Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Book walked into one of the private bars without hesitation, followed by Pond, Joong, and Dunk. The security at the entrance, who had been checking everyone’s IDs, immediately stepped aside and let them in.

Book smiled and gave a small nod of acknowledgment. Despite his polite gesture, the guards’ attention lingered more on the three Alphas behind him, creating an unspoken tension that hung in the air.

A waiter quickly approached them, greeting them with practiced ease before leading them straight to their usual VIP room on the second floor. The room was already prepared, stocked with every drink and dish they could want.

Book dropped onto the sofa like he was settling into his own living room. Pond took the seat on his left, Joong on his right, while Dunk settled beside Joong, completing the formation naturally.

“Where’s your boss?” Dunk asked, glancing at the waiter.

“He—”

“He’s playing with his toys,” Pond cut in lazily before the waiter could finish, gesturing toward the DJ booth.

From the glass panel of their room, the entire floor was visible.

Aou stood behind the DJ console, one hand adjusting the controls while the other lifted casually, as if he were conducting something far greater than music. The beat dropped like a welcome arrival, and the crowd responded instantly.

Every shift of rhythm, every sudden pause, every explosive drop when Aou dictated it all with precise timing. The crowd moved like a single organism under his command, hands rising when he wanted, voices shouting when he allowed it.

Then, as if sensing something beyond the music, Aou’s gaze flicked upward. A smirk tugged at his lips. The next track blended in seamlessly, but the energy changed—sharper, bolder, more aggressive. The crowd surged, louder than before, as if responding to an unspoken challenge.

Inside the room, Dunk let out a chuckle. “Show-off.”

With the crowd outside moving entirely under Aou’s control, the bass pulsing like a second heartbeat through the walls, Book poured himself another drink. The amber liquid caught the dim light as it filled the glass. He lifted it without hesitation, taking a slow sip, letting it linger on his tongue. The rhythm from the music seemed to guide him—each beat aligning with the way he drank, steady and deliberate. One glass wasn’t going to be enough tonight.

“Oi, oi… drink slowly, bro. We’ve got all night,” Joong said, watching him from the side, one brow raised.
Dunk leaned back, unconcerned. “Let him be. He needs it.”

Pond, however, glanced at Book more carefully. “You’ve taken your medicine before coming, right?”

A quiet hum left Book in response, accompanied by a faint, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. That was enough of an answer. He didn’t stop. He finished another glass, setting it down with a soft clink before pushing himself to his feet. There was no rush in his movement, but there was purpose.

Three pairs of eyes followed him without a word. None of them tried to stop him. They already knew. Tonight was only just beginning for Book.

At the same moment Book reached for the door, it swung open from the other side.

Aou stepped in, a low whistle escaping his lips as his gaze landed immediately on Book. The noise from outside rushed in for a brief second before the door closed behind him again, muting the chaos back into a distant thrum.

“You’re ready sooner than I thought.”
Book looked at him, and just like that, his expression shifted. It was gone the quiet edge from earlier and replaced by an almost innocent, boyish smile, soft and harmless, a lie Aou knew better than to believe, because beneath it, the hunter was already awake.

“If the prey comes volunteering to your plate,” Book said lightly as he stepped past Aou, brushing shoulders with him, “where’s the fun in that?”

Aou’s smirk deepened as he stepped aside, bowing slightly to let Book pass. He turned his head, watching Book walk away.

As Book stepped outside, his scent slowly spread into the air. It started faint, almost unnoticeable, but soon became impossible to ignore, like a silent invitation.

One by one, people turned to look at him as he walked down the stairs, each step drawing more attention, as if everyone in the room was being pulled toward him.

It spread through the room like the rich, lingering scent of a tropical night, with a hint of dark espresso beneath it, softened by a slow, creamy warmth that stayed in the air. The closer anyone got, the stronger it became, deepening into a thick, sweet warmth like palm sugar melting over fire. It wasn’t just a scent, but a quiet pull, an unspoken invitation everyone understood.

An Alpha leaned casually against the railing at the base of the stairs, smirking as Book approached. “Didn’t know the bar started serving something this tempting,” he said, voice low, testing.

Book didn’t stop walking. His gaze flicked over the man once, brief, uninterested.

“Careful,” another chimed in from behind, stepping closer with a confident grin. “Walking around like that… you’re asking to be followed.”

He turned his head slightly, enough for his smile to be seen—soft, almost playful, yet carrying something sharp beneath it.

“Am I?” he replied lightly.

The first Alpha chuckled, stepping in closer, clearly taking it as encouragement. “You don’t smell like someone who wants to be left alone.”

Book tilted his head, studying him now, as if finally giving him attention. Then he stepped closer. Close enough for his scent to deepen, to wrap tighter, to blur the line between temptation and warning.

“That depends,” Book murmured, voice low and smooth, “on whether you know the difference… between chasing and being led.”

Behind him, another tried his luck, reaching out to brush against Book’s arm. “Or maybe,” he said, voice dipping, “you’re the one looking to be caught.”

Book’s gaze shifted, landing on the hand before lifting to meet his eyes. Then Book smiled again.

More Alphas drifted closer, drawn in by the pull of his scent, now thick in the air, clinging to skin and settling into lungs, blurring judgment and sharpening instinct. The first Alpha didn’t stop at a distance, his breath hovering near Book’s neck before moving closer, his scent pressing forward, controlled at first until it slipped into something heavier, warmer, unmistakably intoxicating. It spread like heat, sinking into skin and curling into lungs, while another Alpha exhaled sharply, his own scent rising in response, stronger and sharper, clashing against the first like invisible fire meeting steel as the air grew dense with layered dominance, each one pushing to overwhelm the other.

He stood in the center of it. Still smiling.

Another leaned in from behind, close enough that the warmth of his body nearly touched, his scent rolling forward in waves, deeper, and rougher, meant to overpower rather than entice.

But Book didn’t yield. What they released returned to them changed, caught in his presence and twisted just enough to make their control slip.

Around them, the dance floor changed.

Bodies moved closer. Slower. More deliberate.

Touches lingered longer than they should. Laughter dipped lower, softer. The space between people disappeared, replaced by heat, by tension, by something unspoken but understood.

Book was letting it happen. This is exactly the way he wanted.

From the second floor, behind the tinted glass of the VIP room, four pairs of eyes tracked every single movement Book made—not because they were worried about him, but because they were watching everyone else, knowing all it would take was one idiot crossing the line to turn the entire floor below into chaos; it wasn’t a new sight, not for them, this kind of tension, this kind of controlled danger, something they had seen before more times than they could count, and yet, no matter how familiar it was, it never became easy to watch.

Joong leaned back against the sofa, swirling his drink lazily as he observed the growing tension below. “You almost have to admire their confidence,” he muttered.

Dunk snorted, resting his arm along the backrest. “Confidence? That’s not confidence. That’s stupidity with a good haircut.” His eyes followed one Alpha who leaned a little too close to Book. “Look at him. He really thinks he’s winning.”

“Mm,” Joong hummed dryly. “Give it a minute. He’ll realize he’s not even in the game.”

Across from them, Aou stood by the glass, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his drink, his gaze fixed on Book. A slow grin spread across his face. “They think they’re pushing him,” he murmured to himself, “but they’re already moving the way he wants.” His fingers tapped lightly against the glass, in rhythm with the music still pounding below, played by another DJ who replaced him.

Joong smirked. “At this point, I’m starting to feel bad for them.”

“Don’t,” Aou replied easily. “They chose this.”

Their voices carried a mix of amusement and sarcasm, laced with detached entertainment.

Except for Pond, who hadn’t moved. He sat where Book had been, relaxed but too still, his glass untouched in his hand, his eyes fixed on Book without looking away. There was no amusement in his expression, only a quiet, heavy focus. His jaw tightened whenever someone got too close, then eased again, like he was holding himself back. While the others watched for entertainment, Pond watched as if enduring it, each second stretching longer as he waited for something he couldn’t ignore.

Book stood exactly where he wanted to be, surrounded by the heavy mix of Alpha scents. Layer after layer filled his senses, sinking into his skin and easing the restless heat beneath it. His heat had come stronger than expected, and the suppressants barely helped, leaving his body tense and searching for relief it refused to name. But this helped. Each breath steadied him, the scent of others calming the storm inside, slowing it just enough to keep control. To anyone watching, he looked composed, with a soft smile and relaxed movements. They don’t know, every second was measured, every breath was careful, every step was controlled to keep himself balanced between control and instinct.

There was a boundary he never let anyone cross. His smile stayed gentle and inviting as he let them come close, letting them think they were getting somewhere, but never enough, never deeper than he allowed. He needed their presence, their scent, their heat, but not their claim or control. The thought of being submissive just because he was an Omega sat cold and heavy in his chest. No matter how many choices he had, they all seemed to lead to the same end, to surrender. And Book refused. So he stayed in the center, taking what he needed without giving anything real in return, holding his ground, holding himself together, determined that if he ever fell, it would be by his own choice, not because he was forced.

Pheromones filled the club, thick and hard to ignore. Once the Alphas realized they had easier options, their attention began to shift. Another Omega, already affected by the heavy scent in the air, drew them in, openly offering submission without resistance. Slowly, the focus moved away from Book as the Alphas chased what was easier to take.

Still, a few remained stubborn, lingering around Book, testing their chances, giving him exactly what an Omega in heat would want. But Book stayed in control, never letting it go further than he allowed.

The air grew warmer, heavier, charged with rising heat. The scent of desire spread everywhere, blurring restraint. Around the club, people pressed closer, touching, kissing, losing themselves in the moment. Pairs formed, then groups, without care for who or what they were. Alpha, Beta, Omega, it no longer mattered. The night dissolved into instinct, and the line between control and surrender grew thinner with every passing second.

Everything was happening out on the floor, but the VIP room remained untouched, like a separate world at the same time. The four Alphas inside had a clear view of everything below, yet none of them looked entertained.

Dunk and Joong wore clear looks of disgust, while Aou watched with a mocking smile, amused by how easily the others lost control. Pond said nothing. The glass in his hand cracked under the pressure before it finally broke, shards biting into his palm as blood began to drip down his fingers.

The others noticed, of course. They all did. But no one moved, no one spoke, because the only person who could deal with it was still downstairs, at the center of the chaos on the first floor.

Chapter Text

The scent of lavender filled his senses. Pond didn’t need to turn around to know it, soft lavender with a hint of orange, gentle with something bright beneath it, just like the person behind him.

“You really need to learn how to hide your scent, sweetheart,” Pond said, his voice low and gentle, soft enough to make anyone listening feel the difference.

He heard a quiet sigh behind him. “I thought I did,” the other said, wrapping his arms around Pond from behind. “You just know me too well.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” he answered lightly. “You are the only one who can tell the difference between Book and me. Even my parents get it wrong sometimes.”

A small smile formed on Pond’s lips. “Maybe it’s because I love you,” he said, turning to face him, pulling him closer.

“I love you too,” the other murmured, pressing his face into Pond’s chest.

It was one of the sweet memories that haunted Pond. He wasn’t sure if it kept him grounded or slowly made things worse, but one thing he knew for certain was that remembering the person he loved was never a bad thing, except for the day he lost him. The memory reminded him that the one at the center of the chaos on the first floor was not the person he loved. They only shared the same face. Everything else was different, and Pond knew it, holding that truth firmly in his heart.

“I think it’s time to pick up our princess,” Aou said, watching the DJ signaling from below. The DJ, a Beta bonded to an Alpha, stayed unaffected by the pheromones filling the room. Aou had chosen him carefully, someone reliable for nights like this.

Without a word, Joong and Dunk stood. Dunk slipped on a mask before heading out of the VIP room.

“What?” Dunk asked when he caught Joong’s mocking smile. “You know I hate the smell of other Alpha pheromones.”

Joong only smiled, amused, though there was understanding in his eyes.

Together, they made their way down to the dance floor, while Aou kept his gaze on them, and on Pond, who still hadn’t moved. Pond remained seated, eyes fixed on Book, watching everything without missing a second.

The air shifted the moment Joong and Dunk stepped in, some people becoming aware of their presence instantly as tension rippled through instinct alone, while others were too lost in the haze of pheromones to notice the pressure they brought. When they reached Book, they saw it immediately, the satisfied calm on his face, and whatever he needed, he had already taken.

“Are you done?” Dunk asked, studying him closely.

Book smiled, soft and inviting, the same look that could draw anyone in. But it didn’t work on them.

He tried to stand, but his legs gave slightly. Before he could fall, Joong caught him and lifted him with ease. In his arms, Book let out a quiet breath, tension easing as a familiar, steady scent wrapped around him.

No one questioned it, no one dared. Joong and Dunk were enough to silence the room as they moved through the crowd without resistance, the space parting for them as if by instinct. Book rested against Joong, quieter now, his fingers loosely gripping the front of Joong’s shirt, the sharp edge that had held him together earlier softened and worn down by the weight of his heat.

Dunk walked beside them, eyes scanning the crowd, his presence enough to keep anyone from getting too close. “You pushed it too far.”

“I handled it,” Book replied, though his voice lacked its usual certainty.

“Yeah,” Dunk said flatly. “That’s the problem.”

Upstairs, Aou was setting his glass aside as he watched them reach the exit. His smile had faded into something quieter, more thoughtful.

Behind him, Pond stood, for the first time since it started, blood still trailing faintly from his hand, unnoticed by him as his gaze followed Book being carried into their VIP room. Something in his expression shifted, tightening, as if a thread had been pulled too far. When Book caught sight of the blood dripping from Pond’s hand, a flicker of urgency broke through his haze. He gave Joong a small signal, and Joong did not question it, carefully lowering him to his feet. Book barely steadied himself before turning back, his gaze locking onto Pond’s hand, the faint haze in his eyes clearing, replaced by something sharper.

“You’re bleeding.”

Pond glanced down at his palm, then back at Book, unmoved. “It’ll heal.”

Book frowned, already moving toward him. “That doesn’t mean you ignore it.”

Behind him, Aou let out a quiet sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “There it is,” he muttered. Aou leaned back against the glass, watching them with mild interest.

Joong and Dunk exchanged a glance. No words, just a look that said enough. They had seen this before, or something close enough to understand.

“If you’re done here, let’s go back,” Pond said, forcing a small smile, trying to reassure Book that he was fine.

“Yeah, I really need to wash myself,” Book replied with that same innocent smile. The moment the words left him, his body swayed.

This time, Book didn’t recover. His knees gave out, and his vision went blank, but Pond caught him right away, one arm around his back and the other under his knees, lifting him like he weighed nothing. The calm on Pond’s face tightened, something sharper breaking through. Without saying anything, he turned and walked out of the VIP room. Joong was already at the door, opening it before they reached him, while Dunk and Aou followed close behind, their earlier detachment gone and replaced with quiet urgency.

They moved through the corridor and out through the back of the club, the noise from inside cutting off the moment the emergency door closed behind them. The cooler night air hit, but it did nothing to ease the tension that clung to them. Two bodyguards recognized Aou immediately and opened the way without question. Aou gave one of them a brief tap on the shoulder in thanks, his usual ease replaced with something more focused.

At the car, Dunk was already moving, opening the back door. Pond slid inside with Book still in his arms, adjusting him carefully and keeping him close, one hand supporting his head. Book’s breathing was steady but too soft, his body completely relaxed in a way that did not feel right. Joong took the driver’s seat without a word while Dunk got in beside him, glancing back once, his expression tight.

“We’re leaving,” Pond said.

Aou gave a short nod.

The car pulled away, city lights sliding past in a blur. Pond looked down at Book, brushing his cheek lightly, just to feel that he was still warm. Whatever calm he had earlier was gone, replaced by something heavier he couldn’t quite hold in anymore.

Pond eyes stayed on Book, tracking every breath, every small shift, like missing even one might mean something slipping out of his reach. The faint scent clinging to Book lingered in the car, softer now but still there, familiar in a way that settled deep in his chest, making his jaw tighten. This time, he didn’t bother hiding it. His grip adjusted on its own, pulling Book a little closer, careful but firm, as if keeping that distance would only make things worse. He didn’t look away, didn’t speak, just stayed like that, holding on, letting go was not something he could allow himself to do.

Joong and Dunk exchanged a quiet look, no words needed. Seeing Pond like this, holding Book so carefully, brought back someone they both knew too well, someone people used to call another version of Book. The resemblance was hard to ignore, enough to fill their heads with too many ifs and maybes. They missed him, that much was clear, but watching this now, they also knew something else. Whatever Pond and Book had become, it was heavier, more complicated, and somehow worse.

When they arrived at the condo, Joong parked without saying a word, and Pond carried Book straight inside without waiting. They all lived in the same building, with Pond and Book on the same floor, while Joong and Dunk stayed just above. Dunk moved ahead and unlocked Book’s door easily. It was Book’s birthday, and everyone knew it anyway. Pond went straight to the bedroom and laid Book down carefully, adjusting him as if he might wake if handled wrong. He did not step away.

A few minutes later, there was a knock. Joong went to open it, already knowing who it should be, but he paused when he saw Santa standing there with someone else, a stranger.

“Sorry,” Santa said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to bring him. I wasn’t sure I could handle it alone.”

Joong frowned. “You could’ve said something first.”

“I know, but it was urgent, right?” Santa replied. “I usually bring Sammy, but she moved out. She’s living with her girlfriend now, so…” He gestured to the person beside him. “This is my new roommate, Phuwin.”

Joong didn’t move, clearly not convinced.

Behind him, Dunk walked over, noticing how long the door had been open. He looked past Joong and saw them. “Who’s he?”

“He’s helping me,” Santa said quickly. “I really can’t do this alone. Please just let him help, okay?”

Joong glanced at Dunk, unsure.

Phuwin shifted slightly, already reading the mood. “Sorry,” he said, polite and calm. “Santa just asked me to help. If you don’t need me, I can go back.”

Dunk let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. He already knew explaining this to Pond would be a problem.

Still, he stepped aside. “Just come in.”

Santa didn’t waste a second, pulling Phuwin along as they stepped inside, the tension in the room still thick as the door closed behind them.

In the middle of Book’s overwhelming scent, Pond felt it shift, something softer cutting through the chaos, lavender, light but clear. It pulled his attention instantly, that familiar note settling in the air close enough to make him look up. His gaze snapped toward the door. Santa stood there, and beside him, a stranger.

“Who is he?” Pond asked, his voice calm but sharp.

“My new roommate, Phuwin,” Santa answered quickly, stepping forward a little. “He’s here to help me. I can’t do this alone, so… please, let him help.” Santa’s tone turned more urgent at the end. He knew he needed this, and more than that, he knew he needed Pond to agree.

Pond didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on Phuwin, sharp and unreadable, the faint trace of lavender still cutting through the heavy scent left by Book. He already knew what they were. Both of them. Omegas.

“That’s not happening,” Pond said finally, his tone low but firm.

Santa froze. “Pond—”

“No.” Pond’s grip on Book tightened slightly. “You can stay. He doesn’t.”

The room went tense.

Dunk stepped in before it could get worse. “You’re being unreasonable.”

Pond didn’t even look at him. “Am I?”

“Yes,” Dunk said flatly. “Think for a second.”

“I am thinking.” Pond’s jaw tightened.

Dunk did not raise his voice, but there was a steady edge to it. “Santa cannot handle this alone, and you can see that. So what are you planning to do, just stand there and let Book rest without cleaning first?”

Pond finally looked at him, his gaze colder, more closed off. “I did not say that.”

“Then give me something we can actually use,” Dunk replied, still controlled, but firmer now. “Because right now, you are not helping. You are just making this harder.”

Silence stretched between them.

Pond knew Dunk was right, and that was the problem. Book would hate it if an Alpha handled him; they had always known that, and the line had never been crossed. Which meant Santa was the only real option, but Santa needed help, and letting another Omega, a stranger, get this close to Book made something in Pond tighten. He exhaled slowly, frustration sitting heavy in his chest.

Across the room, Joong watched quietly and did not interrupt this time, while Santa stood there tense and clearly waiting, and Phuwin stayed just behind him, calm but ready to step back if needed.

“…Do it,” Pond said at last, his voice low.

He didn’t wait for a response. He stepped back, then turned and walked out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind him, the tension shifted.

Joong followed a second later, leaning against the wall just outside, arms crossed, letting out a slow breath he had been holding in. Dunk came out last, running a hand through his hair before glancing back at the door.

A few steps away, Pond stood still, his back to them, his shoulders tense. He hadn’t gone far, just enough to give space, but not enough to truly leave.

Silence settled between the three of them, heavy but familiar, as they waited outside the door, each lost in their own thoughts.

Inside, Phuwin stayed quiet at first, just watching and taking in the tension without stepping in. He had only moved in with Santa a month ago, right before university started, after struggling to find a place he could afford. By chance, he came across Santa’s post on a university forum looking for a roommate. Since Santa was an Omega, he preferred living with another Omega, and that was how they ended up meeting.

“Sorry you got dragged into this,” Santa said quietly, glancing at him.

Phuwin shook his head. “You told me it might happen. I’m fine.”

Living with Santa had been easy. He was kind, relaxed, and simple to get along with, which made the adjustment smooth for Phuwin. The condo itself helped too. It was designed differently from most places. Even though Alphas, Betas, and Omegas lived on the same floor, each unit was fully sealed. No scent leaked in or out, no matter the condition. Heat, rut, none of it could cross the walls. It made things safer, quieter, and easier to manage.

Standing there now, Phuwin understood why that mattered. The moment he stepped inside this room, the contrast hit him. The air was heavy, filled with traces of scent and emotion that had nothing to do with him, yet pressed in all the same.

“Help me take his clothes off,” Santa said, glancing at Phuwin.

Phuwin nodded and moved carefully. Together, they removed Book’s clothes, slow and respectful, making sure not to disturb him more than necessary. Book didn’t react, his body still relaxed, his breathing soft.

Santa came back with the damp towel and began wiping Book’s skin gently, steadily, and focused.

“How do you know them?” Phuwin asked after a moment, keeping his voice low.

“They’re my seniors,” Santa replied. “Since high school. Him too.” He nodded toward Book. “I used to get bullied. Book tried to help me, but… You know how it is. As an Omega, he couldn’t do much back then.”
Phuwin listened quietly.

“Then those three stepped in,” Santa continued, meaning the Alphas outside. “They’ve been close to Book since they were kids, so they didn’t just ignore it. After that, things changed. I stayed under their protection… and when they need help, I show up.”

Phuwin gave a small nod. It sounded familiar, almost predictable.

“So you know what happened to him?” Phuwin asked.

Santa paused for a second, his expression uncertain as he wrung the towel lightly in his hands. “Not really,” he admitted. He glanced at Book, then back at his work. “He’s in heat, that much I know. But… I don’t know why he’s covered in so many Alpha scents like this.”

He continued wiping Book’s arm, slower now, more thoughtful. “If I remember right, this kind of thing only started after they entered university. Before that, it wasn’t like this.” He let out a small breath. “I don’t know what changed.”

Phuwin stayed quiet, listening.

“When Joong calls me, I just come,” Santa added. “No questions. The first time I saw him like this…” He shook his head slightly. “I didn’t even think it was possible. An Omega surrounded by that many Alpha scents.”

Phuwin glanced at Book, then at Santa. “And he’s always like this?”

Santa hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Not always. But when it happens… It’s like this.”

The room fell quiet again, filled only with the soft sound of the damp towel against skin and Book’s steady breathing.

“Do not be angry with them,” Santa said, softer this time as he glanced back at Phuwin. “They are really good people. They just worry about Book.”

Phuwin did not answer right away, the air thick and layered with too many overlapping scents, most of them Alpha, sharp and heavy, still clinging to the room despite everything.

Underneath it, Book’s scent lingered, unstable, sweet but strained, like something pushed too far, pressing against his senses, unfamiliar but intense enough to make his chest feel tight. He exhaled slowly, grounding himself, and let his own scent settle, lavender, light and steady, spreading quietly into the space, not overpowering, just enough to soften the edges of everything else.

He stepped a little closer to the bed, careful with his movements. Up close, it was clearer. Book’s condition was not just heat. The scent was wrong, uneven, tangled with traces that did not belong to him alone. Too many Alphas, too much exposure, layered over something already unstable.

Phuwin tilted his head slightly, studying Book without touching him. “He is not rejecting it, but he is not accepting it either.”

Santa watched him for a second, then nodded. “Exactly. It is messy.” He exhaled quietly before continuing, his tone low but steady. “This is what happens when he needs to be bathed in Alpha scent. Because of the abnormalities when he is on heat, he ends up like this.” His gaze flickered back to Book, his voice softening. “I really do not know what exactly is triggering it. The Book I knew was not like this. As I said before, I lost contact with them after they graduated from high school.”

Phuwin nodded, trying to understand even though he was not sure he truly did. His fingers rested lightly against Book’s wrist, feeling the steady but faint pulse beneath his skin, while his gaze lingered on the subtle tension in Book’s expression, the way his body seemed calm on the surface yet unsettled underneath. The lavender in his scent remained soft and controlled, spreading just enough to keep the air from tipping further out of balance.

“I have heard of irregular heats,” Phuwin said quietly, more to himself than anyone else, his brows drawing together slightly. “But not like this.”

Santa stepped back into the room with a damp towel in his hand, watching him quietly. “Yeah, it is not common,” he said, his voice slower than usual. He moved closer to the bed, his expression calm but slightly tense. “He will be back to normal when he wakes up, believe me,” he added more softly, his grip tightening a little on the towel.

Book looked… composed, in a way that did not match what his body was going through. Even like this, there was a certain sharpness to him, something refined in the line of his jaw, the way his lashes rested against his skin, the faint tension that still lingered in his features despite the exhaustion pulling him under.

By the time they finished, the room felt quieter, the earlier tension easing into something more manageable. The damp towel rested to the side, and Book lay settled against the sheets, his skin no longer carrying the same clinging discomfort from before. The sharpness in his scent had softened, not gone, but no longer overwhelming.

Santa let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders slightly as he stepped back. “That should help for now.”

Phuwin stayed where he was for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on Book as if checking for any shift. The rise and fall of Book’s chest seemed more even now, still soft, but steadier than before. Whatever strain had been pulling at him earlier had loosened, at least on the surface.

“He looks better,” Phuwin said quietly.

“Yeah,” Santa replied, glancing over. “He just needs to rest.”

Santa did not stay still for long. Once he was sure Book was stable, he moved quietly around the room, gathering the used towels and anything out of place, his movements quick but controlled, like someone used to handling the aftermath. He wiped down the surfaces, cleared the scent dampeners, and adjusted the curtains slightly to let the room breathe without letting anything escape beyond the sealed space.

Phuwin watched for a moment before stepping aside to give him room, his gaze drifting back to Book now and then, making sure nothing shifted.

Santa paused near the bedside, pulling out his phone. He hesitated for a second, then made the call.

“You can come in now,” he said once the line connected, his tone low but firm. A pause, then he added, softer, “Yeah, I know.” He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, exhaling quietly.

“They are coming?” Phuwin asked.

Santa nodded, glancing toward the door. “Yeah. I called them in. They have been waiting outside anyway.” Phuwin gave a small nod, understanding, and stepped a little further back from the bed, giving space without fully retreating. Santa took one last look around the room, making sure everything was in order, then shifted his attention back to Book, his expression settling into something calmer but still watchful. “They will want to see him,” he said quietly.

Dunk stepped in first, with Pond and Joong right behind him. The room felt different now, calmer, the heavy tension from before fading into something quieter. Book was dressed in clean pajamas, lying on the bed, completely still, his breathing slow and even, as if nothing could wake him.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Pond moved first, crossing the room in a few quiet steps, his attention fixed on Book. His hand hovered for a second before resting lightly on Book’s forehead, then sliding down to his cheek, checking without really knowing what he was looking for, just needing to be sure.

Joong leaned against the wall, watching the scene with a quiet look. “You cleaned him up fast.”

Santa gave a small shrug. “Not the first time.”

Phuwin stood a little to the side, keeping his distance now that the tension had settled. He watched Pond more than anyone else, noticing how his focus never left Book, how everything in him seemed to narrow down to that one person.

Dunk walked closer, stopping near the bed. “He’ll sleep for a while.”

“I know,” Pond said.

Still, he didn’t move.

Santa let out a quiet breath, the last of the tension leaving him. “Then I’ll head back,” he said, glancing at Phuwin. “We’re done here.”

Phuwin nodded once, ready to follow, but before leaving, he gave one last look at Book, then at Pond, as if trying to understand something he couldn’t quite name. No one stopped them as they walked out, the door closing softly behind them, and inside the room, the silence returned, heavier this time but steadier.

Chapter Text

The room was quiet when Book slowly woke, sunlight slipping through the curtains like nothing had happened. No noise, no pressure, no leftover chaos, just calm. His body felt lighter, like all the tension from last night was gone, leaving him relaxed but a little drained, the tiredness that made him want to stay in bed longer. Even breathing felt easier now.

Then his alarm went off. Book frowned, barely opening his eyes as his hand moved on its own, finding his phone and turning it off without looking. He shifted, pulling the blanket up and sinking back into the bed. A few minutes later, the second alarm rang. He let out a soft groan but did the same thing, turning it off right away. Silence again. Then his phone started ringing. That finally got a reaction. Book blinked slowly, still half asleep as he grabbed his phone, already knowing who it was before he even checked. Dunk.

Book stared at the screen for a second, then answered, his voice rough. “What?”

“You’re alive,” Dunk said, flat and unimpressed.

Book squinted at the ceiling as it had personally offended him. His voice came out rough, dragged from sleep. “Barely. Don’t rush me.”

“Don’t start,” Dunk cut in. “It’s almost noon.”

Book didn’t even open his eyes. He shifted deeper into the pillow, lashes resting against his cheek, one arm thrown lazily over his head. “And the world didn’t end,” he murmured, tone soft and unbothered. “See? Progress.”

“You have class.”

“I have options.”

The silence that followed stretched just long enough to feel deliberate. On the other end, Dunk dragged in a slow breath, the kind that scraped against his patience on the way down. “No, you don’t.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“It works great for me.”

Another pause. He could practically hear Dunk pressing his tongue against his teeth, holding something back.

Then a muffled voice broke through.

“Is he up?” Joong, far too awake, too clear, like the morning belonged to him.

“No,” Dunk replied flatly, the annoyance slipping through now. “He’s arguing with reality.”

Aou’s voice followed, warmer, edged with amusement. “Tell him if he skips again, I’m sending someone to carry him.”

Book pressed the phone closer to his ear, still half buried in his pillow. “You all sound very energetic for people I don’t like this early.”

“It’s not early,” Dunk said. “You’re just useless before 1 PM.”

Book shifted onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling now, eyes half-lidded, completely unbothered. “I work better later.”

Joong’s quiet laugh slipped through the line, soft but unmistakable. “He sounds fine to me.”

“He always sounds fine,” Dunk muttered. The irritation in his voice didn’t fully land; it sounded more like a habit than anger. “That’s how he gets away with things.”

Book rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling now. “Are you done harassing me?”

“No,” Dunk answered without hesitation, the word landing firm. “Get up.”
Book’s mouth twitched again, stubbornness settling in as comfortably as the sheets around him. “Make me.”

There was a pause, then Aou again, clearer this time, like he had moved closer to the phone. “We really can, you know.”

Book huffed, a small smile slipping out despite himself. “You all have nothing better to do?”

“Unlike you, we woke up on time,” Dunk shot back, his voice edged with something sharper now, as the irritation had finally pushed through. “Move.”

The line went quiet for a second. It was not tense, not heavy, just… still. Like everyone on the other end was waiting to see what Book would do.

Book let out a small sound, something between a sigh and a quiet laugh, breath warm against the phone. There was no real resistance in it, no urgency either. Only that same lazy defiance, oft and stubborn.

Then the call ended.

He stared at the screen for a moment, eyes unfocused, the faint echo of their voices still lingering in his head. His thumb hovered like he might check something or call back, but he did not.

Instead, he let the phone slip from his hand, dropping onto the bed beside him.

His eyes closed again, slower this time. His body sank deeper into the mattress, tension melting out of him as none of it had mattered in the first place.

Of course, Book didn’t fall back asleep. He lay there for a minute, eyes closed, then let out a long sigh and pushed himself up. His body still felt light, a little weak but manageable, the kind of tired that clung but didn’t stop him. He stretched slightly, then paused when he noticed the change of clothes. Clean pajamas. Different from what he remembered.

He didn’t think much of it. Santa probably had Sammy helping him as always, and Dunk or Joong must have called them again as before. That was how it usually went. Book just ran a hand through his hair and got up, heading to get ready without questioning it further.

“Morning,” Santa called out first, giving him an easy smile, like nothing strange had happened the night before.

Book gave a small nod in return, stopping in front of them. “Morning.”

Beside Santa stood a new face.

Santa noticed the glance and quickly spoke up. “Oh, right. This is Phuwin, my new roommate.”

Phuwin gave a small, polite nod. “Hi.”

Book looked at him for a second, calm and unreadable, then nodded back. “Book.”

There was a brief pause, not awkward, just usual.

“You heading to campus?” Santa asked, shifting his weight slightly, casually.

Book hummed. “Yeah.”

“Come with us,” Santa said right away. “You don’t drive anyway, right?”

Book let out a faint breath, almost amused.

“You princess passenger, right?” Santa corrected lightly.

Book didn’t argue.

“Come on,” Santa added. “We’re going the same way.”

Book glanced at his car for a second, then back at them. “…Fine.”

They started walking together, Santa naturally taking the lead while Phuwin stayed slightly to the side, quiet but observant. Book walked beside them at an unhurried pace, still shaking off sleep but steady enough to keep up. The parking lot stretched out ahead like a luxury car showroom, rows of polished vehicles catching the light. Santa headed straight for a red sports car parked among the rest, having already decided before they even stepped outside. The other two followed without question, slipping into their seats as naturally as breathing. For a while, the conversation stayed light, easy, nothing that needed effort. Then Santa’s tone shifted, subtle but enough to be noticed.

“About last night…” he started, a bit hesitant now.

Book didn’t react much. “What about it?”

Santa glanced at him briefly, then looked forward again, attention snapping back to the road like it was something he could actually manage. “Phuwin helped me.”

Book’s steps faltered, just a fraction, barely noticeable unless someone was watching for it.

“He came with me,” Santa added, a little too quickly, words slipping out to fill the space before it could settle into something uncomfortable. “I couldn’t handle it alone.”

Phuwin stayed quiet beside them. His shoulders drew back, posture straightening in a way that felt practiced, as if he was bracing himself. Waiting. Ready for something that never came.

Book looked at him again, this time longer, more focused.

“…Thanks,” he said after a second, simple and calm.

Phuwin blinked once, a little caught off guard, then gave a small nod. “It’s nothing.”

Book didn’t respond to that; a small smile appeared, light and easy, the kind that didn’t seem to carry any weight. It softened his face, made everything about him look harmless.

Santa watched him for a moment, then relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders as he nodded. “Okay.”

Phuwin didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered a second longer than it should have. The smile didn’t reach Book’s eyes, not fully, and the stillness behind it felt too controlled to be natural.

Book kept the smile as he turned away, letting it stay in place while everything else slipped out of reach. He folded back into himself with practiced ease, as nothing had shifted, as there had never been anything to fix in the first place.

The drive passed in quiet after that. Not heavy, not awkward, just… absent. Whatever tension had been there earlier thinned out, replaced by lighter, meaningless bits of conversation that didn’t stick. By the time they reached campus, it was already alive. Students moved in clusters, voices overlapping into a steady hum that filled the space without ever settling.

Santa pulled into the parking area and cut the engine, the sudden silence inside the car pressing in for a brief second.

Book stepped out first. He stretched slightly, casual and unhurried, as if he had just woken up rather than just arrived. The same easy smile rested on his lips as his gaze drifted over the crowd, slipping into it without resistance, without standing out.

Santa followed, shutting the door behind him.

Phuwin got out last. He closed the door more slowly, fingers lingering on the handle for a second longer than necessary. His eyes moved to Book again, brief but deliberate. Then he walked after them, quiet as before. But there was a subtle shift now. His attention stayed a little sharper, his gaze more focused, as he was watching for something beneath the surface, something no one else had caught.

They had barely stepped onto campus when Santa spotted Dunk and the others near the building, already gathered like the space naturally bent around them. He lifted a hand in greeting, casually, as this was routine.

“Morning.”

Dunk gave a short nod, acknowledgment more than warmth. Joong’s smile came more relaxed, while Aou barely reacted at all, his expression settling somewhere between bored and unimpressed.

Santa didn’t stay. His attention shifted almost immediately. He glanced at Phuwin, a quick check, then back at the group. “We’ve got class first. I’ll catch you later.”

It was said lightly, but there was a quiet finality to it, like he had already decided.
Phuwin followed without a word. He gave a polite nod, then turned with Santa. His pace matched without needing to be asked, steps steady, leaving no space to linger.

Book stayed where he was for a second longer.

Not frozen. Not surprised. Just… still.

The noise of the campus moved around him, voices passing, footsteps brushing by, but he didn’t follow immediately. His gaze lingered on their backs as they walked away, the easy smile still resting on his face as it belonged there, unchanged.

Book’s gaze shifted to Dunk, and then he smiled, the same kind of smile as before, light and harmless at first glance, but the longer it stayed, the more it settled wrong, too calm, too deliberate, like it was covering something instead of showing it.

Dunk’s brows pulled slightly, not fully reacting yet, just noticing. Joong’s expression dimmed a fraction, curiosity replacing ease. Aou didn’t say anything, but his attention sharpened.

Pond was the first to move, stepping a little closer to Book, his presence naturally heavier, instinct kicking in before logic. “Everything okay?” he asked, voice low but steady.

“I don’t know where the hell I must start,” Book said, tone even, almost gentle. “Mind you, to explain what happened last night? Or you think I don’t need to know?”
Silence followed. It wasn’t loud, not tense in an obvious way, but it pressed in all the same.

Pond felt it first, the shift. It’s not from the words, but from Book himself. It didn’t match the smile. It didn’t match the tone. Something in it felt wrong, like instinct
warning him before reason could catch up.

The air held for a second too long before Book finally looked away from Dunk and let his gaze move across all of them, still smiling as if nothing had changed. “So,” he said, voice calm, almost polite, “who wants to start?”

No one answered right away. Dunk’s jaw tightened. He was about to step forward, but Pond moved first, a subtle shift that put him slightly between them.

“I told Santa to get help,” Pond said, steady, direct.

Dunk’s head snapped toward him. “Pond—”

“Santa couldn’t handle it alone.” Pond continued, not looking at him, his tone even but firm.

Book tilted his head slightly, the smile never leaving, but his eyes settled on Pond now, quieter, sharper. “So you let a stranger in.”

Dunk took a step forward anyway. “He’s not—” Joong’s hand caught his arm before he could finish, grip light but unyielding. Dunk shot him a look, irritation flashing, but he didn’t pull away.

Aou watched all of it without moving, his expression unreadable, but there was a tension in the way he exhaled, slow and measured, as if he was already bracing for impact.

“It wasn’t like that,” Pond added, quieter this time, though his stance didn’t change. “Nothing happened.”

Book’s fingers tapped once against his arm, slow and measured, a quiet rhythm that didn’t match the faint tension in the air. A trace of his scent lingered, subtle but present, brushing against the others like a reminder rather than a display. “That’s not really the point, is it?” he said. His tone stayed even, but it carried weight, pressing down in a way that made the space feel tighter. The smile on his lips remained, soft and almost amused, but his eyes had gone flat, unreadable.

Dunk shifted, unease flickering across his face as the atmosphere thickened, instincts prickling at something unspoken. Joong’s hand tightened around his arm, firm enough to ground him, a quiet Alpha warning to stay still. Dunk exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t pull away again.

Aou stepped in before anything could snap, his presence steady, controlled. His voice cut cleanly through the tension, carrying just enough authority to settle the air. “Class is starting,” he said, calm but unmistakable. “We’re already late.” It wasn’t a command, but it landed like one, something solid placed between them before the pressure could build any further.

For a moment, no one moved. The silence stretched, heavy with overlapping scents and restrained instincts.

Book held Pond’s gaze, unflinching, then let out a soft breath that almost sounded like a laugh. The shift was subtle, but immediate. His scent eased, smoothing out into something lighter, less demanding. The smile on his lips softened again, easy and harmless, as if nothing had just passed between them.

“Right,” Book said, as if nothing had been asked at all. “Wouldn’t want to miss it.” He turned first, already heading toward the building, leaving the weight of the conversation hanging behind him.

The others didn’t follow right away.

Dunk pulled his arm free this time, the movement sharper, frustration still sitting just under his skin.

Pond stayed where he was, shoulders tense but unmoving.

Aou watched Book’s retreating figure, expression steady, but his eyes narrowed just slightly.

Joong let out a quiet breath, glancing between them before finally stepping forward.
One by one, they followed, the air between them quieter now, but heavier, their scents no longer clashing, lingering. The conversation remained unfinished, and somehow, that made it harder to ignore.

By the time they stepped deeper into campus, the shift was immediate. Four alphas walking together already drew attention, but with Book among them, it turned to something harder to ignore.

Conversations slowed as people noticed, some pretending not to look, others not bothering to hide it at all. Book walked at the center like it meant nothing, posture loose, expression easy, that same soft smile resting on his lips as if he didn’t feel the weight of every glance following them. To most, it looked effortless, like he belonged there without question. The contrast only made it worse. Whispers trailed behind them, low and quick, admiration mixed with something sharper, something closer to envy. It wasn’t just about how they looked; it was what they were.

Four alphas, all known in their own way, walking with one omega who didn’t seem to bend around them, who didn’t act smaller or softer to fit the space. Some watched with quiet fascination, others with thinly veiled irritation, the imbalance of it sitting wrong in their chest.

Dunk ignored it, used to the attention, his focus flicking to Book more than the crowd.

Pond walked steadily, presence grounding, though his gaze stayed forward.
Joong looked relaxed, like he didn’t take any of it seriously, even as he kept track of everything.

Aou, unlike the others, didn’t carry that same distance. He gave a small nod to a passing group, even a brief smile, easy and natural, as he fit into the attention instead of pushing it away.

Book didn’t acknowledge any of it. If anything, his smile softened just slightly, innocent at first glance, but it lingered too perfectly, too unchanged, like it had been placed there on purpose rather than felt.

The classroom settled into its usual rhythm, the lecturer’s voice steady as it filled the space, but the tension from earlier didn’t fade; it just sank lower, quieter.

Book sat in his seat like nothing had happened, posture relaxed, pen moving across his notebook in neat, controlled strokes. When the lecturer asked a question, he answered without hesitation, voice clear, even earning a few light reactions from others, as if everything were normal, as he had already slipped back into place. The small smile returned now and then, easy, harmless, the same one from before. From the outside, there was nothing to question.

Dunk, a few seats away, didn’t look at the front for long, his attention drifting back to Book more often than it should, catching the way Book paused half a second too late before writing again, or how his gaze lingered just a bit too long on nothing in particular before snapping back.

Pond stayed quieter than usual. He leaned back in his chair, but there was no ease in it, no weight settling into the movement. His arms stayed crossed, held tight where he was keeping something contained, something that might slip if he let go. His eyes faced forward, fixed on the lecture, but they didn’t track anything. They just stayed there, distant.

Joong caught all of it and let none of it show. His attention moved between the lecture and the people around him with quiet precision. Now and then, he nudged Dunk, subtle, almost absent, just enough to pull his focus back before it drifted too far. He kept things steady without making it obvious he was doing it.

Aou sat the same as always, composed, controlled, answering when he needed to, his voice even and measured. But his gaze shifted once or twice toward Book. Brief, deliberate glances that didn’t linger long enough to be called out, yet carried weight all the same, l he was assessing something he had not concluded on yet.

The class went on like that, normal on the surface, nothing out of place, no raised voices, no confrontation, but underneath it all, something stayed unsettled, stretched thin between them, waiting without being acknowledged.

The bell rang, chairs shifted, and the room slowly emptied, but none of them moved right away. Book stayed in his seat, leaning back slightly, one arm resting on the desk, like he had nowhere else to be. The others lingered without saying it out loud, the space around them quieter now, heavier without the noise of the lecture to cover it.

Dunk glanced at Book once, then again, his gaze lingering a fraction longer the second time. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t accidental either. He looked like he was measuring something, waiting for the right opening, the right timing. His jaw tightened slightly, as he had already decided to say something. But when the moment came, nothing followed.

The words stayed where they were, caught somewhere behind his teeth, not as easy to say as he thought they would be.

Pond stayed where he was, posture steady but closed off, while Joong leaned against the edge of a desk, watching both sides, already sensing where this was heading.

Aou stood nearby, calm as always, but his attention didn’t drift far.
Dunk exhaled, ready to step in, but before anything could start, a voice cut through the space. “Dunk.”

All of them turned. The lecturer approached, her expression composed but purposeful. “He needs you at the head of the faculty. There’s something I want your help with.”

Dunk frowned slightly. “Now?”

She nodded once. “Yes. It won’t take long.”

There were no details, nothing to argue against. Dunk hesitated, his gaze flicking back to Book, clearly not wanting to leave it like this.

Book met his eyes, still smiling, then gave a small, almost careless nod, as if it didn’t matter, like there was no urgency at all.

It was enough.

Dunk held his gaze for a second longer, then nodded back, pushing himself off the desk. “I’ll be back.”

No one stopped him.

As he walked out with the lecturer, the room fell quiet again, but the moment had already shifted. Whatever they were about to say didn’t come as easily anymore. Joong ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Pond, then at Book, recalculating. Aou exhaled slowly, like he had expected something like this to interrupt them.

Book didn’t move. His expression stayed the same, calm, unbothered, like nothing had been delayed at all.

“Guess we’ll continue later,” he said lightly.

No one argued with that.

Joong finally pushed himself upright, pulling out his phone as he moved toward the door. His fingers moved quickly over the screen, the message short but clear.

Don’t let Pond take all of it by himself.

He hit send without looking back.