, whose voice is so calming and alluring at the same time.

Wonwoo, who is an omega but makes something hot stir within Seokmin whenever he thinks about him. Who makes Seokmin feel in a way that has nothing to do with scents or biology.

Seokmin thinks about all of these people, and to him they look nothing but perfect.

But then… Why can't he apply the same logic to himself?

Seokmin is so deep in his thoughts that he barely notices Wonwoo is talking again, his voice a low murmur.

“Sometimes… I wish stuff like that wasn’t so important for so many. Alpha, omega, beta… sometimes I wish people didn’t care.”

Trying to not let his confusion show, Seokmin asks, quietly, “You don’t care about it?”

Wonwoo lifts his eyes, and he looks so torn and uncomfortable, biting his bottom lip and twisting his fingers together. He’s flushed, on the edge of something, and Seokmin feels it again, the tug at his guts, the drop of sweat down his neck. He smells peaches in the tiny room, and he’s getting dizzy with it.

“I… have my preferences, obviously. But, no. I can’t say I really care.”

Wonwoo stares at him and there’s something different in the air as Seokmin realizes he’s trying to tell him something. A part of him soars at the thought, as vague and unfounded as it is. The other, though, is petrified, hit by a wave of cold self-hatred because, contrary to Wonwoo, Seokmin cares about that. In fact, he cares too much about his and any potential partner’s second gender, and Wonwoo is going to be so disappointed in him. Seokmin is part of that society that doesn’t manage to change, afterall.

Seokmin doesn’t know why he snorts at Wonwoo’s words, nor why he sounds so frivolous when he says, “Well, you should teach me your ways then, because I think I care about it more than it’d be advisable.”

Why is he making it sound like it isn’t important? Why is he trying to lighten up the atmosphere?

“You do?” Wonwoo asks quietly, and Seokmin should stop now, hearing the slight tremble in Wonwoo’s voice.

He doesn’t.

“Yeah. It seems like I’m built to always pine for the most typical alphas,” he chuckles, dryly. “You can imagine how good things have gone so far.”

Seokmin can’t pretend he doesn’t see Wonwoo deflating, the light in his eyes dying.

“Right,” Wonwoo says after a beat, a little groggily. Then, he gets to his feet and takes his shoulder-bag before Seokmin can say or do anything. “It’s late, I should go.”

He stops, however, when something falls on the floor as he swings the bag to put it on his shoulder. It’s a little white box, and Wonwoo rushes to pick it up. He stays silent for a moment, turning the box over in his hands.

“Hyung…?”

Wonwoo startles, then gives Seokmin a quick glance. “Yeah, right. This… I got this for you, actually.”

“For me?”

Seokmin takes the box Wonwoo is handing him. He keeps not looking at Seokmin, arm outstretched and eyes trained on the floor. His ears are scarlet red.

“Wonwoo hyung, this…” Seokmin looks at the little box. It’s a hand cream. Seokmin recognizes the brand, and it’s an expensive one. To the point he’d never contemplated buying any of its products.

“I happened to hear some other teachers talking about how good it was, and then I remembered how you once complained about your hands, so I…” Wonwoo huffs, quickly collecting his stuff. Seokmin has never seen him so upset. “I’m sorry. You’ll probably think it’s an insensitive gift. Thank you for the ramen, it was truly delicious.”

And then Wonwoo is gone, as suddenly as he arrived in the first place. He takes away all the warmth from the room, leaving Seokmin staring at the spot he was standing in a moment ago and gripping tightly at his gift.

“He’s courting you,” is Jeonghan’s verdict when Seokmin tells him about the hand cream and everything that preceded it.

“He saw the terrible state of my hands and took pity on me,” is Seokmin’s instant reply, and also the thing he’s been telling himself since that night. “Besides, omegas don’t do that.”

He puts Jeonghan on speaker, finding all his annoyed huffing a little more bearable than hearing it straight inside his ear.

“Omegas can totally do the courting, they’re not physically incapable of it.”

“Just because you did it with Seungcheol hyung, it doesn’t mean everyone’s like that.”

Even through the phone, Seokmin can see Jeonghan rolling his eyes as if they’re in the same room.

“Yeah, maybe I’m a little special creature, who knows. But have you ever stopped to think that everyone can be a little special in their own way?”

Seokmin throws himself on the bed and scowls at the ceiling. Of course he thought about that. About not everything fitting into boxes and rigid rules invented ages ago. It only made him more confused.

“Well, the point is, he isn’t courting me.”

Jeonghan makes a little sound and mutters something that sounds quite like “whatever you say,” and Seokmin’s frown deepens. He regrets calling Jeonghan, since apparently he can read him as an open book even while being in another country. And Jeonghan always had this ability to know about Seokmin things he himself hadn’t figured out yet.

Despite his fixation on wanting to only date alphas, and the resolution to not think too much about Wonwoo since he discovered he’s an omega, it’s not like Seokmin never thought about Wonwoo in that way. How could he, when he looks like that , when the mere thought of him makes Seokmin feel unspeakable things.

And… At times, he’s had the suspicion Wonwoo might be into him. Just a little. It’s always been a vague thought, more a delusion than anything, but somehow the other night made it feel a little more real.

Truth to be told, Seokmin is fairly popular with omegas and betas. He has enough alpha traits for him to always have some game with those who liked the idea of being with an alpha but don’t want to have anything to do with an actual one. And while Seokmin is grateful for any ounce of interest he sparks in other people, he never really pursued that. He’s thankful, but he isn’t interested.

So, that’s what Wonwoo might be after. Maybe he likes that Seokmin looks like an alpha but isn’t one, and it makes Seokmin feel in a lot of ways.

“You know, I’m not saying you should start dating omegas and betas,” Jeonghan is saying on the other end of the phone, proving once more he’s a mindreader. “Not even to date that guy, if he’s not your thing.”

Seokmin clenches his jaw, because Wonwoo makes him feel like he doesn’t know anymore what his thing is. “I’ll just keep being alone, then,” he grits out in reply, feeling his eyes suddenly moist.

Jeonghan sighs, and when he speaks again he sounds way softer, reminding Seokmin how much he actually misses having him there. “Even if it isn’t this Wonwoo guy, you know the right person for you is just out there somewhere, Seokminnie.”

Seokmin wipes away a tear with an angry movement.

“That’s not it. I’m not demanding the universe to make me stumble into the love of my life tomorrow, I’ve long stopped thinking it’s a thing that could happen to me.” He swallows back some more tears, talking again before Jeonghan has the chance to say anything. “Just, you know. Sometimes it would be nice to be wanted back from the people I want.”

And that’s it, isn’t it. Never having his feelings reciprocated, always crushing over people who are never fully convinced about him. Going on a date, falling in bed with someone, and physically feeling their dissatisfaction in him.

There’s only so much a person can take.

Jeonghan doesn’t speak for a while, probably sensing Seokmin’s turmoil and giving him the time to recollect himself. His next question, however, remains without an answer.

“And who do you want?”

Seokmin’s answer comes the day after, and it’s the decision to revamp his profile on all the dating apps he has on his phone.

That’s why he finds himself in his tiny bedroom on a sunday morning staring at the mirror while Soonyoung rummages through his closet. Needing to take some new photos for his profile, Seokmin turned to Soonyoung for help, and he was nothing but thrilled about it. Even if Soonyoung is a god-awful photographer, he also manages to make himself look extremely breedable in every photo, and that’s precisely what Seokmin needs.

It seems like it’s going to be a hard task though, he thinks while looking at his reflection. The first outfit Soonyoung choose for him is a simple white tee tucked into jeans, and while Seokmin can’t say he doesn’t look nice, the pants enhance his muscular thighs a little too much, the t-shirt hugs his biceps a bit too tightly and stretches too much across his chest, perfectly showing the shape of his pecs.

That’s not a look that is going to make any alpha’s mouth water.

“Maybe I should stop weight-lifting altogether,” he mumbles absentmindedly, at which Soonyoung instantly comes out of his closed, hair full of static and eyes wide.

“Don’t you dare!” he gasps, scandalized, only to backpedal immediately after with a cough. “I mean. Of course you’re free to do whatever you’re most comfortable with, but!” He juts out his bottom lip in a pout, stomps a few times on the spot, like he’s genuinely upset. It’s exasperatingly adorable. “You managed to get such a nice body!”

Soonyoung says it with a mix of awe and envy, and maybe that’s what he really feels. Seokmin keeps scowling at the mirror regardless, barely noticing Soonyoung getting closer.

“You know that, right?” he insists. “You know that you look good.”

“I guess…” Seokmin mutters reluctantly. “But…”

“And you know it doesn’t matter what others think of you, but how you feel about yourself.” Soonyoung’s voice and words are gentle. Way gentler than what’s common for him, always so full of energy that at times he comes out as rash. “You shouldn’t do things only to appease others. You shouldn’t change who you are for them.”

He rests a hand on Seokmin’s shoulder, and Seokmin can see from the mirror his kind expression. Since the talk with Jeonghan, he’s been feeling a bit vulnerable, like some part of him has been exposed and he can’t find a way to hide it again. He hoped that focusing on taking some nice photos of himself, getting help from the ever-enthusiastic, easy Soonyoung, would have helped him get his shit together.

Seokmin steps away from the mirror and sits on the edge of the bed. He can still feel Soonyoung’s concerned stare on himself, but is unable to meet it back.

“I know that, rationally. But I don’t like to not be liked.”

It’s the most obvious thing to say, because who ever enjoys being disliked, but Soonyoung’s sigh is fond when he ruffles Seokmin’s hair.

“Oh, Seokminnie. There are plenty of people who like you.”

A curt reply is ready on Seokmin’s tongue, but he swallows it down when he looks up at Soonyoung. He’s always so easy-going, that Seokmin thinks of him as a same-aged friend most of the time. A younger one, even, with how Soonyoung gets sometimes. More than anything, Soonyoung is so bubbly and optimistic that it’s easy to forget he has his own struggles. And yet here he is, trying to make Seokmin feel a little better about his stupid self.

Seokmin feels like an ungrateful, self-centered idiot.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Soonyoung narrows his eyes in surprise, head tilting making him look like a confused owl.

“Yeah.” Seokmin tries to grin despite the guilt he feels. “We always talk about my stupid problems, but how is the… thing going?”

It speaks volumes on what a shitty friend Seokmin is, the fact that Soonyoung wasn’t expecting the question to the point he’s left buffering for a few seconds.

“Okay, first of all, there are no stupid problems,” Soonyoung rebuts after a beat and points his finger at Seokmin’s face with a cutely stern expression. Then, both his features and his voice soften. “But I’m doing fine.” He scratches the back of his head, his thinking face on as if he’s deciding whether he should say more or not. Whatever he decides on, he looks away from Seokmin and goes back rummaging through his clothes. 

“I know it’s a slow process and there’s no guaranteed result,” he says eventually, after having messily laid another outfit down on Seokmin’s bed. “I’m trying not to be impatient.”

The last words are whispered, and Seokmin wonders how many people Soonyoung allows himself to open up like that with, to show some weakness.

“You know that even if it doesn’t work, Jihoon hyung will always–”

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Soonyoung interrupts him, looking at him like he’s surprised Seokmin could ever have such a doubt. Maybe it’s weird, but where Seokmin expected envy for something he deeply desires for himself, he only finds happiness for his friend.

“But, like I said, it’s not about how others see us. It’s about us .”

Silence falls between them and they share an understanding look. Seokmin would like to say he fully understands, and he does, in theory. But somehow, those words applied to himself…

Every thought gets blocked when Soonyoung makes a little giggle and hugs him roughly. Seokmin doesn’t have the chance to return the hug, however, that Soonyoung is already pulling back.

“Okay!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. There is a manic glint in his eyes. “Let’s get to work. I’m going to make you look like the cutest slut ever.”

And that definitely clears Seokmin’s head from any unwanted thoughts, making him double up with laughter.

The thing is, Seokmin never had much success with dating apps to begin with, but this time it’s worse, if it even was possible.

Even if some people contact him through them (Soonyoung should consider making a career out of his ability, since the photos turned out really good), Seokmin managed to exchange some dry texts with them before completely losing interest, no matter how hot they were. There was only one guy - dark hair, glasses and a broad chest. No, Seokmin doesn't want to talk about it - that Seokmin arranged a meeting with, but considering how that went, it would have been better if they just stopped at texting.

Seokmin frowns at the tenth (attempt at) latte art of the day, thinking back at how the guy deflated the moment they met, his stuttered, “O-oh, you’re taller than I thought.” How they awkwardly sipped their drinks for less than an hour, and more awkwardly parted ways.

“Uhm, hi.”

Seokmin startles and nearly spills the drink he’s working on. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear nor smell Wonwoo entering the shop and walking to the counter. Now, however, there’s nothing else his senses can feel.

“Wonwoo hyung. Hi,” Seokmin rasps out, a little choked.

It’s the first time they see each other since that night, but that can’t be the only reason why Seokmin’s stomach is suddenly cramping. No, today Wonwoo looks different, and it takes the initial surprise to subside for Seokmin to realize what it is.

“You’re not wearing your glasses.”

It’s not just that.

For the first time, Wonwoo isn’t wearing casual, loose clothes, but slacks and a gray turtleneck sweater. His hair is not a fluffy mess on top of his head, but they’re nicely styled, curling prettily at the sides of his forehead.

Seokmin’s mouth feels dry. Wonwoo looks… incredible, all proper and mature and hot , and Seokmin has never felt more attracted to him (to anyone, probably) than now.

“Oh, today I came straight from school. I was…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, pressing his lips together instead as he unconsciously lifts a hand to push the phantom of glasses higher on his nose. He looks even more sheepish when he realizes it, and it’s terrible combined with this new, refined look of his.

Seokmin doesn’t know if he should envy Wonwoo’s students, or pity them. He’s not sure he’d be able to focus on classes instead of pathetically pining, if his professor looked like this.

“Can I have, uhm, a cappuccino?”

Seokmin blinks at him stupidly a few times, then nods his head with a jerky movement, glad to have something to do instead of simply staring.

For some reason, though, Wonwoo doesn’t get to his usual table during the wait, staying instead at the counter. Even with his back turned, Seokmin can feel his eyes on himself and his neck starts uncomfortably warming up. He’s always been pretty aware of Wonwoo, but today his presence seems simply impossible to ignore. Even when he hands Wonwoo his beverage, Seokmin doesn’t use his work as an excuse to get away from him, but he keeps standing there, staring as Wonwoo wraps his hands (they’re covered with the sleeves of his sweater, and it’s reassuring how some things haven’t changed, at least) around the mug and blows on it to cool the liquid down.

Seokmin vaguely registers Wonwoo sneaking glances at him between little sips, but he's too busy watching him (ogling at him, really) in return to have any thought about it. A part of him, the sane one, is aware that he's probably being a creep, unabashedly staring at Wonwoo like this, but… it's like something has stopped functioning. He can't focus on anything that isn't Wonwoo, every sense attuned to his presence.

The person in front of him is Wonwoo, and at the same time it isn't him. The sweater is neatly tucked inside his slacks, and have Wonwoo's legs always been this long? His shoulders so broad, his features so sharp?

It’s utter nonsense, Seokmin thinks while still being unable to look away. His eyes fall on Wonwoo’s neck, the edge of a scent-blocker patch peeking through from under the collar of the turtleneck. Of course, Wonwoo would wear those when he goes to work. It’s a small mercy, but at least Seokmin can’t smell him.

He freezes when he looks back at Wonwoo's face, who’s sipping on his drink while averting Seokmin’s gaze and looking quite uncomfortable. A ripple of something, a full-body shiver runs through Seokmin, eyes falling on Wonwoo’s lips. There’s a bit of foam on the top one, and it’s the most cliché thing in the world, but Seokmin’s stomach cramps down and every hair on his body stands up.

His hand visibly twitches with the urge to touch Wonwoo’s lip, to clean it up.

It’s crazy. Winter is around the corner, Seokmin is only wearing the thin shirt of the uniform and yet he feels hot all over, a drop of sweat rolling down his neck.

He wants to touch Wonwoo. Quickly, to clean his mouth. To help him, as a friend would.

God, I want to kiss him, the intrusive thoughts are saying instead, and Seokmin shudders.

His head feels like it’s filled with cotton when he reaches up to finally touch Wonwoo. Something inside him preens in feeling Wonwoo go tense, still as a statue, as Seokmin brushes the pad of his thumb against his upper lip. It’s warm, a little wet, and Seokmin unconsciously presses harder against the plushness of it.

He has the feeling that he would feel better if he tasted it.

He gets incredibly hotter at the thought, to the point that a bit of sense comes back to him and he notices the look Wonwoo’s giving him, wide-eyed and startled. Wonwoo parts his lips, and Seokmin realizes not only how inappropriate he’s being, but also that he can smell Wonwoo, even if faintly. Even with the blockers on. His head spins.

“I’m sorry. You had-”

Seokmin’s attempt to yank his treacherous hand away gets blocked by Wonwoo’s own hand catching his wrist.

Something inside Seokmin unclenches at the first contact, heat prickles all over his skin. He and Wonwoo have never really touched, he realizes with the small fraction of brain that’s still functioning. Not like this, skin against skin. Purposefully.

A shaky sigh leaves Seokmin’s lips. Wonwoo’s fingers curled around his wrist are a single point of coolness against his burning skin. The scent of peaches is getting stronger, more bitter, and why is no one in the shop reacting to it? Why are Wonwoo’s blockers not working? Why is Seokmin feeling like this, as if… as if Wonwoo was an…

“Seokmin-ah,” Wonwoo exhales without finishing the sentence. Intentionally or not, his fingers curl better around him and brush over Seokmin’s pulse point, right where one of his scent glands is, and Seokmin has to bite down on his own lip to not make any noise. His pants suddenly feel too tight.

It’s a wave of arousal like Seokmin has rarely felt, hot and encompassing, leaving him burning and shivering at the same time. He stares into Wonwoo’s eyes, who are so dark and yet so concerned, so caring, he feels Wonwoo’s strong hold on his hand, keeping him there, and his entrance clenches and then unclenches, a trickle of slick leaking out.

And that… Wonwoo must smell it, even as an omega, because his hold tightens and his voice is hoarse when he asks, “Are you okay?”

Maybe it’s the sheer concern in Wonwoo’s eyes, maybe it's the noise of a mug placed down on a table with more strength than necessary, but it’s enough to make Seokmin snap out of it. To make him become aware of his own scent spiking up, of the wetness between his legs. It’s enough to make him find the strength to finally yank his hand away and fly to the backroom in retreat without daring to look back.

He must be reeking, because Seungkwan is onto him immediately, not even bothering to finish buttoning up his shirt.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

In an attempt to support himself, Seokmin places the palms of his hands on the table and shakes his head. His hands, his legs, every inch of him is trembling.

Seungkwan rests a hand on his shoulders, but immediately pulls it back. “You’re burning up, what happened?”

“I don’t know. I…” Seokmin bites his lips as another wave of warmth hits him.

“When is your heat due?” Seungkwan murmurs after a few seconds of silence.

Seokmin squeezes his eyes shut. Of course Seungkwan came to his same conclusion. How could he not, when Seokmin smells like that. But it can’t be. It can’t.

“In a couple of weeks. It’s too early, I…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, interrupted by Soonyoung barging into the room. And Seungkwan must really be worried about Seokmin, if he doesn’t say anything about the shop being left unsupervised.

“Seokmin-ah, is everything okay? I could smell you from outside.”

If Seokmin was in a better state, he would have thought that Soonyoung being so sensitive to scents for the first time was a good sign. Alas, at the moment he can only whine, thinking he’s really going into a early-heat and that Wonwoo must have smelled it on him. The thought is humiliating. His woody scent, so unlike the one of an omega in heat. He bets Wonwoo smells like a peach tart, and for some reason his mouth waters.

“What happened?” Soonyoung is still talking. “I had to ask Wonwoo to leave, he was making the whole place reek.”

Seokmin doubles down over the table, his legs nearly failing him. Both Soonyoung and Seungkwan’s arms are fast to steady him, and the touch is unbearable against his heated skin, but at least they’re keeping him upright.

“Hyung is probably going into heat,” Seokmin hears Seungkwan saying, and then Soonyoung snorting, “I can smell that, thank you.”

“Well, congrats,” Seungkwan snaps in response.

“I’m just wondering why Won… oh!” There are a few seconds of silence, and if Seokmin were able to, he'd be prodding Soonyoung to keep talking. “Wonwoo must have triggered it.”

“Omegas can’t trigger each others’ heat,” Seokmin grits out, because he’s in pain and everything is ridiculous.

“What are you talking about?” The surprise in Soonyoung’s tone makes Seokmin open the eyes to meet his, round and astounded. Then, Soonyoung says it. “Wonwoo’s an alpha.”

Seokmin’s knees wobble and he flutters his eyes closed again. Under the loud ringing filling his head, beyond the fever that’s probably about to take over, he can hear Seungkwan and Soonyoung bickering (“How do you know that?!”, “I don’t know, it just came up once with Jihoon!”, “And why you never bothered to tell him ?!”, “I thought he already knew! They’re always together, how could I…”) but he doesn’t bother to follow them.

Seokmin only needs… a moment. A few seconds of tranquility, to think about the bomb Soonyoung just dropped and, even more than that, to regain a drop of control over himself before going home. But there isn’t quietness, there isn’t peace. Seokmin is burning, his head is a mess of noises and fog, and his hole won’t stop fucking pulsing.

More slick gushes out of him and Seokmin whimpers pathetically.

“Oh, you poor thing.” It’s Soonyoung’s warm voice, his little hand brushing Seokmin’s sweaty hair. “Would you take him home, Kwan-ah? I’ll take over your turn.”

Seokmin doesn’t hear Seungkwan’s answer, nor does he register being taken inside his own battered car, or Seungkwan driving him home. His heat isn’t here yet, not in its full-force, and Seokmin falls into a disturbed sleep before Seungkwan can drag him to his bed.

More often than not, heats are mortifying ordeals.

It probably has a lot to do with the fact that Seokmin spends most of his cycles alone, but he knows it’s more than that. He has spent his heat with other alphas before, of course he has. And while it gave him what he wanted in that specific moment, fulfilling the urge to get touched, pressed against something, and filled, that feeling never lasted. There always was something wrong, awkward, in the aftermath. Something missing.

Mingyu offered once, years ago, and Seokmin actually considered it for a hot second. They’ve been friends for so long afterall, and even if they weren’t, Mingyu is a nice person. Not to mention objectively handsome, and surely with much experience in that field. Seokmin knew he would have taken good care of him. In the end, however, not even the prospect of a possible lifetime of solitary heats managed to overcome how weird Seokmin would have felt in fucking one of his best friends.

Looking for a beta or an omega is out of question, too. Seokmin doesn’t sleep with them even in normal circumstances, he knows he wouldn’t be satisfied when he is at his neediest. And if a beta’s dick would still be better than Seokmin’s own fingers or abused toys, well, it’s no one’s problem but Seokmin’s.

So, yes, Seokmin has come to consider heats as nothing more than an annoyance. An inconvenience. Just one more reminder of what Seokmin can’t seem destined to have, of how he can’t be a normal omega even in this.

After waking up burning with fever and arousal, Seokmin has just the time to half-ass a nest and checking his surroundings (Seungkwan has been thorough as always, bringing to Seokmin’s bedroom a good amount of water bottles and ready to eat food, and Seokmin knows that, when he has the strength to reach the kitchen, he’s going to find the fridge and cabinets well stocked) before starting going through the usual, painful routine of trying to bring himself some pleasure that will satisfy him.

Like all the other times, it doesn’t. Something always misses, his thirst never gets properly quenched, no matter how deep he goes with his fingers, or how thick the toy he uses is.

If, this time, Seokmin’s fantasies don’t involve random celebrities or some faceless alpha, but a very real, very specific person, he’s luckily too gone to fully realize it.

It’s only after two days that Seokmin is finally given a break. Not enough to get out of bed and properly take care of his being, but enough to… think, a little. The fog around his head has dissipated a little, the burning has subsided a tad. Seokmin is left sprawled on his bed, panting and itching all over, sweaty and dirty. His right hand hurts like a bitch from all the work of the past two days, and yet Seokmin is feeling painfully empty.

The hunger, the arousal, are still there. Seokmin can feel them, simmering in his blood while his mind keeps providing him with unwanted, filthy thoughts. He can feel it in how his skin is still painfully sensitive, his cock half-hard between his legs. For the moment he ignores it though, taking advantage of these few moments of relative truce in favor of rolling on his belly and grabbing his phone for the first time since he got home.

There are some expected texts from his friends checking on him, that Seokmin quickly replies to. And then… heat rushes through Seokmin’s body when he sees several text notifications from Wonwoo. He must have noticed how Seokmin was behaving the other day, how he disappeared from the face of Earth after that. Seokmin takes a deep breath to will himself to calm down, gearing himself up to open the texts with his trembling thumb, when his phone starts vibrating with an upcoming call, Wonwoo’s name flashing on the screen.

Seokmin shouldn’t answer. Not when he’s like this, cock stirring to attention at the mere thought of Wonwoo. Not when he doesn’t have the slightest control over his own body.

But again, Seokmin isn’t in the condition of doing any rational thinking.

“Hello?” he has the chance to murmur before Wonwoo is saying, “Thank god you answered.”

The rush of heat in hearing Wonwoo’s voice in his ear keeps Seokmin from fully registering what he’s saying, the concern in his voice.

“Wonwoo hyung?”

“You weren’t answering my texts, I was starting to get worried.”

Seokmin closes his eyes, because Wonwoo’s tone is telling him that he was in full-worried-mode already, and it does… something, to Seokmin’s poor nerves. An alpha, worried about him. Wonwoo, worried about Seokmin not answering him. Seokmin presses his legs together, trying to ignore how that makes him feel.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t really been checking my phone these days.”

“Are you okay?”

The question sounds genuine enough that Seokmin doesn’t think much before answering, “I’m fine, it’s just my heat.”

And that… isn’t something Seokmin would have told an alpha with such nonchalance in normal circumstances. He hears Wonwoo’s breath catching, and his hips shift, sheets teasingly brushing against heated skin.

“Oh,” Wonwoo exhales after a beat. “Then I shouldn’t be disturbing you, I’m-”

“It’s alright, I feel a little better now,” Seokmin rushes to say. He doesn’t know how long this vague clarity of mind will last, but he doesn’t want Wonwoo to close the call.

“But, are you…” Wonwoo stops, takes a deep breath. Seokmin wishes he could see his face. “Don’t you have someone there helping you?” The question is whispered, as if Wonwoo gathered just enough courage to utter it out and nothing more.

Seokmin puts Wonwoo on speaker, his hands getting too sweaty to handle the phone. He mimics Wonwoo and inhales deeply, forcing himself to calm down. To not read too much into it. Wonwoo is just worried about him because they’re friends, and Seokmin should stop linking every behavior to a person’s secondary gender.

“No, I’m alone.”

It’s too forward, but Seokmin isn’t in the place to care. He starts growing antsy, however, at the silence his words are met with. It gives his thoughts time and place to run in circles, until Wonwoo says, as if it’s his fault, “It must be painful. I’m sorry.”

Seokmin bites his tongue to not say anything that could ruin him definitively. “It’s fine, I’m used to it,” he mutters instead through his teeth, even if nothing about his situation is fine. Not even realizing he just admitted he’s usually alone during his heats.

“Do you need anything?”

And oh, this is so bad. Wonwoo’s deep, caring voice rumbles inside Seokmin’s chest, sending a new wave of heat through his whole body. Unconsciously, Seokmin spreads his legs, feeling himself getting wet again, the fog coming back. You, he thinks a little deliriously as he rolls his hips to get some friction from the sheets. I need you.

“Do you have enough water, or food, or-”

“I’m fine,” Seokmin interrupts him, because he can’t bear Wonwoo - soft, cute Wonwoo - to be so concerned about his well-being. Not without the temptation to ask for more. “It was a bit unexpected, but I’m, ah, well equipped.”

Even in the silence that follows, Seokmin can hear Wonwoo breathing on the other side. The phone speakers are good enough that if he closes his eyes, Seokmin can imagine Wonwoo being here with him. He does so, and has to press his face against the pillow to muffle his whimper, hips moving automatically to drag his cock on the mattress. The sheets beneath him are too warm, too sticky with cum and slick. The feeling of them against his skin is uncomfortable, but Seokmin can’t stop.

Would Wonwoo be able to hear him, he wonders dizzily. Should Seokmin warn him, tell him he’s getting lost again. Close the call, out of respect.

He should, probably. But he feels so alone, and Wonwoo’s voice is so soothing. Even if Seokmin can’t have him, he can have at least this, right?

“Hyung…”

Seokmin muffles his purr at Wonwoo’s answering hum. He could blame his next words on a myriad of circumstances (how he wanted to keep the conversation going but having no idea how, how he couldn’t stop thinking about that specific topic, how he’s in fucking heat), but the truth is that they spill out of his mouth before Seokmin can think about them.

“Is it true that you’re an alpha?”

Wonwoo’s silence is entirely justified. He’s probably offended. That’s not… that’s not something you ask like that, not with this kind of disbelieving curiosity, brain mush from horniness or not.

“Yes,” Wonwoo replies instead of hanging up the phone to Seokmin’s face. “Yes, I’m an alpha.”

He doesn’t prod on why Seokmin’s asking now of all times. Or maybe he does, but Seokmin can’t hear him. Because that “yes”, said with that voice, that admission of something that hasn't sunk yet into Seokmin’s mind, is enough to make Seokmin’s hips stutter a few times before his orgasm hits him without prior warning.

“Seokmin?”

Seokmin had tried to muffle down his startled moan, but Wonwoo must have heard it, didn’t he?

He can’t even feel embarrassed about it though, not when he’s still recovering from the sudden orgasm, his body twitching, his cock still hard, wetness pooling between his legs. His body has started to act up again, and somehow it feels even more unbearable than when he was completely alone.

“Hyung,” he whimpers, pathetic and needy. His cock hurts, oversensitive and spent, but he still can’t stop his hips from rolling down on the soiled sheets, insatiable.

“Yes? Seokmin, are you sure you’re okay? I… what can I…”

Wonwoo’s voice is urgent, probably sensing Seokmin’s distress, and it just makes him keen, this time perfectly audible.

“Please. Please, it hurts so much.” Mushy brain, heated body and leaking hole, Seokmin is now past any inhibition. There is only one little crumb of sanity left in him, and it’s what's keeping him from asking outright what he wants.

“You’re gonna be fine, Seokminnie,” Wonwoo soothes him, but it only makes things worse. Seokmin needs him. “What can I do? Should I call someone?”

“No!” Seokmin shakes his head, smearing tears and drool all over the pillow. “Just… I need…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, too busy trying to find some physical solace, without much success. “Please… I need…”

Finding the feeling of the wet, dirty sheets attached to his skin suddenly unbearable, Seokmin grabs a spare pillow from his nest and shoves it under his belly and in between his legs. He moans and the sensation, the coolness of the fabric a blessing for his poor burning cock. For a moment, he forgets about Wonwoo being able to hear everything and chases his release, humping the pillow like a teenager dealing with his first rushed orgasms. Seokmin arches his back with a gasp, the drag of the cool, smooth fabric delicious on his erection, and his opening desperately clenches around nothing, reminding him that it’s not enough.

He groans, frustrated, desperate. Coming back to his senses enough to remember about Wonwoo.

“I’m so sorry,” he sniffles. “I’ll close the call, I…”
“Would an alpha’s scent help?” Wonwoo asks suddenly, and Seokmin stills, frozen in place.

“W-what?”

“M-my clothes,” Wonwoo stutters, voice strained. “I know my scent isn’t the best, but I could bring you some of-”

“Yes,” Seokmin grabs the phone with both hands and pants straight into the speaker. “God, please, Wonwoo. Yes.”

Seokmin isn’t sure how much time passes before Wonwoo arrives. He only manages to send him a quick text with his location and the passcode for his apartment, and then he’s caught again in the depth of his heat, grinding against the pillow, touching himself. Frustratingly enough, he never comes, as if his body heard the promise of getting something more soon, and now it’s waiting for that.

He knows Wonwoo has arrived only when the room starts smelling like him, his sweet, gentle scent overpowering Seokmin’s tart one. One whine from Seokmin, and Wonwoo is there, crouched by the side of his bed.

His hair is a little messy, his eyes dark and he carries a few bags with him, probably having brought more water and food despite what Seokmin told him. But these are all things Seokmin will only notice later, after his heat. Now, he can only focus on how good Wonwoo looks, how delicious he smells. He can’t think about anything but the piece of clothing Wonwoo is silently handing him. It’s one of the hoodies Seokmin has seen Wonwoo wearing the most, the big, black one.

Seokmin nearly yanks it away from Wonwoo’s hands and brings it to his face with a desperate mewl. It reeks with Wonwoo’s scent and Seokmin’s head spins violently. Heat spreads from the base of his tailbone, up to his spine, between his legs. As if it was possible, he grows harder, more slick oozing out of him.

“Seokmin-ah,” Wonwoo is whispering by his side, talking for the first time since he got here.

Wonwoo’s voice is as warm as his gaze, and blood roars in Seokmin’s ears, his skull filled with a ringing noise. He spent so much of the past days imagining Wonwoo being here, that now it feels like it’s not really happening.

Seokmin presses the hoodie on his face and inhales deeply, leaking like crazy. Being surrounded by an alpha’s scent, by Wonwoo’s scent, is somehow making things worse. Having him this close and yet so far is making things infinitely more difficult, Seokmin’s arousal reaching new levels and never getting any satisfaction.

“Does it feel a bit better?” Wonwoo asks as if reading his mind, and it wrenches a sob out of Seokmin.

“I’m… I need…”

Seokmin groans, frustrated. How can he be so out of himself, and yet still incapable of asking for what he wants?

“What do you need?” Wonwoo prods, getting closer.

His hand goes to pat Seokmin’s head and then stays there, brushing his hair with comforting caresses. Seokmin feels his body imperceptibly relaxing. Wonwoo’s kindness feels like a reassurance. He shoves away the pillow from underneath his body and shifts his hips enough to show Wonwoo his arousal.

“Please,” he whispers.

It takes effort to not shy away from Wonwoo’s eyes. Seokmin knows he probably looks like a mess, all red, dirty skin. But Wonwoo only takes a glance down, and then his gentle eyes are back on Seokmin’s face while a gentler hand wraps around his cock, the other still petting Seokmin’s head. The touch is so coveted, Wonwoo’s fingers are so cold, wrapping around him so nicely, that Seokmin moans, helpless, as a huge drop of precum spurts from his cock.

He hides his face back on Wonwoo’s hoodie, letting his scent engulf him completely, but sometimes he still sneaks some glances at him, incapable of restraining himself from it. Wonwoo keeps staring at his face, as if he couldn’t bear to look at any other part of him. It could be humiliating, if not for the way his hand is perfectly moving around him, touching all the right places.

“Like this? Is this good?”

Wonwoo asks as he swipes the thumb across his slit, and Seokmin rolls his eyes back, weakly thrusting into his hold. He’s leaking so much, the scent of his slick is filling the room, mixing with Wonwoo’s peachy one. He can feel it, his orgasm is right there, dangling in front of him but still out of reach. 

“I can’t…” He groans, frustrated, trying to thrust his hips faster.

Wonwoo brushes his brows with one hand, while his other one quickens the pace of the strokes. “Sure you can,” he reassures him. “You’re almost there.” As he says it, Wonwoo twists his hand, cupping it around the tip of Seokmin’s cock, and Seokmin comes with a gasp, every muscled taut, shocked by the harshness of it.

The relief doesn’t last long. Seokmin is still hard, still hungry. Wonwoo keeps pumping him, but it's only marginally helping and it’s getting borderline painful. He must notice it, too, with how his brows are pulled tight together, the concern painting his features. Seokmin can’t help himself any longer and arches his back, tipping his bottom higher. His entrance is pulsing, clenching around nothing. Begging.

"Hurts so much," Seokmin whimpers. "Can you…"

This time, Wonwoo's eyes linger for longer, slightly widening. Even through the haze, Seokmin notices him swallowing. He lets out a desperate little sound, knowing he finally managed to cross the line. Wonwoo is going to run away from him, because now that he has seen Seokmin - really seen him, in all his messiness and ridiculousness - how could he want him?

"I'm sorry…"

"It's okay." Wonwoo moves his hand from Seokmin's length to spread on his lower back. "It's okay," he repeats, his voice impossibly lower, soothing.

He caresses the sweaty skin, the hand moving in slow, circular motions. Seokmin can feel it trembling a little as it moves lower, gliding over his asscheeks, following the cleft of his bottom. The trail is torturously slow and too fast at the same time, and Seokmin moans helplessly the moment a fingertip brushes against his rim. It stays there, massaging the red, pulsing skin that's getting wetter and wetter as slick keeps spurting from Seokmin's hole.

"Fuck," Seokmin groans against Wonwoo's hoodie, hiding his face into it. Inhaling the ripe peaches mixing so well with his own arousal.

He's so wet that he only needs to push his ass higher to get Wonwoo's finger to slide down to the first knuckle.

Seokmin opens his mouth in a silent gasp. That's it. That's what he needs. It's just one finger, and somehow it feels better, righter, than three of Seokmin's own. He rocks his hips back, getting the finger completely inside. Tentatively, Wonwoo curls it, and Seokmin moans, long and low.

"God… More. More, please."

As the second fingers breaches him, Wonwoo's other hand is back in between Seokmin's hair, the gentleness of the touch contrasting with the squelching noises that are filling the room as he starts pumping his fingers in and out. 

Through the fog of lust, Seokmin vaguely realizes the difference in scent between the hoodie and Wonwoo's arm, so close to his face. Moaning, he grabs it and brings Wonwoo's wrist to his nose, instinctively nuzzling at it, scenting it. Wonwoo lets him.

The comfort it brings him is so different from the maddening arousal caused by Wonwoo's other hand, his fingers prodding Seokmin's inner walls, working in and out of him. Everytime they withdraw, Seokmin clenches down on them, desperate.

But Wonwoo proves once again to be kind, and he doesn't let Seokmin lose his mind too much. When Seokmin moans for more, he adds a third finger. When he sees Seokmin getting closer, he scissors his fingers apart, stretching him wide open, and then he curls them back in, pressing repetitively on his prostate. And when Seokmin finally comes, he adds the two remaining fingers to give him a makeshift knot, all the while shushing his desperate screaming.

Seokmin isn't sure of what happened next, or how long Wonwoo stayed with him.

He loses track of time as Wonwoo keeps being there, still fully clothed, still kneeling by his side. Fingering and jerking him off until Seokmin keeps needing him to, getting help in the form of Seokmin's dildo when his poor hand and wrist start screaming for mercy.

The other hand never stops, however. Wonwoo keeps petting Seokmin's hair, brushing over his brows, caressing his cheeks.

Even when Seokmin passes out, he still vaguely hears Wonwoo's gentle, soft words of praise and encouragement.

A week after his heat ended, Seokmin gets ambushed by Mingyu before his turn at the coffee shop.

Given the mood Seokmin has been in the past days, the perspective of starting work a little later comes as a small gift. It would, at least, if not for the storm behind Mingyu’s eyes as he corners him outside the shop (in a corner that’s a little private, standing so that Seokmin doesn’t have the sun in his eyes. because Mingyu is caring even when he’s clearly in the mood for a confrontation).

“You have to tell me what happened with hyung,” Mingyu starts, serious gaze and arms crossed.

Funnily enough, Seokmin doesn’t need him to voice out which hyung he’s talking about.

Wonwoo hasn’t been coming to the shop, so Seokmin hasn’t seen him since his heat. Even then, Wonwoo must have left (on which day? Seokmin has no clue) while Seokmin was sleeping, because he doesn’t remember any of it.

It’s not a surprise, not really. Why would Wonwoo see him again, after what happened?

“Why?”

“He’s been miserable for days,” Mingyu scowls, like he’s upset at Seokmin.

Well. The classic reaction after friendly helping out an omega in heat. Seokmin scoffs, averting Mingyu’s eyes.

“Nothing happened.” He shrugs. “He just helped me through my heat, and then he must have decided he was done with me.” Which is… legit, all things considered. But it doesn’t make Seokmin feel better about it. Less ashamed, less guilty.

Mingyu is blinking at his words. Then, he screeches, “What?!” and Seokmin has to punch his arm to make him lower his voice.

“What?!” Mingyu repeats, now in a manic whisper that is lower in volume but definitely scarier.

Seokmin crosses his arms in return, getting defensive. He really doesn’t want to think about it.

“I told you, it’s nothing. He happened to call me while I was going through it and then… he brought me one of his hoodies to help me.”

Mingyu’s staring at him with eyes like saucers. “Did you…?”

Seokmin punches him again. “No! He just… helped me, you know, with-” He makes some vague gesture with his hands.

Thankfully enough, Mingyu understands, and now he’s looking like he’s about to have an aneurism. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something that sounds very similar to “Jeon Wonwoo, you…”

“He was very kind about it,” Seokmin offers in Wonwoo’s defense. “And I basically begged him to, so…”

Mingyu shakes his head, his face uncharacteristically indecipherable. It makes Seokmin feel weird, like there’s something he’s missing.

“Why didn’t you tell me from the start he was an alpha, by the way?”

Now, Mingyu is back being completely transparent, the surprise clear on his face. “I thought you knew!”

“How was I supposed to?! Have you smelled him? Have you seen him?”

Mingyu scoffs, but Seokmin doesn’t care. Yes, he shouldn’t go around assuming things about others based on their appearance, but it’s not just about how Wonwoo looks. It’s about the way he behaves, the sweetness, the softness of his being. How everything about him seems to be screaming “please, take care of me.”

“For a moment I thought you two were a couple. It made so much sense in my mind,” Seokmin confesses, and at any other time Mingyu’s squeaky laugh would have been hilarious.

“I didn’t want to make you think I was trying to push you two together,” Mingyu says, admitting he was, in fact, trying to do that. “It never worked with all the guys I introduced you to, and you barely talk about this stuff with me, so…”

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” Seokmin snaps, mostly out of guilt because, well, Mingyu is right. They really don’t talk much about serious, important matters, not anymore.

Ever so kindly, Mingyu shakes his head at Seokmin’s harshness.

“It’s not about that.” Mingyu licks at his chapped, bitten lips, scratching the back of his head. “I feel like we’ve been drifting apart since we presented, and I get it if you don’t want to talk about some things with me. It’s fine. But it also means that there are times I don’t know how to approach you.”

Mingyu looks and sounds painfully honest, open in a way Seokmin hasn’t seen him being in a while, and Seokmin deflates a little.

“I’m- It’s not that I don’t trust you. But being an alpha, I feel like you wouldn’t fully… understand. I’m sorry,” Seokmin adds in the end because he was feeling horrible even before finishing the sentence.

But Mingyu has always been the most generous out of all of them.

“I get it,” he repeats. “But, you know, before being an alpha I’m your friend.”

And how true is that, Seokmin realizes. How much time he has spent seeing others, and himself, as their secondary gender and not just as… people. 

He has liked Wonwoo since the first time they met, since that night at the party. And after that, both Seokmin’s attraction and affection for him have done nothing but grow, but he was so set on the conviction of Wonwoo being an omega, and on himself not wanting to be with one, that it overpowered everything else.

What a fool.

“Gyuie…” he murmurs pitifully, digging out Mingyu’s childhood nickname from the depth of memory. It makes Mingyu go even softer, gently nudging at Seokmin’s shoulder.

“Both you and hyung are important to me, so of course I wanted you to meet. But yes, I did it because I thought you’d be good for each other, too.”

Seokmin shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s interested, though.” Mingyu makes a little questioning sound, and Seokmin takes a deep breath, his face warming up at the prospect of admitting something so humiliating and painful. “He didn’t fuck me even while I was in heat in front of him. He must not find me attractive at all.”

Surprisingly, Mingyu laughs. Seokmin glares at him, and he receives a pat on the shoulder in return.

“As far as I know, Wonwoo hyung doesn’t really help other omegas during their cycles. He even spends his ruts alone.” Mingyu grins. “He wouldn’t have done that with you if he didn’t care, don’t you think so?”

Seokmin scowls down at the floor beneath his feet. It’s not a thought he's never had, but…

“I think I messed up everything with him.”

“I just told you that-”

“A few days before I went into heat I told him I only like typical alphas and he… he didn’t seem happy to hear that.”

Another confession, another smile from Mingyu.

“Then tell him you like him,” he says, easily just like that. “Because you do, right? You like him.”

This time, Seokmin doesn’t need to think much about his answer.

“I do. So much," Seokmin exhales, and it's the easiest thing he's said in a while.

Waiting for Wonwoo at the chosen meeting spot must be one of the most nerve-wrenching things Seokmin has ever done. It probably only comes after plucking up his courage to send him a text after talking with Mingyu, an uncharacteristically short message proposing to meet up so that Seokmin could buy him a meal as a “thank you”. For what, Seokmin didn’t specify and Wonwoo didn’t ask.

And so here Seokmin is, in front of the entrance of the rooftop bar he chose (after a very welcomed recommendation from Mingyu) for the… date? No, not a date. For the meeting. Yes.

Seokmin sighs, trying to not get too much into his head. He spent the previous night attempting to come up with a discourse, with some kind of plan, but he gave up after a few hours uselessly spent rolling around in the bed.

First of all, he needs to gauge Wonwoo's mood and demeanor. Then, he’s just going to… improvise, probably.

His heart is beating inside his ears, loud and quick, as he watches Wonwoo’s figure in the distance, getting closer with each step.

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets him sheepishly once they’re in front of each other, and Seokmin just… stares at him.

Other than Wonwoo looking better than he remembered, especially out in the open, under the sunlight, Seokmin can’t help but take in his outfit, an icy feeling spreading through him as he realizes. White shirt, dark blue slacks, and a grayish-green jacket that’s a little more on the casual side, toning down the gray, checkered blazer underneath. He looks good, sleek and a little preppy but not overdressed. Surely appropriate for the place they’re in (something tells him that Wonwoo is the kind of person who checks the vibe and the menu of the places he’s going to beforehand. Not like Minghao - who does it to match with the interiors for Instagram-related purposes - but for his own peace of mind).

The point is. Wonwoo’s outfit is awfully similar to the one Seokmin put together for himself, the only difference being that Seokmin is wearing a long, blue trench over a full gray checkered suit. They look… god, they're wearing matching outfits.

Seokmin’s gears start to turn. He asked Jeonghan for help to choose what to wear, and now he wonders if Wonwoo might have asked Mingyu. It wouldn’t be that unlikely, those two partnering up just for shit and giggles.

From the way Wonwoo is staring at him, he’s probably having very similar thoughts.

“Wow. We look like twins.”

He sounds so awed, that Seokmin can’t repress his laugh, and suddenly his nervousness (well, most of it) is gone.

“We look quite silly, actually.”

Wonwoo presses his lips together and looks around. “You’re right. People are staring.”

“They’re staring because you’re handsome, hyung.”

And… Yes, that wasn’t how Seokmin wanted to proceed, but it’s worth it, for the shy smile that appears on Wonwoo’s face at his words.

“Shall we go? I reserved a table.”

It feels strange, taking the reins like that. There’s a voice in the back of Seokmin’s mind, telling him that’s not how an omega should behave with an alpha he wants to appease. But there is another one, a bit louder, that tells him it’s fine. Somehow, being like this with Wonwoo feels natural.

Not that Seokmin ever doubted Mingyu when it comes to good places to eat and drink, but the place he recommended is really charming. Nestled in the heart of the city, it’s an equally stylish and inviting place, adorned with comfortable lounge furniture, string lights and lush greenery. It’s definitely a place one would go to for a date with their partner, rather than to apologize for being a mess and also confess their feelings, but Wonwoo seems to like it, if his sparkly eyes roaming around and taking in the scenery are of any indication.

Wonwoo looks pleased when they reach their reserved spot, a low wooden table with plush floor-level seats, and when he scans the menu, even when he cutely scrunches up his nose at Seokmin and confesses, “I honestly don’t know what to order.”

Seokmin laughs, but he’s not any better. He can only take some pride in managing to get through the wines selection and choosing one he hopes Wonwoo will like (“I trust your sense, Seokmin-ah,” Wonwoo says peacefully when Seokmin voices the thought, and somehow his words don't make him feel pressured), but for the food they have to go with the waiter’s recommendations.

To Seokmin’s relief, that gives them something idle to fill the silence with for a while and until their order arrives - a red wine Seokmin chose and a selection of fine cheeses presented on a wooden board alongside bread, fresh fruit and honey. Seokmin can’t help but snap a few pictures of what’s laid out on the table, made to look even more aesthetically pleasing by the warm tones of the setting sun. Everything is so tasteful and sophisticated, but not stuffy. Surely way fancier than what Seokmin (and his wallet) is used to.

Wonwoo, too, seems impressed.

“Woah, you brought me to such a nice place,” he says, awe and bashfulness heavily mixed in his voice and features. It’s something that would make a man’s chest fill up with pride.

“Mingyu recommended it,” Seokmin feels the need to clarify though, not wanting to give Wonwoo the false impression of him being such a refined, wealthy man.

Wonwoo smiles, carefully picking up a small grape from the table. “That makes sense. It’s something he’d like.”

He lifts the hand, bringing the grape to his mouth. Automatically, Seokmin’s eyes follow the movement, the little piece of fruit pressing on Wonwoo’s lips briefly, and then those lips parting, the grape disappearing behind them. If Wonwoo notices his gaze, the vague change of scent in the air, he doesn’t say anything.

More silence follows, during which they simply nibble at the food and sip at their wine while Seokmin tries to find the spine to open his mouth and say what he came here to say. It’s hard, finding the will to push himself to talk, when Wonwoo is behaving so normally, like… like nothing happened.

Perhaps he really does feel like that, and Seokmin isn’t sure which scenario it’s worse. Wonwoo pretending everything’s fine, or him not caring about it enough to let it influence their relationship.

Seokmin mentally slaps himself to snap out of it, thinking back about his conversation with Mingyu. He wouldn’t have told him to talk with Wonwoo if he knew didn’t care. And he said… he said Wonwoo was being miserable, all because of what Seokmin told him, what he made him do, so… forget confessing his feelings, the very least Seokmin can do is apologize.

“So, uhm… About the reason I invited you today…”

Wonwoo stills, holding a piece of cheese midair. Carefully, he places it back on the plate. “Right. You said you wanted to thank me.” He wipes his fingertips on a tissue, not meeting Seokmin’s eyes.

“Y-yeah. More than that, I need to apologize to you, hyung.”

Wonwoo darts his eyes up, his frown getting deeper. “You have done nothing to apologize for.”

“Oh, no,” Seokmin laughs bitterly. “There are so many things. First of all… For all this time, I thought you were an omega.”

Wonwoo blinks at his words, his pretty eyes round behind his glasses. Then, he laughs.

“Yes, most people think that.”

“Well, they’re stupid,” Seokmin firmly states, including himself in the bunch. Wonwoo is smiling softly, and he pointedly ignores how that makes him feel. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you. I’m sorry.”

He talks so much about being a victim of stereotypes, and yet he’s the first to impose his own prejudice to others. Wonwoo, of course, doesn’t seem offended by that, and he gently nudges Seokmin’s hand.

“I told you, I don’t really care. Even though…” Wonwoo adds after a moment of hesitation, like a thought that came up to him abruptly, unprompted. “There are times I wish I was a more normal alpha. Not that I believe in the concepts of normal and abnormal, but you know what I mean,” he adds sheepishly, self-consciously pushing his glasses up his nose.

And oh, doesn’t Seokmin know. Doesn’t that wish resonate with him.

He feels terrible, thinking about how Wonwoo must have felt helping him through his heat.

“I must apologize about that, too. You must have felt so uncomfortable when you came to my apartment the other day,” Seokmin whispers, and Wonwoo makes a little confused noise. “I pushed you to do something you’d never wanted to, knowing you were too kind to refuse. I’m so sorry, Wonwoo.”

Seokmin dips his head down in apology and shame. Which is a pity, because it prevents him to see the face Wonwoo makes when he sputters, “Something I’d never–” and when Seokmin lifts his gaze again, he finds him with a glint in his eyes he hadn’t seen yet, face pale with the exception of his ears, brightly red at the tip. He takes a big breath, seemingly to ground himself, but his voice remains shaky, agitated. It would be a fascinating spectacle, if Seokmin didn’t feel as much as panicked himself.

“I felt terrible these past days. I kept thinking how I took advantage of you while you were at your most vulnerable.”

“No, I asked you to. You were just helping me,” Seokmin says a little frantically, grabbing Wonwoo’s hand.

“You asked and I readily jumped into it. And I couldn’t even… make it satisfying for you.” The last words are ushered, spoken quietly in the space between them, and Seokmin’s heart breaks a little. He squeezes Wonwoo’s hand more tightly.

“No, hyung, no. You were perfect, having you there was…” Surreal. Incredibly good. Painful. Seokmin felt the most sated he’s been in years, and yet in the aftermath he was left hungrier than before. He swallows those feelings down, saying instead, “I’m sorry I put you through all that.”

Wonwoo’s laugh is bitter, self-deprecating. Seokmin doesn’t like it.

“You keep talking about it like it was a terrible experience for me, when I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the night we met.”

It feels very similar to that time at the party, when time slowed down and sounds faded as Wonwoo’s face came into view for the first time. There is chatting in the background, some lounge music coming from the speakers, but they all feel distant, like Seokmin’s head is underwater.

“W-what?”

Wonwoo scoffs, and it shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “I don’t really like going to coffee shops to work. I’m too easily distracted and I much prefer staying at home,” Wonwoo says it like it’s an accusation. “Also, your drinks are way too expensive.”

Seokmin would laugh, but he’s too busy gaping at Wonwoo and trying to make sense of his words. He has thought about the possibility of Wonwoo being interested in him, sure, but that was… before. Before making such a spectacle of himself, before knowing that Wonwoo was an alpha.

“But-but you’re an alpha,” is everything Seokmin manages to stutter, and Wonwoo’s frown deepens. “Surely you prefer an omega who’s more…”

He makes a movement with his free hand - the other still clenching down on Wonwoo’s one, and it seems like none of them is intentioned in changing that - a vague gesture that encompasses his whole self. Meaning nothing and everything at the same time.

“What are you talking about,” Wonwoo says, and he’s whining, cutely frowning and returning the hold on Seokmin’s hand to shake it up and down. “I told you I don’t care about that stuff. Actually…” he bites down on his lip before emptying his glass of wine, effectively stopping any rebut Seokmin was about to make. “I thought my inexperience while helping you was telling enough, but I don’t… I very rarely date omegas.”

And isn’t that just terrible, just one more proof. “See, I told you–”

Wonwoo stops him by shaking his hand once again. “Not because I care about them being omegas, but… I have my preferences.” It’s something Wonwoo already said that night at the coffee shop. Just like that time, his words seem to hold a secret, deeper meaning. Seokmin doesn’t say anything, waiting for Wonwoo’s next words to overcome the sound of his racing heart.

“And what I prefer…” He looks devastatingly embarrassed, his grip on Seokmin’s hand borderline painful, the flush spreading from his ears to his neck. God, Seokmin wants to kiss him stupid. “What I prefer are big guys. Broader than me. Taller, too, possibly. So, uhm, you really…” He doesn’t finish, trailing his eyes down Seokmin’s body before shaking his head and pushing his glasses up even if it isn’t needed. “And it’s not only about that. You’re so fun, and sweet, and I always feel so warm when I’m with– oh!”

Seokmin launches onto him, wrapping Wonwoo in a hug so tight and sudden it almost makes them topple down. His knees bump against the table, and the position is uncomfortable with the way they’re seated, but Seokmin doesn’t care. How could he, when he has the sweetest, most perfect person in his arms? A person who… who likes Seokmin, despite all his blatant flaws. Tentatively, Wonwoo touches his back, and it causes goosebumps to scatter across Seokmin’s skin. His heart won’t stop hammering.

“I like you,” he says, locking his eyes with Wonwoo’s widened ones. “I like you so much I don’t know what to do.”

The surprise blooming on Wonwoo’s features is as beautiful as it is unbelievable, because how could he think otherwise.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me?” Wonwoo whispers then, so quietly Seokmin wouldn’t have heard him if they weren’t this close. “I’m not… I have my preferences in bed, too.”

For a few seconds, Seokmin is too stunned to speak. Why he’s surprised, though, is a mystery since, well. It makes sense. He thinks about it, waiting and waiting for the idea to turn him off, but… it doesn’t. Seokmin imagines himself between Wonwoo’s long legs, Wonwoo underneath him, his pretty face as Seokmin– The air smells sweeter, and Seokmin dazedly realizes it’s Wonwoo’s scent getting stronger in reaction to his own spiking up.

“Would that be okay?” Wonwoo asks, and Seokmin dazedly reaches up to caress his cheek. “You don’t mind it?” Wonwoo sounds so small, so hopeful. His flushed face, looking even more red under the warm rays of the setting sun. His expectant, scared eyes. The way he’s holding onto Seokmin’s jacket like it’s his lifeline.

Just like that, Seokmin suddenly realizes he doesn’t mind. 

The realization feels less earth-shattering than he thought. Perhaps, when you like someone everything else fades in the background, unimportant.

“Hyung. I like you,” Seokmin repeats, brushing his nose against the tip of Wonwoo’s. Reveling in the way he feels a shiver run through Wonwoo’s body, how he inhales sharply.

“I would take care of you. You could take… anything you want from me,” Wonwoo mumbles. And that's such a dangerous thing to say to a person who's spent the better part of their life wanting, desperately yearning, and never satisfying their hunger.

Seokmin swallows. They’re so close that Wonwoo is getting a little cross-eyes, and it’s adorable.

“Even if I’m not the most perfect alpha out there, you still would–”

“There’s no thing such as a perfect alpha. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

The words leave Seokmin’s lips before he can even think about it, but he truly believes in them. Considering Wonwoo anything less than perfect feels crazy. Wonwoo is watching him silently, still blinking at him even after Seokmin can’t resist and kisses the tip of his nose. Wonwoo cups his face, then, a thumb brushing across Seokmin’s cheek.

“The same goes for you,” he murmurs gently. “These words, they apply to you, too.”

There is a moment, a terrifying couple of seconds, during which Seokmin has to fight off his tears.

It’s not the first time somebody tells him that. His friends have told him multiple times he’s fine the way he is, and it’s not like Seokmin’s perception of himself, his value as a person can change only with some words from a man.

Perhaps it’s finally seeing some of his struggles in another person.

Perhaps it’s the sensation of being completely seen. Wanted, in all his flaws.

Perhaps it’s feeling the same way for another person, so gentle and sweet that Seokmin has started wanting things he never considered before.

The desire to take care of someone else, and not just be taken care of. To treasure them, to hold them, the very same way he wants to be treasured and held.

Seokmin isn’t going to magically become confident overnight. He’s going to keep having second thoughts about his outfits, he’s going to keep staring at the mirror with a frown, debating whether his biceps are getting too big. Those aren’t things that can disappear after a few fancy words, no matter how much tenderness they are laced with.

But, maybe… Maybe…

Seokmin leans in to capture Wonwoo’s lips with his own, because he doesn’t know what else he should do. And because he’s been aching to do it for months. It’s just a quick, loud peck, but it still pleasantly warms up Seokmin’s insides. He pulls back, chuckling at Wonwoo’s scarlet, confused face.

“I… I don’t think this is the kind of place that allows PDA.”

Seokmin laughs and kisses his cheek for good measure. Wonwoo makes a little sound, then pats Seokmin’s back warningly. Seokmin grins, cheekier than he’s felt in a while.

“Then we should get out of here, don’t you think?”

By the time they’re outside, just a few steps to go around the first corner and Seokmin finds himself pressed against a wall. Someone more quick-witted would point out that they’re still out in the open, that the sun has barely set, but the narrow alleyway next to the building is secluded enough to conceal their presence from the public’s eye and give them some privacy.

Also, Seokmin isn’t really in the conditions to think. Or talk, for that matter. Not with Wonwoo’s body pressed flush against him, the scent of peaches perfectly mixing with his own, getting to his head.

It doesn't really come as a surprise, but kissing Wonwoo is easy. It’s like Wonwoo knows what he wants, how to angle his head, how to slot their lips together. As if he was made precisely for Seokmin. And Seokmin, too, seems to know what to do, just when to slip his tongue inside.

Maybe he, too, was made for Wonwoo.

He licks inside Wonwoo’s mouth, slowly, savoring every inch of him. When Wonwoo moans and shivers against him, arousal shoots through Seokmin like a live wire. He sucks in a gasp, stomach clenching down on itself. He’s one kiss away from starting to get wet and they’re still in public, but it’s hard to stop, his brain already getting into that dangerous, hazy zone.

Thankfully (or not. It’s a matter of perspective, really), there’s some sanity still left in Wonwoo, because he breaks the kiss -  making their lips separate slowly, teasingly, and then lingering in the space between them for a second, eyes blissfully closed - and hides his face in the crook of Seokmin’s neck.

More on instinct than anything, Seokmin tilts his head to give him more space. He sighs when Wonwoo presses his face against his skin and inhales deeply.

“I love your scent,” Wonwoo murmurs.

“Really?” Seokmin flutters his eyes closed at the feeling of Wonwoo’s warm breath against his skin. “Even if it isn’t sweet?”

Wonwoo nuzzles his neck, presses a smile against it, then a kiss. His lips follow the curve of it, leaving little kisses along the strong tendon, under Seokmin’s jaw, behind his ear. Seokmin is shaking and, to his surprise, Wonwoo is, too. His hands are a trembling thing around Seokmin’s waist, even while he sweetly murmurs against Seokmin’s ear, “I don’t like things that are too sweet.”

It’s surprisingly easy and surprisingly enjoyable, manhandling Wonwoo so that their positions are inverted and it’s Seokmin now, the one who’s pressing the other against the wall. It’s thrilling, having Wonwoo there, hooded eyes and parted lips, panting. Seeing him gasp when Seokmin cups his face, his fingertips brushing against his pulse point. Hearing the growl coming from the pit of his throat when Seokmin gets a little closer, grazing at his lips, and then the cute little whine when he pulls back.

“You really are cute,” Seokmin laughs fondly, pressing his thumb against Wonwoo’s mouth. Under his finger, Wonwoo presses his lips together.

“Am I?” Wonwoo mumbles, and he can’t conceal the hopeful tone of his voice, nor the warmth that’s dusting his cheekbones.

Seokmin grins, one moment away from going back to kiss him. “You like that? Being called cute?” he coos, only to yelp when Wonwoo pinches his waist.

“Oh, shut up,” he complains with a huge smile. “You’re way cuter anyway.”

“Mhm. Cute enough to carry me bridal style? To give little ol’ me a nice piggyback ride?”

Seokmin says it mostly to joke around and divert the conversation, not feeling ready to be genuinely defined as cute by someone he likes. But he’d be a liar if he said that it isn’t a thing he daydreamed about from time to time. Finding someone strong and willing enough to carry him around.

He was only half-joking, but Wonwoo looks like he’s actually considering it.

“I was kidding,” Seokmin clarifies. “I’m pretty heavy.”

Wonwoo hums pensively, lips stretched in a little, knowing smile. “Mhm, I think I can do it.”

And it’s probably the omega in him acting on instinct, but Seokmin can’t help but run his palms all over Wonwoo’s upper body. His arms are decisively thinner than Seokmin’s, but those shoulders, and the hard plane of his abs… Yes, Wonwoo could probably lift him up, and the thought is a jolt of electricity through his body.

Wonwoo’s smile grows wider, probably seeing right through Seokmin’s devious thoughts.

“And if I can’t, I’ll just work harder at the gym. I’ll ask Mingyu to help me.”

The sound that leaves Seokmin at the thought can’t be classified, a mixture of a moan and a pained groan.

“You don’t have to change for me, you know,” Seokmin says to retrieve some credibility but, mostly, because he truly means it.

Wonwoo smiles, his eyes softening for a moment with something achingly close to fondness. It pulls Seokmin in, that strong pull he’s felt from the beginning and that he finally doesn’t have to fight anymore. Their noses brush, then their lips. Wonwoo won’t stop smiling.

“I know,” Wonwoo says. “Besides, I’ll need you to carry me in your arms, as well.”

From the look of it, Seokmin suspects Wonwoo is going to be exceptionally needy, in that regard. He can’t say he hates the idea.

“Oh, I can definitely lift you up, hyung.”

Wonwoo runs his hands over Seokmin’s arms, pretty fingers curling around the biceps. He hums in something that can’t be nothing other than appreciation when Seokmin purposefully flexes his muscles, and that does something to Seokmin, he can't fully explain.

Just like he can't explain anything he feels with Wonwoo. The need to curl up into his warmth, and the need to softly cuddle him. Two opposites somehow cohabitating within him, but that's just how Seokmin is, isn't it? At least, now he knows he's not alone.

Seokmin cradles Wonwoo's handsome face in his hands and Wonwoo nuzzles his nose into his palm, lips parting as he inhales. He croons when Seokmin slides the thumb over his cheek, unaware of the fire that the sound makes flare up inside him.

Seokmin gets closer, impossibly so.

Wonwoo is smiling, and he never really stopped for all this time.

"That's good," Wonwoo murmurs in the small space that separates their lips.

Despite knowing things aren't completely okay, not yet, Seokmin feels… good. As he hasn't in years, probably.

Despite still being in the middle of the street, Seokmin can't really put a stop to his desire. From the look in Wonwoo's eyes, from the way he tips his head back and parts his lips, invitingly, Seokmins knows he's not alone in this, either.

Without bothering to repress a needy little sound, Seokmin leans in, kissing Wonwoo again, and again, for all the time they deem necessary.