Mihoshi averted his eyes and proceeded to place the wine bottles and glasses on the low table. Whistles rang in his ears, cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. The noises from the open floor faded into echoes against the soundproof walls of the VIP room like clouds rolling in for a storm. He wanted to hurry up, but standard service required him to serve the glasses one by one in a neat arrangement. Presentation is key.

Suddenly, the manager halted her conversation, and directed her question to Sora, “What's the matter, Hokushin-san?”

Mihoshi froze. Something was wrong.

The producer and omega hosts also stopped their chatter to turn their attention to Sora, and Mihoshi belatedly realized that Sora must have released his pheromones. A sliver of pheromones from a dominant alpha was potent enough to trigger heat in omegas, and their dilated pupils and flushed cheeks were sufficient evidence.

The manager pulled out a handkerchief and covered the nose of the omega host closest to Sora. Though flimsy, it was still an attempt to prevent the omega from breathing in the thick pheromones.

Mihoshi almost expected the ventilation system to kick in.

Why would a dominant alpha release his pheromones in this setting? Surely it wasn't to swipe the four omega hosts from his colleagues. Not when he didn't choose to have one in the first place. Was it a disagreement? A bad mood?

Mihoshi hadn’t encountered many dominant alphas, so he wasn’t completely sure that he knew all the signs of their pheromone release. He could try observing Sora, but he would rather choke on whiskey than look at the man right now.

“My apologies,” Sora said.

Judging by the relief on the hosts’ faces, it seemed like Sora had reeled in his pheromones.

Despite many years having passed, Sora's deep voice still reverberated in Mihoshi's chest, sending tingles throughout his entire body. Hoarse whispers and moans in his ears. Their rough breaths mingling with each other. The dust scattering in the ray of sunlight filtering in from the windows of the empty classroom.

Mihoshi clenched his fist.

He was no longer young and stupid.

“If you would like to place another order, please feel free to use the tablet. Enjoy your evening.” He took a bow, avoided looking at Sora, and rushed out of the room before his resolve could crumble.

He leaned against the opposite wall, his heart drumming like a roaring storm. The butterflies he forced himself to ignore ran a riot in his stomach, flutters and dances that made his shoulders tremble and his legs weak. But lurking underneath the chaotic burst were the hisses of anxiety and fear slithering and coiling into a tight ball of thorns, stabbing him whenever he tried to near it.

How was it that the mere sight of Sora sent Mihoshi into a turmoil he couldn't make sense of? He could pick up the most subtle cues and body language of any alpha and omega to figure out the state of their emotions and pheromones—a skill he continued to hone over the years working at Red Lotus. He had always been good at reading people. He could pick up lies, hesitations, and all the smallest shifts which contributed to his quick judgement and reaction while dealing with out of control clients.

So if only he had looked at Sora for another second, perhaps he could figure out if Sora was still out to hurt him.

But he couldn't.

He didn't have the courage to look at Sora.

“How pathetic…” Mihoshi muttered to himself.

Would he rather live as a coward than knowing that Sora hated him?

“Because I'm a beta…”

After all these years, the reason still hasn't changed.

Mihoshi wiped the corner of his eyes and trudged down the hallway. That's enough. Let the past remain as the past. There was no point in chasing a useless dream.

The sound of the door opening behind Mihoshi stopped him in his tracks and reflex made him turn to address a concerned customer.

Standing against the pink and purple background, Sora's dark hair and intense eyes commanded the attention he deserved. The dark gray suit hid his toned body, straight pants tapered down his long legs. He had lost the boyish charms of a high school student, but now, his striking looks were extraordinarily more handsome. As though he had jumped out of a billboard or fashion magazine cover.

No wonder Mihoshi fell for him on the first day.

“Mihoshi.”

The sudden voice startled Mihoshi, and when Sora approached him, he instinctively took a step back until he reached the second floor balcony. He gripped the banisters, his knuckles turning white.

“Do you…require something, Sir?” Mihoshi silenced the tremble in his voice while his eyes were darting around for an escape path.

Sora stopped a few feet away, staring down at Mihoshi. In that close distance, their height and size difference became more apparent.

Craning his neck up to meet Sora's eyes, Mihoshi realized just how much Sora had grown since high school—190 centimeters tall, straight shoulders, and equally broad chest. The second puberty of a dominant alpha was really an astounding thing. It almost seemed unfair, even to regular alphas.

Though Mihoshi was of a smaller build, he was physically fit from training and work. He hardly ever felt intimidated by anyone bigger than him, fully confident in his skills to defend himself and immobilize anyone hostile towards him. But in the face of Sora, everything he had built began to crumble like a sandcastle washed away by the aggressive waves.

“Surely, you remember me.” Sora broke into a smile. A mere tug at the corner of his lips, barely moved muscles; his eyes remained flat and steady, scrutinizing Mihoshi like a lab rat.

Of course. How could Mihoshi ever forget? His first love was a tornado that ran rampant through his final year of high school, a tempestuous gale that converged joyful bliss with the bitter taste of betrayal and fear. The hushed whispers, the sweet promises, the aggressive growls, and the tightening grip around his neck.

It was all Sora.

It had always all been Sora.

Mihoshi swallowed the lump in his throat. “Long…long time, huh?”

He couldn't sound any more pathetic. His quivering gaze dropped to the carpet floor, wishing someone would request some help through the earpiece so he could make an escape. But no one needed anything.

“I thought…you were in Canada.”

“I was,” Sora said. “I was in Canada. Alone.”

Mihoshi bit his lips, his eyes remained downcast. The implication bore heavy on his shoulders, resurrecting the guilt and regret that ate away for so many months after that day.

It's not entirely my fault. Mihoshi reasoned with himself.

“I didn't know you've come to Japan…” Mihoshi forced the words out. Whatever the situation was, he was still at work and therefore, he must act accordingly.

Polite.

Amicable.

But distanced.

The chuckle jolted him.

“Of course you wouldn't know. You’ve never tried to contact me since then. I gave you space, willing to wait for however long you need. But…I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Maybe it would be better if Mihoshi jumped the balcony. If he's lucky, he could turn it into an impromptu show for the clients and use the exaggerated attention to flee. If he's unlucky, he would break a bone or two and end up in the hospital. Either option was better than facing Hokushin Sora's intense glare.

Six years had matured him well. Looking back at those days, he became well aware how foolish his decisions were, how foolish he was. Reckless, short-sighted, naive. Their meeting was a chance encounter, the one time Mihoshi was caught by the teacher for skipping assembly, the one time he ran to the back of the school, the one time he made eye contact with Sora. He could still smell the cigarette.

It was a miraculous chance.

Then perhaps, this reunion was also another miraculous chance that could bring them together again.

Steeling himself, Mihoshi finally lifted his gaze and properly looked at Sora.

Blocking the pink lights on the walls behind him, Sora held a relaxed yet menacing posture of a predator. Dark, obsidian eyes, devoid of any emotions, gleaming in the shadows cast over his face. Eyebrows flat, face relaxed, no indication at all of Sora's true thoughts and intention, a perfect mask to show that he was above Mihoshi.

A dominant alpha.

The dominant alpha who caressed Mihoshi's face with the gentlest touch and choked his neck till he gasped for breath.

How could Mihoshi ever forget?

Whatever silly flutters brewing in his stomach shut down immediately, replaced by the suffocating grip of fear.

Sora brought up a hand. 

Mihoshi flinched, holding his breath again when the hand rested on his shoulder.

“I arrived just yesterday. I never thought I would run into you right here though.” The hand squeezed Mihoshi's shoulder, and Sora leaned in to whisper in his ear, “This must truly be fate.”