Setting: Lee Yohan's private penthouse above one of his clubs – midnight.
POV: Yohan
The room was low-lit and quiet, with the muffled bass of the club thrumming beneath the floor like a heartbeat he couldn't quite silence. It was one of his usual spots—private, soundproofed, indulgent. A place he used to frequent when he needed release, not thought.
But now, Lee Yohan sat on the edge of the leather couch, a drink in one hand, shirt half-unbuttoned, staring at the floor.
Across from him, a male Omega reclined against the couch cushions. Tall, sharp-featured, clearly experienced—he was beautiful in a polished, practiced way. His scent was laced with artificial sweetness, inviting submission. Everything Yohan usually went for.
But not tonight.
The Omega shifted closer, his voice husky, fingers trailing along Yohan's wrist.
"Sir....You said you needed to unwind."
Yohan flinched at the touch. He stood up, abrupt and sharp, making the Omega's scent falter.
"Leave," he said coldly.
The Omega's lips parted in confusion. "Did I... do something wrong?"
"No," Yohan muttered, already pouring himself another drink. "I'm just not in the mood."
The Omega hesitated, then quietly gathered his things and slipped out the door.
A moment later, Seo Jin entered, holding a folder under one arm. His eyes swept the empty space, the untouched glass on the table, and finally settled on Yohan.
"You used to go through these meetings like clockwork," Seo Jin said, tone neutral.
Yohan drained the drink in one go. "Don't start."
"I'm not judging. Just... observing. This is the third time this month you couldn't go through with it."
Yohan gave him a sharp glance. "Maybe I'm tired of the routine."
Seo Jin raised a brow. "Or maybe your Omega standards changed. Tall. Dominant. Virgin. Smart mouth. Teaches children."
Yohan's grip on the glass tightened.
Seo Jin took a quiet breath. "It's been two months since Ho In-su moved in. You haven't touched him. Haven't even tried. That's not like you."
Yohan looked away, jaw flexing. "He's not like them."
"I know. That's the problem, isn't it?"
The silence between them stretched.
"You've had access to any Omega you wanted for years, and suddenly the only one you can't get out of your head is the one you treat like glass."
Yohan finally spoke, voice low and rough. "He's not glass. That's the thing. He's fire. I keep getting close, and I just... burn."
Seo Jin studied him.
"Then maybe stop fighting it. Or you'll destroy yourself before you even get the chance."
Yohan stared down at his hands—hands that had built an empire out of violence and fear. Hands that couldn't even touch him.
"I don't know how to want someone like this," he admitted quietly.
Seo Jin gave a rare, understanding smile. "Then learn. Before someone else does."
___________
Yohan's estate, the next morning
POV: Ho In-su
The house was too quiet.
Not the usual, guarded stillness of Yohan's estate, but a different kind of silence. Heavy. Lingering. Like a storm had passed through in the night and left its scent behind.
In-su came down the stairs with his usual routine—school bag slung over one shoulder, travel mug of tea in hand, keys already in his grip. He always left before Yohan. Always saw the man stalking the hallway in a tailored suit, cold eyes and warm coffee, pretending not to watch him go.
But today?
No Yohan.
The chair at the kitchen island was empty. The usual mug untouched. Not a trace of his scent nearby.
In-su frowned.
Odd.
He padded softly toward the living room, peeking in. No one. Lights off. Nothing disturbed.
A quiet voice behind him startled him.
"You're up early."
In-su turned. Yohan stood at the end of the hallway, dressed down—grey long-sleeve shirt, black pants, barefoot. His hair was damp, like he'd showered recently, but his eyes looked exhausted.
"You look like you didn't sleep," In-su said before he could stop himself.
Yohan gave a noncommittal shrug. "Didn't."
"...Bad night?"
Another pause. Then a quiet answer:
"Yeah."
Yohan stepped into the kitchen and started the coffee machine without looking at him. His movements were sharp, but off—just enough for In-su to notice the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand hovered too long over the mug before pulling away.
"You didn't come home last night," In-su said gently.
Yohan didn't answer right away. Then: "Had business."
"Did you eat?"
"No."
That irked him. Not because it was dangerous. Because it was unlike Yohan. The Alpha who always noticed if In-su had skipped a meal. Who stocked his favorite teas and insisted on toast and fruit before work.
In-su stepped closer. "You've been avoiding me."
Yohan's eyes flicked up, sharp. "I haven't."
"You didn't say anything when I made dinner two nights in a row."
"I was tired."
"You're lying," In-su said flatly.
Yohan's jaw tensed. His scent spiked faintly—unsettled, not dominant.
In-su set down his mug and folded his arms. "What happened last night?"
Yohan looked at him for a long moment. Then, voice low:
"I tried to forget you."
Silence.
In-su blinked. "...Did it work?"
"No," Yohan said softly. "It never does."
The vulnerability in his voice was real. Raw. Not dramatic—just quietly, miserably honest.
In-su stared at him, heart pounding.
"You don't have to forget me," he said after a long pause. "But if you keep treating me like a burden you can't carry or a temptation you're afraid to touch—this won't work."
Yohan's voice was rough. "I'm trying to protect you."
"From what? Yourself?"
"From what I turn into when I want something too much."
That stopped In-su cold.
But then he stepped forward, slowly, until he was just a breath away from Yohan.
"Then want me right. Or don't want me at all."
And with that, In-su picked up his bag and left—his scent lingering behind, calm but firm, like a challenge laid at the feet of a man who had always gotten what he wanted—except this.