“Thank you for telling me.”
They said it at the same moment. Both let out a short, helpless laugh. The stiff atmosphere between them softened a degree.
The truth was, Yuhan already knew. He had someone posted near Hajin, so there was no way he couldn’t have. There were many reasons he’d hoped Jinwoo wouldn’t meet with Hajin. But he had no right to force him — so he had simply hoped Jinwoo would tell him on his own.
“I don’t know what my brother said to you, but the truth is, he and I aren’t on very good terms.”
Jinwoo gave a quiet nod. Something that had been puzzling him for a while finally made sense. Yuhan had always seemed wary of Hajin, and yet Hajin had brought Yuhan up constantly. He’d be the one to raise the subject himself, and then never once respond warmly whenever Yuhan came up. How had Jinwoo not caught onto that at the time.
“I won’t tell you to stay away from him just because we don’t get along — that’s not a fair reason. I’m simply concerned that you might end up being used against me because of him.”
What could Hajin possibly use him for. Jinwoo had no idea, but he didn’t have the nerve to ask about what Yuhan had lived through to reach that conclusion. He had no right to ask, and there was no reason to get too deeply entangled in each other’s lives when they were still, at their core, a dry arrangement.
“If you could keep your distance from him, I’d appreciate it.”
“…I will.”
It wasn’t said lightly. There was a genuine wish in it — a hope that Jinwoo would truly honor it — and so Jinwoo nodded. By his own nature he couldn’t bring himself to cut contact harshly, but he resolved to put as much distance between himself and Hajin as he could manage.
Even if it didn’t go as smoothly as he hoped, he intended to try.
* * *
It was just before the full arrival of summer, when the spring blossoms had all fallen and the trees were dressing themselves in green. True to Yuhan’s request, Jinwoo hadn’t allowed himself to get too entangled with Hajin. Occasionally he’d get a message asking to meet, but he’d substitute with a phone call instead. If Hajin showed disappointment, that was just the way it had to be.
One day, Hajin had needled him with “Are you watching yourself around Yuhan?” and Jinwoo had fired back with “Why would I have to watch myself around him?” — at which Hajin burst out laughing loudly enough to be heard through the phone. Jinwoo’s mood had instantly soured, and when he went quiet, Hajin did apologize — but the impression remained that, first appearances aside, this was a distinctly odd person.
Caught in a subtle tug-of-war between Hajin and Yuhan, Jinwoo decided one day that it would be better to build up his knowledge sooner rather than later so he wouldn’t struggle down the line, and joined a male omega community.
“It’s not some shady place. They hold regular meetups and everything. That should be enough, right?”
“Hmm….”
“Oh, come on! I’m not a child — do I really need permission for something like this?”
In the meantime, Yuhan had only grown more overprotective. It wasn’t only because of Hajin. Jinwoo had noticed early on that whenever he went out, there was one extra set of eyes quietly following him. In a country where even gun ownership was illegal, what kind of serious trouble could really befall him — but apparently Yuhan didn’t see it that way.
This very moment was proof enough of that.
“And why am I the only one who has to report? You should report in too every time you go out.”
“I will.”
The fact that he agreed without so much as a beat of hesitation was somehow more infuriating. The reason that composed expression of his is getting on my nerves must be the circumstances, Jinwoo told himself, reining himself in. Getting angry wouldn’t help anything.
Once he’d steadied his feelings, he understood why Yuhan had nodded so readily. Because Yuhan’s outings amounted to nothing more than going to the office. And even when he occasionally had an external meeting or conference, he always returned to the office afterward — so in the end, he was at the office and nowhere else.
“I’m only worried about you — try not to take it so hard. You’ll startle the baby.”
What a smooth-tongued man he was. Jinwoo had thought him straightlaced, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was remarkably skilled at switching faces when it came to people. Even now, one moment he was treating Jinwoo like something fragile left unattended near water, and in the very next breath, he was nudging at Jinwoo’s sense of responsibility as a parent.
Jinwoo narrowed his eyes and shot him a look.
“You should listen to the baby’s father once in a while. You need to take care of yourself right now.”
They were speaking lightly, but the truth was that Yuhan worried every single time Jinwoo said he was going out. From the moment he’d recognized that what he felt toward Jinwoo was something a little different — beyond just a legally bound spouse, beyond just the omega who would carry his child — it had been a thought that crossed his mind every day.
I want him to laugh and cry only where I can see him, only close to me. Yuhan filed this away as affection, if that’s what it was. Sadly, a person who had never been on the receiving end of love had no way of recognizing it for what it was.
“…I’m being careful enough. The doctor said to.”
Jinwoo was seven weeks pregnant. It might have seemed remarkable that a single heat cycle had resulted in a pregnancy, but it was one heat — not one time — so in the end it was no surprise at all.
On the day the pregnancy was confirmed, there had been so many precautions to keep track of that Jinwoo’s head had spun. Sex was obviously off the table, but so was strenuous exercise, skipping meals, and standing for extended periods of time. When he’d asked what he was actually allowed to do, the answer was to keep a calm mindset and eat even when he had no appetite. He was practically royalty with all these restrictions.
“You’re only seven weeks along, and you keep wanting to go out — I can’t help worrying.”
“It’s not like I’m joining a sports club.”
“If it were something like that, we wouldn’t be going back and forth like this.”
What does he mean by that.
He had a feeling he already knew without asking, so he didn’t bother pressing. He genuinely couldn’t understand why Yuhan was paying him this much attention. Jinwoo had thought what Yuhan had done during the heat cycle was more than enough to fulfill his duties as a husband — but then Yuhan had started going on about being warmer with each other, and ever since that day, something had been a little off. Is he trying to play at romance now, this late in the game….
Even behind the sweet front he put on, Jinwoo knew the truth. He knew exactly how selfish alphas could be. He only had to think back on the alphas he’d met through matchmaking introductions and the fact was plain as day.
“I’m not saying I’m going right now. There’s still some time before the date.”
Was attending a regular community meetup really this difficult to arrange. Of course Yuhan’s concern was understandable — these were people whose backgrounds hadn’t been verified — and Jinwoo himself had his own reservations about entering a group of strangers. But there was nowhere else for him to get firsthand information.
Professional advice and lifestyle consultations hadn’t suited him at all. Having studied art theory, he found everything those consultants said painfully predictable. Information from people with real experience was the most valuable kind — that was Jinwoo’s firm belief.
“We weren’t this clingy with each other to begin with.”
He found it a little ridiculous that he was the one trying to smooth things over. If he weren’t pregnant, he wouldn’t be reporting in like this at all — it felt like his freedom had been taken along with everything else.
He felt his condition deteriorating rapidly.
“You know what, forget it. I’m tired, I’m going in first.”
He was aware his emotions were swinging sharply, but it wasn’t something he could control through willpower alone. The best he could do was remove himself from the source.
Yuhan caught his arm. Jinwoo could have shaken him off, but he didn’t. Because rather than a forceful grip, it was the careful hold of someone afraid of breaking something.
“…Why. Is there still something you want to say?”
“I’m sorry. I was only thinking of myself. You must feel so stifled too, Jinwoo.”
“…….”
“But the worry is real. The doctor said to limit going out as much as possible, and also….”
He trailed off, so Jinwoo turned to look at him.
“I don’t like smelling other people’s pheromones on you.”
Strangely, this was actually easier to hear. It was an alpha’s instinct — to cherish, to shelter, to keep within their own fold the omega who was carrying their child. And Jinwoo was no different in that regard. If Yuhan came home smelling of an unfamiliar omega, Jinwoo knew he’d be more sharply reactive than anyone. So they were even.
“Couldn’t you have just said that from the beginning?”
He knew it wasn’t easy to do — but it was still far better than talking in circles.
“I’d think getting to the point would come naturally to you, Yuhan. Why is it so hard when it comes to me?”
The grip on his arm wasn’t strong, but he played along and settled back into his seat. Yuhan, looking unusually restless today, was nothing like the alphas Jinwoo carried in his memory. He’d assumed Yuhan wouldn’t be any different — but at moments like this, the thought crept in that maybe this person actually was.
That was why he brought it up.
“Before I met you, I went through about three matchmaking introductions.”
“…Yes.”
“The one who made the best impression — would you believe me if I said he tried to sleep with me on our second meeting?”
He wouldn’t have any choice but to believe it. The world liked to dress up alpha-omega love as something romantic, something fated — but in reality, their dynamic was no different from animals driven by pheromones.
“One of them tried to assert dominance through pheromones on the very first meeting.”
