The world was a hazy landscape of cherry blossom and warm, grounded cedar. Jaemin drifted in and out of conscious focus, his mind a soft-focus lens. He would wake, briefly, to the gentle weight of Do-hyun's arm, the steady beat of his heart against his ear. He could feel the strong, anchoring presence of the alpha, a solid shore against the tumultuous tides of his body's demands. Each time the sharp, clawing need flared, Do-hyun's scent would settle over him, not with the feral hunger of an alpha, but with a patient, comforting calm. His body would shudder, but it would find a fragile peace, and he would fall back into the darkness, knowing he was held.
Sometimes he would stir and a cool, damp cloth would wipe the sweat from his brow, his skin catching the faint, cool air. Other times, he would feel the whisper of Do-hyun's thumb tracing the line of his eyebrow, a feather-light touch of pure tenderness.
In one brief, terrifying moment of need, he had woken to his own choked-off sob, his body arching with a desperate, animalistic cry for a release he couldn't have. Do-hyun had simply pulled him tighter, turning his face into his neck, and the warm, patient scent of cedar had enveloped him until the world settled once more. Every time he woke, Do-hyun was there. Every time he drifted, Do-hyun was the center of his hazy, scent-filled world.
The light that filtered through the curtains now was a soft, milky gray, painting the room in a quiet stillness that was a stark contrast to the frantic needs of the past few days.
Jaemin stirred, a slow, languid stretch that felt alien and wonderful after the previous turmoil. His body, which had been a roar of blind, desperate need, now felt like a peaceful lake on a windless day. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, but the steady weight that had embraced him and kept him grounded was gone.
He sat up, his heart thumping in his chest. The bed was empty. The pillow where Do-hyun's head had been was cold, and the space next to him felt vast and unnerving. A cold confusion settled over him, the last vestiges of sleep dissolving as he felt the absence of Do-hyun's anchoring warmth.
And then he saw him.
Across the room, standing with his back to Jaemin, was Kang Do-hyun. He was facing the window, his posture rigid and tense, hands gripping the sill so tightly that his knuckles were white. The familiar scent of warm cedar was still there, but it was strained, woven with a sharp, bitter tang of something else, a counterpart to an omega who had just gone through a heat. It was the scent of an alpha on the verge of a rut, a struggle for control that Do-hyun had successfully held at bay for so long. He was still fighting, but this was a different battle.
Jaemin instinctively pulled the blanket higher around himself. His bedroom was small enough for him to feel the physical tension radiating from Do-hyun's body.
"Do-hyun?" Jaemin said, his voice soft, almost a whisper.
The alpha's shoulders went rigid. He didn't turn around. "You're awake," he said, his voice low and flat.
"Are you…" Jaemin hesitated. "Are you okay?"
Do-hyun let out a short, hollow laugh. "I was just about to ask you that." He finally turned, his face a mask of carefully controlled emotion. His dark eyes were lucid and steady, but Jaemin could see the intensity of his alpha's rut smoldering behind them. "How are you feeling?"
As his eyes swept over Jaemin, his gaze fell on his neck, as if he could see the faint, discolored marks on Jaemin's nape—the scar of a bonding bite. His expression flickered, and a shadow of something close to defeat passed over his features. The bitter tang in his scent intensified for a brief, agonizing moment.
Jaemin instinctively knew the question wasn't about his physical well-being. It was about something more profound, something that had turned the comforting scent of cedar in the room into a taut, bitter aroma. His hand flew to the back of his neck to cover the mark. The two jagged half-moons had long healed, although they had often ached when he was around Do-hyun. Still, he had forgotten all about it in the haze of his heat.
"I... I'm okay. Thanks to you," Jaemin said softly, his voice a little hoarse. He watched Do-hyun's eyes, trying to understand what he was seeing. There was no anger there, but something deeper, more unsettling. It was a mirror of the hauntedness Jaemin himself had been trying to hide for years, a fleeting glimpse of a profound hurt he kept hidden away. It made Jaemin's chest ache.
Do-hyun's gaze finally lifted from the mark to Jaemin's eyes, and the careful control in his expression faltered for a second, revealing a flicker of something raw and vulnerable before it was quickly shuttered away. He took a single, unsteady step back, as if putting physical distance between them would help him maintain his composure. His hands, which had been gripping the window sill, now hung limply at his sides, the tension in his shoulders still visible.
"I didn't imagine it, did I?" His voice was low, but carried a sharp edge that cut through the silence. "The bonding bite."
Jaemin flinched. The bluntness of his words startled him. He felt a cold wave of shame and embarrassment wash over him. "It's… it's not what you think," he started.
"Isn't it?" Do-hyun's voice grew colder, more distant. "I spent the last few days holding you, Jaemin. Trying to get you through your heat while fighting every part of myself that wanted to claim you. And, call me an animal, but… I couldn't stop thinking about... what it would feel like, to put my mark on you, to truly make you mine. Then I look at your neck, and it turns out someone else already got there first." He paused, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "Were you just playing me all along, Conductor-nim?"
The words hit Jaemin like a blow. He knew, logically, what Do-hyun was saying, but to hear it spoken with such quiet, controlled hurt was agonizing. "No, Do-hyun, it's not like that. It was... it wasn't my choice."
"Of course it was a choice," Do-hyun said, his voice rising slightly, the carefully constructed wall of indifference beginning to crack. "A bonding bite doesn't just happen out of nowhere." He paused, then asked, as if tearing the words from somewhere deep within: "Seo Jaemin, who exactly is he to you? Choi Seungcheol. I need to know. By the time I found out, you were… I chose to stick by you, but now that you're awake, I… I really need to know your answer before I can decide what I should do next."
The silence in the room was deafening. With every beat that it stretched on, Do-hyun's body grew more and more tense.
Jaemin swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. How could he even explain? He had been trying to bury this part of his life for so long, to pretend it never happened, to build a new life where he was just Seo Jaemin, not a victim. The shame of it all, the pain of the betrayal: it was a nightmare he never wanted to talk about again.
He wrapped his arms around himself, a subconscious act of self-comfort as he mentally went back in time. The hurt was still so vivid, a wound that had never truly healed.
He knew he owed Do-hyun an explanation. Do-hyun had stayed by his side despite knowing, had been a patient anchor through his heat. Jaemin knew his alpha instincts would have created a powerful desire to mark him, and yet, there it was, a cruel reminder of another's claim.
He owed him the truth.