The morning light spilled gently across the curtains of the resort room, a quiet warmth that pressed against the edges of the bed where Kaein and Lior still lay tangled. Two days had passed here in a borrowed cocoon, far from the noise of family politics and responsibilities. Neither of them wished to leave, yet the road home called.
Lior stirred first, his lashes fluttering as if the weight of dreams still clung to him. Kaein's arm was heavy around his waist, his warmth pressing steady into his back. The air held the faintest trace of gardenia and wisteria—scents that had grown so familiar between them these past nights that they no longer startled but instead soothed, blending into a natural intimacy.
"Kaein," Lior murmured softly, voice rough with sleep, "we have to go back today."
Kaein hummed low in his throat, not opening his eyes. "Let the world wait a little longer." His nose dipped against Lior's hair, breathing him in. That subtle brush, that refusal to let go, was as close to a plea as he would ever admit.
But reality tugged. Their bags were already packed, and by midmorning, they left the quiet luxury of the resort behind, driving back toward the city.
The morning air still carried the soft fragrance of the pines that bordered the family resort, the faint traces of last night's laughter lingering like mist over the winding road. Kaein drove with one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, his posture deceptively calm though his eyes flickered toward the passenger seat every few minutes. Lior sat there, gazing out the window, his profile painted in a light so soft it seemed unreal. The dawn had kissed his pale skin with a faint glow, and his eyes reflected the morning's clarity—though beneath that serenity something tense rippled, like water beneath ice.
They had stayed longer at the resort than intended, lulled into the slow rhythm of family warmth and the rare ease of belonging. Now, as the highway stretched before them, reality waited. Lior leaned back, arms folded loosely, his lips curving faintly at the corners when Kaein asked if he was tired.
"Not tired," he murmured, voice smooth as water, "just… thinking. Being away always feels like a dream. Then we return, and the dream doesn't let go."
Kaein tilted his head, watching him briefly before focusing back on the road. "A dream worth staying in, or one you want to wake from?"
Lior's gaze flickered to him, something unreadable glimmering there, and he only whispered, "We'll see."
By the time the sun arched high into midday, their path led them into the city's heart. Hunger, casual and unplanned, nudged them toward a well-known hotel restaurant. It was the sort of place polished in appearance but not ostentatious, where business meetings and family lunches coexisted in quiet corners. Kaein parked, and together they entered, unaware that coincidence had already woven its threads ahead of them.
---
By midday, hunger guided them to a hotel near the heart of town. A coincidence—or perhaps fate—that they would step into the polished lobby just as another family group was arriving.
The scent struck before the sight—familiar, sharp, carrying the weight of memory. Lior stiffened the moment they crossed the threshold, his hand tightening briefly at his side, though he schooled his expression. In a corner table sat a group, laughter brittle under the clink of glasses. His family. Parents whose gazes cut sharper than knives, and beside them, lounging with the ease of someone who believed the world bent toward him, sat Eryx.
Kaein noticed first. Lior's mother's familiar silhouette, graceful but severe, stood near the entrance. His father beside her, distant as always. And just behind them, laughter far too familiar for Lior to ignore.
Eryx.
For a moment, the world paused. The clink of cutlery, the murmur of staff, the sunlight scattering through the tall glass windows—everything dulled under the sharp collision of presences.
Lior's hand tightened at Kaein's sleeve before he could stop himself.
Kaein noticed instantly, his eyes narrowing, a protective instinct sparking. But Lior's voice came calm, steady. "It's fine. We'll eat. A coincidence, nothing more."
Yet coincidence was rarely so cruel. They were noticed within moments, the mother's sharp gaze snapping toward them, the father's expression tightening. Eryx, however, was the one who rose, smile curved in mockery, the kind that dressed cruelty in silk. "Lior," he drawled, stepping forward as if he had rehearsed this very moment. "What a surprise."
Lior's mother turned, her gaze catching on them, and the polite mask of social civility slid into place. "Ah, Kaein," she said, voice carrying a weight that was neither warm nor cold, but sharpened by unspoken expectations. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Lior, then away. "You are here."
Kaein bowed his head slightly. "Aunty." Followed by Lior saying , "Aunty."
The word lingered, soft and almost reverent. Lior's mother's lips pressed into a line, but she said nothing further.
"Eryx." Lior's tone was flat, his chin lifting, the air between them already heavy.
They were invited—or rather cornered—into brief exchanges, pleasantries turned sharp, every word from Lior's parents laced with disapproval, their disappointment veiled only enough to pass in public. Kaein watched closely, sensing the brittle edge in Lior's voice each time he answered them with cool detachment.
The meal became an awkward theater. Conversations flowed in fragments, half-hearted attempts at civility around the table. Kaein answered when spoken to, his voice curt, his hand brushing Lior's under the table as if to anchor him. Lior, for his part, ate quietly, offering a smile or word where needed, though he could feel the undercurrent twisting—something electric, watching, waiting.
And then it came.
A pause, just long enough for Lior to excuse himself. The restroom's polished marble walls gave no comfort, only reflections fractured by the sharpness of overhead light. He had not expected footsteps to follow, but the door swung shut softly behind him, and in the mirror stood Eryx.
"Haa… my big brother," Eryx's voice carried that familiar mockery wrapped in affection, his smile curling sharp. "It's been a while."
Lior turned, steady, though his heartbeat skipped once. "You planned this."
"Of course," Eryx replied, stepping closer, his cologne nothing compared to the raw pulse of pheromones simmering beneath his skin. "Both of us—our relationship has always been… intimate, hasn't it?" His head tilted, his eyes glinting. "But I awakened as Omega. What about you?"
Lior's gaze narrowed.
"Can you even help Kaein when he goes into rut?" Eryx's tone dripped with provocation, each word calculated to cut. "Do you like him that much, my dear brother? It doesn't matter. Whatever you have, I desire it. Just like I snatched your presence before, how about I help him too? We're brothers, aren't we?"
Lior's jaw tightened.
Eryx's smile widened, cruel. "Look at you. Handsome, yes. But I have everything. Don't you think in this world, nowadays, pheromone is everything? Alpha and Omega—quite the pair. Even fate doesn't give you anything. You're just…" He let the word linger, dismissive. "A normal person."
The words sliced. And yet—
Something inside Lior shifted.
It began like the whisper of a storm, subtle but undeniable, gardenia blooming heavy in the air. Not fragile, not delicate—heady, intoxicating, overwhelming. His breath grew shallow as heat coiled in his veins, his body trembling, but it was not weakness. It was command.
Eryx froze, his mocking expression faltering. That scent—dominant, demanding—wrapped around him like chains. His knees buckled, his body betraying him, heat flooding so sharp it forced a gasp from his lips.
"No…" he choked, eyes wide. "Impossible."
But the weight only grew. Lior's gaze bore into him, dark and unyielding, his voice cutting low. "You think pheromones rule everything? Then kneel."
Eryx's body obeyed before his mind could fight it. The absurdity of it—the younger brother, an awakened Omega, forced down by what should not exist—only deepened the humiliation. His breath hitched, the flush of heat consuming him until it bordered on unbearable.
And then—another scent cut through.
Wisteria, sharp and dominant, Alpha instinct awakened in alarm.
Kaein.
The door slammed open, and he stood there, breath catching at the scene before him—Eryx trembling on his knees, Lior standing rigid, the air thick with pheromones that clashed and tangled, threatening to ignite.
"Lior—!" Kaein's voice cracked, half shock, half something else. The scent drew him in, claws deep into his instincts, but he fought it. Crossing the distance, he seized Lior, pulling him close, arms wrapping tight. His mouth pressed against Lior's temple, desperate, grounding.
"Breathe," he urged, his voice low, steady. "You'll burn yourself out."
Lior's chest heaved, the gardenia still spilling, uncontrolled, until Kaein tilted his face, kissing him firm, urgent, pouring his own wisteria through, coaxing, dampening. The clash trembled, wavered, then eased, the air clearing just enough.
Eryx panted on the floor, disbelief shadowing his features. "You—"
Kaein's eyes turned cold as steel. "Don't you dare look at him again."
Lior's voice followed, weak but edged with fire. "Don't touch my man. He is the only one you are not worthy of."
The weight of his words left no room for mockery. Eryx faltered, silenced, as Kaein gathered Lior against him and left without another glance.
---
The drive home was quiet. Lior leaned heavily against Kaein, his head resting on his shoulder, exhaustion finally breaking through. His skin burned faintly, feverish, and his eyes fluttered closed.
"Stay with me," Kaein whispered, his hand tightening around Lior's.
But halfway back, the strain caught up. Lior's body slackened, his breaths shallow, his scent flickering faintly in the air before dimming.
"Lior!"
Kaein's heart lurched as he pulled over, cradling him close. Gardenia lingered faint but persistent, like a secret refusing to fade. Carefully, Kaein lifted him into his arms, carrying him inside once they reached the family home.
His mother stood waiting, eyes widening as she saw Lior limp against him. "Kaein—"
"He needs rest," Kaein cut in firmly, his voice carrying no room for argument. He carried Lior past her, his steps steady but every beat of his heart trembling with fear.
In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not family, not politics, not fate. Only Lior—his presence, his warmth, the rare, unnameable truth hidden in his very scent.
And as night fell, Kaein sat by his side, watching over him, silently vowing that no one—not even Eryx—would ever take him away.
Night fell softly around them, shadows and silence weaving through the house. In that silence, only the faint fragrance of gardenia lingered, a promise and a warning both.