It was a short question, but enough to send me into deliberation. I thought it over for a long while, then gave a small shake of my head.
How could I ask my one and only childhood friend to deal with something this pathetic. No matter how I looked at it, I’d obviously come across as pitiful. Though I suppose I’ve already shown him more than enough of my worst….
At my headshake, Cha Hyunwoo’s lips parted slightly, then closed again. His downcast eyes even looked forlorn. He seemed genuinely distressed about not being able to help his friend.
I don’t know how someone as soft-hearted as Cha Hyunwoo is going to get by in this harsh world.
I tugged the corners of my mouth up in what I hoped read as I’m fine and forced a smile. I gave his broad shoulders a couple of encouraging pats too.
‘Hang in there, buddy.’
* * *
Jeong Yiyeon smiled all day long.
Did he really think Hyunwoo couldn’t tell the difference — that it wasn’t a forced smile, nothing like his usual playful grin.
Cha Hyunwoo stared at Jeong Yiyeon’s closed bedroom door with a grave expression. He was worried about Yiyeon, who had said he was sleepy and gone to bed early without properly eating dinner.
He wanted to check in and see if he was sleeping okay, but was afraid of waking him from a sound sleep, so he just stood there in front of the door. After a long moment of hovering, just as he was about to turn away, he heard a small sound of crying.
Cha Hyunwoo stopped dead. Jeong Yiyeon is crying. His hesitation vanished in an instant.
Knock, knock. The sound of a knock, laden with urgency, rang softly through the apartment.
“I have something to say.”
“…W-what is it?”
The short response that came after a silence lifted him as if he’d found something to hold onto. His feet moved forward on their own. But the door that filled his vision stood in his way.
“I want to say it looking at your face. Not through a door.”
A short, disbelieving laugh came from inside the room. Even a laugh wrung out without any real strength behind it somehow felt satisfying.
“…Fine. Come in.”
At the willing permission that followed, he quietly opened the door. A sliver of living room light fell into the dim room.
Jeong Yiyeon, who had pushed himself up to sit, looked at him with his expression hidden in the dark.
“Don’t turn the light on. I’m going to sleep early.”
“…Okay.”
Yiyeon clearly didn’t want his tear-stained face seen. Cha Hyunwoo left the door open and made his way toward the bed, relying on the faint light.
In the dim half-light, he felt Jeong Yiyeon’s upward gaze on him. It seemed to be asking what he had to say, so he whispered quietly.
“When you’re hurting and sad, you’re not supposed to be alone.”
It might have been nothing special — a completely ordinary thing to say. But Jeong Yiyeon let out a small sigh and smiled faintly, as if recalling something from long ago.
“You’re right. That’s against some law or other….”
“Yeah. You’re the one who told me that, Yiyeon.”
That being alone when you’re hurting and struggling is not allowed. That you could be charged under some made-up law he’d invented, he’d threatened, trying to comfort him.
On that day long ago, Jeong Yiyeon had been there beside Cha Hyunwoo too — when Hyunwoo had thought his own world was falling apart.
As if recalling the same memory, Yiyeon gave a compliant nod.
“Almost got in serious trouble breaking the law.”
“Almost did.”
Seeing Jeong Yiyeon laugh softly again, as if he found that amusing, seemed to give Hyunwoo a kind of courage.
“So I’ll stay by your side until you fall asleep.”
He wanted to be there for him, just as Yiyeon had been for him once.
Or — maybe not. The Yiyeon of that past had simply wanted to comfort a friend who’d fallen into despair….
His own feelings were not the least bit that pure.
Because I like Jeong Yiyeon. Maybe I’m using comfort as a convenient excuse just to find some way to stay close.
Yiyeon, on the other hand, was still the same as ever — pure and uncomplicated, as evidenced by the way he made room without a shred of suspicion and lay down.
Cha Hyunwoo quietly filled that space. The spot where Yiyeon had been lying was still warm, and the warmth spread through him.
They lay side by side looking up at the ceiling, letting time pass without a word. He thought Yiyeon had fallen asleep at that point.
“Why am I not an omega.”
A voice that had swallowed back tears reached him. It was a tiny, tiny question, self-directed, the kind that might vanish at any moment — quiet enough to almost seem like sleep-talking.
And at the same moment, a soft voice from a summer long ago overlapped with it.
‘Why am I not a designation holder?’
First year of high school, the day the results came back from the mandatory designation tests the school had conducted before summer break began.
That day, he hadn’t seen Jeong Yiyeon even once.
They were in different classes, but under normal circumstances he should have run into him at least once before lunch — Yiyeon, who made a habit of forgetting at least one thing, came looking for him every time to borrow something.
Yet lunch was almost over and he still hadn’t seen Yiyeon once. Cha Hyunwoo scanned the cafeteria and let his expression slip slightly.
Usually, Yiyeon came to where he was with his classmates and they ate lunch together. But Yiyeon wasn’t among the group that came over in their usual noisy cluster.
The boisterous commotion he normally didn’t spare a thought for grated on him particularly today.
‘Where’s Jeong Yiyeon?’
‘Says he’s not eating.’
His expression went stiff on the spot. Did he go to the school store before lunch again? I keep telling him not to eat sweets before his meal.
Cha Hyunwoo shoved back his chair and stood up immediately. He hadn’t touched his tray at all.
Puzzled looks from his friends followed him, but that was only for a moment — expectant eyes soon descended on his tray. He gave a loose nod at his friends clamoring over who got to eat it and made his way out of the cafeteria.
He went to Jeong Yiyeon’s classroom in quick strides but couldn’t find him. Thinking he might be sick, he checked the nurse’s office too, and wondering if they’d just missed each other, he went back to his own classroom — but Yiyeon was nowhere.
‘Where did he go.’
His mind was on the verge of going blank with anxiety when his gaze drifted out the window. The moment he spotted someone crouched down on the steps at one side of the schoolyard, his eyes locked on.
A small frame curled in tightly on itself — a back, rounded into a ball, filled his vision first. Even with both knees drawn up and a face buried between them, he recognized him in an instant.
Cha Hyunwoo murmured softly, as if to himself.
‘I’m coming.’
True to those words, he was in front of Jeong Yiyeon in no time.
What are you doing here? Why didn’t you eat? Are you sick? There were so many things he wanted to say, but the moment he faced Jeong Yiyeon, every thought flew out of his head.
Because eyes gone completely red from crying too much were looking up at him. At the same moment he had the sensation of the ground giving way beneath his feet.
‘…H-hk.’
Why are you crying? Who made you cry? He wanted to demand answers right then and there, but he was too stunned to open his mouth. While he stood there frozen, it was Jeong Yiyeon who spoke first, voice breaking.
‘Why am I not a designation holder?’
‘…….’
‘Why can’t I present?’
‘…….’
‘Everyone in my family has a designation, so why am I the only one….’
He hadn’t known Yiyeon cared about that. Since he himself had presented as an alpha early on, he’d known Yiyeon sometimes looked at him with envious eyes — but he hadn’t known Yiyeon wanted to present this badly.
The designation test result sheet was crumpled inside Yiyeon’s small hand. A glancing look confirmed it: Jeong Yiyeon’s designation was beta.
Maybe it was an inevitable result. Yiyeon had never picked up on his pheromones, and he in turn had never sensed pheromones from Yiyeon either.
But it didn’t matter. Whether Yiyeon had a designation or not — that was never the important thing.
Yet unlike him, Yiyeon had clearly felt it deeply. As evidenced by the tears that kept gathering at his reddened eyes. Seeing the tears track down Yiyeon’s cheeks, a sharp ache spread through his chest.
He was clenching his fist, enduring the stinging pain, when:
‘…You don’t want to be friends with me anymore now, do you?’
Words he couldn’t make sense of came from Yiyeon’s lips.
‘Since I didn’t present.’
‘…….’
‘You’re an alpha, Hyunwoo.’
Yiyeon’s designation genuinely didn’t matter to him. And yet — why couldn’t he bring himself to say it so easily. Why couldn’t he give any answer at all.
‘Ah….’
The realization came in a single instant. He understood now why he’d hesitated to answer Yiyeon’s question about not wanting to be friends.
‘The truth is,’
I never wanted to be just friends with Jeong Yiyeon from the start.
‘I want to be with you….’
That was when it happened.
“Cha Hyunwoo.”
Jeong Yiyeon’s trembling voice wiped away the brief reverie.
“What if I’m broken?”
“…What do you mean.”
“Dad and my brother have designations, and even my mom had one — but I’m the only one who never presented. What do you think that means.”
“What does it mean?”
“That I’m defective….”
He couldn’t stand to keep listening. He looked at Yiyeon and told him the plain truth.
“You’re not defective.”
Jeong Yiyeon, who had gone still, slowly turned toward him. They faced each other lying on their sides. Looking at the delicate features faintly lit in the dimness, the young Yiyeon he remembered overlapped with the one in front of him.
The spirited child he’d been — yet one who could become infinitely, heartbreakingly small. The tender, fragile Yiyeon.
Even in the low light, one thing was unmistakable: Jeong Yiyeon was holding back tears. His small lips moved, and a plaintive voice followed.
“If I had been… an omega… would Suha hyung have….”
The rest of the sentence didn’t come, but he knew what Yiyeon wanted to say. Cha Hyunwoo fought desperately against the urge to shake his head.
‘That person would have found someone else even if you had been an omega.’
He couldn’t bring himself to say something so brutally plain out loud. No — Yiyeon already knew it too.
Right now, all he probably needed was some kind of reason. A reason he could use to stop crying — the kind that could seal over a wound that hurt.
He held Yiyeon’s gaze and reached out. He brushed the hair from his face and gently wiped the wet cheek.
“…H-hk.”
The tears Yiyeon had been holding back finally broke free, and he buried his face in Hyunwoo’s chest all at once.
And he cried. Brokenly… brokenly, he cried.
Hyunwoo patted the thin back slowly with his large hand. His hand kept moving, tracing up and down without end.
“Cha Hyunwoo.”
Then, a small murmur came from against his chest.
“Can’t you release your pheromones for me?”
“…What?”
“I heard somewhere… that if you’re exposed to an alpha’s pheromones a lot, you might be able to present as an omega.”
“…….”
“So release your pheromones a little.”
He bit down on his lip until it ached, at the request made while that tear-streaked face looked up at him.
‘You don’t know.’
That he was already nearly pouring his pheromones out, driven by feelings he couldn’t contain.
