Fate.

The word sliced into Mihoshi, like a katana sword slashing through the cold air, blood spilling out in a sharp flow. Clean, elegant, dangerous.

It was a word that bore the weight of their promise to be together in the future. And a word that tore them apart.

How was it that even after all these years, Sora still lingered on that belief?

It's my fault.

Guilt sat heavy on Mihoshi's shoulders, the realization sinking deeper into his stomach.

I shouldn't have lied.

In that close distance, Mihoshi picked up the earthy undertone of Sora's cologne. Pine, perhaps. A bit of sweet honey. He wanted to run away so badly, but fear rooted him to the spot.

“Why are you working in an omega club?”

The cold monotone grasped Mihoshi, demanding an answer. It was a complete opposite of the affectionate voice that used to whisper in his ears.

“It…” Mihoshi swallowed. “It just happens.”

“Are you only a server? Or do you also host the clients upon special request?”

“What are you saying?!” Mihoshi jerked when the hand squeezed his shoulder. Hard. “Let go…!”

“Answer me.”

He could grab the hand and do the same wrist reversal throw from earlier. He might not be able to pin a dominant alpha, but it would be enough to give him an opening to run. Mihoshi never backed down from any alphas coming his way, but in front of Sora, just like those days, he naturally became much more submissive.

It wasn't out of fear.

It was out of obedience.

“I’m…only a server.”

The lights from the open floor dimmed, signalling the start of touching hours. Almost immediately, pheromones charged the air, giggles drawled into moans, the sloppy smacks of wet kisses accompanied rustles of clothes. Although the hallway of the VIP rooms was on the second floor, the balcony overlooked the entire first floor, giving them a clear sight of the debauchery of alphas and omegas playing in the shadows.

The strained silence between them amplified the lewd gasps and obscene squelches, intimate sounds of Red Lotus, designs of their signature service, echoing against the high ceilings and bouncing off each sparkling crystal of the chandelier.

A host club, an escort service, a paradise to ease your worries and exhaustion.

Whatever name was used, it didn’t change the fact that the people here sold their bodies for money. Omega hosts had their profiles in the booking system. But it wasn’t a secret that several of them did private outings with their favorite paying clients.

It was also no secret that some desperate servers would provide additional services for extra tips.

Seconds ticked by.

A drop of sweat rolled down the side of Mihoshi's face.

His heart thundered. Beat after beat of a war drum, signalling the beginning of a losing battle.

He could have bolted the moment the lights dimmed, but the profound stare froze him in place—a warning that he shouldn't even think of escaping. It didn't make sense. Mihoshi was a beta through and through. There was no way Sora's pheromones could affect him. So why was his body frozen rigid, refusing to move by his will?

The hand squeezing his shoulder relaxed and trailed towards his neck. Long fingers wounded around him; the ghost of the strangle hitched his breath, a reminder of their positions.

Sora’s cold touch tickled the back of Mihoshi's neck. It lingered for a moment, before the hand moved up to cup his cheek, caressing in such a gentle way that made butterflies dance in his stomach and gooseflesh rise all over his arms.

Without a word, the thumb stroked Mihoshi's lips, tracing the bottom lip before lightly tugging it.

Over the years working at an omega club, Mihoshi had never been accidentally aroused by the environment because he knew how to act professionally at work. And he knew that there was no place for a beta like him amongst the primal heat of an alpha and omega.

But for the first time ever, in the darkness surrounded by obscene groans and pants, a long-forgotten tickle returned to his twisted stomach.

What would happen if he simply succumbed to this desire?

A flash of golden sparked Sora's dark eyes, and in that split second, the memories of that day flooded into Mihoshi. The cherry blossom tree. The hoarse shouts. The hands choking him. The sharp fangs ripping into his arm.

With a burst of strength, Mihoshi pushed Sora away, although he couldn't create more distance with the arm tight around his waist. An indignant glare crossed his face, softened by the blush on his cheeks that spread all the way to the tips of his ears.

The lights brightened, slowly casting the pinkish glow across Sora's face. For a split second, his lips were curled back in a cruel smirk, his eyes displayed a primal hunger, flashing sparkles of gold—the clear signs of a dominant alpha releasing his pheromones. But just as quickly, his expression shifted to a neutral stance of a slight smile that didn't reach his darkened eyes.

“I'm sorry. Were you startled?” Sora asked, his hand that had been shrugged off snuck around Mihoshi’s waist to join with his other arm.

Mihoshi finally caught his breath, but the heat that had rushed to his cheeks refused to disappear. Seeing this, Sora's eyes curved gently.

“I promise I've learned to control my strength and pheromones very well. That was a slip. I was simply too excited about our reunion, my omega.”

The word stabbed Mihoshi right in the middle of his chest. An unforgiving lightning bolt that crackled into every nerve in his system, igniting attention at this horrendous turn of events.

Sora leaned in and pressed his nose against Mihoshi's neck, taking in a deep breath. He paused for a moment, and whispered, “Why is there no scent?”

Mihoshi jumped. Every hair on his skin rose on ends. Warm breath tickled his neck, followed by soft lips pressing so close to his jugular veins. All the little euphoric feelings from earlier vanished in an instant, replaced by the adamant presence of terror and regret.

“I—” Mihoshi stuttered. “I'm recessive.”

The lie rolled off his tongue.

“And I…took suppressants. For the job.”

Lies after lies, built upon the last one, stemmed from those years back.

“Is that so?” Sora straightened up, seeming to accept the statement. His arms remained wrapped around Mihoshi's waist, rubbing languid circles on the small of his back. “It’s a shame. I’ve been looking forward to your scent. Not one day while we were apart didn’t I think of you. I always wondered how your first heat after manifestation was. I became anxious thinking about who you spent your heat with. Many times, I wanted to fly here to beat up whoever laid their hands on you. I wanted to so badly.”

The grip tightened. Sora’s perfect eyebrows twitched, betraying his cool facade.

“But I kept my emotions in check. I have complete control of myself, Mihoshi. I won’t ever be driven by instincts again, not like that time. I won’t ever hurt you. I’m sorry, it was all my fault.”

Sora took Mihoshi’s hand and placed it on his chest.

The constant rhythm of his heartbeat thudded against Mihoshi’s palm.

“You needed time and space. We were all pretty antsy and jumpy during our manifestation period, I get it. So I waited. I’ve been waiting. I waited for your call, your message, your letter. Anything. I didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to scare you. Six years. Six long years across the world alone. And then, an opportunity came up, bringing me back here.”

Sora lowered his voice, a shadow casting over his eyes.

“Life really brought us back together,” he chuckled. “You, my Fated Pair.”

A sharp shiver ran down Mihoshi's spine. Whistles rang in his ears.

At that, the bottom of Sora's eyes crinkled ever so slightly. He leaned in and pressed a kiss on Mihoshi’s forehead.

Where the lips touched, his skin tingled. Mihoshi clamped his mouth shut to prevent any embarrassing noises from coming out.

Despite the unwavering fear and guilt burning inside him, the bubbling feelings he carried all those years ago crashed to the forefront.

“Unfortunately, I have business to attend to tonight.” Sora removed his arms and took a step back. The same polite smile remained on his lips. “I'll see you tomorrow, Mihoshi.”

Then he turned away, heading back into the VIP room, leaving Mihoshi utterly stunned and alone in the hallway.

For a long moment, Mihoshi stood still. Casual chatters and low music hummed in the background, echoing in his ears like a melody long forgotten. The quiet of spring of his second year of high school. The excitement of the class. When the door slid open to reveal the international transfer student, everyone’s breath stopped, eyes widened.

Of Japanese descent, but a Canadian citizen, Hokushin Sora stole the attention of the entire class and school effortlessly.