"Oh," Seungchan says, stepping fully into the room. He looks at Donghwa suspiciously. "And you are...?"
"Just washing my hands," Donghwa says smoothly. He walks over to the sink next to me, pumps the soap once, and rinses his hands with agonizing slowness. He catches my eye in the mirror. He doesn't smile, but the mockery is there, dancing in his dark eyes.
"Right," Seungchan says slowly. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knows tension when he walks into it. He looks at me, concern warring with confusion. "Do you need to go to the hospital? You look... really red, dude."
"No!" I crumple the paper towel and toss it at the trash can. I miss. "No hospital. I just need air. Fresh air. Away from the pork."
I spin around, keeping my eyes strictly on the exit sign.
"I'm leaving," I announce to the room at large. "Don't wait up."
I shoulder past Seungchan, practically running. As I hit the doorway, I risk one glance back.
Donghwa is drying his hands. He brings the paper towel to his face, just for a second, and inhales.
I bolt into the hallway, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, praying to every god I don't believe in that Seungchan didn't see the way my knees were shaking.
Chapter Seventeen
I’ve spent the last week dodging Omegas like they’re carrying the plague.
It’s a miserable existence for someone who usually thrives on attention like a plant needs sunlight. But right now, the "sunlight" smells like rot, and it makes me want to hurl. I’ve become a master of the tactical retreat—ducking into stairwells, faking important phone calls, and wearing a face mask claiming I have a "lingering cough" just to keep people out of my personal bubble.
And Donghwa? I’ve been avoiding him too, but for entirely different reasons.
Every time I see that lanky, arrogant freshman in the hallway, the bond under my skin itches. It’s not a metaphor. My actual skin, right where he bit me, heats up like a warning flare. He doesn’t even have to look at me. He just walks by, smelling like a cold front, and my traitorous heart does a little stutter-step that pisses me off more than anything else.
I’m lying in bed on a Friday night, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince myself that staying in is a "strategic wellness choice" and not just me hiding, when my phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I roll over, groaning. It’s probably Seungchan asking if I want to hit the club, and I’m already preparing my excuse about food poisoning or a family emergency.
I pick it up. The screen blinds me for a second. It’s not Seungchan.
Unknown Number:It’s time.
Followed immediately by a pinned location.
My stomach drops through the mattress. I stare at the screen, the two words mocking me. I know exactly who it is. I didn’t save his number, but my brain supplies the voice reading the text in that deep, bored baritone that makes my hackles rise.
It’s time.
Rut.
"Fuck off," I say to the empty room, tossing the phone onto the duvet.
I’m not going. Absolutely not. I am not an on-call service dog for some moody artsy fartsy rich kid just because biology decided to play a practical joke on us. He can suffer. I suffered. I spent two days humping my mattress and crying; he can handle a little fever.
I cross my arms, staring at the wall.
...But if I don't go, he definitely won’t show up for my next one.
The memory of my own rut hits me—the cramping, the fever that felt like my bones were melting, the desperate, clawing need to be filled. I barely survived it alone. And Donghwa, as much of a prick as he is, made the pain stop. He made it feel... good.
My face heats up. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the image of him shirtless, sweat-slicked, those dark tattoos curling over his shoulders, flashes behind my eyelids.
"God damn it," I hiss, sitting up and scrubbing a hand through my hair.
Curiosity is a disease, and apparently, I’m terminal. I want to know what he looks like when he loses that stoic, unbothered mask. I want to know if he falls apart the way I did. And yeah, maybe a small, stupid part of me wants to feel that heavy, grounding weight of his pheromones again just to stop feeling so on edge.
