Archive of Our Own

They say that love, when it’s real, never ends; it only changes its scent. Sometimes it becomes softer, deeper, harder to put into words. And that was exactly what was happening to Soobin and Yeonjun.

The love between them no longer smelled only of freshly baked vanilla cookies. Instead, it smelled like a shared mochaccino before class, like the sweet amber that mingled with vanilla on their bedroom sheets, and like the warm sanctuary they found in each other when the world became too loud.

Two years had passed since that first kiss amidst flour, smoke, and sugar. Now, at twenty-one, they were still the same boys who looked at each other as if the universe were too small for them, but they were different, too: calmer, more mindful of one another—of them.

They were still in university, and though the routine sometimes dragged them through an endless cycle of classes, projects, assignments, exams, and the looming shadow of adulthood, their relationship remained a sweet constant.

Soobin learned to care with his hands: he bought breakfast when Yeonjun had no energy, gave him his coat when the Omega forgot his own, and waited at his classroom door with an iced americano when the days grew heavy. Yeonjun, in contrast, cared through gestures: a caress through hair, a note hidden among lecture notes, a silent embrace before sleep.

Their love went beyond words. They no longer needed to speak to understand each other; a look was enough, a brush of skin in the hallway, a "I'm home" whispered against the other’s lips.

That morning, Yeonjun woke before Soobin. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, tinting the room a warm gold. Beside him, the Alpha slept, his brow slightly furrowed as if he were worried about something even in his dreams. The Omega smiled, leaning in carefully to tangle his fingers in Soobin's hair. He loved seeing him so peaceful—so his.

Sometimes, he thought that the brunette’s presence was like breathing: so natural, yet so indispensable. And though they had grown alongside their passion, every one of their kisses still felt like the first.

He didn't wake him right away. Instead, he went down to the kitchen, prepared his coffee, and fixed Soobin’s mochaccino. Quickly, the scent of chocolate and coffee filled the air. Without a doubt, this was one of his favorite parts of the day. Everything felt perfect: the sound of the boiling water, the smell of freshly ground beans, but above all, the promise of another day beside his beloved.

After a while, Soobin appeared, hair messy and shirt half-unbuttoned. Yeonjun already had his mochaccino ready and handed it to him before returning to the breakfast.

"Do you want ice?" he asked, without looking at him directly.

"It’s perfect like this," the Alpha replied, taking a sip before pulling the Omega into his arms and resting his chin on his shoulder.

They didn't speak; there was no real need. Their breathing and the steam rising between them were more than enough. Soobin kissed the elder’s neck with tenderness—a small, almost invisible gesture, but it was enough to fill the entire world.

Love, Yeonjun thought, no longer tasted like sugar and vanilla; it tasted like dark coffee mixed with Soobin’s sweet mochaccino. It tasted like calm. It tasted like home.

While Soobin ate breakfast, the Omega sat on the edge of the counter. He had already finished his coffee and breakfast, and one of his favorite activities was watching the younger man in silence. It was that kind of quiet adoration one has for the things they love. Soobin’s existence was certainly hypnotic: his calm, his soft gestures, and even the specific rhythm he had when drinking his sweet mochaccino.

"You're staring at me again," the Alpha said, standing up to wash his used dishes.

"I’m studying," Yeonjun replied with a smile. "Observing human movement. You know, it’s part of my major."

"Oh, really?" Once he finished the dishes, he cornered the Omega against the counter, a mischievous smirk dancing on his face. "Then I suppose all those moments you spend watching me while I'm asleep are also part of your research."

"Exactly. I do that to study how the light from the window makes you so much prettier in the mornings."

"How convenient." Soobin laughed softly and affectionately ruffled the Omega's hair before connecting their lips in a coffee-flavored kiss.

The kiss was sweet at first, full of softness and tenderness—an intimate moment they allowed themselves every morning, like an omen for a good day. However, there were those days when one of them searched for something more, just like today.

Yeonjun clung tighter, his legs tangling around Soobin's hips. He bit Soobin's lower lip and took advantage of the Alpha opening his mouth so their tongues could meet in a passionate dance. Unfortunately, they began to run out of air, forcing them to pull apart, though Yeonjun continued to press short, lingering kisses against his boyfriend.

"You're going to be late, my beloved 'student of human movement,'" the brunette whispered, gently caressing the other’s face.

"Let’s just stay, yeah?" He hugged Soobin, pouting with his full lips.

"Baby, we have to go to class. I'll make it up to you later, okay?"

"Carry me to the bathroom, I don't want to move," the Omega murmured against the Alpha’s neck.

"But we're only taking a shower," he said, taking the black-haired man's hand while the other protested. He knew if he gave in, he would fall into temptation, but their classes were more important. "Now we really are going to be late."

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The morning unfolded in a blur of music and movement. In the dance studio, Yeonjun twirled, leaped, and laughed. His body was free, as if he were one with the music—as if he were doing the one thing he truly loved. And in a way, he was; yet, with every step, he unconsciously thought of how Soobin would look at him later, with those bright eyes full of love, a smile on his cute bunny lips, and flushed cheeks—so proud of him, so in love with him.

When class ended, he changed quickly and headed toward the university gardens. Even from a distance, he could hear the ruckus of his group: Kai strumming the guitar, Beomgyu laughing so loudly he could surely be heard in other departments, and Taehyun trying to read in the middle of the chaos caused by his boyfriends.

"Here comes the dancing princess!" Beomgyu shouted the moment he spotted him.

"And there’s the drama princess," Yeonjun shot back with a smile, dropping his backpack on the grass before taking a seat.

Soobin wasn't far behind. He was still wearing his teaching apron, carrying a notebook filled with children’s drawings—gifts from the kids at his internship. The moment he sat down next to Yeonjun, he leaned his head onto the Omega’s shoulder without a second thought.

"You two look like a couple straight out of a magazine," Kai joked, tucking his guitar back into its case.

"Don't say that," Yeonjun giggled. "Soobin’s ego is already inflated enough thanks to all those kids who won't stop telling him how pretty he is."

"Because I am," the Alpha replied, with total serenity and not an ounce of shame.

Taehyun set his book aside and stared at the others. "Incredible. You’ve finally made my group genetic model make sense." He reached out and pulled Beomgyu onto his lap while the others watched expectantly. "The 'Satisfied Alpha' theory: they generate their own field of self-admiration."

"Meaning...?" Soobin asked.

"Meaning you’re unbearable when you feel loved," Beomgyu said, bursting into laughter.

In response, Yeonjun tossed one of Soobin’s pens at his head. "Look who’s talking—the one literally sitting on top of one of his Alphas."

"The grass is cold!" Beomgyu argued, making himself more comfortable on Taehyun’s lap while Kai took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Right, sure. And that kiss Kai just gave you was just to 'warm up the atmosphere,' I suppose?" Yeonjun countered sarcastically.

"Obviously. We have to keep the temperature stable," the younger Omega said, sticking his tongue out.

"But seriously, you two are insufferable," Taehyun said, looking at Soobin and Yeonjun, who were now eating out of the same container the Omega had pulled from his bag. "If there were a manual for Alpha and Omega relationships, you’d be on the cover."

"It’s not our fault love looks good on us," Soobin replied with a mischievous grin.

"Of course," Kai chimed in through laughs. "You love each other, you take care of each other, I bet you share breakfast, you drink coffee together... is there anything more domestic than that?"

"We do laundry together," Soobin added with total deadpan seriousness.

The group exploded into laughter. Beomgyu collapsed against Kai, laughing until he cried. "I can't with you guys," he wheezed. "You’re like those perfume commercials that make people believe in love again."

"Stop, please," Yeonjun interrupted, trying to compose himself. "You guys aren't any better than Soobin and me. Beomgyu is literally on top of both of you."

"This is different. Mine is art," Beomgyu pouted.

"Art?" Soobin arched an eyebrow.

"Yes. Polyamorous performance art," Beomgyu stated with complete gravity before planting a kiss on the guitarist's cheek.

Everyone laughed once more. The breeze, the falling leaves, and the scent of coffee and amber clinging to Soobin... for Yeonjun, it was all perfect. It was as if the universe had paused just so they could exist right there: together, young, and happy.

The Omega looked at them one by one: Kai humming something while tickling Beomgyu, Taehyun smiling as he watched his boyfriends, and Soobin—his Alpha—watching him with that infinite calm that always anchored him. They were a mess of students, yes, but they were also family.

"What are you thinking about?" the Alpha asked, gently stroking Yeonjun's thigh.

"About how we are ridiculously happy," Yeonjun answered, his eyes never leaving the group.

"Then don't think about it too much. Just enjoy it," Soobin whispered, kissing his cheek.

And so he did. He savored the moment, because amidst the laughter, the silliness, and the sweet gestures, Yeonjun realized these were the days that truly mattered: the ones you don’t plan, the ones that smell like youth, coffee, and unspoken promises.

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​Night had already fallen by the time they returned home, and their exhaustion felt like a warm embrace. Soobin sank onto the sofa with a sigh.

​"The kids made me a paper crown today and called me 'King Soobin,'" he said, smiling with pride. "I didn't take it off for the entire class."

​Yeonjun laughed, setting his bag aside before sitting down next to him. "It makes sense. They see the same thing I do: a sweet Alpha who is patient and loves children."

​The Alpha looked at him, blushing. "And you? How was your rehearsal?"

​"Good, though the professor nearly killed us with the choreography. But it was completely worth it."

​They stayed like that in silence, sharing the stillness. The Omega rested his head on Soobin’s lap and barely whispered: "I like this. Just being like this, with you."

​"I do, too." The Alpha stroked Yeonjun’s raven hair. "Sometimes I think the world could just stand still, and as long as I’m with you, I wouldn't mind."

​When the clock struck midnight, they were already curled up in bed, wrapped in their blanket and the comforting scent of one another. There, just before falling asleep, Yeonjun realized that love wasn’t something you shouted.

​It was something you breathed.

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​Four months had passed since that night when Yeonjun thought love was something you breathed.

​And he still thought so.

​Only lately, the air felt different. Heavier, thicker with something impossible to name without a knot forming in his throat.

​Truth be told, his routine with Soobin hadn't changed much. They still shared half-asleep breakfasts, laughed whenever they crossed paths between classes, and spent sweet afternoons over desserts and warm nights filled with love. Everything remained in its place, and yet, deep down, something was shifting like an invisible current.

​Yeonjun felt it in the silences. In the way Soobin’s scent lingered longer on his skin. In how, when the Alpha drew too close, his own body responded before his mind could—with that slight tremor that wasn't fear, but need.

​Sometimes, while they were curled up in bed and Soobin held him from behind, Yeonjun thought he lacked nothing in the world.

​And yet, he did.

​Of course, he never said it. For him, it was much easier to pretend everything was fine—that his heart didn't race when the Alpha’s warm breath brushed his neck, right where a mark should be. He pretended he didn't wonder what it would feel like to carry it, to wear it, to live it. He pretended it didn't hurt just a little bit not to have it.

​Because loving Soobin was easy. But the idea of belonging to him—truly, with no turning back, in body and soul—gave him vertigo. And still, he craved it with an intensity that bordered on frightening.

​In recent months, Yeonjun had started noticing small things. Like how Soobin avoided that exact spot on his neck when he kissed him. Or how sometimes, when their eyes met after a lingering kiss, the Alpha would look away as if he were holding something back. It wasn't rejection; it was restraint. And that restraint was killing him more than a "no" ever could.

​So, Yeonjun learned to live in that strange balance: between desire and calm, between love and waiting. He kept laughing the same way, kept hugging Soobin with the same devotion, kept saying "I love you" as if it were enough. And it was almost enough. Almost.

​Because when he saw him sleeping, with his brow slightly furrowed and a hand resting on Yeonjun's hip, he thought that if love had a shape, it would look exactly like that. But when he woke up and saw him get out of bed without a word, he thought that perhaps loving was also about keeping what is never said.

​Some days, that feeling would dissolve, lost among the group’s laughter, the campus noise, and daily routines. Other days, however, those thoughts hit him with the force of an ancient, almost primitive instinct: the need to be marked, to have a visible sign that said I am yours, and you are mine.

​It wasn't an obsession. It was a kind of warm hollowness. As if his wolf were asking for something his body didn't yet know how to process.

​And still, the Omega pretended nothing was wrong. He laughed at the jokes, hugged his friends, made sweet promises to Soobin, and carried on as if his chest weren't burning with unanswered questions.

​Until one ordinary Friday, everything changed.

​Beomgyu appeared in the garden with a new scarf and a smile that dazzled everyone; behind him, Kai and Taehyun didn't even bother to hide it. The trio’s scent gave them away. They had bonded... they had marked Beomgyu.

​And suddenly, Yeonjun’s fingers trembled and his eyes stung.

​Not because he envied the other Omega. But because, for the first time, he understood and gave a name to what he was missing.

​"Junnieeee!" Beomgyu shouted as he jumped toward them. "I have something to tell you!"

​The elder Omega rested his head on his Alpha’s leg. Because even if that thorn in his heart hurt, Soobin was his refuge. He always was.

​"What’s with all the drama?" Soobin asked, letting out a soft laugh.

​"It’s not drama, it’s more like an epic tale," Kai replied, a grin on his face revealing that something significant had happened.

​Beomgyu couldn't stay still, pacing back and forth before finally sitting on the grass between his Alphas. His energy was different.

​That new, sweet scent unsettled Yeonjun a little. He wanted to be happy for his friends; he didn't want to feel like a bad friend, so he faked a smile and waited for the trio to speak.

​Beomgyu and Kai shared a knowing laugh, and Taehyun, with his eternal calm, simply said: "We’re marked now."

​The scent wasn't new, but it was different. A blend of cinnamon, black tea, and honey. It’s the kind of aroma that sticks in your throat, saying it is no longer just desire—now it is a bond, now it is eternity.

​The whole group exploded into laughter and comments. Kai told the story of how it happened, Beomgyu dramatized every detail, and Taehyun half-denied them with a traitorous smile.

​It all seemed like pure joy.

​But it wasn't, because in the midst of it, Yeonjun was consumed by silence. It was as if the world had gone mute just for him.

​Soobin was there, relaxed, chuckling softly at their friends' antics. The Omega watched him out of the corner of his eye, searching for something—any gesture, any signal—that told him he wasn't the only one with this ache in his chest. But the Alpha remained the same: serene, confident, warm. Too warm.

​Yeonjun tried to laugh; he even made the effort to follow the conversation. But his voice sounded strange to him, as if it were coming from somewhere else. He felt paralyzed. His heart beat fast for no apparent reason—or perhaps for too many.

​The scent of coffee and amber—Soobin’s scent—grew stronger. And for the first time, it hurt.

​It was a soft pain, almost imperceptible, but with every breath, he felt a cruel reminder of what he didn't yet have. And for the first time, Yeonjun wondered if love without a mark could also hurt.

​In the middle of his spiral of thoughts, he felt Soobin lean in, lowering his voice.

​"Are you okay?"

​The raven-haired man blinked, trying to offer a smile in return. "Yeah, just... I didn't sleep much," he lied, reaching for his empty coffee cup as if that were enough to sustain the falsehood.

​The Alpha watched him for a second longer, with that gaze that seemed to see beneath the surface. Then he simply nodded. "Get some rest after class, okay?" he whispered, pressing a short kiss to his temple.

​Yeonjun simply nodded and laughed, because that was how they worked: with caresses, with tenderness, with routines. Not with difficult questions. Not with painful answers.

​Though the rest of the group kept laughing, planning a trip while everyone talked at once—filling the silence with that noisy warmth Yeonjun used to adore—now the sound felt distant. As if he were behind thick glass.

​He just curled up a little tighter against Soobin’s lap and pretended the world was still the same. Because it was easier to pretend. Easier than admitting that love, sometimes, also has holes in it.

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That night, their apartment was draped in shadows. Soobin was fast asleep, his steady breathing marking a constant rhythm. Yeonjun, however, stared at the ceiling.

​The scent of amber filled the room. That very same scent that used to soothe him now kept him awake; every breath was a reminder of how close they were, yet how far apart they remained, deep down.

​He lifted a hand and let it rest on the Alpha’s chest. Soobin was good—calm and patient. Yeonjun loved him, far too much, truth be told—but love didn't erase all these uncertainties.

​He remembered the scent of Kai, Tae, and Beomgyu: that soothing yet electric blend that had filled the air in the garden. He remembered the laughter, the way they looked at each other, and he hated himself a little for feeling envious. Not of them, but of what they had—that invisible promise that bound their heartbeats together.

​“If you marked me…” he thought, but he didn't dare let his imagination run wild. Because if he did, he would have to admit just how much he craved it.

​He turned toward the brunette and curled into his chest; the Alpha, half-asleep, pulled him close by instinct. Yeonjun closed his eyes and lied once more. He pretended the warmth was enough, pretended it didn't hurt to breathe, and pretended he didn't feel that void like a stake through his heart.

​Outside, rain began to tap gently against the window. The world slept, and the Omega, in silence, realized that loving someone can also mean standing still, waiting for the other person to catch up to you.

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The smell of coffee woke him before the sun did. For a second, Yeonjun thought Soobin had tried to cook again, and the fright was so genuine that he bolted upright. He headed down to the kitchen and found him there, dressed in a sweatshirt, hair damp from the shower, glasses perched on his nose as he pulled drinks out of a paper bag.

​"Good morning," the Alpha said without turning around, focused on not spilling anything.

​"Good morning," Yeonjun replied, leaning against the doorframe, watching him with that blend of love and habit that you only feel for someone with whom you’ve shared too many mornings.

​The Alpha finally looked up and smiled. "Relax, there was no smoke today."

​"We should celebrate that," Yeonjun said, taking the cup from his hands.

​Soobin let out a short laugh and allowed the Omega to pull him by the arm so they could sit together. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't light either; it was the kind of silence that settles in your chest, seeming to want to say something but never quite finding the words.

​Soobin talked about his internship with the kids—how one had drawn a cow with wings, how they made play-dough figures, and other pleasant moments with the children. Yeonjun listened—or pretended to—as he toyed with the ice in his cup, watching the cubes melt and dissolve into the coffee. The same scent as the Alpha.

​That scent. His scent.

​For years, it had been his refuge, but now, somehow, it felt foreign. It was the same aroma that, mixed with amber, enveloped him every night—the one that stayed on his clothes, his sheets, his skin—and yet, it didn't feel right.

​Soobin noticed his stillness and looked at him, tilting his head slightly. "Are you really okay?"

​"Yeah," he lied quickly, forcing a smile. "Just half-asleep."

​The Alpha smiled and caressed the nape of his neck with his fingers—that touch that always made him surrender. "I promise that today, I’m not thinking about university, or the internship, or anything. Only you."

​And Yeonjun, as always, nodded.

​Only you.

How sweet it sounded. How easy it sounded. But how surreal and distant it felt.

​The rest of the day unfolded like any other Saturday. They went for a walk, had lunch at their usual café, bought some flowers because Soobin insisted they "brought good luck," and laughed at silly things. Everything seemed so right—so right it was frightening.

​Because with every step, the elder felt the density of the air, as if something invisible were about to break. It wasn't Soobin’s fault—it never could be. It was all the fault of that impossible thought, "I want you to mark me," that he never dared to utter aloud.

​That night, when he looked in the mirror before bed, he noticed he looked different. He wasn't sad, nor was he broken, just... incomplete. He touched the spot where Soobin’s bite should be. He wanted to know what it felt like to belong completely to his Alpha—for everyone to know he was Soobin's and that the brunette belonged to him in the same way. However, he knew he would have to keep waiting... he would have to keep feeling incomplete.

​Soobin was already in bed, half-asleep, with his arm extended like an invitation. Yeonjun accepted it. He curled against his chest, breathed in his scent, and squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could convince his body that this was enough.

​"I love you," he whispered.

​"Mmm... I love you too," Soobin replied sleepily.

​And Yeonjun believed him, because he knew it was the truth. But he also understood that, sometimes, love isn't enough. Sometimes, love can hurt more than absence itself.

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Sunday’s dawn was the same as always, but Yeonjun was not. Or perhaps he was, and that was what scared him most: that everything remained the same while something inside of him was coming undone.

​Soobin slept with his face half-buried in the pillow, breathing peacefully, oblivious to the whirlwind gathering just a few inches away. The elder watched him for a few seconds, trying to etch every detail into his memory: his eyelashes, his neck, his scent of coffee and amber—which now felt somewhat painful. It was as if every molecule of air was a reminder of what he didn't have.

​It wasn’t that he wanted exactly what Beomgyu had. Not like that, not in that way. But since Friday, the concept of the mark had become a constant. He saw marked Omegas in the hallways, at the mall, in the café; everywhere he went, the air was saturated with new bonds. Couples walking hand-in-hand, carrying that aura of certainty that can only be achieved through a complete connection.

​Yeonjun didn’t envy them. He just felt… out of sync, as if everyone were speaking a language he had forgotten.

​Sometimes, while the Alpha spoke, Yeonjun's mind would wander toward images he hadn't asked for: Beomgyu laughing with Kai, the other Omega’s fresh mark, the way Taehyun pampered his boyfriends. Seeing them together almost restored his faith, yet Yeonjun—who had always been able to explain everything with words—currently couldn't find a single one that didn't sound hollow, or one that didn't consume him.

​They were fated mates; that was supposed to be enough. But then, why did every day feel heavier?

​On Monday, he saw them all at the cafeteria. Kai wouldn't let go of Beomgyu, and Taehyun just smiled at them. Soobin was by his side, talking about whatever, so calm, so unchanged.

​"Do you want to try the chocolate muffin?" he asked, offering a piece.

​The Omega took it between his fingers and nodded, but he couldn't even taste it.

​For the rest of the day, he faked it. He laughed, he answered, and he hugged, but every word was an echo, and every smile a poorly calibrated reflection.

​That night, when the brunette fell asleep first again, Yeonjun stayed awake. The clock read 2:43 a.m. The room smelled of cold coffee and diluted amber.

​"We are fated," he repeated in a low voice, almost like a prayer. But deep down, something inside him whispered something else:

​What if it isn't enough?

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Weeks passed, and time, ever fickle, continued its course as if nothing were wrong.

Classes, rehearsals, mid-afternoon coffees, walks back to the dorm in the rain. Everything remained the same.

​Yeonjun kept smiling when he had to, kept responding with affection and kissing with care; however, something in his chest no longer moved the same way. At first, he thought his discomfort with Soobin’s scent would be fleeting, but it only worsened over time. The amber no longer calmed him; on the contrary, it kept him on edge—tense. Both his body and his Omega were becoming convinced that this scent was not theirs—that it had never truly belonged to them at all.

​At night, while Soobin slept, Yeonjun’s wolf stirred beneath his skin. It didn't growl, it didn't cry; it simply moved impatiently, seeking an escape that the raven-haired man refused to provide.

​The first symptom arrived without warning. One ordinary morning, the smell of coffee made him nauseous. Then, his head began to throb with pain whenever Soobin drew too close. Finally, his heat—that cycle that used to arrive every so often, orderly and predictable—began to be delayed. At first it was days, but those days turned into weeks. His body felt out of place, as if he had lost the connection with his inner Omega.

​He never dared to say it out loud; he wasn't capable. How could he explain that loving was causing him pain? How could he tell Soobin that his mere presence was a torture for his wolf?

​It was better to pretend. He drank water, he slept poorly, and he tried to convince himself it was just accumulated stress—that it would pass. Soobin, attentive yet distracted, didn't notice the difference—or so he thought. He remained the patient Alpha, the one who smiled tenderly, the one who hugged him calmly. That very same calm was breaking him; Yeonjun wanted to be seen, he wanted to be helped.

​One night, after a long day, Yeonjun curled up next to Soobin as usual. He felt his breath on his neck; the familiar scent of coffee and amber filled the room. But instead of peace, he felt a void. A cold hollow in his chest.

​The wolf inside him whimpered—barely a sound, a mere internal vibration, but enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut. He knew something was failing, but he didn't know if it was the bond, destiny, or himself.

​At university, a rumor started—without malice, as most things that hurt do.

​First came the looks, then the half-joking comments: "Haven't you guys done it yet?" "Wow, I thought he'd have marked you by now." "Soobin looks so relaxed, doesn't he?" And though no one said it with ill intent, Yeonjun felt it sink in like a thorn beneath his skin.

​It wasn’t that he cared what they thought—or so he tried to tell himself. But with every casual laugh, every wink between friends, something inside him shriveled a little more.

​Beomgyu was the first to notice the change. He said nothing, but his gaze followed Yeonjun more than usual. Kai watched him with caution, and Taehyun with his characteristic serenity. They all knew something was wrong, yet they pretended not to, because what do you even say in a situation like this?

​Yeonjun’s body began to betray him little by little. His scent changed: vanilla and chocolate were still there, but if you paid attention, you could find bitter notes. Sometimes even he didn't recognize himself; even on the most critical days, his own aroma felt foreign, as if it weren't coming from his skin, but from someone else.

​The delay of his heat became undeniable. His body temperature was irregular, his senses were haywire; at times he felt dizzy, other times simply empty.

​The Alpha’s tenderness, for some strange reason, began to feel distant—almost rehearsed—as if their invisible bond created by the Moon Mother had begun to fray without either of them saying it aloud.

​Everything broke one afternoon while they were in the cafeteria with other classmates, and someone—he didn't know who—let a joke fly:

"And when are you two going to mate? I mean, since everyone else has... you're the only ones left, right?"

​The silence that followed was thick and awkward. Kai feigned a cough, Taehyun shot a death glare at the speaker, and Beomgyu looked down.

​Yeonjun felt the heat rise to his neck; he began to run out of air, while Soobin merely laughed softly, as if it didn't matter.

​"There's no rush," he said with that calm that Yeonjun used to love so much. "All in good time."

​All in good time. Simple, harmless words, but they were etched into Yeonjun like a sentence.

​A dry, rough knot formed in his stomach. The air turned heavy, the smell of food made him dizzy, the sound of laughter distorted. It all blurred into an unbearable white noise.

​His smile shattered before he could hold it up.

"Sorry, I... I need the restroom," the Omega said, looking at no one.

​Without waiting for an answer, he stood up. His chair scraped the floor with a screech that cut through the atmosphere. No one spoke, only Beomgyu, who followed him with a sharp, instinctive gaze.

​Yeonjun walked aimlessly, barely aware of where he was going. The hallway smelled of coffee, cheap perfume, the lives of others; everything irritated him, everything made him sick. He pushed the bathroom door open and locked himself in the first stall. The air there was humid, still. He leaned against the wall and released his held breath in a jagged gasp. His body was trembling; he didn't know if he wanted to cry, scream, or simply vanish.

​Soobin's scent was still clinging to his skin—so warm, so protective, yet so foreign.

​His throat burned, his chest ached. He swallowed hard and left the stall to splash his face with cold water.

​He looked at himself in the mirror, and there he was: the smiling Omega with the sweet voice and unconditional love—so strong, always so brave. And yet, in that moment, his reflection only showed someone empty, someone still waiting for something that might never come.

​He leaned on the sink and closed his eyes. "All in good time." Soobin’s words bounced in his head like a cruel echo.

​Doubts began to invade his mind. What if the time never comes? What if I’m the only one waiting?

​When the dizziness began to overcome him, he had to steady himself. His body was out of alignment; his wolf stirred restlessly, pained. The lack of a mark weighed more than he had ever wanted to admit.

​He went out to the building's back garden to find air. The sun dazzled him, and for an instant, he felt like screaming—not out of rage, but out of exhaustion. But he didn't. He just sat under a tree, breathing slowly, feeling the cold air scrape his throat. He looked at the blue sky—still, almost indifferent.

​And he thought that not having a mark could also be like that: something beautiful that doesn't kill you, but leaves you to bleed out in a slow and torturous way.

​Yeonjun had lost all track of time. He didn't know if five minutes or an hour had passed when he heard footsteps. He didn't lift his head; he couldn't. Regardless, he would recognize that walk anywhere: paced, measured, almost silent, as if he didn't want to startle the world.

​"Can I sit?" Taehyun asked.

​The Omega didn't answer, but he moved slightly to make room. Tae sat beside him and said absolutely nothing for a while. Only the sound of the grass moving and the distant laughter of other students remained.

​"Soobin asked me to look for you," he said finally, his voice low. "He's worried about you. He wanted to come himself, but his internship advisor called him."

​"Of course he did... always so attentive," he laughed sarcastically.

​"That's not a bad thing." The Alpha looked at him, puzzled.

​"No, of course not," the Omega's voice trembled. "It's just that I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it."

​Tae didn't push. He looked at him out of the corner of his eye, gauging if he could say anything more. "Sometimes," he began, "care can hurt, too. Especially if it doesn't come from the same place you give yours from."

​The raven-haired man looked down, his hands dirty from the soil. "I don't know at what point I started feeling so far away from someone who sleeps with me every night."

​"You aren't far away," Taehyun replied, almost in a whisper. "You're just waiting for him to catch up to you."

​"And what if he doesn't?"

​"Then you'll get up anyway, but this time, without waiting for him," the younger man said, with that serenity that made him seem older than he was.

​For a moment, Yeonjun wanted to cry; for another, he wanted to laugh. But he did neither. He just stayed there, looking at the sky, with the certainty that something in him had broken—and that somehow, that shared silence with Taehyun had saved him from breaking completely.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

That night, when he returned home, Soobin was lying face down in their room, headphones on and hair a complete mess. Beside him lay an open notebook filled with what looked like his internship notes. He looked so peaceful—so much so that Yeonjun’s throat tightened.

​"You're late," Soobin murmured, without looking up.

​"I stayed with Tae for a while," he lied. It was true in a sense, but it wasn't the reason he was late.

​"Ah..."

​Just that. A single syllable suspended in the air, weightless, without doubt, without a hint of a demand—and it hurt more than any argument could have.

​He showered quickly; he didn't want to keep thinking. The hot water wasn't enough to wash away the tension clinging to his skin.

​When he came out, the Alpha had already put his things away. He was waiting for him in bed, and the Omega simply crawled under the covers, seeking the warmth he used to consider his sanctuary. The brunette pulled him close, kissed his forehead, and began to talk about his day.

​Yeonjun barely heard a word. He just nodded.

​Because, at the end of the day, he still loved him.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

The following days felt strange. There were no new fights or new silences—just a sort of invisible gap between them.

​So, he began to disappear little by little. He would leave breakfast for Soobin and head out without him, find excuses at lunchtime, and take different routes across campus. They were small lies—soft, easy to maintain—like "I have rehearsal," "we’re preparing for the end-of-semester showcase," or "I have several things to help with." These were his ways of escaping.

​Until one afternoon, he saw him waiting outside the Faculty of Arts. Soobin had an iced coffee in his hand, a ghost of a smile on his face, and even from a distance, Yeonjun could see the sparkle in his eyes. Yeonjun stood still at the end of the hallway, his heart tightening, and before the Alpha could see him, he turned toward the other exit.

​He didn't run, but he felt as if something inside him did.

​When he arrived home, he smelled the amber, the coffee, and his own dissolved scent. On impulse, he lit a scented candle, then another. He opened the windows, and while the aroma changed, the weight did not.

​At eight o'clock, he heard the familiar jingle of keys.

"Jun?" Soobin’s voice sounded soft, almost like a brush of skin.

​But Yeonjun didn't answer; he just pretended to be asleep.

​The Alpha approached, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and upon contact, Yeonjun felt something damp slide against his skin. He didn't have enough time to process it because the brunette had already moved away. Only then did Yeonjun open his eyes. The ceiling looked far away, his body felt different, his wolf hadn't responded in days, and the silence ached more than ever.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

To avoid raising any more suspicions, he began wearing scent patches—one behind his neck, another on his wrist. It was a clean aroma, a lie in the form of perfume. Perhaps this way, the other Omegas would stop looking at him with discomfort, with pity... with that compassion that hurt more than any word ever could.

​It was becoming harder and harder to hide his deterioration from his friends. Even Beomgyu noticed he was thinner, paler. But one more lie wasn't going to kill him, so, out of habit, he attributed it all to exhaustion—though deep down, he knew the younger Omega hadn't believed him for a second.

​That same night, he almost gave in. While folding clothes, he heard Soobin humming a song Yeonjun himself had taught him when they were children. He almost went to him.

Almost.

But the impulse died in his throat.

​He stood still, the t-shirt still gripped in his hands, trembling. Because if he spoke, his voice wouldn't sound like love; it would sound like a plea.

​And he didn't want to beg.

​He turned off the light and went back to bed before Soobin, pretending to sleep once more. The Alpha hugged him carefully, as if he feared breaking something that was already broken. Unintelligible murmurs fell from his lips, and the brunette’s scent was no longer warm; Yeonjun could sense bitterness in his coffee, too.

​And for the first time, Yeonjun understood that they were both bleeding in silence.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

​One afternoon, while packing his things after class, he overheard Beomgyu talking to Kai in a nearby classroom. They didn't mention his name, but he knew they were talking about him.

​"...He looks bad, doesn't he?" Beomgyu said.

​"Yeah. And Soobin does, too," the Alpha replied. "He doesn't even seem like himself anymore."

​Yeonjun zipped his backpack with more care than necessary. He didn't stay to hear any more.

​He walked out of the building with those words echoing in his head. Not as a clear thought, but as a slight, persistent pressure. It bothered him more than he expected that they had mentioned Soobin, because they had confirmed what he had been denying for days.

​He tried to convince himself it wasn't serious, that people always made things up and exaggerated.

​But the weight didn't go away.

​When he arrived home, he saw the lights on in the kitchen. Soobin was sitting at the breakfast bar, an empty mug in front of him and a few half-finished vanilla cookies. Yeonjun stood in the doorway for a moment, making no sound. The Alpha looked up, and for an instant, their eyes met.

​Just for a second.

​But it was enough to see the exhaustion in the other’s eyes—that shadow they both shared.

​Yeonjun wanted to say something. Anything. But the knot in his throat won.

​"I’m going to sleep now," he whispered, barely audible.

​He didn't wait for a response. He headed upstairs, feeling the weight of Soobin’s gaze following him; it was a silent plea.

​He felt the mattress sink beside him, felt the Alpha’s arm settle across his waist. Out of habit, he almost turned to curl into him.

​But he didn't.

​Soobin’s chest moved slowly behind him. He breathed carefully, as if even that might wake him. And in that unbearable stillness, Yeonjun realized he no longer knew how to speak to him without breaking apart.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

 The following morning, he met his friends at the cafeteria. Kai and Taehyun were discussing Tae’s new project while Beomgyu toyed with his cup; Yeonjun barely touched his coffee. The taste felt metallic to him—even a bit repulsive.

​Suddenly, Beomgyu looked him dead in the eye.

"I'm tired of pretending you don't look like hell."

​"I'm fine," he responded instinctively.

​"You're not," Taehyun intervened, setting his bread down on his plate. "And if you don't care about yourself or the state you're in, at least think about Soobin... he's worried sick about you."

​"I'm just tired."

​"That’s not exhaustion..." Kai said in a whisper. "It’s sadness."

​Yeonjun looked down. There was no way to defend himself against that—at least, not without lying yet again.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

​That night, the rain returned after days of dryness. It was nearly nine o’clock when Soobin entered the apartment. Yeonjun was on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring at a fixed point on the wall. He didn't turn when he heard the door. He didn't even pretend to be surprised.

​Soobin set his keys on the table and watched him in silence. The Omega looked smaller than ever; dark circles cast shadows under his eyes, his skin shimmered with sweat, and on his neck, barely visible, the scent patch was peeling at the corner.

​"Yeonjun," the Alpha said softly.

There was no response, only the rhythmic drumming of the rain.

​"Beomgyu told me he helped you get back... because you nearly fainted in class."

​Yeonjun closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm fine."

​"No, you aren't." The Alpha’s voice sounded more broken than firm. "You don't eat, you barely sleep. They told me you can't feel your wolf anymore. You’re hiding from me... what is happening?"

​Silence. The Omega curled further into himself.

"I don't want to talk about it."

​Soobin walked around the sofa and knelt in front of him. He forced Yeonjun to look at him, though the elder only held his gaze for a second before looking down.

​"Did I do something?" the younger man asked, his voice cracking. "Did I say something?"

​Yeonjun shook his head slowly.

​"Then tell me what's going on."

​The Omega clenched his fists under the blanket and swallowed hard. Suddenly, his voice came out trembling. "It's just that I don't understand... I don't understand why everyone else has it, and I don't."

​The air shifted, and Soobin felt it like a physical blow. "What are you talking about?"

​"The mark." Tears threatened to spill from the raven-haired man's eyes. "Everyone has one... Beomgyu, Kai, Tae... even those who’ve been together less time than us." He looked up. "And I’m still empty. Without your scent... without anything that says I’m yours."

​"Yeonjun..."

​"Don't tell me it's not important," he interrupted, standing up. "Because it is. I feel it every damn day. Every time someone looks at me and thinks, 'Poor Omega, his Alpha didn't want to mark him.'"

​His voice broke into a sob. "And the worst part is, I don't even have the strength to defend you anymore, Soobin."

​The Alpha froze, his throat tight. Then he stood up too, slowly, as if every word carried a massive weight. "I didn't mark you because I thought you weren't ready," he said at last. "Because I know you. Whenever we talked about it, you’d get nervous, and I didn't want you to do it out of pressure."

​Yeonjun laughed—a broken, jagged laugh. "Pressure? You really think this is about pressure?"

​Soobin took a step toward him. "I wanted it to be the right moment. I didn't want it to hurt you. I didn't want you to feel like I was tying you down."

​"But it already hurts, Soobin," he whispered through the knot in his throat. "You have no idea how much it hurts every time I smell you, because my Omega believes your scent doesn't belong to me. It recognizes it as something external now—something foreign." His breath hitched. "My wolf hasn't spoken to me in days. He’s... quiet. He feels distant, and I’m sure that’s why. Because he feels rejected."

​Soobin’s pupils dilated at those last words. "No..." he said in a thready voice. "I never rejected you."

​"I know," Yeonjun said, his voice almost gone. "But my body doesn't know that."

​The Alpha took Yeonjun’s face in his hands carefully, as if he feared he might shatter. The raven-haired man’s eyes were glassy, tears on the verge of falling. "Jun, you have no idea how many times I've wanted to do it. How many nights I've stayed awake watching you, fighting my own instincts because I didn't want to hurt you."

​"And what if you’re already hurting me?"

​The sound of their ragged breathing was the only thing heard in the silence—so fragile, so painful. Soobin rested his forehead against Yeonjun’s and closed his eyes.

​"I want to mark you, too. I’ve wanted to since the first day, but I wanted to do it right. Not when you're weak, or when your body is haywire. I wanted to do it when it was safe—when you truly desired it."

​"I desire it," Yeonjun said without thinking. "But I don't want it to be just out of urgency or instinct."

​"Neither do I." Soobin stroked his cheek with his thumb, wiping away a solitary tear. "Then let’s wait a little longer, but let's do it together. We have to go to the doctor and see what’s happening with your cycle; I want to understand so I can help you. And when everything is okay..." he lowered his voice, with a tremor that sounded like a vow, "we are going to bond. And I’m going to mark you, the way it always should have been."

​Yeonjun looked at him, completely spent, but caught between exhaustion and relief. "What if something goes wrong?"

​"Then we’ll keep trying. Because I’m not going to lose you—especially not over fear."

​They embraced, and the touch finally returned the air to their lungs. The tears kept falling, but now they weren't born of anguish, but of release. Soobin buried his face in the elder’s neck; he caught the scent mixed with the bitterness of the patch and carefully peeled it off. Yeonjun’s real scent enveloped him instantly: sweet, warm, and a bit disordered, but his nonetheless.

​"That’s better," he whispered.

​"Don't let me go..."

​"Never."

​The clock moved on, and the rain didn't stop, but for the first time in weeks, the silence between them didn't hurt. It felt like a promise—a covenant that allowed Yeonjun’s wolf to stir within his chest once more. It didn't growl, and it didn't cry. It simply breathed easy, as if it had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

​The sun crept lazily through the curtains of their room. For the first time in weeks, Yeonjun woke up peacefully. The apartment smelled of toast, coffee, and Soobin. And though the knot in his chest was still there, it didn't squeeze quite so tight.

​When he went down to the kitchen, he stood still for a moment, watching the Alpha’s silhouette move about. Soobin had never been good at cooking—and judging by the thin trail of smoke rising from the pan, he clearly hadn't improved—but he was trying anyway.

​His apron was on crooked, one sleeve was rolled up while the other wasn't, and a stray lock of hair fell over his forehead. Yeonjun felt a soft tug at his heart: that mixture of tenderness and guilt that follows a long bout of crying.

​"That smells... like effort," he said, his voice raspy.

​Soobin turned around, smiling with a spatula in his hand. "Don't say it like that; you make it sound like a tragedy."

​"It is—especially if you managed to over-toast the bread," the Omega teased as he sat down.

​The Alpha approached his beloved with a plate that looked moderately edible and set it on his lap. "It's a reconciliation breakfast. It has healing properties... or so I hope."

​"Right... looks very healing," Yeonjun murmured, taking a bite and grimacing. "But I promise to pretend it's delicious."

​"That’s true love right there," the Alpha replied, planting a kiss on his cheek.

​They ate in silence for a while—one of those silences that, instead of being heavy, was warm and comforting. However, Soobin was the one to break it.

​"I called the medical center... they gave us an appointment for this afternoon."

​"So soon?"

​"I want them to give you a proper check-up, Jun. I don’t want to keep flying blind with this; we need to know what’s happening."

​Yeonjun watched him for a second, somewhat surprised by the natural firmness in the brunette's voice. He was the same Soobin as always, but now there was something different in his gaze—something that looked like determination.

​"Okay," the Omega nodded. "But you're coming in with me."

​"Obviously. I’ll be right there for you, because I don’t plan on letting you go."

​The Omega nodded, though the gesture left a strange tickle in his stomach—only now, it wasn't from sadness, but from fear. The rest of the morning flowed with a somewhat unsettling normalcy; they spoke of small things, carefully avoiding the topic. It was as if naming it too soon might make it grow too large to handle. Yeonjun caught himself laughing a couple of times, and in a way, that disoriented him more than the silence ever had.

​Every so often, the appointment would drift back into his mind. Not as a clear thought, but as a subtle pressure in his chest. What if they told him something he didn't want to hear? What if his body really was failing?

​Soobin didn't let go of him all day—not literally, of course—but he was present through sweet gestures: a hand on his back as he passed by, unexpected kisses, comforting hugs. Small anchors that helped him set his fear aside.

​When the time finally came, Yeonjun felt that even though the fear was still there, it was no longer pushing him backward. He clung to Soobin’s arm and took a deep breath before entering, as if his body needed that second to realize he wasn't alone.

​The office smelled of disinfectant and artificial lavender. The doctor—a Beta with gray hair and a kind tone—greeted them with a professional smile.

​Together, they explained the situation, with Soobin interjecting whenever he felt it necessary. When the doctor asked how he felt, Yeonjun hesitated for a moment before answering: "Tired... and disconnected." She nodded, taking notes.

​After several questions, check-ups, and routine tests, the doctor looked at them calmly. "There is no physical damage," she said. "But your body shows clear signs of emotional suppression. Your pheromones are altered, likely due to prolonged restraint and the excessive use of patches." Yeonjun looked down, and Soobin—just as he had promised—held his hand.

​"Does that mean...?" the Alpha began.

​"It means he needs rest, a bond, and natural hormonal regulation," the Beta replied. "Not necessarily the mark yet, but connection. His wolf needs to feel safe again."

​Yeonjun swallowed hard. "And if he doesn't respond the same way anymore?"

​"He will come back," the doctor said firmly. "Wolves don't disappear; they only wait."

​The drive back home was quiet. The sky looked clear after the rain. Soobin drove with one hand, his fingers interlaced with the raven-haired man's with the other.

​"'They only wait,' huh?" the elder murmured.

​"Sounds like us." Soobin smiled, his eyes focused on the road. "We waited until it hurt, but we’re still here."

​Yeonjun leaned back in the seat, exhausted but at peace. "Then let's wait together this time."

​"And without fear." The Alpha brushed his cheek with a kiss. "When you’re ready, Jun, I swear it will be beautiful."

​The Omega looked at him and smiled truly for the first time in a long while. The pain was still there, but it no longer controlled him—and that was a reminder that he was alive, that he loved, and that his wolf was still breathing.

​When they entered the apartment, the brunette hugged him from behind, burying his face in his neck and leaving sweet kisses on his scent gland. That blend of aromas enveloping them, despite being imperfect due to the bitter notes, was enough for them in that moment. It was enough to speak for them and say everything.

​For now.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

That night, it took Yeonjun a long time to fall asleep.

​Only this time, it wasn't a product of anxiety—not like before—but a new kind of vigil. It felt as if his body were relearning how to rest without being constantly on guard. He stayed on his back, watching the soft shadows the curtains cast in the moonlight; he counted breaths that didn't hurt and imagined a hopeful future.

​Soobin slept beside him.

​The Alpha’s sleep wasn't like the restless nights of the past weeks; it was deep, serene, and trusting. He had one arm folded over his pillow and the other extended, barely brushing Yeonjun’s side. It was as if, even in sleep, he knew exactly how close to get without invading his space.

​That gesture, small as it was, tugged at something in Yeonjun’s chest.

​He turned slowly toward him, careful not to wake him. He rested his forehead against Soobin’s shoulder and inhaled softly. The scent of coffee and amber was still there, but it no longer felt as overwhelming as before. It wasn't bitter; it wasn't painful.

​It simply was.

​He placed a hand on his chest and then on his stomach. The discomfort was still present, but it was no longer a torture. It was more of a deep exhaustion, like the feeling after you’ve cried too much and have no tears left.

​And then, he felt it.

​It wasn't a voice, nor a word.

​It was warmth.

​A slow heartbeat that was born deep inside him and expanded timidly, as if something within were stretching its limbs after having been curled up for a long time. But it wasn't painful or intense.

​It was... familiar.

​The Omega closed his eyes with hope.

"It’s okay," he whispered. "I’m here."

​He received no answer, but it wasn't an empty silence either. It was different—an expectant, attentive silence. It was as if his wolf, who had been quiet for weeks, had decided to sit up and listen.

​Soobin shifted in his sleep, his brow furrowing as he reached out for him, pulling him against his chest—where he belonged, his home.

​That contact was what finally allowed him to let go.

​Yeonjun breathed deeply and slowly, allowing himself for the first time in weeks to simply be, without thinking about marks, or timing, or the eyes of others.

​When he finally fell asleep, his body didn't just drop off. He let himself go, and maybe—just maybe—in the middle of his dreams, he reunited with his wolf.

⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆───────────⋆✧｡☕｡✧⋆

​The change wasn't immediate.

​There was no miraculous awakening or sudden clarity. Rather, it was a collection of tiny details over the following days.

​Hunger returned; coffee stopped making him nauseous; he stopped wearing patches and started seeking Soobin out again.

​The Alpha noticed, of course. He always noticed absolutely everything, but he said nothing. He only smiled at him with pride, and Yeonjun felt something warm settle in his chest.

​After two weeks of trying to return to normalcy, his heat arrived—disordered, just as the doctor had warned.

​That morning, he had woken up searching for Soobin’s scent. He wanted him by his side; unconsciously, he gathered the Alpha’s clothes from all over the house and arranged them on the bed in a way that made his Omega feel satisfied. He curled up against the Alpha’s pillow, and that was when he felt the ache in his womb.

​When the brunette entered the room, the image before him melted his heart: his beautiful Omega had built a precious nest.

​Sensing his presence, the raven-haired man looked up. His breathing was heavy, his eyes glassy, and his cheeks flushed with the loveliest shade of pink.

​"Alpha," he called out with a pout.

​"Jun..." he said softly. "It’s your heat, isn't it?"

​Yeonjun nodded and took the Alpha’s hand to lead him into the nest. He urged him to lie down and then sat upon his lap.

​"Tell me what you need," the younger man whispered, caressing his cheeks with sweetness.

​The Omega looked at him, his eyes bright but steady. "You... your mark."

​Soobin pulled the elder toward him and let his scent mingle with Yeonjun’s vanilla—a perfect, harmonious blend. Being together, the aroma was so perfect that it was exactly what the elder’s wolf needed to wake from its deep slumber.

​From that moment, his heat only began to burn hotter. Amidst kisses, caresses, and pleas whispered during heated embraces, their clothes began to get in the way. They shared the warmth of their bodies. The younger man, as always, caressed Yeonjun with tenderness and adoration, leaving kisses along his neck. His hands gripped Yeonjun's waist as he moved down to the raven-haired man's chest, whispering words of admiration—soft, tender confessions. He traced every one of the Omega's sensitive spots with touches and kisses.

​He paid particular attention to his beloved’s flat stomach; he knew he wanted everything with Yeonjun: to bond, to marry, and in the future—if the Omega so desired—to have pups together. Babies that would grow within the raven-haired man's soft belly; they would surely be as beautiful as him, as perfect... Coming out of his daydream, he brushed his lips against the most sensitive area of the smaller man, savoring every drop of his nectar—without a doubt, his favorite delicacy.

​Between pleas and soft moans from the Omega, they joined their bodies until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. The moment was perfect, just as they had dreamed. When Soobin’s knot grew within the raven-haired man, the younger took the chance and sank his fangs into Yeonjun’s neck, finally allowing their souls to join and dance together for eternity—fulfilling the will of destiny and the Moon Mother.

​The Alpha licked the bite with tenderness so it would heal correctly. He pressed his forehead against the smaller man's and allowed himself to cry. His tears were of relief, of peace, but above all, of happiness. With Yeonjun in his arms, he could ask nothing more of the universe. He felt completely fortunate to belong officially to the most beautiful creature his eyes had ever seen; it still seemed incredible to him that such a perfect Omega had noticed him—his clumsiness, his calm.

​Yeonjun clung to Soobin with inhuman strength. He finally felt complete. His Omega was satisfied; he felt at home, he felt safe. He knew they were made for each other—there could be no Soobin without a Yeonjun, and no Yeonjun without a Soobin. So many weeks of suffering had finally come to an end. He felt at peace knowing that with the brunette by his side, any adversity would be more bearable. Soobin was his sun—so bright and pure—his ray of hope in the darkness. With him, he knew he could set aside the facade of the "strong Omega." With Soobin, he was allowed to feel weak; he could allow himself to be pampered, adored, and loved. He hoped the brunette felt just as loved, for he would give his heart to Soobin a thousand times over.

​The scent of coffee and amber no longer pierced him like an open wound. Now it settled within him—warm, familiar.

​His.

​Exhaustion arrived later, heavy but sweet. Soobin tidied the nest with clumsy but careful hands, wrapping Yeonjun up as if he were holding the whole world in his arms. The Omega let him, his eyelids heavy and his body finally at peace.

​"Thank you," he murmured, barely audible.

​"No," the brunette corrected, kissing his hair. "I’m sorry it took me so long."

​Yeonjun smiled, small but sincere. "You arrived at the right time."

​Hours later, as the sun began to set, Yeonjun woke up slowly. His heat continued, but for now, he could breathe before the next wave of fever hit. He moved his fingers to his neck. The mark was there. It was real.

​Soobin slept beside him, one hand firm upon his waist like an anchor. Yeonjun turned carefully to watch him, feeling the knot in his chest that had accompanied him for weeks finally dissolve.

​Then, he understood that love is not always shouted.

Sometimes you have to wait.

Sometimes it can even hurt.

But once it arrives... it stays.

​He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, his body, his wolf, and his heart agreed on one thing:

​They were home.

​Because the aroma enveloping them—that perfect blend of dark coffee and the sweetness of chocolate with hints of vanilla—was no longer just a scent.

​It was love.

It was a future yet to be written.

It was a moccaccino made by the two of them.