Archive of Our Own

The invitation arrives on Seungcheol's desk at exactly 8:00 a.m, in gold lettering in a heavy black envelope.

The Seoul Fashion Foundation Annual Charity Gala.

He doesn't even look at it before sliding it toward his secretary. "I'm not going."

His secretary sighs. "Sir, It's mandatory."

"I own three companies. I can decide what I do."

"Sir, every three of your companies are sponsoring the event. You are giving the keynote. And every major investor will be there."

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose. "I hate galas. I hate photographers. I hate celebrities."

"I know."

"So cancel it."

His secretary smiles sympathetically. "I can't. And the face of this year's campaign is Yoon Jeonghan."

"...Who?"

His secretary blinks. "The supermodel? The one who's been on the cover of Vogue six times, the one every luxury brand is fighting over?"

"No. I don't know him"

"...How do you not know him?"

"I don't keep up with models."

His secretary mutters something that sounds suspiciously like you will tonight before leaving the office.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Meanwhile in the other side of the city, another drama unfolded.

"Absolutely not." Jeonghan stares at his manager.

"I'm not wearing that."

"It's custom-made."

"It looks like a curtain."

"It's worth twenty thousand dollars."

"It still looks ugly."

"It's from Milan."

"I don't care if it's from Mars. I am not wearing it."

The stylist gasps dramatically. Jeonghan pats the horrified woman's shoulder.

The stylist groans into her hands. "Please."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Jeonghan."

"I'll wear the black one."

"The sponsor requested white."

"They can request all they want. But, I am wearing what I want."

"You'll cause another scandal."

"They love scandals. People love scandals. I love scandals. It is a win-win for everyone. And they will literally pay me more after scandals."

His manager hates how true that is.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

By seven o'clock, Seoul's wealthiest people have gathered inside the Grand Orion Hotel.

Flashes explode every second and reporters shout names. There were executives, actors, athletes, politicians. And finally....

"The Angel has arrived!"

Every camera turns. Jeonghan steps out of the car in a black tuxedo with a silver embroidery climbing one shoulder. His long blond hair tucked behind one ear.

The designer had wanted white. Jeonghan had laughed. The internet will find out tomorrow. His manager is already preparing an apology. But, Jeonghan isn't.

He waves at photographers with a smile so bright it sends the crowd into another frenzy. "Jeonghan!"

"This way!"

"Look here!"

He gives them exactly thirty seconds before walking inside. Any longer and people start assuming he enjoys attention. He doesn't. He enjoys annoying people.

There's a difference.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Across the ballroom, Seungcheol is already irritated.

Someone spilled champagne on his shoes. Three investors have asked about acquisitions. A famous actor keeps trying to recruit him into golf. He doesn't even play golf.

"CEO Choi."

He turns for another handshake, forced smile and conversation he doesn't care about. Then, a loud crash echoes through the ballroom. Everyone looks and a waiter stands frozen. Champagne glasses shattered across the marble floor.

Beside him was a breath taking omega.

"Oh no." Jeonghan blinks at the mess. "Haha! It only proves one thing that gravity still works."

Half of the room laughs when the waiter looks like he's about to cry.

"I'm so sorry... I should've looked where I was going..."

"You should've, but I also shouldn't have turned around while walking. So let's both agree we're disasters. Shall we?"

The waiter actually laughs and the problem was solved.

Seungcheol watches the entire exchange.

Interesting.

The model isn't throwing a tantrum. He expected worse from models.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Five minutes later, he changed his mind. Jeonghan steals a canapé from Seungcheol's plate.

Seungcheol freezes. "...Did you just take my food?"

Jeonghan hums thoughtfully while chewing. "It's good. Nice meeting you by the way, Yoon Jeonghan. And you?"

"Choi Seungcheol and I wasn't offering my food."

"You looked like you had too many."

"There were only three."

"Now there are two."

Jeonghan smiles. "Sharing is caring."

"I'm fairly certain that's theft."

"Only if you report me like that, Mr. CEO."

Seungcheol stares. The omega simply shrugs. "You looked too serious and needed saving from this atmosphere"

"So you stole my food."

"Exactly, it worked. You stopped looking at your phone."

"I am looking at you now."

"There you go."

Seungcheol has never wanted to strangle someone this elegantly dressed.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The second encounter happens twenty minutes later. Seungcheol finally escaped toward the balcony for fresh air, silence and peace. He opens the door and someone is already there.

Jeonghan.

He was leaning over the railing and holding...

"...Is that wine?"

Jeonghan glances over. "Mhm."

"You aren't supposed to take glasses outside."

"So they tell me. And I ignore lots of people."

Seungcheol had no reply prepared.

Jeonghan grins. "You came out here to escape too?"

"I came out here for some peace and quiet."

"Oh... Sorry."

He actually sounds sincere for exactly three seconds. "So, were you born grumpy?"

He looked at the omega who just had one interaction with him but still has the audacity to ask this question.

"I think that's a yes. I know who you are. I've heard the stories that you make assistants cry."

"They deserved it. I heard things as well like you walking out of Paris Fashion Week."

"They deserved it."

"You publicly corrected a magazine editor. You argued with airport security."

"...Okay, that one might've been my fault."

"Might've?"

"They started it."

"They were airport security. They were wrong. Why can't they let me in eating my noodles?"

Seungcheol laughs.

Jeonghan's eyebrows lift. "Oh, so you do laugh."

"I do."

"I thought maybe you couldn't."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Back inside, the auction begins. There were various luxury items, paintings, jewellery, vacations and then...

"Our final item."

The host beams. "A private dinner prepared by Michelin-starred Chef Kang, hosted at CEO Choi Seungcheol's penthouse."

The room applauds.

Seungcheol blinks. "...What?"

His secratary avoids eye contact. "You volunteered me?"

"It raises more money. I guess it is a surprise?"

He'll fire someone tomorrow.

"Bidding starts at fifty thousand."

Several hands shoot up. "Eighty."

"One hundred."

"One fifty."

"Two hundred."

Jeonghan raises his paddle lazily. "Five hundred."

The room falls silent when they heard half a million dollars. Seungcheol turns. Jeonghan isn't even looking at the stage. He's drinking champagne.

"Five hundred thousand once..."

"Six hundred." A businessman called it.

Jeonghan sighs dramatically. "One million."

There was dead silence that even Seungcheol stares.

The host nearly drops the microphone. "One... million?"

Jeonghan nods. "Yes, for charity. We are doing this for charity right?"

The businessman immediately lowers his paddle.

"Sold!"

The applause erupted. Seungcheol walks straight toward him. "You."

Jeonghan smiles. "Yes, Mr. Choi."

"Why."

"It helps children."

"You could've donated directly."

"I did, but this is way funnier and I wanted to see your face."

"You spent one million dollars to annoy me."

Jeonghan tilts his head. "When you say it like that, that is exactly what happened. And I will agree that was the case. Do you not believe me?"

"...It does sound a little unreasonable. Why do you want to do this? We only met today."

"Just that I found it fun to tease you and it is interesting."

Seungcheol stares. "You are unbelievable."

"I've heard that a lot too, Mr. Choi."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

An hour later, the gala finally ends and Seungcheol is saying goodbye to investors when shouting erupts outside when someone runs in.

"There's a dog on the road!"

"What?"

"It almost got hit!"

People rush toward the entrance. By the time Seungcheol gets outside, Jeonghan is already in the middle of traffic. "What the hell..."

Cars were screeching from the either side, and rivers yell. The small golden retriever cowers near a taxi.

Jeonghan crouches without hesitation. "Come here."

The puppy whines and horn blares and driver yelled, "Move!"

Jeonghan ignores it completely. Seungcheol doesn't think. He sprints into the street. "JEONGHAN!"

The omega finally reaches the puppy and smiles and turned. And nearly gets clipped by a passing motorcycle. Seungcheol catches him by the back of his jacket and yanks him hard against his chest.

The motorcycle speeds past close enough that the wind whips through Jeonghan's hair.

"Have you lost your mind?"

Jeonghan blinks up at him. "...Hi?"

"What were you thinking?"

"The puppy."

"You could've died."

"But I didn't."

"THAT IS NOT THE POINT."

People are staring now, but neither of them notices.

"You ran into moving traffic!"

"There was a puppy."

"There were cars! How reckless can you be?"

"There was a puppy."

Seungcheol is gripping his shoulders so tightly his knuckles ache. His alpha instincts are roaring. The omega standing in front of him smells faintly of rain and vanilla... and absolutely no fear, but he was confused.

Jeonghan says quietly, "Can you let go now? You're kind of crushing me."

Seungcheol realises that he is holding him very close. He lets go immediately. "You are insane."

"I've been told many times."

"You don't value your own life."

"I do. But, I just value other lives too."

Seungcheol opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because for the first time all night, Jeonghan isn't smiling. He's cradling the trembling puppy against his chest, stroking its ears with impossible gentleness.

The reckless, infuriating, impossible omega who stole his food, bid a million dollars out of spite, ignored every rule he was given had walked into traffic without a second thought for a frightened stray.

"You should still think before you act," Seungcheol mutters.

"I did. I thought, that puppy is scared. And, it was enough for me."

There was a long silence before Jeonghan looks up with a grin that is somehow both dazzling and infuriating.

"So, since we're having dinner together anyway... and you like dogs, I can bring him to the dinner, right?"

"No."

Jeonghan laughs, a bright, delighted sound that echoes across the hotel entrance. "You're fun."

"I am not."

"You'll warm up to me."

"I absolutely will not."

"We'll see, CEO Choi."

He walks away carrying the puppy as if he'd just won another auction, leaving Seungcheol standing in the middle of the street, more irritated than he has been in years.

And yet, as he watches Jeonghan disappear into the flashing lights of waiting cameras, one impossible thought lingers. The omega was reckless and infuriating.

He was a complete menace but when that motorcycle came within inches of him, Seungcheol's heart had stopped in a way it never had before.

He didn't know why.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

By Monday morning, every major news outlet in the country had picked up the gala. None of them were talking about Seungcheol's keynote speech or the record-breaking charity auction or the billions of won raised overnight.

The headlines were infinitely worse.

CEO Choi Seungcheol Seen Holding Top Model Yoon Jeonghan in the Middle of the Street.

Power Couple? Sparks Fly at Charity Gala.

The Ice CEO Smiles at Someone for the First Time?

Yoon Jeonghan Spends One Million Dollars on Dinner Date with CEO Choi.

"..."

Seungcheol slowly lowered his phone.

His secretary stood silently across the desk, pretending not to exist.

"They called it a dinner date."

"...Yes. Sir."

"It was a charity auction, they called it romantic. They used a picture of me yelling and turned that into me being romantic. So, what else are they going to do?"

His secretary looked at the ceiling. "The internet, Sir. They turn anything to everything."

"I hate the internet, I especially hate journalists. And why, are there fourteen interview requests asking whether I 'believe in fate'? I run multinational corporations. I don't have time for fate. And, cancel all of them."

"Sir, they're already cancelled."

"Good."

His secretary coughed. "There is one more thing."

"I don't like that sentence."

"Mr. Yoon sent something."

Seungcheol frowned. "...Sent something? what do you mean?"

His secretary placed a small white envelope on the desk.

He opened it/ Inside, there was a folded receipt.

₩1,000,000 – Seoul Animal Rescue Foundation

Attached beneath it was a sticky note.

Bought dinner to annoy you.

Donated another million because I actually wanted to help.

Please don't be too grumpy.

— J.

Seungcheol stared. His secretary cautiously asked, "Should I throw it away?"

"No."

"...Frame it?"

"No."

"...Put it in my drawer."

His secretary blinked. "...Really?"

"I need evidence he's insane."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Across town. Jeonghan was lying on the floor not because he had fallen because someone had stolen his couch. The someone in question had four legs, golden fur and tiny paws with the world's happiest tail.

"You are spoiled."

The puppy barked once.

"I've known you for two days. You've already destroyed two slippers and you don't even feel guilty."

The puppy rolled over to him licking his face

"...Manipulative."

Lick.

"...That's cheating."

Lick.

Jeonghan sighed dramatically before scratching behind floppy ears. "I suppose you can stay."

His manager walked into the apartment just in time to witness Jeonghan speaking to the puppy like it paid rent. "...You're keeping him."

"Mhm."

"You travel constantly, Jeonghan. You cannot keep him. Last time, you owned five plants that died."

"They betrayed me."

"They were succulents."

"They never loved me as much as loved them, hyung-nim."

His manager pinched the bridge of his nose. "...What's his name?"

Jeonghan looked down thoughtfully. The puppy yawned. "...Dubu."

"...Like tofu?"

"He looks soft."

"He eats furniture."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Wednesday evening arrived far too quickly.

Seungcheol had hoped, foolishly that Jeonghan would cancel. Instead, at exactly seven o'clock, his intercom buzzed. "Mr. Yoon has arrived."

Seungcheol straightened his tie. "...Send him up."

Five seconds later, his secretary hesitated in speaking to him. "...Sir?"

"`Tell me, he didn't bring the dog."

His secretary smiled. "He brought the dog."

Seungcheol closed his eyes. The elevator doors opened and out stepped Jeonghan, in black turtleneck, cream overcoat and hair tied loosely behind his neck, one hand holding a leash.

The tiny golden retriever trotted proudly beside him wearing an expensive navy bowtie.

"...Good evening."

Seungcheol looked at the dog, then Jeonghan. "...Why."

Jeonghan blinked. "He lives with me now."

"...With you?"

"Mhm."

"So you brought him."

"He cried when I left. I couldn't abandon him. He cried for long two hours."

Seungcheol looked at the puppy. The puppy looked back. Its tail wagged. "...Don't."

The puppy barked happily. "...Don't do that either."

Jeonghan laughed. "I think he likes you."

"He doesn't know me."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Dinner lasted precisely eleven minutes before disaster struck. It began innocently enough. Jeonghan complimented the chef. Seungcheol admitted the food was acceptable and the conversation remained... surprisingly civil.

Then, Dubu escaped. The puppy squeezed beneath the dining table.

Jeonghan looked down. "Dubu?"

He called again. "Dubu."

Tiny paws scampered. Seungcheol followed the sound. "...He's under the table."

"I know. Can you get him?"

"No."

"He likes you."

"He absolutely does not."

As if summoned by the challenge, Dubu emerged, straight toward Seungcheol, his tail wagging furiously.

He placed both paws on Seungcheol's expensive trousers. "...Absolutely not."

There was a tiny bark. "No, you are dirty."

The puppy wagged its tail. "You've been outside. I am wearing custom tailoring."

Dubu sneezed. Jeonghan burst into laughter so suddenly he nearly dropped his wineglass. "Oh my God."

"It isn't funny."

The puppy climbed into Seungcheol's lap.

"He adopted you."

The puppy curled into a tiny ball and within seconds, he was fast asleep.

Seungcheol stared.

"...He's warm and he trusts you."

"I barely know him."

"Animals are good judges unlike people."

Their eyes met and something shifted. It was not quite softer, but quieter and less argumentative.

Jeonghan looked away first. "He was shaking after the gala."

Seungcheol glanced down at the sleeping puppy. "I couldn't leave him. He follows me everywhere now. I think he thinks I rescued him."

"You did."

Jeonghan smiled faintly. "I think he rescued me."

The words landed unexpectedly. Seungcheol found himself studying him without cameras, flashing lights, perfectly rehearsed smiles. Jeonghan looked tired. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes. A tiny healing cut on one knuckle. His shoulders slumped in a way they hadn't at the gala.

"You've been working."

"Always."

"When was your last day off?"

Jeonghan thought.

"...Last year?"

Seungcheol frowned. "That's not funny."

"I wasn't joking."

Then, Jeonghan reached across the table to steal a piece of Seungcheol's steak.

"..."

"...Did you just..."

"You looked distracted."

"That is still my food."

"Tastes better when it's stolen. You have your own plate."

"I wanted yours."

"...Why?"

Jeonghan grinned. "Because it annoys you and makes you smile as well."

Jeonghan laughed again.

God.

That laugh.

It shouldn't be as infectious as it was.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

After dinner, Seungcheol walked Jeonghan to the elevator. Dubu trotted ahead proudly with his leash in his mouth, refusing to let either of them hold it.

"I think he believes he's walking us," Jeonghan said.

"He'd probably doing a better job."

The elevator arrived with a soft chime. Jeonghan stepped inside, then paused. "You know... I don't think you're as cold as everyone says."

"I am. I definitely am."

"You ran into traffic for me."

"It was for the motorcycle. You were standing in front of the motorcycle."

"So you admit it."

"I admit nothing."

Jeonghan smiled that infuriating, beautiful smile that somehow made every argument feel like a game he'd already won.

"See you soon, CEO Choi."

"I sincerely hope not."

The doors slid shut before Seungcheol could answer. He stood there for a long moment, staring at his own reflection in the polished metal.

Then he looked down. Something white was resting near the elevator doors, a folded napkin. He picked it up.

Inside, in elegant handwriting, were five words.

Thanks for saving me, Alpha.

Seungcheol's breath caught. No one outside his family and closest circle knew his secondary gender. It wasn't public information, and he kept it that way to avoid exactly the kind of attention that came with being one of the country's most eligible Alpha CEOs.

How did Jeonghan know?

The realisation hit him a heartbeat later. At the gala when he'd grabbed Jeonghan in the street.

An Alpha's instinctive protective pheromones, released in panic.

An omega would have recognised them immediately.

Seungcheol folded the napkin carefully, far more carefully than necessary.

"...Insufferable," he muttered.

His phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number.

By the way... Dubu likes you.

Another message arrived before he could wonder how Jeonghan had gotten his private number.

You should worry. He's very possessive.

Seungcheol snorted despite himself. He typed back before he could stop himself.

I am not worried about a ten-pound puppy.

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

You should be.

Seungcheol looked at the messages for a long time before slipping his phone back into his pocket. He didn't realise he was smiling until his secretary walked by and stopped dead in the hallway. "...Sir?"

"What?"

"...You look... happy, Sir."

The smile disappeared immediately. "I most certainly do not."

His secretary wisely said nothing. Because even he could tell that whatever had begun at the gala had changed tonight.

The arguments were still there, the irritation was real but beneath every sharp word, every stolen bite of food, every exasperated sigh, something had started taking root.

Neither of them was ready to name it and knowing Jeonghan, he would almost certainly find a way to make it infinitely more complicated.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The call comes in while he is leaving a board meeting he never wanted to attend.

“CEO Choi,” his driver says tightly, “there’s been an incident near the eastern district.”

Seungcheol pauses halfway into the car. “What kind of incident?”

“There was a fire incident.”

Something cold drops through his chest. He is already on the phone before the driver can finish opening the door. “Where.”

When the address comes, Seungcheol’s jaw locks so hard it aches.

An old orphanage annex.

And Jeonghan had sent him a message less than twenty minutes ago that simply read:

Busy today. Don’t miss me too much.

Seungcheol ignores the way his pulse spikes. “I want every available unit there now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hangs up and gets in the car before the driver can say another word. The city blurs past the window.

A wall of black smoke rising above the district like a wound in the sky. Seungcheol’s hands stay clenched in his lap. He tells himself he is thinking like a CEO. That it is responsibility and the orphanage is under the patronage of his foundation now, which means this is a business matter.

He is not worried, he does not worry. He simply arrives at the scene five minutes too late and hears someone shout Jeonghan’s name.

And everything in him turns vicious.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Jeonghan does not look like a model when Seungcheol finds him. He looks like a madman.

His hair was half-loose, face streaked with soot, coat thrown somewhere behind him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows as he stands in the middle of a collapsing courtyard clutching a coughing little boy against his chest.

The child is crying. Jeonghan is coughing too. There are flames licking the side of the annex behind him, and the front steps are crowded with children being handed down one by one to volunteers and firefighters.

A nun in a dark coat is giving orders in a voice that would probably terrify God himself.

And in the middle of it all, there is Jeonghan. “Stay with me, you’re okay. You’re okay now.”

“Hyung,” the little boy sobs, “I thought....”

“I know.”

Jeonghan presses his forehead to the child’s for one brief second, with such careful gentleness that Seungcheol feels something in his chest twist painfully.

Then Jeonghan turns and sees him. For one second, the world stops, Jeonghan’s mouth opens.

“Oh,” he says.

Seungcheol stares at him. There is soot on his cheekbone. A fresh scrape across one wrist. His shirt is torn at the shoulder. His pupils are still blown wide from adrenaline and smoke. Seungcheol takes one step forward and then stops so abruptly the gravel crunches beneath his shoes.

“What the hell,” he says lowly, each word sharpened to a blade, “do you think you are doing?”

Jeonghan blinks at him. The children nearby are staring now.

“So,” Jeonghan says, still holding a very small child who is now clinging to his sleeve, “you came.”

Seungcheol looks at the kid, the fire and the way Jeonghan is breathing too fast.

“You’re in a burning building.”

“It was burning before,” Jeonghan corrects. “Now it’s more of a badly smoking building.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow. Jeonghan immediately adds, “I got everyone out.”

“Except yourself.”

A firefighter passes between them carrying another child, and Seungcheol catches a glimpse of the orphanage staff moving the younger ones toward the vans.

The nun is still shouting directions, but even from a distance he can tell she is furious, exhausted, and trying very hard not to collapse.

Jeonghan shifts the child in his arms.

“She’s scared of the smoke,” he says, jerking his chin toward the little girl clinging to his other side.

Seungcheol follows his gaze. A tiny girl, maybe four, is crying into Jeonghan’s sleeve now. Two kids, one in his hands and other in his side.

Jeonghan rubs her back with slow, practiced circles while the boy in his hands was close to his chest. “It’s okay,” he tells her softly. “You’re safe.”

Seungcheol looks at him for a long moment. Then, with visible effort, he drags the anger down from his throat. “Did you go inside first.”

Jeonghan went still. Seungcheol shuts his eyes for one second.

When he opens them again, Jeonghan is watching him with that maddening expression he always wears when he knows he is in trouble and intends to make it everyone else’s problem.

“I saw him trapped,” Jeonghan says quietly.

Seungcheol’s gaze flicks to the child in his arms.

The little boy is sleepy now, soot on his face, one tiny hand fisted in Jeonghan’s shirt. “I couldn’t leave him. I got him out.”

Jeonghan hesitates, as if waiting for the explosion. Seungcheol gives him one, just not the one he expects. “You could have died, and you’re acting like it was a mild inconvenience.”

Jeonghan’s mouth twitches. “Was it not?”

Seungcheol looks like he wants to strangle him. The child in Jeonghan’s arms decides this is the perfect moment to yawn and curl deeper against his chest.

One of the firefighters nearby clears his throat and looks away, clearly trying not to witness whatever war is happening between the terrifying CEO and the smoke-covered model.

The nun crosses the courtyard toward them, her black scarf flapping behind her like a banner.

“Yoon Jeonghan” she says sharply, “you are not to move from here until the paramedics check you.”

Jeonghan smiles at her with the kind of ease that makes Seungcheol immediately suspicious. “Yes, Sister.”

She turns to Seungcheol. “Hello Mr. Choi.”

Seungcheol inclines his head.

Her gaze flickers from his face to the smoke-stained ruins of the annex and back again with the exhausted precision of someone who has no patience for wealthy men, no matter how expensive their coats may be.

“This one,” she says, gesturing at Jeonghan as if he is a recurring natural disaster, “grew up here.”

Jeonghan groans. “Sister...”

“He never really grew up, but he has spent the last ten years making up for it by buying us every refrigerator that broke, every heater that failed, every winter coat we could not afford, and every stray creature that limped through the gate.”

Jeonghan lowers his head. “Please don’t tell him.”

The nun’s expression does not soften. “I am telling him because he ought to know what sort of man he has been fighting with.”

Jeonghan mutters, “I do not fight with him.”

Seungcheol says flatly, “You absolutely do.”

The nun, who has clearly already decided she likes neither of them and somehow respects both, folds her hands in front of her. “He was the worst child we had. He fed the cats from the kitchen, climbed the outer wall, snuck into town with the older boys, and once came home with a duck because he said it looked lonely.”

Jeonghan closes his eyes. Seungcheol stares at him. “You adopted a duck???”

“It was abandoned.”

“You adopted a duck.”

“It needed me.”

The nun points a finger at him. “He still thinks every abandoned thing in the world must be saved. Human, animal, broken, or otherwise.”

Seungcheol glances at the orphanage children being ushered into the vans. Some of them are crying. Some are soot-covered and wide-eyed. One of the older girls is carrying two younger boys at once, both of them refusing to let go of her.

Jeonghan watches them too. His whole face changes when he does more of something painfully, almost unbearably sincere. “I’ll pay for the repairs. “Whatever the insurance doesn’t cover, I’ll...”

“You already did,” the nun says.

Jeonghan blinks. “When?”

She looks at him with immense disdain. “Two months ago, when you found out the heating system was failing and sent the money anonymously.”

Jeonghan frowns. “How did you know it was me?”

“The same way I knew it was you when the clinic donated medicine, and the same way I knew it was you when the children’s library got new books.”

Jeonghan looks caught. Seungcheol’s eyes narrow.

Jeonghan shrugs, far too casually for someone who clearly has been funding half the district. “There were problems.”

Seungcheol stares at him. “You are impossible. You did all that and never said a word.”

Jeonghan smiles faintly. “That would ruin the surprise.”

Seungcheol looks like he might actually die.

The nun sniffs. “He also never keeps any of the money he earns for himself.”

Jeonghan says quickly, “That is not true.”

“It is true,” she says. “He gives more away than he spends. We tell him to rest. He comes back with another injured animal.”

Jeonghan mutters, “They need me.”

The nun’s expression goes sharp with old fondness and old exasperation. “And now so do these children.”

She turns back toward the vans. Seungcheol watches Jeonghan’s jaw tighten. There are tiny fingerprints of soot on his wrist and fresh burn mark along the edge of his sleeve.

He looks, for all his recklessness, entirely unsurprised by the damage.

Seungcheol hates it. He hates it because he understands it.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The immediate crisis passes and the fire is contained. No child was lost.

The annex is ruined. By sunset, the orphanage courtyard is full of blankets, water bottles, donated clothes, and children whose energy has finally worn itself thin into frightened exhaustion.

And Jeonghan has somehow become the center of all of it.

He is on the floor with six children piled around him, telling a story about a dragon that sneezed stars instead of fire. One little boy is using Jeonghan’s knee as a pillow. A girl with pigtails is combing soot out of his hair with painful concentration.

Another child is holding Dubu, who has apparently arrived with one of the volunteers and is now being treated as a miracle with paws.

Seungcheol stands by the doorway, watching despite himself.

“Do you want to go home?” the nun asks him.

He does not look away from Jeonghan. “Not yet.”

She hums once, as though she has expected no different. “He always does this.”

“Does what?”

“Gets himself loved by everyone in the room.”

Seungcheol glances at her. “I don’t know that he is loved.”

The nun snorts. “Mr. Choi, children do not let just anyone wear their blankets, and that one in the green socks has been following him around for an hour.”

Seungcheol looks back. The child in green socks is indeed following Jeonghan around like a tiny shadow. Jeonghan has not noticed or has noticed and is pretending not to.

It is hard to tell. The nun studies Seungcheol’s face for a long moment. “He is not easy to hold on to.”

Seungcheol answers without thinking. “I am aware.”

“And yet you keep standing here like you mean to hold onto him.”

His jaw tightens. The nun’s mouth twitches, just barely. “He trusts everyone too quickly, that is his flaw.”

Seungcheol says quietly, “No. That is not his flaw.”

She looks at him. He keeps his voice level. “It is his habit.”

The nun appears mildly surprised.

Then she nods once, as if that answer pleases her more than she expected.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The minor disaster happens half an hour later. Jeonghan is on a chair helping the older girls sort donated blankets when one of the volunteers brings in a box of medicine to be moved to the storage room upstairs. The storage room is at the end of a narrow hall.

The step ladder is broken. Jeonghan, naturally, decides this is an opportunity.

“I can reach it,” he says.

One of the volunteers hesitates. “Mr. Yoon, you should probably wait...”

“I’m already up here.”

He is, in fact, already halfway onto the windowsill. Seungcheol appears at the doorway in time to see this. “What are you doing.”

Jeonghan, balanced precariously with one foot on the sill and one hand on the wall, looks down at him. “I am helping. Can you not see?”

“You are not helping. You are starting another trouble.”

The children in the room gasp in delighted suspense. Seungcheol realises too late that they are all watching. Jeonghan reaches up to hook the box down from the shelf, stretching a little farther than is wise and the box slips.

Jeonghan catches it with one hand.

The window frame beneath him shifts. The room goes very, very still. One little voice whispers, “Is Hannie supposed to do that?”

“No,” Seungcheol says immediately.

Jeonghan, very carefully, looks down at the floor. “Okay, there might be a small problem.”

Seungcheol is already moving. “Get down.”

“I am trying.”

“You are standing on a broken sill.”

“I noticed.”

“Then get down.”

Jeonghan opens his mouth and the sill gives a sharp crack under his shoe.

The room erupts and the children scream.

But suddenly Jeonghan jolts.

Seungcheol crosses the distance in three strides and catches him before he can fall backward into the stacked chairs below. It is not graceful, or subtle  very much not private.

Seungcheol wraps one arm around Jeonghan’s waist and the other across his back, hauling him off the windowsill and straight into his chest with a force that knocks the breath out of both of them.

Jeonghan freezes and the children go dead silent.

Seungcheol plants his feet and keeps hold of him. “Are you trying to kill yourself in front of an audience?”

Jeonghan, face half-buried in his shoulder, wheezes, “Why are you making this dramatic.”

“You were one second from falling.”

“I was not.”

“You were.”

One of the little boys whispers loudly to another, “Mr. Choi is scary.”

“He’s in love,” another child whispers back with absolute certainty.

Jeonghan makes a strangled sound. Seungcheol does not let go. He lowers Jeonghan to the floor only when he is sure he will stay there. Jeonghan straightens, blinking once, then twice. His cheeks are pink, not from embarrassment, or maybe from embarrassment and the shock of being caught.

Seungcheol’s hand remains at his waist for one second too long.

A child in the front row points openly. “You saved him.”

Seungcheol looks at the child. “He was about to fall.”

Jeonghan raises a brow. “That is still saving me.”

Seungcheol’s stare says do not start.

The children all make the same noise at once. “OOOOOH.”

Seungcheol closes his eyes. Jeonghan smiles like a man who has just been handed a victory by the universe itself.

“See? Mr. Choi is very protective.”

Seungcheol mutters, “I cannot believe you. You were one step away from a broken neck.”

“But you caught me.”

The room goes quiet at that. Seungcheol looks at him, really looks at him, with the kind of expression he hates being seen wearing. “Well, that was very dramatic of you, CEO Choi.”

The children, enchanted, begin whispering among themselves again. Seungcheol does not look away from Jeonghan. Jeonghan, infuriatingly, looks delighted. But there is something else under it too.

As if being caught, by Seungcheol of all people, is somehow exactly what he had expected. The nun coughs into her hand.

“If the two of you are done giving the children romantic material for their entire lives,” she says dryly, “we have blankets to sort.”

Jeonghan turns back to the kids at once. “Who wants to help me fold?”

Every hand goes up. Seungcheol watches him kneel among them, the children swarming him again like he belongs there. And for the first time all day, Seungcheol admits something he would never say out loud.

He is here. As long as Jeonghan is standing in the middle of someone else’s chaos, Seungcheol will be there too. One step behind and away from catching him. And, apparently, doing it in front of an entire orphanage full of children.

Jeonghan glances up at him over the top of a folding blanket. Their eyes meet and Jeonghan smiles. Seungcheol does not.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Two days later, Seungcheol tells himself, for the fourth time that morning, that he is not worried.

The thought is extremely reasonable.

Jeonghan is a grown omega. Jeonghan is famously reckless, irritatingly clever, and somehow always landing on his feet. Jeonghan is not Seungcheol’s responsibility. Jeonghan is not in danger just because he insists on treating danger like a hobby.

So no.

Seungcheol is not worried.

He is merely standing by the window of his office with his arms crossed so tightly that his shoulders ache, staring at the rain, and waiting for a text that has not come.

That is different.

His secretary clears his throat from the doorway. “Mr. Yoon’s shoot is running late.”

Seungcheol does not turn around. “I did not ask.”

“No. You didn’t. But, he is at an abandoned warehouse in Mapo.”

Seungcheol turns so sharply his secretary takes a step back. “A warehouse.”

“For a fashion editorial.”

“Why? Why a warehouse.”

“Because Mr. Yoon agreed to it.”

Seungcheol closes his eyes.

Jeonghan would hear “abandoned warehouse” and somehow interpret that as an fun rather than an obvious warning sign written by the universe itself. “How many people are there?”

“Crew. Photographers. Security.”

“Security?”

“Yes.”

“Is it real security?”

His secretary hesitates for half a second too long. Seungcheol’s jaw tightens. “What kind of security? I am asking you.”

“…The production’s.”

Well, that is not a good answer, isn't it?

Seungcheol grabs his coat. “Get the car.”

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Jeonghan is radiant in the kind of way that looks unfair on camera and even worse in person.

He is standing on a rusted metal staircase in a floor-length coat that probably costs more than Seungcheol’s first apartment, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other lifted to his collar as the photographer circles him like a predator.

There were rain beads on the edges of his hair. His expression is cool, effortless, almost bored. It is the exact face he wears when he is about to do something stupid.

Seungcheol knows it immediately from past few months.

He steps through the warehouse door just in time to hear Jeonghan say, “If I jump from here, will you all finally stop asking me to look softer?”

The photographer laughs, thinking he’s joking. Seungcheol does not. Jeonghan tilts his head and looks down at the stunt platform beneath him.

Then he smiles, Seungcheol’s blood runs cold. “No.”

The entire set goes silent and Jeonghan looks over. “Cheol?”

Seungcheol’s voice is flat with forced calm. “Get down.”

The photographer blinks. “Mr. Choi, we’re in the middle of....”

“I said,” Seungcheol repeats, not raising his voice even a little, “get down.”

Jeonghan’s mouth twitches. “Oh.”

That tone.

That absolutely unbearable little tone.

He knows what he’s doing. “Are you ordering me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very bold for someone who claims not to worry.”

The crew goes still. The photographer glances between them like he’s just realised he has somehow wandered into a private war.

Seungcheol stares at Jeonghan. Jeonghan stares back. The rain taps softly against the warehouse roof. Then, because Jeonghan is Jeonghan and cannot survive a peaceful moment without sabotaging it, he lifts one foot onto the platform edge.

Seungcheol moves before he thinks. “Jeonghan.”

His name cracks through the room. Jeonghan freezes. For one second, the whole set is trapped in that single suspended breath. Seungcheol is already halfway across the floor before he even notices he’s moving.

The photographer is saying something about composition.

No one listens.

Seungcheol reaches the staircase and stops just below Jeonghan, close enough to smell his scent beneath the makeup and something distinctly Jeonghan that always makes Seungcheol’s alpha instincts rise far too quickly.

Jeonghan looks down at him. “Hi.”

Seungcheol grips the railing hard enough that the metal bites into his palm. “Come down.”

“I’m not going to fall. I have excellent balance.”

“You are one bad step away from proving that wrong.”

Jeonghan laughs. The crew pretends not to hear the way the air between them keeps tightening.

“Are you scared?” Jeonghan asks softly.

“No.”

The lie is immediate. Jeonghan’s eyes glitter. “Liar.”

Seungcheol’s gaze flicks briefly to the platform. “That thing is unstable.”

“It’s a little unstable.”

“It is rusted. It is one shove away from collapsing.”

Jeonghan leans casually on the railing. “And you came here, why? Because you were worried.”

“I was not.”

Jeonghan hums. “Then why are you here, Alpha?”

It is a trap.

A very pretty trap.

Seungcheol should not step into it.

He steps into it anyway. “Because you’re impossible and give me headache every other day.”

Jeonghan beams, delighted by the answer even though it is the opposite of a confession. “See? That’s not the same as worry.”

“You are standing on a collapsing staircase and you’re provoking me.”

Seungcheol exhales through his nose. “Get down before I lift you.”

The phrase changes the atmosphere instantly. Jeonghan goes still, interested.

His gaze lowers, slow and amused. “You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

“In front of all these people?”

“Yes.”

Seungcheol’s voice is low enough that it should be private, but the warehouse is too quiet now. “Do not test me.”

Jeonghan’s pupils widen, just barely.

Then he smiles, all sweetness and threat. “I wasn’t testing you.”

“Jeonghan.”

“I was asking.”

That is worse.

Seungcheol knows it the second it leaves Jeonghan’s mouth because Jeonghan only asks when he already knows the answer will make things complicated. Seungcheol holds his stare for three long seconds.

Then he reaches up, places one hand around Jeonghan’s calf, and says, “Down.”

There is a collective inhale from somewhere behind them. Jeonghan’s face does something impossible. For one brief, traitorous second, he looks pleased.

Then he rolls his eyes as if Seungcheol is the unreasonable one and carefully climbs down the staircase with far too much elegance for someone who had just been about to risk his neck for a better shot.

When he reaches the bottom, Seungcheol does not move away.

Jeonghan does not move away either. They are too close. Their shoulders nearly touch. Their scents have begun to overlap, Jeonghan’s soft sweetness and Seungcheol’s sharp, possessive alpha edge curling together in the humid air.

The crew is pretending to reorganise the set. The photographer is pretending not to stare.

Jeonghan lifts his chin. “Happy now?”

“No.”

“Still worried?”

“I said no.”

Jeonghan leans in just enough to make the point infuriating. “Your scent says otherwise.”

Seungcheol goes very still.

That is the problem with Jeonghan. He notices everything.

A tiny cut on Seungcheol’s knuckle, a sleepless night, a shift in breath. asilence too sharp to be harmless. Jeonghan picks at every weakness like he is determined to find the exact place where Seungcheol will break, and worse, he does it smiling.

“I’m here,” Seungcheol says.

Jeonghan blinks once. The words come out before Seungcheol can stop them..

Jeonghan’s expression softens for half a heartbeat. “Do you want to stay for the rest of the shoot, or are you going to brood in a corner and glare at everyone who gets within two meters of me?”

Seungcheol gives him a look.

Jeonghan brightens. “Both?”

Seungcheol should leave. He knows he should.

But he can already see what happens if he does: Jeonghan climbing the platform again, or wandering near the broken loading dock, or deciding that the giant puddle near the electrical cables is “a good visual contrast.” So Seungcheol does the only sensible thing left.

He stays. He moves a chair closer to the set and sits down like he belongs there, coat still on, expression unreadable, while the entire crew suddenly works ten times faster out of pure survival instinct.

Jeonghan notices again, asking, “You’re really staying?”

“No.”

Jeonghan lifts an eyebrow.

Seungcheol crosses one leg over the other and folds his hands. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to finish before you cause any more problems.”

Jeonghan’s smile goes wicked. “That sounds suspiciously like concern.”

Seungcheol watches him go back to the shoot, but not before Jeonghan turns once over his shoulder and gives him that look again.

The one that says I know exactly what you are doing.

The one that says you came because you wanted to.

Seungcheol hates that look. He hates how accurate it is even more.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The second incident happens forty minutes later, not because Jeonghan is careless, because Jeonghan is Jeonghan. One of the rig lights over the set flickers twice.

The stylist frowns. “Did someone check the mount?”

Someone says they did. The light sways. Jeonghan is standing beneath it. Seungcheol is on his feet before anyone else even realises the danger. “Move.”

Jeonghan glances up too late and the light snaps. Everything happens at once. The crew shouts, the photographer yells and Jeonghan’s eyes widen, and he starts to step back but the floor is wet, the cable is tangled, and he slips in the wrong direction.

Seungcheol catches him before he hits the ground. One arm around his waist, the other braced against the wall as the light crashes inches away, scattering glass across the floor. Silence follows so fast it is almost physical. Jeonghan is pressed flush against him, one hand gripping Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath gone thin at the edges.

For a moment neither of them moves. Then Seungcheol’s hand tightens once at Jeonghan’s waist, not gentle, not even pretending to be.

“Are you hurt?"

It is not phrased as a question.

Jeonghan stares up at him, wide-eyed for once. “No.”

Seungcheol scans him anyway. “Anywhere? Arms? Legs? Head.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Seungcheol’s jaw flexes. Jeonghan sees it. His expression changes in tiny increments, the way it does when he’s realized he has crossed from play into something sharper.

Seungcheol releases him only enough to look at the fallen rig. One of the bolts has been loosened, maybe intentionally, maybe not. The whole thing is a mess of cheap shortcuts and bad luck dressed up as production budget.

His voice drops. “Who checked the mount.”

No one answered him. “I asked who?”

The set goes cold. The production manager swallows. “We… we did.”

Seungcheol looks at him. The man visibly regrets every decision he has ever made in his life.

Seungcheol does not raise his voice. He does not need to. “Do it again.”

He turns back to Jeonghan. The omega is still in his arms, still too close and still breathing too fast. “You were standing under that. How can you be reckless?”

Jeonghan tilts his head. “You caught me.”

Seungcheol looks at him with such open disbelief that Jeonghan actually laughs.

A soft sound.

It was entirely too fond of danger.

Seungcheol’s hold on him loosens by a fraction, then tightens again like his body cannot decide which instinct to obey. Jeonghan’s voice lowers. “You came here.”

Again, that sentence, the same infuriating implication.

Seungcheol says nothing.

Jeonghan studies him for a long moment and then, with unbearable tenderness, lifts one hand and touches the side of Seungcheol’s face, right where tension has set in hard beneath the skin. “You’re really bad at pretending you don’t care.”

Seungcheol catches his wrist before the movement can become something soft. “And you are really bad at staying away from things that can kill you.”

Jeonghan’s eyes hold his, bright and maddening and entirely too sure.

“You act like you’re irritated,” he says.

“But you’re always there. At the gala. At dinner. At my shoot. At the street corner when I nearly walked into traffic. At the warehouse when I was five seconds from falling through that stupid platform.”

His fingers curl lightly around Seungcheol’s sleeve.

“You come when I’m reckless,” Jeonghan says, “and you look even worse than I do.”

Seungcheol doesn’t answer. Because the awful part is that Jeonghan is right.

He is always there.

He tells himself it is because someone has to be.

Because the world is careless, Jeonghan’s instincts for self-preservation are apparently nonexistent and the universe has a personal vendetta against one beautiful, impossible omega.

Those are all reasonable excuses.

But none of them explain the sharp, violent relief that hits Seungcheol every time he sees Jeonghan alive.

None of them explain why he keeps tracking Jeonghan’s location without admitting it, why every missed message feels like a threat and why his possessiveness has become so natural that it feels like breathing.

Jeonghan waits. He always waits. That is the other terrible thing about him. He is never impatient when Seungcheol is trying not to say something true. The room around them has gone silent again. Everyone knows better than to interrupt.

Eventually, Seungcheol lets out a slow breath and says, “Go change.”

Jeonghan blinks. “What? Why?”

“You’re covered in dust.”

“So?”

“So go change. We are leaving."

Seungcheol gives him a look that should, by all rights, be enough to stop him from speaking for the rest of the day. It does not. Jeonghan’s mouth curves. “You know, if you keep showing up whenever I’m in trouble, people are going to think you care.”

Seungcheol leans down until his voice lands only for Jeonghan. “Let them.”

Jeonghan freezes.

Seungcheol straightens before Jeonghan can recover enough to tease him.

Then, because he is apparently determined to make this impossible, he adds, “And next time you decide to throw yourself into a collapsed warehouse or a moving street or off a staircase, try not to do it without warning me.”

Jeonghan stares at him and he smiles. It is not the bright celebrity smile he gives cameras. It is worse. It is real, warm and a little startled, entirely pleased. “That sounded almost like worry.”

Seungcheol turns to the production manager. “You. Cancel the rest of the shoot until the set is inspected.”

The man nearly trips over himself nodding. Jeonghan watches Seungcheol with open delight.

“You know for someone who insists he does not worry, you are incredibly good at acting like a guardian.”

Seungcheol opens the warehouse door for him. Rain rushes in. Jeonghan steps through first, turning back with a smile that could ruin anyone foolish enough to look at it too long.

Seungcheol looks at him once, memorises the fact that he is fine, and says, “Get in the car.”

Jeonghan’s brows arch. “Bossy.”

Jeonghan climbs into the car, still smiling, while Seungcheol follows a second later and shuts the door behind them with more force than necessary.

The driver pretends not to hear any of it.

The silence in the backseat lasts exactly thirty seconds.

Then Jeonghan leans closer, close enough that his scent fills the space between them, and asks with all the patience in the world, “Are you going to admit you were worried?”

Seungcheol stares out the window. “No.”

Jeonghan hums. “Liar.”

Seungcheol says nothing. Jeonghan settles back with a satisfied little smile, as if silence is its own answer. And maybe that is the worst part because Seungcheol is not worried in the dramatic, obvious sense.

He will not say the word. He will not confess it neatly. He will not give Jeonghan the satisfaction. But he is there. He is always there. And Jeonghan, infuriatingly, knows it.

Outside, the city blurs into streaks of rain and silver light.

Inside the car, Jeonghan finally stops smiling long enough to lean his shoulder against Seungcheol’s.

Seungcheol should move away. But he didn't.

Jeonghan’s eyes drift shut, just for a second, as if being watched over has become its own kind of rest.

Seungcheol looks at him once, then away, then back again.

But when the traffic slows and a motorcycle roars past too close to the curb, Seungcheol’s hand moves automatically to Jeonghan’s wrist, holding him there for no reason except that he can.

Jeonghan doesn’t open his eyes. He only smiles.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

After a few months of knowing Yoon Jeonghan, everyone in Choi Corporation had accepted one simple fact.

Mr. Yoon did not believe in appointments. He simply... appeared. The receptionists stopped trying to stop him after the third week. The security guards greeted him by name.

The receptionist watches Jeonghan stroll into the executive elevator like he owns the building.

"He does this often?" a new intern whispers.

The receptionist sighs. "Only three or four times a week."

"And the CEO allows it?"

"No."

"...No?"

"He complains every single time."

"...Then why does security let him through?"

The receptionist smiles mysteriously. "Because the CEO personally added Mr. Yoon's fingerprint to the access system."

The intern blinks. "...He did?"

"It was two months ago."

The executive assistants sighed when the elevator opened, because if Jeonghan was here, chaos would follow.

"Good morning, everyone."

Half the marketing department looked up and the other half groaned. Jeonghan walked through the executive floor carrying two paper bags from a bakery, sunglasses perched on his nose despite being indoors. "I brought breakfast."

The interns immediately brightened. His manager, trailing behind him, looked exhausted.

"Please don't encourage him," the manager pleaded.

It was too late. Jeonghan was already handing out pastries. "You."

He pointed at one of the junior designers. "You've had coffee and nothing else today."

"...How did you know?"

"I can smell coffee on your breath."

The poor designer accepted the croissant with tears in his eyes. "You work too hard."

"You don't even know my name."

"I don't need to."

Five desks away, Seungcheol's secretary watched the entire exchange. "...He's doing it again."

Another assistant sighed. "He fed accounting yesterday, he reorganised legal last week."

"He alphabetised the CEO's bookshelf."

"...He what?"

Inside Seungcheol's office, there was silence, peace and everything exactly where it belonged. His laptop was perfectly centered, pens were aligned, files were tacked by priority. It was minimalist, efficient, predictable and exactly the way he liked it.

The door opened without knocking. "I brought you breakfast."

Seungcheol didn't even look up. "No."

"I bought your favourite coffee."

"I didn't tell you my favourite coffee."

"You didn't have to. You've ordered the same one every morning. I just pay attention."

"I wish you wouldn't pay attention on me."

Jeonghan set the coffee on the desk anyway, then he frowned. "Hm."

Seungcheol immediately looked up. "What?"

"Your office feels sad."

"...Excuse me?"

"It has no personality. It has depression. It is beige."

"It is how an office is supposed to look like."

Jeonghan wandered around the room, inspecting everything.

Seungcheol watched him carefully. "...Don't do whatever you're thinking."

"I wasn't thinking anything. I was appreciating your... aggressively square aesthetic."

"Leave."

"Hm."

Five minutes later, Seungcheol was on a phone call. "...No, move the Singapore meeting to Thurs..."

He stopped. His framed architectural award was gone.

He looked up. Jeonghan had moved it. "...Why."

Three more awards had mysteriously appeared beside it.

"..."

"My books."

"They're arranged by colour now."

"They were arranged alphabetically."

"It was boring. It needs to be arranged by colour."

"...Where did you get a plant?"

"The receptionist."

"The receptionist has a plant?"

"Had. I took it from her, told her you needed it. Now, it is yours"

Seungcheol closed his laptop with deliberate calm. "Jeonghan."

"Mhm?"

"Please undo everything."

"No."

"It is my office. It needed nothing. It needed order."

"It has everything now."

Seungcheol stood. Every employee outside immediately looked toward the glass walls. The CEO was standing, which meant, Mr. Yoon had done something again.

"You have exactly two minutes."

"For what?"

"Put it all back."

Jeonghan smiled. "Make me."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

An hour later Jeonghan left, nothing was back where it belonged. Seungcheol had given up or at least pretended to. His secretary entered carefully. "Should I call maintenance?"

"For what?"

"...The office, to change it back to how it was.."

Seungcheol looked around. The bookshelf actually looked warmer. The plant did make the room feel less sterile. There was even a small bowl of candy on the coffee table that hadn't been there this morning.

"...Leave it."

His secratery blinked. "...Really?"

"It isn't worth arguing. He will come back and do this tomorrow."

After the secretary left, Seungcheol looked toward the tiny succulent sitting beside the window.

It was ridiculous and absolutely unnecessary.

He watered it before lunch.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The truth is, Seungcheol notices immediately when Jeonghan doesn't come, the days the office is too quiet. He notices the untouched second mug his assistant has stopped preparing. He notices that lunch somehow tastes blander.

He notices that no one has stolen food from his plate in nearly forty-eight hours. He does not mention any of this. Instead, he tells himself the silence is productive.

His secretary walks in. "Sir, there is no visitor today."

"I wasn't expecting one."

"...Right. i believe that."

"I wasn't." Seungcheol frowns back at his laptop. "...Did he say he wasn't coming?"

His secretary smiles to herself.

"No, sir."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Three days later, Jeonghan arrived unannounced again. This time wearing oversized sunglasses and carrying Dubu under one arm.

"You can't bring a dog into corporate headquarters."

"I just did."

"Dubu has no employee badge."

"The receptionist handed me one. He is now Choi group's emotional support dog.."

Dubu barked. "See? He is delighted to accept this new position."

"..."

The puppy trotted happily around the office while Jeonghan settled into Seungcheol's sofa as if he owned the building, saying. "I have a fitting in an hour."

"So why are you here?"

"I was bored. And I missed annoying you."

Seungcheol sighed. "You need hobbies."

"You are my hobby."

"..."

Seungcheol had no words to say.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

A week later, the trouble starts. It begin with a meeting, one Seungcheol cannot avoid with the Park Group. A family-owned conglomerate. Their heir, Park Minjae, is an omega from one of the wealthiest families in the country.

Jeonghan had only come by to drop off homemade cookies from the orphanage children. He isn't announced.

The receptionist waves him through. "They're still in the conference room."

"I'll wait."

Instead, he hears laughter. it was not Seungcheol's but someone else's. The conference room doors are half-open. Jeonghan isn't trying to eavesdrop. He just happens to glance inside. And sees the omega heir leaning close, far too close.

One elegant hand resting lightly on Seungcheol's forearm. "I've always admired you, CEO Choi."

Seungcheol calmly removes the hand. "Let's keep this discussion professional."

The omega laughs. "I'm only complimenting you."

Jeonghan's smile disappears. Something hot curls unpleasantly in his chest.

He knows that Seungcheol isn't encouraging it. But the sight still twists something inside him and the omega reaches again. This time brushing imaginary lint from Seungcheol's sleeve.

Jeonghan is moving before he thinks. The conference room doors swing open.

Every executive turns. "...Mr. Yoon?"

Jeonghan walks straight across the room and stops beside Seungcheol, looks directly at Park Minjae.

Then, with absolutely no warning, places one hand against the omega's shoulder and gives him a firm shove backward. it was not enough to hurt him but enough to make him stumble into his chair.

"Stay away from him."

Every executive freezes. Minjae stares. "...Excuse me?"

"I said," Jeonghan repeats pleasantly, "stay away from him."

The room has forgotten how to breathe.

Seungcheol slowly stands. "Meeting adjourned."

Nobody argues and the executives flee with astonishing speed.

Within seconds, only three people remain, Minjae, Jeonghan and Seungcheol.

"Mr. Park," Seungcheol says evenly, "my apologies."

The omega, clearly too shocked to continue negotiations, nods stiffly and leaves without another word.

Jeonghan suddenly realises what he's done.

Seungcheol's voice is calm. "My office."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The door shuts behind them and neither of them speaks.

"What was that?"

Jeonghan folds his arms. "He was touching you and I didn't like it."

"You shoved a business partner."

"He was flirting."

"He was." Seungcheol steps closer. "And who are you to me, Jeonghan?"

The room goes still. Jeonghan blinks. "What?"

"You heard me." His voice is sharper now. "Who are you to me? Tell me. What right did you think you had to walk into my meeting and do that?"

Jeonghan opens his mouth and nothing comes out. Because, he doesn't know, not really, or officially or in any way he can claim.

Friends?

Maybe.

Something more?

Never spoken or promised.

The confidence that had carried him into the conference room drains away all at once.

His hands slowly uncurl. "I..."

His voice catches. Seungcheol is still looking at him, waiting. "I..."

Jeonghan laughs once. It sounds wrong. "...I don't know."

The silence hurted more than either of them expected. Jeonghan lowers his eyes. "I just... I didn't like seeing someone touch you."

His fingers tighten around the paper bag he'd brought. Inside are cookies decorated by children with uneven icing and far too many sprinkles.

"I shouldn't have done that."

His eyes burnt, but he refuses to let the tears fall. "I'm sorry."

Seungcheol's expression shifts almost imperceptibly.

But Jeonghan doesn't see it. "I won't disturb you anymore. I didn't realise... I forgot my place."

The words hit harder than any argument they've ever had. Jeonghan sets the bag of cookies carefully on the desk. "The kids made these. They were excited for you to try them."

He steps backward. "I'm sorry, Seungcheol."

It was not CEO Choi, there was no teasing and it was not playful.

Then he turns, and walks to the door. His shoulders are straight. His steps are steady only the slight tremble in the hand reaching for the doorknob betrays him.

The door clicks shut behind him. The office is suddenly, painfully quiet. Seungcheol remains exactly where he is. His anger is already dissolving into something much worse. He looks down. The paper bag is decorated in colorful crayon.

A child's handwriting covers the front.

Thank you, Mr. Choi! Please eat well!

Inside, tucked beneath the cookies, is another note is a note written in Jeonghan's neat script.

They insisted on making dinosaur-shaped ones because they think you look scary. Please pretend they're delicious.

Seungcheol closes his eyes.

Outside, the elevator doors slide shut.

For the first time since Jeonghan had begun barging into his office, the twenty-seventh floor feels unbearably empty.

And the plant, still sitting in the sunny corner Jeonghan had moved it to, catches the afternoon light.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Jeonghan did not come back the next day. Seungcheol noticed it before lunch. It was not because anyone said anything because the office was too quiet.

The silence had shape now. It sat where Jeonghan usually did, sprawled across the couch with Dubu at his feet, feet kicked up on the coffee table Seungcheol had once insisted was not for lounging and had somehow become one anyway.

There was no bakery bags, no ridiculous comments, no perfume-soft laughter drifting down the hall. No one barged into his office to rearrange a file stack or place a coffee on his desk and say he looked like he needed sugar.

Seungcheol told himself it was refreshing.

By the second day, he had stopped believing that. By the third, he had checked his phone too many times to count. On fourth day, he had begun answering emails badly. The fifth day, his secretary had started speaking to him in the careful voice people usually reserved for dangerous animals.

By the seventh, Seungcheol finally asked the question he had been pretending not to ask. “Did Jeonghan say where he was going?”

His secretary looked up from the tablet in his hands. “No.”

“Did he message?”

“No.”

“Did his manager?”

The secretary hesitated which was answer enough. Seungcheol’s gaze sharpened. “Why are you hesitating.”

“I called.”

Seungcheol went still. “When did you call?.”

“Yesterday.”

“And?”

“There was no answer. I couldn't get to him.”

He stared at him and then, said, “Call again.”

“I already did.”

“Try once again.”

The secretary didn’t move. Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. “Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He watched while the call went through. The poor secretary tried three time. The secretary lowered the phone, expression cautious. “Still nothing.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed. He did not like this.

It was one thing for Jeonghan to disappear on purpose just to irritate him. That, at least, would have been on brand.

Seungcheol grabbed his coat. “Cancel my afternoon.”

His secretary blinked. “You have back-to-back meetings.”

“Cancel. All. Of. Them.”

This time, the secretary didn’t argue.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Jeonghan’s apartment was dark when he arrived. The curtains were drawn and no sound came from inside. Seungcheol stood outside the door for a long moment before knocking. He waited for a while and knocked again. There was no answer.

He keyed in the spare access code Jeonghan had once scrawled on a napkin and shoved at him half-jokingly during dinner. The lock clicked open.

He stepped inside. The apartment was empty with no music or shoes kicked by the door or DuBu barking from somewhere down the hall. There was no scent of vanilla and clean laundry and the warm, maddening omega who filled every room as if he owned it.

“Jeonghan?”

His voice sounded wrong in the apartment. He moved room to room as if Jeonghan had never been here at all. Seungcheol stood in the center of the apartment, slowly turning in place as the silence thickened around him.

His fingers curled. His alpha instincts were already on edge, but now they had gone cold and sharp beneath his skin. He took out his phone and called again. It went straight to voicemail. He tried the manager next.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The front desk at the agency recognised him immediately because no one in Seoul walked into a model agency looking like he was about to set the building on fire.

“Mr. Choi,” the receptionist said carefully. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No.”

“Then I’m afraid....”

“I’m here for Jeonghan.”

The woman’s expression changed at once. “Mr. Yoon isn’t available.”

“Is he sick.”

“I’m not authorised to discuss...”

“Is he in the building.”

“No.”

“Then where is he.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t...”

Seungcheol cut her off with a look that made a row of people at the far desk suddenly develop urgent interest in their keyboards. “Call his manager.”

The receptionist hesitated. “Now.”

The manager arrived five minutes later with a strained smile and a face that said he had already had the worst week of his life.

“Mr. Choi,” he said, bowing politely. “This is unexpected.”

“Where is Jeonghan?”

The smile tightened. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose that.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed. “Why not.”

“Because he asked for privacy.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one I’m allowed to give.”

Seungcheol took one step closer.

The manager’s composure flickered. “He requested three weeks’ leave after leaving you that day.”

Then Seungcheol, very carefully, “He what? why?”

The manager swallowed. “He did not say.”

“Where is he.”

“I don’t know.”

Seungcheol stared at him.

The manager looked genuinely miserable.

“I’m telling the truth,” he said quietly. “He came to the office himself. He asked for the time off. He said he would not be available for any calls, visits, or shoots.”

Seungcheol’s hands went cold.

Seungcheol’s voice dropped. “Why wasn’t I told.”

The manager met his eyes and looked even more tired. “Because he told us not to tell you.”

Seungcheol was aware, distantly, that the people in the lobby had gone very still.

That was the moment Seungcheol almost laughed. It was not funny because Jeonghan had done exactly what he said he would do. He had stepped back and had disappeared.

Because Seungcheol had made him feel unwelcome and Seungcheol had asked, in that sharp, ugly way he still regretted, Who are you to me?

Jeonghan had heard the question, and instead of fighting, he had chosen to leave quietly enough not to disturb him again.

Seungcheol felt something unpleasant and unfamiliar twist in his chest.

Seungcheol looked up.

“If he contacts you, you tell him to call me.”

The manager was quiet for a second. Then he nodded carefully. “Yes, sir.”

Then he walked out.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

That night, Seungcheol sat in his office alone. His laptop was open with unanswered emails stacked up on the screen. The plant by the window had not needed watering. The office looked exactly as it should have. And for the first time, that made it unbearable.

He stared at the couch where Jeonghan used to sprawl and at the corner where Dubu would sleep in a perfect little curled-up ball.

At the bookshelf that Jeonghan had rearranged and Seungcheol had never bothered to fix. His gaze dropped to the coffee table. There was still a single crumb in the seam near the edge probably from one of Jeonghan’s pastries.

Seungcheol reached for it, then stopped himself halfway. His phone buzzed. He snatched it up too quickly. It was nothing but a work message. He exhaled through his nose. 

He had wanted peace, silence and Jeonghan to stop walking into his office and smiling like trouble had a name.

Now the silence had returned, and it felt wrong.

He thumbed open his messages and scrolled upward.

He typed.

Call me.

The message sent.

The room remained quiet.

Outside, the city moved on.

Inside, Seungcheol sat very still, the only sign of tension the hard line of his jaw and the hand that would not stop hovering over his phone.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Three weeks was not a long time. At least, that was what Seungcheol told himself.  A CEO of three international companies could survive twenty-one days without one irritating omega walking into his office uninvited.

He could survive twenty-one days without hearing someone criticise his furniture.

He could survive. The problem was he had. And he hated that he had because the office had become exactly what it was before Jeonghan.

It was quiet, efficient, organised and empty.

The plant by the window was still alive.

That annoyed him the most because every morning when he arrived, he saw it. A stupid little reminder that Jeonghan had been there and he had touched things, changed things and left pieces of himself behind without even trying.

Seungcheol had not moved the plant.

He told himself it was because it was healthy.

It was not because Jeonghan had once said: "Your office looks like it belongs to someone who forgot happiness exists."

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The first sign came in the morning as his secretary entered his office. "Sir."

Seungcheol looked up immediately. He hated that his body reacted before his mind did. "What?"

His secretary noticed. "Mr. Yoon has returned."

The room went silent. Seungcheol's fingers stopped moving over the document in front of him. "When?"

"This morning."

"Is he at the agency?"

"Yes."

Seungcheol waited.

His secretary looked uncomfortable. "...But he did not ask to see you."

The words should not have hurt but they did. Seungcheol leaned back slowly. "I didn't ask."

His secretary carefully added, "He also hasn't replied to any of your messages."

Seungcheol's expression didn't change. "When did I message him?"

The secretary looked down. "Every day, Sir."

Seungcheol's eyes lifted. His secretary immediately regretted knowing how to read messages. "I didn't mean..."

"Leave."

"Yes, sir."

The door closed. He had sent a message every day. And Jeonghan had ignored every single one.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The flowers were returned at noon. That was when Seungcheol finally lost patience. He had not sent anything extravagant.

He had specifically avoided anything that could be misunderstood. It was a simple arrangement with white lilies and a welcome back card.

By evening, he was standing outside Jeonghan's apartment. The exact same place where three weeks ago, he had found nothing.

Finally, a neighbour opened their door slightly. "Are you looking for Mr. Yoon?"

Seungcheol turned. "Yes."

The older woman smiled politely. "Oh, he isn't here much anymore."

His chest tightened. "What do you mean."

"He stays with Master Joshua these days."

The name registered immediately.

Joshua Hong.

The omega model who is internationally famous and Jeonghan's closest friend. Seungcheol had met him once. A calm, elegant omega who somehow managed to balance Jeonghan's chaos.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Joshua's apartment was across the city. The door opened before he knocked.

Joshua stood there, immediately guarded. "CEO Choi."

Seungcheol looked past him. "Where is he."

Joshua's expression didn't change. "Hello to you too."

"Joshua. Where is Jeonghan."

"He is inside."

"Let me see him."

"No."

The answer was immediate. Seungcheol's jaw tightened. "No? Why?"

Joshua folded his arms.

"You don't get to decide that." Seungcheol further added.

"I do when my best friend spent three weeks recovering from feeling like he wasn't wanted. He came home from your office and apologised for defending you. He cried. He said he embarrassed you. And that he said he crossed a line. He said he didn't know what he was to you."

The words felt familiar because Seungcheol remembered.

Joshua watched him carefully. "Do you know what hurt him the most? It was not that you scolded him or that you were angry."

"Then what."

"He thought you regretted him. He thought you hated that he was in your life."

Joshua stepped back slightly. "He's not angry with you. He just decided he won't bother you anymore."

The sentence followed Seungcheol long after it was spoken. "Can I see him?"

Joshua looked toward the apartment. "No."

The refusal was softer this time.

"Why."

"Because he will forgive you immediately."

Seungcheol frowned. Joshua smiled sadly. "And he shouldn't have to."

The door began to close. Before it did, Joshua added, "Give him time."

Then the door shut.

Seungcheol stood there but this time the silence was different.

Because now he knew Jeonghan hadn't been trying to punish him. He hadn't disappeared to make him chase. He had simply believed what Seungcheol said.

Seungcheol returned home that night. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to admit something.

He missed Jeonghan, the impossible omega who stole his food, the idiot who walked into traffic for a puppy, the menace who rearranged his office and the person who somehow made Seungcheol's perfectly controlled life feel less empty.

His phone remained silent.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

The universe had a cruel sense of humour. Seungcheol was convinced of it.

The first place he saw Jeonghan again was a gala. A room where Seungcheol had no choice but to remain composed, the exact kind of place where Jeonghan had first walked into his life and stolen his peace.

This time, Jeonghan did not look like someone trying to annoy him.

"CEO Choi."

He barely heard the greeting. His attention was across the ballroom. Jeonghan stood beside Joshua. Both were dressed impeccably. Joshua wore a dark navy suit, calm and graceful as always. Jeonghan wore white, a soft, expensive-looking suit that made him look exactly like the angel the media always called him.

He smiled politely at everyone, but Seungcheol. The realisation felt sharper than expected.

Before, Jeonghan always found him. His eyes always found Seungcheol first.

Tonight they didn't.

Joshua noticed him before Jeonghan did. His gaze moved briefly toward Seungcheol, then back to Jeonghan. Seungcheol hated that he could not understand it. Then Joshua leaned closer and said something.

Jeonghan turned. Their eyes met. For one second, Seungcheol saw the old Jeonghan. Then it disappeared and replaced by courtesy.

Jeonghan gave him a small bow. "Mr. Choi."

Now that title felt wrong. He had been called worse by Jeonghan.

Grumpy.

Cold.

Impossible.

Alpha.

Cheol.

Anything was better than Mr. Choi. "Jeonghan."

His voice came out lower than intended.

Jeonghan waited like he was waiting for a business request.

Seungcheol stepped closer. "You disappeared."

The moment the words left him, he regretted them.

Jeonghan's expression barely changed. "I apologise. I had some personal matters to handle."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it was necessary."

Seungcheol looked at him. "Not necessary? After everything?"

Jeonghan's eyes flickered, but he was composed. "I think we may have misunderstood each other. I mean, I did. I misunderstood my place."

Seungcheol's expression changed. "Jeonghan."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause inconvenience that day. I am so sorry.."

"You were never an inconvenience."

For a second, Seungcheol thought he had reached him but then Jeonghan looked away. "That's kind of you to say."

Seungcheol hated how far away he suddenly felt. "I want to talk."

Jeonghan glanced toward Joshua. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

Then Jeonghan smiled, because apparently even now, even hurt, even after everything, he still tried to make things easier for Seungcheol. "Because I don't want to disturb you."

Seungcheol went still. "Jeonghan."

But the omega was already stepping back. "Enjoy the evening, Mr. Choi."

"Don't call me that."

Then he gave a small, polite smile. "Goodnight."

And he walked away.

Seungcheol stood there watching him leave.

"You're really going to let him walk away?" Joshua's voice came from beside him.

Seungcheol didn't look over. "You told me to give him time. You told me he needed space. Then why are you asking?"

Joshua sighed. "Because there is a difference between giving someone space and letting them believe they mean nothing to you."

Seungcheol's jaw tightened. "I never said he meant nothing."

Joshua looked toward where Jeonghan stood now, surrounded by people. "That's the problem. You never said anything."

The words landed because they were true.

Seungcheol had shown up, protected, worried and had stayed.

But every time Jeonghan got close to the truth, Seungcheol hid behind irritation.

Joshua's voice softened. "Do you know what Jeonghan told me after leaving your office?"

Seungcheol didn't answer.

"He said, 'I thought he hated that I cared.' He thought you were angry because you didn't want him to feel close to you. I told him he was wrong. He asked, 'If I stop bothering him, will he be happier?'"

Seungcheol had nothing to say to that.

When the gala ended, Seungcheol did not leave immediately. He waited. When Jeonghan passed him near the entrance with Joshua beside him, Seungcheol couldn't stop himself. "Jeonghan."

The omega stopped. "Yes, Mr. Choi?"

Seungcheol swallowed.

There were a thousand things he wanted to say.

I'm sorry.

I was wrong.

I missed you.

You were never a disturbance.

You never bothered me.

You are the only person who ever made me feel like home.

But the words stayed trapped because Seungcheol Choi was very good at many things.

But apparently saying the one thing that mattered most was the hardest thing he had ever done.

So instead, he said the only thing he could. "Take care."

Jeonghan's expression softened for a second. "You too. Mr. Choi"

And he left.

This time, Seungcheol did not follow because chasing Jeonghan while refusing to give him what he needed was not love.

It was selfishness so he stood there.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Seungcheol is in the middle of signing a contract when his secretary calls. The sound is sharp enough that he frowns at the screen.

He answers without looking up. “What.”

There is a beat of hesitation on the other end. “Sir.”

His secretary almost never sounds unsure.

“What happened? Mr. Yoon is at a club with Mr. Joshua. And he appears to be very drunk.”

“Send me the address.”

“Already done.”

He ends the call and stands so quickly his chair rolls back into the wall.

The club is the kind of place that pretends not to have a dress code because the dress code is money. People laugh too loudly and touch each other too casually.

Seungcheol hates it instantly. He hates the fact that his alpha instincts are already snarling the moment he steps inside. And he hates even more that he can smell Jeonghan before he sees him. He finds Joshua first.

The other omega is standing near the bar, one hand braced against the counter, looking annoyingly calm for someone who has clearly accepted that this entire evening has become his problem.

Joshua spots him immediately. “Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol doesn’t return the greeting. “Where is he.”

Joshua lifts his chin toward the dance floor.

And there he is, his black shirt half-unbuttoned, hair loose around his face, cheeks flushed pink from drink and heat and motion. He is dancing like the music belongs to him, like the room was built to orbit around his very existence.

One hand is lifted above his head and the other rests carelessly at his side. He is smiling too drunk.

Then Seungcheol noticed the man beside him with broad shoulders, expensive rings, leather jacket and the kind of smile that made Seungcheol's instincts immediately bristle. The stranger leaned closer said something near Jeonghan's ear.

Jeonghan laughed politely and stepped sideways. The man followed. His hand landed on Jeonghan's waist. Everything inside Seungcheol snapped, his blood ran hot, possessive instinct crashed over reason before he could think.

He crossed the dance floor in seconds.

The man reached for Jeonghan again, but a hand caught his wrist first. The stranger looked up. "...What the hell?"

Seungcheol's voice was frighteningly calm. "Take. It. Away. From. Him."

The man frowned. "Who are you?"

Seungcheol didn't answer. His entire attention was on Jeonghan.

The omega blinked slowly. "...Cheol?"

The nickname hit harder than it should have. His eyes were unfocused, sleepy, drunk enough that he hadn't even realised who was touching him.

The stranger scoffed. "He's fine."

Seungcheol finally looked at him. "No."

His Alpha's scent rolled through the air, heavy and protective. "Leave."

The stranger hesitated. Something in Seungcheol's expression made him reconsider every decision that had brought him here tonight. He muttered something under his breath before disappearing back into the crowd. Seungcheol watches until he is gone.

Then he turns back to Jeonghan. Jeonghan is still smiling.

Seungcheol is not. “Can you stand?”

Jeonghan blinks at him. Then, with all the solemnity of a very small child, raises one hand. “Maybe.”

That is not reassuring, isn't it?

Seungcheol reaches for him. Jeonghan immediately lifts both arms defensively but changed his decision immediately. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m dancing.”

“You’re barely standing.”

“I’m still dancing.”

Seungcheol stares at him. Jeonghan stares back. The music thumps around them.

Joshua has the decency to look amused and miserable at the same time. “Han, go with him.”

Jeonghan points at Seungcheol. “No.”

Seungcheol’s expression hardens. “Jeonghan.”

“No.”

“Do not make this difficult.”

Jeonghan’s lips purse. “You’re not my boss.”

Seungcheol’s hand flexes at his side. Joshua senses the shift immediately and starts toward them, but too late. Seungcheol steps in close, one hand sliding around Jeonghan’s waist, the other catching the back of his shoulder.

Jeonghan gasps, half indignant and half surprised. “Cheol...”

He tries to pull away. Seungcheol does not let him. “Put me down.”

“No.”

“I said put me down.”

“No.”

Jeonghan glares at him, flushed and unsteady and infuriatingly pretty. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“Yes.”

Jeonghan blinks. “I knew you were dramatic.”

Seungcheol looks at Joshua over Jeonghan’s shoulder. “I’m taking him to my penthouse.”

Joshua nodded while Jeonghan stiffens in Seungcheol’s hold. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, I did hear you, I’m just asking why you think that is a good idea.”

Seungcheol lifts him completely off the floor now. Jeonghan makes a disbelieving noise and immediately starts struggling harder. “Seungcheol!”

“Stop moving.”

“Put me down right now.”

“Absolutely not.”

Joshua clears his throat. “Do you need me to come?”

Seungcheol tightens his hold on Jeonghan as Jeonghan writhes like an angry cat. “No.”

Jeonghan points at Joshua. “Don’t let him do this.”

Joshua watches him with the exhausted fondness of a best friend who has seen too much.

“You’re drunk,” he says.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“You are absolutely that drunk.”

Jeonghan turns his head and squints at him. “Traitor.”

Joshua shrugs.

He twists again in Seungcheol’s arms. “Cheol, let me go.”

“No.”

“I can walk.”

“You can barely insult me properly.”

Jeonghan gasps in outrage. Joshua laughs under his breath.

Seungcheol shifts his hold to make sure Jeonghan can’t slip free, and Jeonghan reacts immediately, grabbing the front of his shirt with both hands. “Don’t you dare carry me out like this.”

“I already am.”

“I will ruin your reputation.”

“You’ve tried.”

“I’ll bite you.”

“Then do it.”

Jeonghan looks briefly offended that he has been challenged. Then, because he is Jeonghan, he actually opens his mouth like he might. Seungcheol stares at him.

Jeonghan paused then closes his mouth again with a mutter of, “You’re really unfair.”

The crowd around them is openly watching now. A few people have started taking photos. Joshua notices and immediately steps forward, blocking the angle with his body.

“Move,” he tells two fascinated onlookers, using a tone that says he will destroy their lives if necessary.

They moved. Seungcheol starts walking. Jeonghan pounds a fist lightly against his chest. “I did not agree to this.”

“You’re going home. I am taking you home.”

“I’m not done. I am still dancing.”

“You almost let a stranger touch you.”

Jeonghan blinks at that, as though the sentence has only just reached him “...Were you jealous?”

Seungcheol’s answer is immediate. “No.”

Jeonghan smiles into his shoulder. “Liar.”

“I said no.”

“You said it too fast.”

Seungcheol does not respond. He does not need to. His silence is answer enough. Jeonghan, maddeningly, seems delighted by this. “Cheol.”

“What.”

“Did you came for me immediately?”

“Yes.”

“That’s sweet.”

Jeonghan makes a thoughtful noise. “I like when you’re possessive.”

Seungcheol nearly trips. Joshua, walking behind them, chokes on a laugh. Seungcheol’s ears go faintly red.

Jeonghan feels it immediately and goes very still for half a second.

“Oh, you are blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Keep talking and I’ll carry you upside down.”

Jeonghan gasps all over again. “You wouldn’t.”

Joshua lifts a hand in surrender. “He would.”

Jeonghan whips his head around. “Whose side are you on?”

Seungcheol continues walking without slowing.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

By the time they reach the private elevator at the penthouse, Jeonghan has stopped fighting quite so hard. He is still grumbling, glaring, muttering threatening things that sound much less intimidating in his drunken voice, but his hands have loosened in Seungcheol’s shirt.

Inside the elevator, Seungcheol sets him down only long enough to press the button for the penthouse.

Jeonghan immediately sways and catches himself against his shoulder.

“Don’t think this means I forgive you,” he says.

Seungcheol loops down at him. “I’m not asking for forgiveness.”

Jeonghan blinks. For one moment, he seems to have sobered enough to hear the seriousness in that answer.

Then the elevator doors slide shut, only the two of them remain.

And Seungcheol, with Jeonghan pressed close enough to feel warm through the silk of his shirt, is suddenly aware of every inch of him.

Seungcheol closes his eyes briefly then opens them again before he does something stupid.

Jeonghan notices the movement. “Why are you making that face?”

“You danced with a man who looked like a criminal. He touched you.”

Jeonghan added,. “You really didn’t like that.”

Seungcheol says nothing. He steps out with Jeonghan in his arms again. Jeonghan immediately starts protesting. “I can walk. I’m not a child, put me down.”

“No.”

“I will scream.”

“Go ahead.”

Jeonghan looks deeply betrayed by this level of calm. “I hate you. You’re impossible. You’re carrying me like stolen property.”

Seungcheol turns toward the hallway. “Then stop acting surprised when I take what is mine.”

Jeonghan goes completely still. Seungcheol realises, one beat too late, exactly how that sounded.

Jeonghan slowly looks up at him. His cheeks are pink, not from drink. His eyes are wide now, a little clearer than before.

And for once, he has nothing clever to say. Seungcheol’s throat tightens. Jeonghan’s fingers curl lightly into his jacket.

Then, just when Seungcheol thinks he might actually have to explain himself, Jeonghan huffs and mutters, “You are so dramatic and cheesy.”

Jeonghan squints up at him. “Are you taking me home or kidnapping me?”

“Both.”

The door to the penthouse opens and warm light spills across the marble floor.

Jeonghan makes it exactly three steps into the penthouse before wobbling as Seungcheol puts him back on the floor.

Seungcheol catches his elbow automatically.

"I didn't fall."

"You were about to."

Jeonghan huffs. "I still don't know why I'm here."

"Because you were drunk."

"I wasn't that drunk."

Seungcheol closes the front door behind them. "Bathroom."

"No."

"Jeonghan."

"I don't want to."

"You smell like a nightclub and expensive alcohol. You smell like whiskey. We are not arguing on this. The bathroom is upstairs."

"I know where bathrooms are."

Five minutes later, Jeonghan is still standing in exactly the same place.

"I refuse doing anything because you're being bossy."

"I'm trying to stop you from sleeping in alcohol-soaked clothes."

Jeonghan narrows his eyes. "I don't like you."

"So you've said several times. I counted. You said it at least thirteen times."

Jeonghan looks personally offended that he'd been keeping score.

Seungcheol walks upstairs without another word. When he comes back down, he is holding a neatly folded set of dark gray pyjamas.

He offers them silently. Jeonghan stares. "...Those are yours. They're too big. I'll look ridiculous."

"Jeonghan."

Jeonghan snatches them out of his hands. "I still don't like you."

He disappears toward the guest bathroom, muttering complaints under his breath. "I can't believe I'm being bullied in designer clothes..."

"...dictator alpha..."

"...kidnapping people..."

The bathroom door closes.

A minute later, Seungcheol hears the shower turn on. Only then does he finally allow himself to exhale.

While Jeonghan washes up, Seungcheol took a shower himself and changes into a clean T-shirt and lounge pants quickly. He leaves a glass of water and headache medicine on the bedside table in the guest room.

Then changes his mind, he carries them into his own bedroom instead.

He pauses halfway through setting them down. "...ridiculous."

He doesn't know whether he's talking about Jeonghan or himself.

The bathroom door opens nearly half an hour later. Seungcheol looks up from the armchair... and immediately has to look away again.

The sleeves of the pyjamas swallow Jeonghan's hands. The pant legs are rolled twice over. The shirt hangs off one shoulder, exposing the curve of his collarbone.

His damp hair falls into sleepy eyes. He looks impossibly small wrapped in clothes that clearly belong to someone else.

Jeonghan blinks slowly. "They're warm."

Seungcheol clears his throat. "They've just come out of the dryer."

"I like them."

Jeonghan pads barefoot across the room.

Dubu would have approved of those tiny, silent steps. He stops directly in front of Seungcheol. "...You're staring."

"I'm not."

"You were. ...you still worry too much."

The words are so quiet Seungcheol almost misses them.

He doesn't answer. Instead, he picks up the glass of water. "Drink."

Jeonghan obeys without complaint and then he took the medicine without any argument.

"Come on."

Jeonghan tilts his head. "Now what? Where am I supposed to go?"

"Bed, ... you need to sleep."

"Oh."

He sounds almost disappointed that it isn't a more interesting destination. Seungcheol guides him toward his bed.

Jeonghan sits obediently. Then simply, stares.

"What is it now?"

"I forgot how beds work."

Seungcheol looked stunned, but kept calm. "You lie down."

"Oh."

"Can you manage that?"

"I think so."

Jeonghan tips sideways dramatically until his head lands on the pillow. Seungcheol pulls the blanket over him, adjusts the pillow and tucks the comforter carefully around his shoulders.

Jeonghan watches him through half-lidded eyes. "...You're gentle... gentler than people think."

Seungcheol stills. He brushes damp hair away from Jeonghan's forehead. "Go to sleep."

Jeonghan shifts restlessly beneath the blankets.

His brows knit.

Without thinking, Seungcheol lets a faint thread of calming pheromones drift into the room, it was not overwhelming, just enough to ease the lingering tension and help an exhausted omega relax.

Almost immediately, Jeonghan's shoulders loosen. His breathing evens.

"There you go, sleep," Seungcheol murmurs.

He turns to leave and a sleepy hand catches the edge of his shirt. "...Cheol."

Seungcheol looks back. "What."

"Stay, you should sleep too."

"I'm fine."

Jeonghan's grip tightens with surprising determination. "No, the bed's big. It is, so come here."

"I'm sleeping in the guest room."

"No."

Jeonghan frowns as though this is the most unreasonable thing Seungcheol has ever said. "...You're stubborn. I said come here."

Seungcheol hesitates, every instinct tells him to refuse. And a part of him tells that leaving now will only end with Jeonghan wandering the penthouse looking for him.

With a quiet sigh of surrender, he walks to the other side of the bed and lies down next to him, leaving a careful stretch of space between them.

"I am here now."

"I said stay, not to leave space to play football, come closer."

"...Jeonghan."

"If you come closer, I will sleep. Else, I will stay awake and annoy you."

Seungcheol gives him a long look.

Then, despite every sensible objection in his head, shifts a little nearer. "Happy?"

"Mhm."

He was happy for approximately three seconds, then Jeonghan rolls across the mattress, straight into him. Before Seungcheol can react, Jeonghan has curled against his side like it is the most natural thing in the world.

His forehead brushes lightly against the side of Seungcheol's neck, near his scent glands.

He breathes in slowly and contentedly.

"Mmm..."

Seungcheol freezes. "Jeonghan..."

"You always smell good. It is so comforting."

Seungcheol's heartbeat becomes painfully obvious. "You should sleep."

"I am."

Jeonghan nuzzles a fraction closer, seeking warmth and the familiar, calming scent that had settled his racing mind.

Then, in the small, unguarded way only someone half-asleep can manage, he mumbles against Seungcheol's shoulder,

"...Mine."

The single word is barely audible so soft it could almost have been imagined.

Seungcheol's breath catches. For a long moment, he doesn't move at all. Then, very carefully, he lifts one hand and rests it lightly against Jeonghan's back, to steady him.

Jeonghan relaxes instantly.

Seungcheol watches him in the dim light filtering through the windows. The man who ran into burning buildings without hesitation, who adopted every stray he found, spoiled children, rearranged offices, and filled every room he entered with impossible, exhausting life.

Now asleep, trusting him completely.

Seungcheol closes his eyes briefly.

"...Troublemaker," he whispers.

There is no annoyance left in the word but quiet affection.

Jeonghan doesn't hear it or perhaps he does.

Because even asleep, the corners of his mouth lift into the faintest smile, and he nestles a little closer before settling again.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

Jeonghan wakes up to the warmth. His pillow... was somehow breathing.

Jeonghan's eyes snapped open. For several seconds, he doesn't move.

And because it means acknowledging that he is currently curled up against, Seungcheol. His eyes slowly open.

Jeonghan looks down. His hand is resting against Seungcheol's chest, legs are tangled with his, face is pressed dangerously close to the place where an Alpha's scent is strongest.

His entire body freezes.

Oh.

Oh no.

Jeonghan tries to move away. He barely shifts an inch.

A strong arm immediately tightens around his waist. "No."

Jeonghan stops. His voice is rough with sleep. "...You're awake?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Since you tried escaping."

Jeonghan looks away.

"I wasn't escaping."

Seungcheol opens his eyes. Even half-asleep, he looks unfairly composed. "Why are you leaving?"

Jeonghan's expression changes. The playful answer doesn't come. Instead, he lowers his gaze. "I shouldn't be here."

Seungcheol's brows pull together. "Why."

"I don't want to become a burden."

The words are so soft that Seungcheol almost misses them and something inside him tightens.

"Jeonghan."

"I'm serious. I cause trouble."

"You do."

Jeonghan winces slightly.

Seungcheol immediately continues. "You throw yourself into danger. You adopt every animal you see. You walk into my office without permission and rearrange things. You invade my schedule. You argue with strangers. You scare me half to death."

Jeonghan goes quiet. There it was, the truth hidden beneath all the complaints.

Seungcheol's hand moves slowly, gently brushing Jeonghan's hair away from his face. "You think I was annoyed because you were a burden?"

Jeonghan doesn't answer. Seungcheol exhales. "Jeonghan, you are the most exhausting person I have ever met."

Jeonghan gives a tiny, offended look. "That is not romantic."

"I wasn't finished, you are reckless. You ran into a burning building."

"There was a child."

"You brought home a puppy that tried to eat my shoes. You spent your entire fortune on children who aren't even related to you. You refuse to ask anyone for help. And somehow... somehow, you think all of that makes you a burden."

Jeonghan looks away. "Maybe it does."

"No."

The firmness makes Jeonghan look back.

Seungcheol's expression is serious. "You are not a burden. Even if you were... you're my burden. And I love this burden. I am sorry for what I said the other day."

Jeonghan forgets how to breathe.

Seungcheol continues before he can hide behind a joke after pressing a kiss to Jeonghan's forehead.

"I love that you bother me. I love that you make my office impossible. I love that you care about everyone before yourself. I love that children smile when you walk into a room. I love that animals trust you. I love that you make me worry. I hate worrying. But I love that it's because it's you."

Jeonghan's throat tightens.

Seungcheol cups his face.

"I don't want a life where you stop coming to me because you're afraid you're too much. I don't want a quieter office. I don't want fewer arguments. I don't want you to become someone easier to lose. I want this."

Jeonghan looks down quickly. Seungcheol lifts his chin up to see Seungcheol smiling, it was the one Jeonghan has only seen a handful of times. It makes his chest hurt.

Then Seungcheol leans down and kisses him like he is asking permission even after all his words. Jeonghan freezes for only a second before he melts.

When Seungcheol pulls away, he doesn't go far. "I love you."

The words are simple and certain, but, Jeonghan stares.

"You... Do you really mean that?"

"Yes."

"Even when I'm annoying?"

"Especially then."

"I am very annoying. I cause trouble. I might still shove people away if they flirt with you."

Seungcheol pauses. Jeonghan's eyes become slightly brighter. "Well? Can I do that?"

Seungcheol stares at him long enough that Jeonghan becomes nervous.

Then, "We can politely turn them away."

Jeonghan blinks. "...Politely? How is that? What if they touch you?"

"Then I will handle it."

"And what if I want to?"

Seungcheol sighs. "Jeonghan."

"I'm asking."

A small smile pulls at Seungcheol's lips, then he says,  "Maybe we can solve the problem another way."

Jeonghan tilts his head. "How?"

Seungcheol's hand slides into his. "We can get married, be mates, have some kids. So everyone knows that I'm not available. And that I am yours."

Jeonghan's eyes widen. The teasing answer doesn't come because beneath the words, he hears the truth. Seungcheol isn't claiming him like a possession. He's choosing him, publicly and completely.

Jeonghan swallows. "You... you really want that? With me?"

Seungcheol looks almost offended. "Who else would I want? I don't want anyone. And  I don't want anyone taking you away from me."

Jeonghan smiles. "You know... you sound very possessive."

"I am."

"You're admitting it?"

"Yes."

"Wow."

"You like it."

Jeonghan tries to look serious, but he failed. "Maybe."

Seungcheol pulls him closer. "Good. And you were never a burden. You never was. You were just waiting for someone to tell you that. Even if you are, I would love that burden to be mine."

Jeonghan has no joke or clever reply prepared for that. So he does the one thing he rarely allows himself to do, he rests against Seungcheol.

And when Seungcheol wraps his arms around him again, Jeonghan lets himself believe that maybe some people don't leave and some people choose to stay.

ִ་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘ִ🪽་༘࿐𝄞𝄢℘

There were three things the media knew about Choi Seungcheol. He was one of the youngest CEOs to build an international business empire, second was he was terrifying in negotiations and third he was hopelessly, embarrassingly possessive of his omega husband.

The first two were business news.

The third was public knowledge.

Because Choi Seungcheol had stopped pretending a long time ago. "Mr. Choi."

The reporter smiled brightly. "One last question."

Seungcheol paused on the red carpet. "There have been rumours that you has become... softer since getting married. Your employees say you smile now."

"They're mistaken."

"They also say your office is no longer beige."

Seungcheol sighed. "My husband redecorated."

"They say you let him."

"I lost."

Laughter rippled through the reporters. "And Mr. Yoon... sorry, Mr. Choi Jeonghan... isn't with you tonight?"

Seungcheol glanced at his watch. "He had another schedule."

The reporter grinned knowingly. "So he'll arrive later?"

"...Hopefully."

"Hopefully?"

"He usually arrives with a problem."

As if the universe had been waiting for that sentence, Seungcheol's phone vibrated.

He answered immediately. "What happened?"

The secretary sounded tired. "...Sir."

"What."

"It's Mr. Choi."

Seungcheol closed his eyes. "What did Jeonghan do?"

"...Nothing intentionally. But, there was... an incident."

"What incident?"

"A charity event. He rescued a kitten from a tree ...by climbing the tree himself."

Seungcheol pinched the bridge of his nose. "And?"

"The fire department is here. They're trying to get your husband down."

The reporter standing nearby was watching with undisguised curiosity.

Seungcheol spoke very calmly. "Is he hurt?"

"No."

"Is the kitten hurt?"

"No."

"...Then why is the fire department involved?"

"Don't worry Sir. The firefighters recognise him. They greeted him by name. But, he refuses to come down. He says the branch looks unstable. And now he's scared of heights."

Seungcheol inhaled slowly. "I'll be there."

Twenty minutes later, he was wherever Jeonghan was. Jeonghan sat on a thick branch about five meters above the ground.

The tiny orange kitten was sleeping comfortably in his lap.

"CHOI JEONGHAN!"

Jeonghan looked at him. He... looked significantly less comfortable. "I can explain."

Seungcheol folded his arms. "I'm listening."

"There was a kitten. It was crying. So I climbed. But I forgot ...that getting up is easier than getting down."

The firefighters were trying very hard not to laugh. One of them whispered, "Sir, we've offered ladders. He says they're too shaky."

Seungcheol looked up again. "Jeonghan. First, you forgot that cats can come down themselves. Second, I have told you not to do this."

"Sorry?"

"Come down."

"I can't."

"You climbed up."

A few people laughed openly and Jeonghan pouted. "It isn't funny."

Seungcheol shook his head, even after an year of marriage, nothing had changed.

His husband still treated danger like an inconvenience and threw himself into impossible situations because someone, or something needed help.  And Seungcheol, still came every single time.

He walked to the base of the tree. "Give me the kitten."

Jeonghan carefully handed the sleepy kitten down.

Seungcheol passed it to one of the volunteers.

Then he looked back up. "Now, climb down slowly"

Jeonghan hesitated.

Seungcheol stared at him. "You are thirty years old. You climbed a tree in a designer suit. You ignored the fire department. You gave me a heart attack."

Jeonghan looked appropriately guilty. "...Sorry."

The apology lasted exactly three seconds before he smiled again. "...You'll catch me?"

Seungcheol sighed. "Always."

Without another word, Jeonghan carefully climbed down the last few branches. His foot slipped on the final one and a small gasp escaped the crowd.

Before anyone else moved, Seungcheol was already there. His strong arms caught Jeonghan around the waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jeonghan laughed. "I told you."

Seungcheol looked at him with exasperated affection. "What?"

"You always come."

The mating mark on Jeonghan's neck peeked out from beneath his collar as he smiled, a clear, healed bite at the scent gland, one Seungcheol had placed after they had finally stopped running from what they both wanted.

Without thinking, Seungcheol brushed his thumb beneath it. It become a habit and reassurance.

Mine.

The reporters, of course, caught the entire thing. One of them called out, "CEO Choi! Any comment?"

Seungcheol looked at his husband, who was now proudly cuddling the rescued kitten as though he hadn't just needed rescuing himself. Then he looked back at the cameras.

"My husband believes every problem in Seoul is his responsibility."

Jeonghan grinned. "It usually is."

Seungcheol reached over and fixed Jeonghan's crooked tie.

"And apparently... he is my responsibility."

Another Six Years Later

The Choi residence was loud, far louder than any CEO's home had a right to be. There were tiny footsteps echoed down the hallway and someone giggled. and someone else screamed,

"Dada!"

Then, there was a sound of crash. Seungcheol didn't even flinch anymore.

He calmly folded the newspaper. "...Which one is it now?"

Their nanny appeared in the doorway with the expression of someone questioning every career choice she'd ever made. "Both."

Five-year-old twins burst into the living room.

"Dada!"

The older by exactly four minutes, Choi Yuna had leaves in her hair. The younger, Choi Yuri was holding what looked suspiciously like a turtle.

"Where did the turtle come from?"

Yuri beamed. "The pond in the garden!"

Jeonghan walked in behind them, covered in mud. "...Don't ask."

Seungcheol looked from his daughters ...to his husband ...back to his daughters... three identical innocent smiles... three identical expressions that absolutely meant trouble.

"They're your daughters."

Jeonghan gasped dramatically. "Our daughters."

Seungcheol pointed. "No, look at them."

Yuna had somehow climbed onto the back of the sofa. Yuri was introducing the turtle to Dubu, now older but still convinced he was a puppy.

Jeonghan had a butterfly sitting in his hair and didn't seem to notice. "They're miniature versions of you."

Jeonghan looked proud. "They're adorable and curious like how kids should be."

"They climbed onto the roof yesterday."

"They wanted to see stars."

"They brought home a duck and a hamster the other day."

"It looked lonely, Cheolie."

"They named the duck Choi."

Jeonghan blinked. "...That one was me. Choi is now family and hamster is Yoon by the way"

Seungcheol rubbed a hand over his face, there was a beat of silence. Then Yuna tugged at his sleeve. "Dada?"

"Yes?"

"Can we keep the turtle?"

"No."

Yuri immediately tried a different tactic. "What if he's lonely?"

Seungcheol looked at his daughters, with big eyes and hopeful expressions. The exact same expression Jeonghan wore whenever he wanted to adopt stray animals or climb unsafe structures.

He looked at his husband. Jeonghan smiled innocently. "It does look lonely."

Seungcheol stared for a long moment. Then sighed in complete surrender. "...One turtle."

The twins cheered loudly.

Jeonghan kissed his cheek. "I knew you'd say yes. You love us."

Yuna climbed onto Seungcheol's lap before he could object and Yuri followed immediately. The turtle was somehow included and Dubu barked happily from the floor and duck was in the pond.

Jeonghan curled up beside them on the sofa, leaning comfortably against Seungcheol's shoulder.

The living room became crowded, noisy and chaotic.

He has the kind of life Seungcheol had once believed he would hate. Now, he couldn't imagine living any other way. His daughters inherited Jeonghan's reckless kindness.

They rescued insects from puddles, collected injured birds, came home with stray kittens, butterflies, hamsters. The house will probably become a zoo.

They asked impossible questions, found impossible trouble. And every single time, their Appa would run toward the danger first.

Their Dada would arrive two minutes later, looking exasperated, already planning how to get all three of them home safely.

It became a family tradition. Jeonghan found trouble and the twins joined him. Seungcheol rescued all of them.

Every. Single. Time.

One evening, as the girls slept tangled together with Dubu at the foot of their bed.

"You know..."

Seungcheol looked over. "Hm?"

"You never stopped rescuing me."

Seungcheol smiled, a quiet smile reserved only for the people who owned his heart. "I never planned to stop it, Han."

Jeonghan rested his head on Seungcheol's shoulder, watching their daughters sleep.

"They're going to be impossible."

"They already are."

"They get it from me."

A comfortable silence settled over the room. Finally, Jeonghan whispered, "You remember what I used to ask?"

"What?"

"'You'll catch me?'"

Seungcheol kissed his lips saying,  "I remember."

Jeonghan looked at him with the same smile that had once walked into a gala and turned a CEO's orderly life upside down.

"So... will you always do that?"

Seungcheol leaned over and kissed the fading mating mark on Jeonghan's neck. "As long as I breathe."

Outside, Seoul glittered beneath the night sky.

Inside, the Choi home was a little too loud, a little too messy, and far too full of rescued animals.

It was also full of laughter, love and one impossible omega, two fearless little girls, and one possessive alpha who had finally learned that sometimes the greatest privilege wasn't rescuing the people you loved, it was getting to come home to them.

The End