Chapter Text
Ordinary.
That was how Youngjae viewed himself—and how his parents, friends, co-workers, and probably even the ahjumma at his favorite ramyeon restaurant viewed him too, though they were all just too nice to say it out loud.
But no one had to say the word for Youngjae to notice it. In fact, the lack of attention from childhood through adolescence and all the way into adulthood already spoke volumes.
Being born a middle child had already given him the middle child syndrome—the child who was practically invisible in both of his parents’ eyes. He wasn’t quite favored like the oldest by his dad, and he was never doted on like the youngest by his mom.
He kind of just awkwardly existed in between, like air caught between the sun and a bundle of clouds—always there, always taking up space, but never truly seen.
That wasn’t to say his parents didn’t try to make him feel special.
They were both nice people, not the type to intentionally make their child feel bad. Still, whenever something came up—something unavoidable, like a scheduling conflict that forced them to choose between him and one of his siblings, it always ended up like this:
“Sorry, Youngjae-yah, appa can’t pick you up from cram school today, can you take the bus home?” and, “Youngjae-yah, eomma can’t come to your piano recital, but you’ll do just fine on your own, right?”
Of course those weren’t things you wanted to hear from your parents when you were still a kid, at that tender age teetering right before puberty, when you craved your parents’ love and validation more than anything else in the world.
But Youngjae wasn’t as sporty as his older brother who was the star player on his high school’s baseball team. He didn’t feel like he had the right to ask his equally sporty father to spend more time with him after school, even if it was something as small as picking him up from cram school.
And despite being good at piano, he still couldn’t manage to bring any spotlight onto himself. His mother adored his ballerina younger sister far more, and somehow, his piano recitals and her performances always ended up clashing. So for that reason, his mother never showed up to his.
Then came the biggest moment of his life—or at least, what was supposed to be the biggest moment of his life:
the presentation of his secondary gender.
A beta.
In his second year of high school, right at the peak of insecurity and low self-esteem, everything went from bad to worse the moment he presented as the most ordinary, unremarkable secondary gender of them all.
No instincts, no sharp biological traits, no pheromones to attract attention or dominate a space, no natural drive to breed, claim, or be claimed.
And most importantly—he had no capability of producing children.
When Youngjae presented as a beta—the only beta in the family—he somehow managed to make himself even more invisible than he already was. His presence shrank further and further into the background, until it felt as if he didn’t exist at all.
In a world where alphas and omegas were traditionally paired together, Youngjae went from being like air within his family to something even less noticeable once he moved out and stepped into adulthood.
Within his social circle, he became wallpaper.
Yes, wallpaper—a mere background element, just a decoration that was easily overlooked, blending seamlessly into a room full of people who wouldn’t even realize if he was there or not.
Still, he supposed there was at least one benefit to being a beta.
For example, he didn’t have to be picky when it came to finding a roommate. It didn’t matter whether they were an alpha or an omega since he couldn’t sense pheromones either way. Ruts and heats had no effect on him, since he lacked any primal instincts to react to them in the first place.
It made it easier for alphas to be around him too, since he simply wasn’t seen as a threat for whatever reason. Omegas, on the other hand, could feel safe with him nearby, knowing there was no chance of him slipping into a sudden rut and going feral, no risk of him becoming dangerous without warning.
And if he could find a beta roommate like himself, that would be even better.
That was why the process of finding a roommate had been surprisingly easy.
Youngjae had only posted the ad on the school’s dorming and housing online forum for a few hours when he was contacted by a student named Han Jihoon.
Jihoon was a first year student looking to move out of the dormitory after some conflicts with his alpha roommate that had escalated into a nasty fight, one that nearly got them both suspended from school.
That had surprised Youngjae, especially since he had already heard about the fight through passing conversations while buying lunch at the school cafeteria, about how two alpha males had gone down and fought it out over the most beautiful, sought-after omega on campus.
Those kinds of things were common though, alphas with inflated egos and feral instincts fighting tooth and nail to claim a beautiful omega as their mate.
It was an issue Youngjae knew he would never have to face in his entire life, which made it oddly fascinating to witness from an outsider’s perspective.
What he hadn’t expected, however, was for one of the alphas involved in such a huge, scandalizing conflict to be the one responding to his roommate listing.
Of course it was terrifying. Why would anyone willingly take in someone who embodied the typical traits of a violent alpha male? Especially for a beta like Youngjae who was naturally quiet, reserved, and easily intimidated— he would surely end up bullied in his own home if he lived with someone like that.
But because that was exactly what he was—a pushover—Youngjae ended up responding to Jihoon anyway, even as it made him jittery and made his hands shake enough that he nearly passed out when they scheduled an appointment for an apartment viewing.
When that day finally came, Youngjae found himself surprised yet again.
Jihoon turned out to be the exact opposite of what he had imagined. He was slightly shorter than Youngjae, with blond hair that gave him a youthful look rather than making him resemble some kind of punk or delinquent. There was a permanent smile on his face as he spoke, warm and easy, and he giggled every time Youngjae’s clumsy nature slipped out, whether it was tripping over his own feet or bumping his head against the furniture while awkwardly showing Jihoon around the apartment.
After spending some time together, Youngjae learned that Jihoon was actually a really sweet guy. He was nice, bubbly, and outgoing, someone who naturally carried conversations for the both of them whenever Youngjae grew awkward and the room threatened to sink into silence. Jihoon filled the empty spaces easily, as if it came second nature to him.
The apartment viewing ended with Jihoon asking Youngjae a question that no one in his life had ever asked before. It hit him so suddenly that it felt like the wind had been knocked clean out of his chest, leaving him momentarily stunned when the words slipped out.
“Youngjae hyung, are you an omega?”
Jihoon moved into the apartment a week later, and because they were both easygoing by nature, there were no strict rules established between them. Youngjae honestly just wanted someone to split the rent with, and Jihoon just wanted to get away from alphas like himself.
Growing up with an alpha in the house, Youngjae understood the whole rut and heat thing, even if he would never experience it himself or truly know what it felt like. So he subtly hinted to Jihoon that if he ever needed to “take care of business,” it was fine to bring people home, especially since Youngjae spent the majority of his time at work anyway.
Jihoon didn’t really seem like the type to do things like that. With his puppy-like nature, he looked far too pure and innocent, which only made it more surprising when his rut hit for the first time and a pretty boy showed up at their apartment as if he already knew exactly what was happening.
Jihoon didn’t need to explain anything to Youngjae. When he and the pretty boy disappeared into Jihoon’s room and kept the doors locked for hours, Youngjae felt that familiar reminder wash over him.
No matter how close he became to someone, no matter how kind they were to him or how special they made him feel, at the end of the day, he was still just wallpaper—always there, sometimes noticed, but never truly valued or looked at for long.
Even so, he couldn’t help himself from falling for Jihoon.
Jihoon was the first person to ever look at him for so long, the first to actually ask about him and his interests, and the first to give him attention without making it feel like an obligation.
It might have sounded ridiculous. Given the nature of their relationship as roommates, it was almost a given that they would speak to each other at least once a day.
Still, Youngjae couldn’t help falling for Jihoon’s kindness—the way he looked at Youngjae as if he was the only person in the world, and most of all, the subtle skinship between them. Jihoon never minded when Youngjae got clumsy and brushed against him, leaving accidental touches here and there. Sometimes Jihoon would even link their arms together just to laugh whenever Youngjae blushed.
With each day they lived together, Youngjae’s feelings continued to grow stronger, but quietly, threading through his routine.
Yet he kept them buried, careful not to disturb a world where alphas and omegas were the main characters, a world where betas had no proper roles other than serving as filler episodes in other people’s love stories.
And just like that, a whole year passed with them as roommates.
Jihoon remained as kind, as bright, and as oblivious as ever, while Youngjae’s heart held onto a quiet flame that refused to die out.
Youngjae had just finished his laundry, spreading the clean clothes across the couch in preparation to hang them up when the sound of Jihoon’s door opening made him jolt. He threw a quick, cautious glance over his shoulder.
The morning had started off so quietly that he hadn’t even realized Jihoon was home—which he shouldn’t be, anyway.
Because it was a Tuesday morning, wasn’t it? And Jihoon always had classes on Tuesday mornings, followed by dance lessons in the afternoon.
“Jihoon-ah?” Youngjae called out softly, eyes rounding with curiosity as the door creaked further open but nobody was stepping out. He could see the door itself trembling slightly, the handle almost shaking, as if Jihoon was holding himself back, struggling to keep himself inside the room for some reason.
Sensing something was wrong, Youngjae quickly turned his back to the door to set the hanger he was holding back onto the couch. He barely had time to straighten up before a low snarl sounded behind him.
Before he could even turn around, Jihoon was there—appearing in an instant, arms wrapping tightly around Youngjae’s waist as he pulled him into a firm backhug, locking him in place.
Youngjae jumped, startled, when Jihoon pressed his face against the side of his neck, nuzzling there, brushing his nose along his throat. His breath hitched painfully and he struggled to exhale through his nose with how tightly Jihoon was gripping him, arms almost crushing against his ribs.
“You smell so good…Youngjae hyung…” Jihoon murmured. A contented sigh followed as he took another deep breath, nose pressed against Youngjae’s throat. “Like fabric softener…fresh linen…mmm…”
A low growl rumbled from Jihoon’s chest as he pressed even closer, drawing a small, involuntary whimper from Youngjae at the force of the hold. “And a bit like ocean mist…it’s so addicting…”
“Of course…” Youngjae managed to grit out through his rising panic. His body was stiff with shock, but some rational part of him still tried to drill sense back into Jihoon. “I work at a laundromat, Jihoon-ah.” He let out a nervous, awkward chuckle, more for himself than anything. “So of course I smell like that…not because I’m an omega.”
Even without the ability to sense pheromones, Youngjae could tell something was very wrong. Drawing on past clues and remembering the last time Jihoon had behaved in an odd manner—it was obvious something serious was happening.
Jihoon was going into a sudden rut.
Jihoon continued sniffing along his neck, nuzzling deeper, the way an alpha would scent an omega. His mind had to be too foggy, too far gone to register the truth—that Youngjae wasn’t one.
Panic finally bubbled over as Youngjae sputtered,
“L-let me contact Dohoon for you. He’ll know what to do—”
Youngjae reached up, trying to push Jihoon off him, but Jihoon snarled louder, low and threatening. His arms tightened instead, digging brutally into Youngjae’s body and drawing a sharp, pained cry from his lips.
“No,” Jihoon sneered, his voice thick and possessive as he panted hotly against Youngjae’s neck.
“I don’t want an omega.”
He pressed his chest flush against Youngjae’s back, refusing to loosen his hold even an inch.
“I want you, Youngjae hyung.”
“I-I’m not—” Youngjae gasped, choking on a cough as he struggled to drag in air through how tightly Jihoon was holding him. “—an omega—” he wheezed, unable to make sense of Jihoon’s words, just as Jihoon seemed unwilling to hear his.
Just when Youngjae thought his oxygen might really give out, the door to their apartment swung open, and there stood Dohoon, always punctual as if he had been expecting it.
Dohoon’s eyes widened the moment they met Youngjae’s, and that was when it truly hit him—this rut wasn’t planned. No one had been expecting it, probably not even Jihoon himself.
Panic flashed across Dohoon’s face as he rushed forward, immediately grabbing for Jihoon’s arms and tugging hard, trying to pry him away from Youngjae.
“Junghwan hyung! Come help me!” Dohoon shouted over his shoulder before turning back and smacking Jihoon sharply on the head. “Let go, you stupid alpha! Can’t you see you’re scaring Youngjae?!”
At that, Jihoon’s grip loosened just slightly, enough that Youngjae could finally breathe without feeling like his bones were about to crack—but Jihoon still sneered and snarled as if he were cornered and under attack.
“Fuck,” Dohoon hissed under his breath, throwing another urgent glance toward the door. “Shin Junghwan! Hurry up before Youngjae gets hurt!”
Youngjae whimpered as Dohoon began clawing at Jihoon’s arms again, trying— and failing—to pry him off. In the middle of the struggle, another presence entered the room, and Youngjae didn’t need any instinctual abilities to know immediately what he was.
An alpha—and a strong, dominating one at that. His eyes radiated dominance so intensely that even someone like Youngjae who wasn’t affected by instincts, felt the pull to submit.
Junghwan’s gaze hardened instantly as he strode forward. Within a split second, he ripped Jihoon and Youngjae apart with ease. The force sent Jihoon stumbling backward onto the couch with a feral growl, while Youngjae pitched forward straight into Junghwan’s arms.
“S-sorry—” Youngjae stammered, face heating up at the sudden proximity. He reached out instinctively, trying to push himself away, but Junghwan caught his wrist instead, firm and controlled, already pulling him toward the door.
“Run,” Junghwan instructed, stepping forward and positioning himself in front of Youngjae. His broad frame shielded him completely, blocking off the chaos unfolding behind them.
“Run?” Youngjae echoed, blinking up at him, still dazed. “W-why?”
From somewhere behind Junghwan, a sight no longer visible to him, Jihoon’s voice rang out, raw and unhinged.
“Stay away from him! Youngjae is mine!”
Youngjae’s heart skipped violently at the words. The shock of it hit so suddenly that the room seemed to tilt, dizziness washing over him in a way that left him unsteady.
Junghwan noticed immediately. A knowing smile tugged at his lips as he glanced down at Youngjae’s expression, as if he already knew the realization was sinking in.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Junghwan said, a faint smirk breaking through. “Because Jihoon likes you like crazy.”
His grip tightened just slightly, guiding Youngjae closer to the door.
“Stay here any longer,” Junghwan added calmly, “and he might actually eat you right up.”
When Youngjae finally snapped out of his daze, he already had both feet outside the door.
There was another feral shout from Jihoon calling his name, Dohoon’s voice snapping sharply for him to “stay down!”, and a brief flash of Junghwan’s smile before the door slammed shut in front of him.
The sound echoed in the hallway, followed by the sharp click of the lock sliding into place, leaving Youngjae standing alone outside of his own apartment.
He stood there, unmoving, for a few minutes. Maybe longer, maybe an hour. He didn’t really know. Time seemed to stall, or perhaps stop making sense altogether as his mind struggled to process what had just happened.
The memories came back in fragments, so intense that Youngjae could still feel the weight of them. In the middle of replaying them, he could almost feel it again—Jihoon’s warm breath against his neck.
The phantom sensation alone was enough to make his knees feel weak.
A shuddered breath slipped past his lips as he slowly sank down onto the floor, crouching on his knees. He buried his face in his palms, skin burning hot, as though the memory itself might scorch him alive.
Because no matter how much he tried not to think deeply about it, his mind kept circling back to a single phrase.
One sentence that lingered far too deeply—one that could almost make even a typically level-headed beta like him want to submit.
“I want you, Youngjae hyung.”