Hanjae takes the stairs two at a time, anxious to leave that damn university and get back to Jiwoon.
He’s just outside the main doors when his phone rings again.

“I swear I’m going to resign,” he mutters to himself, pulling it out.

The name on the display makes him pause: Pier-hyung.

He brings the phone to his ear. “Hyung?”
“Hanjae, where are you?”
“At the university. Why?”
“Can you come over to the bar?”
“Hyung, this isn’t the time for me to go party. Jiwoon’s a wreck at home.”
“That’s the point. Jiwoon’s here. And he’s completely wasted.”

Hanjae freezes. “What?! And why the hell did you let him drink?!”
“I didn’t let him! He showed up already destroyed! He’s throwing pheromones everywhere and hitting on anything with a hole! If this keeps up, someone’s gonna knock him out!”
“Christ… can you hold him down? I’ll grab a cab.”
“We’re trying. But hurry.”

He hangs up and bolts toward the street, already opening the app to call the nearest taxi.

When the car stops in front of the bar, Hanjae hops out fast, tossing an extra bill to the driver and asking him to wait to take them back home.

In front of him, the familiar sign: The Interlude.
Pier’s pub. The one he opened years ago, when he dropped out of university to dedicate himself to cocktails, music, and karaoke.

He and Jiwoon used to come often, especially in the early years.
Now, though, there’s no nostalgia. Only gut-twisting worry.

He pushes the door open and steps in.

Music blaring, low lights, the dance floor already packed even though it’s only nine.
He scans the crowd and spots Pier, waving an arm high.

Next to him…
Jiwoon.

Dancing in the crowd, sweaty, glassy-eyed, wearing a crooked smile. But there’s one detail that chills Hanjae’s blood:
Jiwoon’s knuckles are torn open.
One hand bleeding, the other swollen.
Fresh out of a fight.

Hanjae rushes closer, grabbing his wrist. “What the hell did you do to your hands?”
Jiwoon jerks free with a laugh. “Relax. I didn’t hit anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
“Finally!” Pier snaps, exasperated. “Joonha already had to drag two alphas away before he started another brawl!”
“Jiwoon, have you lost your mind?”

Jiwoon only now recognizes him, his eyes lighting up. “Hanjae!”
Hanjae glares at him, exasperated. “How much have you had?” He snatches the bottle from his hand—it’s already empty.
“Does it matter?” Jiwoon shrugs, still dancing. “Can’t I have some fun for once?”
“Not like this. You’re not like this, Jiwoon… Let’s go home, tomorrow—”

He reaches for his arm, but Jiwoon shoves him away roughly.
“I’m sick of who I am, okay? I’m boring! A good alpha, responsible, polite. What bullshit!”
His eyes dart around, feverish. “But now I don’t owe anyone anything. I can do whatever the fuck I want. Like… fucking whoever I want.”

Hanjae steps between him and a thin boy he’d just eyed. An omega, clearly uncomfortable under Jiwoon’s feral pheromones.

“Jiwoon!”

Hanjae’s gaze is sharp. Cold.
“What the hell happened? Did you talk to Minji?”

Jiwoon laughs, staggering, slinging an arm over his shoulder.
“You know, Hanjae… If you were an omega, I’d fuck you too.”
Hanjae doesn’t move. “Should I take that as a yes?”
Jiwoon shoots him a cutting glance.
“Who cares? It’s over. Now move!.”

He tries to push him away, but Hanjae doesn’t budge.
“No. We’re going home.”
“I don’t want to go home! GET OUT OF MY WAY!” he roars, unleashing a wave of pheromones even stronger.

The room stiffens. Several omegas bolt in panic.
The tension is tangible. The air reeks of Alpha. Dominant. Dangerous.

But Hanjae doesn’t move.
“Your pheromones are screwing with everyone. If you go near an omega like this, it wouldn’t be consensual.”

His words are ice-cold. His gaze burns red-hot.
Jiwoon stares at him, frozen.

And for a moment, he’s just a boy on the verge of collapse again.
He steps back, eyes glassy.
Then shoulders past him and storms for the exit.
“Fine,” is all he says.

Outside, Hanjae guides the staggering raven toward the taxi still waiting. But when he opens the door, Jiwoon walks right past him.
“No. I want to walk.”
“You’re in no state to walk.”

Hanjae tries to stop him with a hand, but Jiwoon jerks free, snapping.
“Christ, Hanjae! Is it that hard to mind your fucking business for once?! Leave me alone!”
“No! Fuck no! You think I could just go home and leave you wandering around drunk, doing god knows what?!”
“I can handle myself. I’ll find someone to spend the night with!”
“Still with this bullshit?! Do you realize the state you’re in?!”
“WELL, I WANT TO DO IT ANYWAY!”

He spins around, face twisted with frustration, eyes bloodshot and raw.
“Don’t I have the right to… to fuck someone, huh?! Like he does! Or should I stay home, tearing myself apart, while he’s out with— with whoever?!”

His voice breaks. The images in his head stab his stomach like shards. He claps a hand over his mouth, stumbling. The mix of alcohol, rage, and grief surges to his throat.

Silence. Only his ragged breathing fills the night.

Then, a calmer voice. Deeper.
“Does it have to be an omega?”

Jiwoon looks up, confused, face still taut.
“What… what do you mean?”

Hanjae steps closer, his eyes glinting under the streetlamps, locked on Jiwoon’s.
“You said if I were an omega, you’d sleep with me. Remember?”

Jiwoon opens his mouth but no words come out. A shiver runs down his spine.

Hanjae takes his injured hand. Brings it to his lips and kisses the bloodied knuckles with disarming gentleness.
“If it’s feeling good you’re looking for… let me be the one to make you feel good.”

Jiwoon swallows hard. His throat dry.
“N-No… we’re both alphas… I-I wouldn’t even know where to start…”
“I would.”

Hanjae’s gaze grows sure, almost predatory.
“I can teach you. If you really want to forget, if you want to feel something that doesn’t hurt… come home with me.”

Jiwoon stays still. Then, without a word, he follows him.

The taxi ride is silent. But inside Jiwoon, something pulses. Roars.
Hanjae, meanwhile, doesn’t let himself hope. He doesn’t think anything will really happen. Jiwoon never had the courage to break certain rules. Alpha with alpha? Unacceptable, to anyone.
But at least he got him in the taxi. And once home, he’d put him to bed, give him some medicine, tend his hands. The rest could wait for tomorrow.

But the moment they step inside, Hanjae freezes.
The living room is a battlefield.
The TV shattered, table overturned, armchair toppled. On the floor, shredded fragments of photos: Jiwoon and Minji smiling, now just pieces. In the air, the acrid stench of pheromones gone wild. Jiwoon had exploded, and his pain soaked every corner of the room.

“So?”

The voice behind him is hoarse, low.
Hanjae spins around. Jiwoon stands at the doorway, hair disheveled, pupils bloodshot.

“What?”
“You said you’d teach me.”

There’s a dangerous shadow in his voice. Hanjae opens his mouth to reply, but doesn’t get the chance.

Jiwoon slams him against the wall, rough. One hand gripping his jaw, the other trembling.
His eyes blaze with an alpha’s fracture: desire, despair, rage.

“I’m done with broken promises, Hanjae.”
He leans closer, lips grazing his.
“Or do you want me to leave again?”

Hanjae’s heart pounds like mad. Eyes locked on his, Jiwoon’s breath hot against his face.

“Tomorrow I don’t want to hear a single complaint. Got it?”

Jiwoon doesn’t answer.
He doesn’t need to. His silence is surrender.

Hanjae breathes in deeply.
Then wets his lips slightly… and closes the distance between them.

He kisses him.
For the first time.