The guilt Mihoshi tried to brush away dropped into his stomach.

Six long years and Mihoshi had never once contacted Sora. He told himself that it was because Sora left for Canada right after graduation, so there was no way he could make a call. They weren’t big on social media too—at least Mihoshi wasn’t. Friends come and go. That's how life works.

But at the end of the day, he knew that these were all just excuses he made to avoid the reality and consequences of his actions.

And before he could dwell on it, a haphazard chaos destroyed Mihoshi's life soon after.

Like a lightning flash, his parents’ business failed due to new competitors. Their savings went dry, leaving them in a precarious state. In a desperate attempt, they took out private loans, but even those didn’t help. Ultimately, like a terrible turn of the cheek, they got into a car accident and passed away, leaving Mihoshi alone, penniless, and ridden with debt.

The life insurance money covered some parts of the debt, but by the time Mihoshi came to his senses from the shock, the interest had ballooned.

On the day the gangsters showed up at his door, Mihoshi’s life crumbled.

Loans from yakuza were bad news.

With nothing to his name, Mihoshi gave up going to college and instead, agreed to work at an omega club run by the yakuza group. Almost all of his earnings and tips went straight into repayment, leaving him with the bare minimum for his daily needs.

It wasn’t entirely unbearable.

Initially, he thought he would have to sell his organs or do something dangerous like dealing drugs, but working at the omega club wasn’t so bad. As long as he turned a blind eye to the raunchy deeds happening in every corner, he was simply a server and occasionally a bouncer. Although the location of the club itself was in the heart of the red-light district filled with shady people, the drunk customers were generally easy to escort out and the staff didn’t abuse him.

So, through the unrelenting storm of his life, Mihoshi didn’t have a moment to breathe or think about anything else.

Not once did he have the time to think about Sora.

And yet, Sora—on the other side of the world—kept his number for six years.

Mihoshi gritted his teeth.

“...I’m sorry.”

The apology could be interpreted as one for not contacting Sora throughout the years, but deep in Mihoshi’s heart, he repeated the words for a different reason.

Another silence settled in.

—”Shall we grab lunch?”

Mihoshi jolted in surprise at the suggestion. Flustered, he fumbled with his answer before agreeing.

—”Great. I’ll text you the address. See you in thirty minutes.”

The call ended.

Stupefied by the sudden turn of events, Mihoshi stared at the phone for a few moments before jumping to his feet, tripping over his charging cord on the way. He barely caught himself and rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

It had always been like this. He always struggled to reject Sora’s invitation, absolutely floored by the man’s handsome face or warm voice.

Sora was never shy in initiating their kiss. In an empty classroom, once everyone had left the school grounds, just two boys sitting on the floor, facing each other, holding hands. With the warm rays of the evening filtering in through the windows, Sora, in a confident voice, asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Neither often ditched class—Mihoshi, usually a straight-lace student, and Sora needing to keep up a good student appearance. Subsequent kisses happened whenever they snuck away during breaks, hiding in the shadows of the stairway, or behind the school building.

Sora held Mihoshi in his arms, their bodies tangled up, their hungry lips dancing together. Amidst the breathless moans, Sora continued to whisper, “My Omega.”

***

At fifteen past twelve, Mihoshi arrived at the family restaurant. His damp wavy hair bounced with each step and he stopped at the door, gasping after having run all the way here. Pedestrians gave him odd looks.

The memories of their school days fleeted through his mind, bringing along the butterflies of first love and the crushing fear of guilt and regret.

Thankfully, Sora chose a busy restaurant. In a public setting with so many customers, there was no way Sora would try to attack him, right?

He breathed in to calm his racing heart.

I have to tell him the truth.

If he was right, Sora had continued to believe his lie until now.

Mihoshi wasn’t an omega.

Mihoshi wasn’t his Fated Pair.

The inside of the restaurant bustled with noise. It didn’t take long for Mihoshi to spot the tall man sitting in a corner booth by the window. Despite the leather jacket and baseball cap hiding the jet-black hair underneath, Sora couldn’t hide his natural charisma, broad shoulders, and tall frame from curious glances. At 190 centimeters tall, his height already stood out from the crowd. Along with his sharp jawline and eyes hidden under a mysterious shadow, Sora didn’t need to do anything to grab everyone’s attention.

That was the true nature of a dominant alpha.

When Sora noticed Mihoshi, he raised his arm in a wave, a bright grin lit up his face and drowned the gloom in Mihoshi’s heart.

“Over here, Mihoshi!”

The crowd’s eyes immediately shifted to Mihoshi. His face turned a bright shade of red, embarrassed at the momentary attention. He tucked his chin down and hurried over.

“Sorry, did you wait long?”

“No, I just arrived.” Sora beamed. “What do you want to eat? My treat.”

“Just…whatever you’re having.” Mihoshi awkwardly sat across from Sora.

Once the waitress took the order, Sora directed his smiling eyes at Mihoshi again. “It’s been a while. You look good.”

“Ah—” Mihoshi started.

The slight tug on the corner of the lips, the curves of those dark eyes, the innocent happiness Sora never hid from Mihoshi. Years might have passed, things changed, but Sora’s smile remained warm and gentle.

“What have you been up to lately?” Sora eased the conversation.

“I…” Mihoshi darted his gaze around before settling on Sora’s crossed arms on the table. “Just work.”

“The omega club.”

A statement, not a question.

A chill ran down Mihoshi’s spine and when he flicked his head up, he caught the brief appearance of a cold blankness in Sora’s obsidian eyes. It disappeared into a smile.

“Y’know, stuff happens. It’s hard to get a job nowadays, so I’m doing whatever I can.” Mihoshi didn’t know why he was trying to smooth it out, as though he was a child caught doing something bad.

The waitress’s arrival provided a quiet respite. Two sets of grilled salmon along with hot green tea filled the table. But when she left, the awkward tension didn’t dissipate.

“How did you end up there?” Sora muttered.

Unable to trust his voice, Mihoshi shrugged and brought the teacup to his lips.

Suddenly, the image of Sora standing in the hallway, casted by the dim pink lights of the club, came into his mind. A reunion between friends—or lovers, perhaps—should have been filled with joy. However, Mihoshi clearly remembered how fast and loud his heart was beating. And it wasn’t because of excitement.

“Are you still uncomfortable around me?”

The question startled Mihoshi. He put the cup down and directed his gaze to the man in front of him.

Lips downturned, brows crinkled, eyes at the table, shoulders hunching in. Devoid of the brimming confidence from earlier, it was a posture that didn’t suit Hokushin Sora.

“No, I—” Mihoshi blurted out. “It’s not that. I’m just…having a hard time believing you’re…here.”

Sora offered a lopsided smile. “Why? Because we went no-contact for six years? Or do you still…hate me?”

Mihoshi flinched.

“I understand. I would too if I was in your position.” Sora’s head drooped slightly. The rim of his cap hid his expression. “I won’t make excuses saying my pheromones were out of control or that I was going through a rut. Because no matter what I did while I was out of my mind, those ingrained instincts were mine.”

After a brief pause, Sora raised his head.

On his face was an expression Mihoshi had seen many times in the mirror.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Mihoshi.”

It was guilt.

Objectively, yes, Sora should be in the wrong for assaulting Mihoshi. Especially when everyone knew that Sora was a dominant alpha whose physical strength was beyond a regular human’s. Mihoshi’s struggle was futile. At that time, though Mihoshi didn’t recognize the signs yet, Sora was overwhelmed from his recent manifestation, and so, was unable to balance his emotions and pheromones.

But now, basking in the afternoon light, Sora’s posture was relaxed, albeit slightly down. No raging muscle tension, no veins popping on his neck. His eyes, though melancholic, were clear and conscious. In this state of full control, Sora expressed his apology and regret with the utmost honesty and sincerity.

Mihoshi’s chest tightened. He should harbor anger and hatred towards this man who he trusted. But Mihoshi wasn’t entirely innocent either.

The wrong they both committed festered through the years, and perhaps, it was time he ripped it out from the root.