"Do I look casual enough to ruin someone's marriage?" Si-won asked as they walked toward Brewmates™ the next day, tugging at his crop top like it hadn't been chosen precisely for nipple visibility. His shorts rode up high on the thigh, pink hoodie cropped just enough to expose a peek of lower back when he stretched his arms above his head and sighed, long and dramatic. He walked like he was being filmed from behind. Because in his head, he was.
Min-jae did not answer. His jaw twitched slightly.
"You're shivering again," Si-won added, slyly. "That cinnamon glitch in your matrix. You okay, baby bot?"
"I'm cold," Min-jae muttered, though it was twenty-three degrees out and the sun was warm against the pavement.
Si-won smirked. "Or territorial?"
They stopped in front of Brewmates™, where the morning crowd was already thick with students and interns. Si-won leaned back just slightly, letting the light hit his cheekbones. He popped one hip, bit his lower lip, and whispered, "How's my aura?"
Min-jae's voice was dry. "Weaponized."
"Perfect."
The café bell chimed as they stepped inside, Si-won walking just ahead, basking in invisible attention. He liked to imagine sparkles followed him when he entered a room. Sometimes, with enough caffeine and pheromonal confidence, they almost did.
And that's when it happened. Again.
Three iced americanos, labeled with glitter stickers, waited on the counter like offerings to a very specific thirst god.
One said sunbae 😘.
One had a QR code taped to the side that led to a fancam montage set to lo-fi beats.
And one, ominously, had a post-it that read:
Don't let cinnamon boy drink this. He'll combust.
Min-jae picked up the drinks in silence, gripping the tray just slightly too tight. His entire body radiated the restrained tension of an Alpha who had not signed up for this level of emotional bandwidth before noon. Si-won sipped his americano like it was champagne and leaned closer, just close enough to waft strawberry milk pheromones against Min-jae's hoodie.
"Maybe I'll let him buy me lunch this time."
"You said that last time," Min-jae said, eyes on the QR code but voice flat.
"And now I have three lunches."
"You're flirting with someone twice your age."
"Correction. Late thirties. That's peak sugar Alpha range."
"That's not a thing."
"It is if his shoes cost more than your tuition and he wears cufflinks during daylight."
Min-jae's left eye twitched.
Hyun, behind the counter, caught Min-jae's expression and made a subtle heart shape with his hands. Then he not-so-subtly took a picture and posted it to the Brewmates™ Insta story:
"Sunbae vs Cinnamon: who wins? 👀 #AlphaEnergyAlert"
"Let's just go," Min-jae muttered, already turning toward the exit. But the door opened first.
And in walked Ji-hoon.
Late thirties. Designer suit. Silver rings. Hair styled with the exact amount of artful carelessness that screamed "I am rich enough to pretend I'm relaxed." He didn't walk. He entered. With two assistants and the scent of imported cologne strong enough to command the room.
He didn't look at the menu. He looked at Si-won.
"The pretty one with pink hair," Ji-hoon said smoothly, voice like marble over velvet. "Is he available for lunch?"
Hyun's mouth dropped open. Yuri dropped her phone. Min-jae's grip on the americano tray flexed.
"Apparently he used to manage idol groups," Si-won whispered out of the side of his mouth as Ji-hoon approached. "Now he's running a 'media company' that sells private fragrances and owns yachts. Probably divorced. Definitely dangerous. Exactly my type."
"You're ridiculous," Min-jae muttered.
"And you're vibrating."
Later...
Si-won didn't go to lunch with Ji-hoon. But he talked about it. Loudly. All week. By Thursday, he was spiraling.
"I'm not lovable," he announced while sitting on the kitchen floor in a hoodie three sizes too big. "I'm decorative and exhausting. If I were an object, I'd be a cursed hair curler that causes drama and low self-esteem."
"You're not an object," Min-jae said, crouching down beside him. "And you're not alone."
"I want a tiny pet to project onto," Si-won mumbled. "Something helpless and chaotic. Like me."
Min-jae took that statement very seriously. So they went to the shelter.
They came back with a teacup dog with anxiety, two missing teeth, and a dramatic cough. Si-won named her Mochi. She wore bows and barked at shadows. Latte instantly hated her.
Si-won instantly felt better.
And Min-jae?
Min-jae tucked both creatures into a chick-sized nest bed on the couch, kissed Si-won's forehead, and said, "I'll code her a heartbeat tracker."
Si-won started crying.
"Happy crying," he sniffled. "Don't ruin it with logic."
At 3 a.m.
Min-jae jolted upright in bed, heart pounding, scent sharp with alarm. The sound echoed through the apartment like a crime scene in clown shoes. Si-won was already sitting up, hair fluffed sideways, one eye twitching.
"Mochi's having a moment," he mumbled.
"She's attacking the humidifier," Min-jae said, voice grave. "Again."
They found her in the corner, wrapped in Si-won's limited-edition cardigan, growling at the air diffuser like it had insulted her lineage.
"I think she's beefing with it," Si-won whispered, horrified and proud.
"You created a scent war between technology and your unresolved issues," Min-jae muttered.
"I'm the drama," Si-won whispered, cradling Mochi to his chest. "But I'm also the peace treaty."
By morning, the apartment was chaos. Mochi had peed on the yoga mat, shredded a sock Min-jae still needed emotionally, and was now barking at the reflection of her own ears in a polished pan. Min-jae stepped on a plush donut toy and nearly dislocated something important.
Si-won, meanwhile, had the nerve to post a selfie holding Mochi in one hand and instant noodles in the other, captioned:
"Me and my girl before brunch. #FeralsOnly #HeatedButHydrated"
The comments were immediate:
@BondMeBeta: "Can't tell which one needs a nap more."
@CEOofKnotMyHeart: "Mochi and I are both growling at diffusers today. Twin flames."
@AlphaSniffersAnon: "Min-jae looks like he hasn't slept and I would like to volunteer."
Min-jae scrolled through them in silence, clutching a hot pack to his spine.
"You're trending again."
"I'm healing," Si-won said, dramatically sipping from a glass of aloe vera juice. "Through performance and carbs."
At the grocery store, the emotional whiplash continued. They had barely made it past the entrance when someone gasped , full K-drama level gasp, and whispered, "That's him. The cinnamon meltdown Omega."
Si-won turned like he had choreography prepared. Smiled. Winked.
"I'm just here for soup," he said. "And validation."
Min-jae dragged the cart behind him like a man preparing for legal deposition.
Someone else, a Beta with dyed green tips and a tote bag that said "Omega Agenda", approached asking for an autograph. Not for herself. For her brother's Alpha who had "cried during the bonding arc."
Si-won signed the tote with a glitter pen and wrote:
"Breathe deep. Scent proud. You're enough."
Min-jae stared at the tofu display like it had betrayed him personally.
Back at the apartment, surrounded by bags and snacks Si-won "emotionally manifested," Min-jae finally snapped.
"You don't even like jelly-filled rice crackers."
"I might today."
"You got twelve."
"I felt unsafe in the seaweed aisle and hoarding soothed me."
Min-jae dropped the receipt. "You don't need Ji-hoon's attention. Or his money. Or his yacht-scented pheromones."
"I don't want Ji-hoon," Si-won said, voice small. "I just wanted to feel like I had options."
That shut Min-jae up.
"I'm not good at... feeling wanted," Si-won added. "Unless it's curated. Controlled. Edited for engagement."
He sank into the couch with a bag of shrimp chips and sighed.
"I don't know how to be loved quietly."
Min-jae sat beside him.
"You don't need to be quiet," he said. "You just need to stay."
They didn't speak for a while. Just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, sharing snacks and chaos.
Mochi snored at their feet, curled up like a fluffy emotional support knot.