Chapter Text
the dining room is too quiet.
joshua sits with his back straight, hands folded in his lap like he's at a tea party he never asked to attend. the chandelier above casts gold light over the polished table, the crystal glasses, and the untouched food. his mother dabs her lips with a napkin even though she hasn't eaten a bite.
"you'll be well taken care of," she says.
joshua's jaw tightens. "that's not the same as being wanted."
his father clears his throat. "the yoon family has a solid name. their son — he's stable, educated, successful—"
"unavailable. emotionally or otherwise," joshua cuts in softly. "he didn't even show up."
"he sent a lawyer," his mother offers, like that helps. "it's professional."
joshua breathes out through his nose and leans back in his chair, tired in a way that feels older than he is. he knows what this is. his family is in debt, their name teetering on the edge of collapse. jeonghan's family is doing them a favor. he's the pawn in the middle of the board. the pretty, pliable omega with the perfect scent match and the passive temper to make it easy.
he's soft. agreeable. marketable. but he's not stupid.
"fine," he says, finally. "i'll sign it."
the same night, his luggage was dropped at the alpha's residence.
the apartment was too clean.
joshua drags his suitcase through the front door, the wheels soundless over sleek hardwood floors. the place smells like cedarwood and barely-used cologne. everything is black, white, or glass. even the couch looks like it would rather not be touched.
he lets out a breath and closes the door behind him.
the bond contract burned his fingers when he signed it. he told himself it was psychological, but something about the ink, the commitment, the marking clause — it made his skin prickle. no actual mating. no heat claim. no physical bonding, unless mutually agreed upon. a year minimum. option for renewal. it sounds like a lease agreement. a roommate situation. but worse, because it's wrapped in omegaverse tradition and enforced by bloodline politics.
"you're early."
the voice comes from the hallway. deeper than he expected. smooth, almost lazy.
joshua turns.
and there he is — yoon jeonghan.
he's taller than in the pictures, broad-shouldered in a fitted black button-down that's unbuttoned one too many notches. his sleeves are rolled to his forearms, hair pushed back, revealing sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones. the way he's leaning against the doorframe is effortless, like he's been doing it all his life.
joshua blinks. then looks away.
"you weren't here when the papers were signed," he says, voice soft but cool. "thought you might skip this part too."
jeonghan raises a brow, amused. "and miss the grand arrival of my contract-bound omega? never."
joshua rolls his eyes, wheeling the suitcase past him. "i'm not unwrapping a ribbon and posing for a photo-op. calm down."
jeonghan lets out a low chuckle behind him, and joshua's ears turn pink.
"pleased to make your acquaintance.." he trails off and joshua was bewildered, thinking the alpha didn't even know the name of the omega he was bonded with.
"hong." jeonghan completes. well, atleast he knows his last name.
but rather than digging deep in his thoughts, joshua couldn't help but notice — the man smells good, and it was annoying.
the guest bedroom is cold.
joshua stares at the minimalist decor — gray bedding, silver lamps, a glass desk — and sets his things down with a quiet sigh. there's no scent here. no softness. no signs of a home. it's like jeonghan was expecting a business associate, not a mate. he flops onto the bed, face-down, and buries a groan into the pillow.
three minutes later, a knock.
he turns his head, just enough to glare toward the door. "yes?"
jeonghan opens it anyway.
"just checking you didn't fall and hit your head. wouldn't want a lawsuit on day one."
"don't worry," joshua mutters, lifting himself up. "my pride broke the fall."
jeonghan leans against the doorframe again. it's becoming a theme. his arms are crossed now, gaze unreadable.
"this isn't going to work if you're sulking all the time."
"i'm not sulking," joshua says. "i'm adjusting."
"same thing."
"no, it's not." he stands, slow, arms folded. "sulking is emotional. adjusting is logical. which is the language you clearly speak, so i thought i'd try."
jeonghan's lips twitch. "you're not what i expected."
"you expected docile?"
"i expected quiet."
joshua tilts his head. "i am quiet."
"you're loud in all the ways that count."
the tension hangs between them like thread pulled too tight.
joshua's breath catches slightly. jeonghan's eyes flick down — just briefly — to the line of joshua's collarbone, visible through his soft cream sweater. it's subtle, but joshua sees it. feels it. his pulse jumps.
he steps back, breaking the moment.
"if you're done inspecting your purchase, i'd like some privacy."
jeonghan hums low in his throat. "you'll be safe here," he says, finally. "that's all i'm offering." and then he leaves.
and joshua doesn't sleep much.
he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way jeonghan looked at him. like he was a puzzle. or a problem. or something beautiful that didn't fit on the shelf.
he hates that it made him blush. he hates that his heart skipped when jeonghan's voice dipped low. he hates that some stupid part of his omega instincts likes being told he's safe. even if it's not real. even if it's just a legal obligation. his heat isn't due for weeks, but his body's already reacting to proximity. to scent. to tone. he presses his thighs together beneath the blankets, cheeks burning from the rushing blood.
"nope," he whispers to himself, flipping over. "we're not doing this."
but god. the way jeonghan smells.
and before he knew it, it was morning. and that morning came too bright.
joshua drags himself into the kitchen, hair mussed, sleeves hanging over his hands. jeonghan is already there, standing by the coffee machine shirtless, in black sweatpants that hang too low on his hips.
joshua stares. then immediately looks away.
"you sleep okay?" jeonghan asks, not looking up.
"mm."
"that a yes?"
"that's a none of your business."
jeonghan chuckles, low and amused. "snarky in the morning. cute."
joshua glares, but the heat crawling up his neck betrays him. he pulls a mug from the cabinet and starts pouring coffee.
jeonghan leans against the counter next to him. "you know, i could've just paid your family off without taking you in."
"and yet here we are," joshua mutters, sipping slowly. "must be my charm. besides, why would someone like you be charitable."
"it's not the charm," jeonghan murmurs. "it's the scent. and you're right, i'm not that charitable."
joshua's hand stills. jeonghan turns, voice lower now. "i've had a headache since you got here. it's maddening."
joshua looks up at him, wide-eyed. "then maybe you should keep your distance."
"maybe i should," jeonghan says, stepping in anyway.
they're close now. too close. joshua's back hits the counter, breath hitching. jeonghan's hands don't touch him, but they could — and joshua's skin is already buzzing.
he swallows. "you said this was just safety. no touching. no—"
"i'm not touching you."
"you're thinking about it."
jeonghan smirks. "are you?"
joshua narrows his eyes, cheeks flushed pink. "you're annoying."
"you're blushing."
"shut up."
and then joshua pushes past him, mug in hand, heart thundering in his chest. he doesn't see the way jeonghan watches him walk away. doesn't hear the quiet exhale he lets out after the door closes. doesn't feel the way jeonghan's restraint is already beginning to wear thin.
but he knows. they both know. this arrangement is going to ruin them. or it's going to be the beginning of something neither of them are ready for.
t b c