Chapter Text
The classroom usually smells faintly of crayons and paper, but by the end of the day, it belongs to Wooyoung.
The mixed scent of chamomile and honey drifts through the air as he stacks worksheets into neat piles, the soft hum of the overhead lights buzzing above him. The last of the kindergartners had already been picked up and are out in the hallway, their laughter echoing like distant birdsong.
All except one.
“Nari-yah,” Wooyoung calls gently, crouching beside her desk. “Your halmeoni’s usually here before you can even finish packing.”
Nari blinks up at him with wide eyes and a gap-toothed smile. “Appa said he’s coming today.”
Wooyoung pauses.
Appa.
He tries not to let his scent shift. He’s met plenty of alphas in his life. Enough to learn his lesson. Enough to understand that the way they looked at him—a soft-voiced, sweet-scented, male omega—was rarely ever kind.
“Alright,” he says smoothly. “We can wait together.”
A few more minutes later, there’s a knock at the open classroom door.
Wooyoung looks up—and stills.
He notices the scent of the alpha first.
Patchouli and pears.
It’s not overpowering. It doesn’t slam into the room like most alphas did, thick and demanding. It rolls in quietly, warm and earthy, touched with something sweet.
Then the alpha actually enters the room.
Broad shoulders, dressed in simple dark slacks and a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Dark hair falling just slightly into his eyes. But it isn’t his size that catches Wooyoung off guard.
It’s the way he becomes so soft as soon as his eyes land on his little girl.
“Hi, princess,” the alpha said softly, holding out his arms. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
And just like that, Nari launches herself at him.
He catches her easily, steady hands cradling her as if she were made of glass instead of scraped knees and stubborn pride. He presses a kiss to her temple, eyes closing briefly, breathing her in.
“I missed you,” he murmurs.
Wooyoung’s chest tightens.
Most alpha fathers he’s met walk into the room like they own them. They don’t kneel. They aren’t soft. They don’t smell like late summer and safety.
The alpha stands, Nari is balanced on his hip, her arms are wrapped around his neck, and finally he looks at Wooyoung.
Their eyes meet.
Wooyoung feels it — that instinctive omega awareness, the subtle pull in his spine, the quiet hum under his skin.
He straightens immediately, folding his arms.
“Hello,” the alpha says politely with a soft smile. His voice is low, but careful. Respectful. “You must be Mr. Jung. I’m Choi San. Nari’s appa.”
He doesn’t step closer than necessary.
He doesn’t let his scent spike.
He doesn’t let his gaze linger anywhere inappropriate.
Wooyoung blinks once, twice.
“…Yes,” he replies, a professional smile snapping into place. “Mr. Choi, it’s nice to finally meet you. Nari’s been doing very well in reading this month.”
San’s expression brightens instantly, like someone had handed him his favorite cake.
“Really? That’s amazing, baby.”
Nari is smiling so happily at her dad, both their smiles are the exact same.
Wooyoung watches the exchange, something unfamiliar settling uncomfortably in his ribs.
Alphas don’t look like that, he thinks.
They don’t sound like that.
San adjusts Nari higher on his hip, careful, steady. “Thank you for taking care of her,” he says to Wooyoung, meeting his eyes again. “The last two months all she talks about is you and this class.”
Wooyoung’s pulse skips.
“She does?” he asks before he can stop himself.
“All good things,” San adds quickly, almost shy. “She says you make class really fun.”
Wooyoung huffs softly. “That’s debatable.”
For a moment, silence stretches between them — not awkward, but aware.
Wooyoung can feel it now: that quiet steadiness radiating from San. Not dominance. Not entitlement. Just… warmth.
It unsettles him more than aggression ever had.
“Have a good evening, Mr. Jung,” San says, offering a small nod before turning toward the door.
“You too, Mr. Choi,” Wooyoung replies automatically.
But as they leave, and the patchouli-and-pear scent fades down the hallway, Wooyoung finds himself standing very still in the middle of his classroom.
He has always been independent.
He has always told himself he doesn’t need anyone.
But watching the way San was with Nari and how gentle he comes off…
For the first time in a long time—
Wooyoung wonders.
—
Things go back to normal for a couple of weeks.
Nari’s grandmother resumes pickup, always ten minutes early, always bowing politely and thanking Wooyoung with a smile before leaving. The classroom settles back into its routine — finger painting, phonics songs, tiny shoes lined up by the cubbies.
And Wooyoung tells himself he hasn’t noticed the absence.
Hasn’t noticed the lack of patchouli and pears drifting through his doorway.
Hasn’t noticed that no other alpha parent crouched to their child’s level with that same quiet gravity.
He absolutely did not notice.
Until today—
It was currently 4:17 p.m.
Pickup usually ended at four.
The classroom lights were dimmed, most of the toys already sanitized and put away. Only one small figure remained, sitting cross-legged on the reading rug with a picture book in her lap.
“Nari, sweetie,” Wooyoung said gently, kneeling beside her. “Is halmeoni running late today?”
Nari shakes her head, but her little mouth wobbles. “Appa said he was coming today.”
Wooyoung’s heart squeezes.
He checks his phone — no messages from the office.
It’s 4:26 when the classroom door bursts open.
Not violently, just hurriedly.
Choi San stands in the doorway slightly out of breath, hair disheveled like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His tie is loosened, sleeves rolled unevenly, and his scent — patchouli and pears — was sharper than before. Stressed. Apologetic. Unsettled.
“I am so, so sorry,” he says immediately, bowing deeply — too deeply. “I lost track of a meeting and traffic was— I should have left earlier. I’m so sorry.”
Wooyoung is speechless.
Alphas don’t bow like that.
Not to him.
Not over something so small.
“It’s alright,” Wooyoung says automatically, though his pulse has jumped. “We were just reading.”
San immediately crosses the room, dropping to his knees in front of Nari.
“I’m so sorry, my princess,” he said softly, brushing her hair back. “You waited so long.”
Nari launches herself into his arms with silent tears rolling down her chubby cheeks.
“You said four,” she mumbles into his shoulder.
“I know.” His voice breaks just slightly. “And appa messed up. I’m really sorry.”
Wooyoung watches the way San holds her — not defensive, not frustrated. Just… devastated at the idea that she might have been alone.
The scent in the room shifts.
Less sharp now.
Still patchouli and pears, but warm again, wrapping around Wooyoung’s senses in a way that makes his shoulders relax before he can stop himself.
San stands, keeping Nari secure against him, and faces Wooyoung again.
“I understand if there’s a late fee,” he says quickly. “Or paperwork. I’ll handle whatever it is. It won’t happen again.”
Wooyoung blinks.
This alpha seems so different from all the others he has met.
“We don’t charge until after five,” Wooyoung replies softly. “You’re okay.”
San visibly exhales.
Relief floods his features so openly it almost hurts to look at.
“Thank you,” he says, meeting Wooyoung’s eyes properly this time.
And there it is again.
That steady warmth.
Not dominance.
Not the subtle pressure alphas sometimes exerted just by standing too close.
San keeps a respectful distance. Even now, flustered and clearly stressed, he reined himself in.
Wooyoung realizes, with a flicker of something dangerous in his chest—
San isn’t careful because he looks down on him.
He’s careful because he doesn’t want to make
him uncomfortable.
“I can send some extra snacks for Nari,” San adds, almost nervously. “In case… in case I’m late again. So she doesn’t worry.”
Wooyoung’s throat tightens.
“That’s very thoughtful,” he manages.
For a brief second, silence lingers.
Nari peeks up at her father. “Appa, Mr. Jung stayed with me.”
San’s gaze softens immediately. “Yes, he did. We should thank him generously, shouldn’t we?” San smiles as Nari giggles and nods.
Then, to Wooyoung — quieter.
“Thank you for staying with her.”
Wooyoung forces himself not to fidget under the alpha’s gaze.
“Nari is one of the most well-behaved children in this class. It really was not a hassle, Mr. Choi.”
San shakes his head with an amused smile.
“Thank you. I’m glad she’s been good. Trust me, she can be a handful when she wants to be.” A soft chuckle leaves the alpha.
The little girl pouts cutely and snuggles into the alpha’s neck with a whine.
The sight is just so domestic, and something in Wooyoung—something he’s built carefully out of independence and quiet resentment and years of disappointment—cracks just a little.
Because this alpha—
This sweet and gentle man—
He’s kind.
He apologizes, bows, worries so much about his daughter, and he genuinely cares.
San adjusts Nari on his hip, offering another small bow. “We won’t keep you any longer. Thank you again, Mr. Jung.”
Wooyoung nods, watching them walk toward the door.
At the threshold, San pauses, turning slightly.
“You can call me San, and if you ever need anything for the classroom,” he says carefully, “please let me know. I’d like to help.”
“Uh-please call me Wooyoung, then. I will be sure to let you know if we need anything. Thank you.”
Both father and daughter bid Wooyoung farewell with dimpled smiles and waves.
The scent fades slowly.
Wooyoung is left standing alone in his kindergarten classroom, tiny chairs and pastel walls surrounding him, heart beating far too loud in the quiet.
He hates alphas.
He does.
So why—
Why does this one make him feel… differently?
—
It’s a week later, and Wooyoung has already had a crazy day.
Thursdays are always harder—the children are restless, the sugar from snack time hasn’t quite worn off, and the classroom is way louder than usual.
Minjae had been especially difficult for some reason.
Pushing.
Yelling.
Knocking over a block tower Nari and two other kids had spent nearly twenty minutes building.
Wooyoung had handled it the way he always did—calm voice, crouched to eye level, steady hands guiding instead of grabbing.
But when pickup time rolls around, Minjae’s father arrives already irritated.
The alpha always enters like he’s better than everyone else.
He steps into the classroom like it belongs to him.
His scent hits first—sharp cedar and something bitter, aggressive, and unrestrained. It floods the small space instantly, too strong for a room full of children.
Several kids wrinkle their noses.
Wooyoung straightens from where he’d been zipping up a student’s backpack.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Han,” he says evenly.
Minjae immediately runs over. “Appa, Mr. Jung wouldn’t let me play superheroes!”
Wooyoung opens his mouth to gently clarify—
But the alpha cuts him off.
“What did my son do now?” he demands, voice already edged.
The room quiets.
Children always sense tone before words.
Wooyoung keeps his posture relaxed. “Minjae had a bit of trouble sharing today and pushing people. We worked through it, but I thought it would be good to—”
“To what?” the alpha snaps. “Single him out?”
His scent spikes even more, overpowering and dominant in the worst way.
Wooyoung’s instincts react before his mind does. His expression hardens, his pulse jumps out of frustration, and his scent grows, trying to act as a shield for the children witnessing this exchange. Wooyoung will not tolerate this man acting like this in front of several children.
“I’m not singling him out,” Wooyoung manages to reply carefully. “I just want to make sure we’re encouraging children to take accountability for their actions—”
“Listen, you’re a male omega,” the man interrupts coldly with a bat of his hand. “You don’t understand how young alpha boys are.”
The words hit like a slap.
Wooyoung’s jaw tightens.
Around them, three children are still waiting for pickup, Nari included.
He can feel their eyes.
He refuses to let his voice shake.
“This is a classroom,” Wooyoung says, steady but firm. “We treat each other with respect here.”
The alpha steps closer.
Too close.
His scent presses heavily against Wooyoung’s senses—suffocating, intentional.
“You think a disgrace like you deserves to be respected?” The alpha laughs harshly. “You male omegas don’t deserve anything.”
And then—
The classroom door opens.
San doesn’t rush in, but there’s something different in the way he carries himself this time — shoulders squared, eyes sharp, presence deliberate. His scent is still soft but there’s an edge to it that makes Wooyoung a little dizzy.
He takes in the scene in one sweep.
Wooyoung stood rigid, the worried children with wide eyes, and the alpha towering too close to the omega teacher.
San’s jaw flexes.
“What’s going on here?” he asks, his voice going deeper.
His voice isn’t loud.
It doesn’t need to be.
Mr. Han turns, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “This doesn’t concern you.”
San walks over, closing the distance — but not toward Wooyoung.
He positions himself slightly in front of the remaining children, subtle and protective.
His scent doesn’t spike wildly; it thickens just enough to push back against the aggression in the air without overwhelming anyone else.
“It concerns me,” San says evenly, “when an angry alpha raises their voice at a teacher in a room full of kindergarteners.”
The silence that follows is heavy.
San’s gaze didn’t waver.
“My daughter is here, so it definitely concerns me. No one is going to raise their voice in front of my child. I suggest you help your son collect his things and you head home. It is not Wooyoung’s fault that your son doesn’t know how to behave.”
The message was clear.
You don’t get to intimidate the teacher in front of the children, let alone at all.
Wooyoung stares at the two alphas, slightly scared of what Mr. Han will do, but after another tense beat of silence, Mr. Han grabs Minjae’s backpack.
“You’re mighty protective of this omega,” he sneers at San before he grabs his son’s things and heads to the door. “Come on, Minjae.”
He shoots Wooyoung one last glare before leaving.
The moment the door shut, the air changes again.
San exhales slowly.
His scent softens immediately, withdrawing so it doesn’t linger too strongly around the kids.
He crouches down first to the children.
“Everything’s okay,” he says gently. “Grown-ups just forget their manners sometimes.”
Nari moves toward him instantly, but so do the other children, small hands clutching at his pant leg.
San smiles softly, reassuring them with that same calm presence he always has.
Wooyoung feels something in his chest unravel.
When the last child other than Nari gets picked up, the room finally quiets and Wooyoung sinks into one of the tiny chairs before he means to.
San approaches carefully this time, keeping space.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice lower now.
Wooyoung swallows.
“It’s not the first time he’s been like that. I’m fine,” he says automatically.
San’s expression darkens slightly at that.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with that from anyone, let alone an alpha.”
The gentleness in his tone nearly undoes the omega.
Wooyoung has always struggled believing that any good alphas exist in the world, but San keeps proving him wrong every time he comes to pick up Nari.
“I’m sorry you walked into that,” Wooyoung says quietly.
San shakes his head.
“Don’t be sorry about that. He’s a sorry excuse of an alpha for acting the way he did.”
Their eyes meet.
And this time, the awareness between them feels different.
“I won’t let anyone speak to you like that, especially in front of my daughter,” San adds softly. “She needs to see what respect looks like.”
Wooyoung’s breath catches.
Respect.
No alpha has ever used that word around him like it meant something real.
For the first time, his chamomile scent doesn’t flutter anxiously.
It sweetens, just slightly.
And of course, San notices.
“I’m sorry he was so rude to you. You don’t deserve that. You’re a great teacher, Wooyoung.” San reassures.
“Thank you, San. You both have a good night, okay?” Wooyoung smiles softly.
“You too, Mr. Jung. Don’t worry, my appa won’t let that alpha hurt you.” Nari beams cutely.
San’s cheeks flush red at his daughter’s statement, but he smiles at the omega anyway.
“Have a good night, Wooyoung.”
—
The classroom is nearly empty when San lingers a few days later.
Nari is at one of the low tables, humming to herself while she colors a lopsided cat in bright purple crayon. The late afternoon light filters through the blinds in soft gold stripes, catching dust motes in the air.
Wooyoung is wiping down a table. He pretends he doesn’t notice that San hasn’t left yet.
San stands near the doorway at first, hands tucked loosely into his pockets. His scent is controlled — patchouli and pears, warm but restrained.
“Wooyoung,” he starts.
The omega doesn’t turn. “Yes?”
There’s a small pause.
“Can I ask you something… without offending you?”
That makes the omega stop. He straightens slowly, cloth still in his hand. His back straightens, but his expression is polite.
“You can try.”
San huffs softly at that — not amused, exactly. If anything, it’s nervousness. He steps a little closer to the omega but keeps a respectful distance.
“The other day,” he says carefully. “With Minjae’s father.”
Wooyoung’s shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly.
“It’s fine, San,” he says evenly, “I’m aware that parents are entitled to their opinions.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
San’s voice doesn’t sharpen. It stays level. Calm.
Wooyoung finally looks at him.
San meets his gaze directly — not challenging. Not dominant. Just steady.
“If I overstepped in any way,” San says, “I need to know.”
The words hang in the air.
Wooyoung blinks in slight confusion at what the alpha means.
“Overstepped?” he repeats.
“Yes.” San nods once. “By intervening.”
Something flickers behind Wooyoung’s eyes.
“You didn’t overstep. I didn’t need saving though,” he says automatically.
San doesn’t argue.
“I know,” he replies immediately.
That makes Wooyoung falter.
San continues, measured and thoughtful. “I didn’t step in because you couldn’t handle him. You were handling him just fine.” His jaw tightens slightly at the memory. “I stepped in because my daughter was watching.”
Silence.
Nari hums softly in the background, blissfully unaware of the tension between the adults.
San gestures lightly toward her. “She’s six. She’s learning what respect looks like. What it sounds like. I won’t let her think that’s how an alpha speaks to anyone—especially not someone who takes care of her every day.”
Wooyoung’s grip on the cloth loosens.
That… isn’t what he expected the alpha to say.
“I wasn’t trying to undermine you,” San adds quietly. “If it felt that way, I’m sorry.”
There it is again.
An apology from an alpha.
“No one’s ever apologized for that before—for stepping in,” he says before he can stop himself.
The room feels smaller suddenly.
Wooyoung sets the cloth down carefully.
“I’ve dealt with worse,” he says, voice softer now. “Alphas can be… really aggressive.”
San studies him for a long moment.
He doesn’t look offended or like he wants to get defensive.
He looks… sad.
“I’m sorry so many alphas have painted us all in a bad light.” San says quietly.
The words land heavy in Wooyoung’s chest.
San shifts his weight, but he doesn’t move closer.
“I know that alphas can be a lot, Wooyoung. So, I’d really like the chance to earn your trust as Choi San. Our second genders set aside.”
The air stills at the sudden request.
Wooyoung feels the instinctive hum under his skin—that omega awareness of sincerity. Of steadiness.
He hates how it makes him feel.
“I think that would be okay,” Wooyoung says after a long moment.
San’s lips twitch faintly. “Good. Thank you for the chance.”
“I just…” Wooyoung exhales. His chamomile scent stirs, not anxious — uncertain. “Alphas have a habit of deciding what’s best for me.”
San nods slowly.
“Too many alphas in this world are ignorant, Wooyoung. You are your own person, and I believe you have every right to the independence that you have,” he says simply, and then he continues in a whisper with a smile on his face. “I think you’re a badass, honestly.”
The omega stands there in surprise, but a shy smile appears on his face that he hides behind his hand.
“You don’t even know me,” Wooyoung murmurs.
“I know my daughter adores you,” San replies. “I know she feels safe here. I know she talks about you at dinner like you hung the moon.”
Wooyoung flushes faintly.
“And I know,” San continues, his voice gentler now, “that you stood your ground in front of an angry alpha for those children.”
Their eyes lock.
“I think you handle yourself very well,” San says.
Wooyoung’s scent warms without permission.
San doesn’t comment on it but he definitely notices.
“I don’t trust easily,” Wooyoung admits quietly.
“That’s alright,” San replies with a shrug. “I’m patient.”
Wooyoung clears his throat as he feels his scent start to sweeten again. He’s really getting annoyed with himself.
Across the room, Nari looks up suddenly.
“Appa,” she calls. “Mr. Jung smells nice today.”
Both adults freeze.
San coughs softly, fighting a smile. “He usually does, baby.”
Wooyoung glares faintly, but his ears are pink.
Nari goes back to coloring with a giggle.
The tension breaks — but something softer settles in its place.
San steps away slightly so he can help Nari pack up.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
“For what?”
“For opening up to me.”
Wooyoung watches him.
“Thank you for listening. Goodnight, San.”
It’s the first time he says it without hesitation.
San pauses at the doorway after he’s finished helping Nari gather her things.
A small, genuine smile curves his mouth.
“Goodnight, Wooyoung.”
And when he leaves, the patchouli and pear scent doesn’t feel like something invading the room.
It feels like an opportunity.
—
Two weeks later, Wooyoung nearly trips over a box as he enters his classroom.
He stares at the label after he stabilizes himself.
Children’s Reading Nook Bench – Assembly Required.
He blinks.
He mentioned it once offhandedly three days ago.
He’s still staring at it when the classroom door opens. San steps in with Nari balanced on his hip, briefcase in his other hand. He pauses when he sees Wooyoung standing over the box like it personally offended him.
“…oh, good, it’s here,” San says cautiously.
Wooyoung turns slowly.
“You bought it.”
San clears his throat. “It was on sale.”
“That is not the point.”
Nari wiggles down and runs to the art corner.
San sets his briefcase aside, rolling his sleeves up automatically like he’s preparing for something serious.
“I wasn’t trying to overstep,” he says carefully. “You said the kids needed more quiet reading space. I thought—”
“You thought you’d just buy furniture and build it for my classroom?” Wooyoung interrupts, though there’s no real bite in it.
San hesitates.
“Am I not allowed to?”
The answer is so sincere and San looks so cutely innocent that Wooyoung almost laughs.
“It’s not that you’re not allowed to. You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” San replies. “I wanted to.”
There’s no expectation in his voice.
Wooyoung looks down at the box again and he knows the children will love it.
Nari is already peeking over, eyes bright, “Are you going to build it now?” she asks excitedly.
San glances at Wooyoung first for permission, always asking without actually asking.
Wooyoung exhales.
“…Fine. But if you assemble it wrong and a child gets hurt, I’m blaming you.”
San’s mouth curves. “That’s fair.”
A few minutes later, San is kneeling on the classroom floor surrounded by tiny wooden panels and an alarming amount of screws.
Wooyoung sits across from him with the instruction booklet, pretending to supervise but mostly just watching.
San is… absurdly serious about it. Brows furrowed, tongue pressed lightly to his cheek, carefully aligning each piece before tightening anything.
“You’re doing that wrong,” Wooyoung says lightly.
San pauses immediately. “Which part?”
Wooyoung leans closer, pointing to the diagram. Their shoulders brush, just slightly and San stills for half a second. Wooyoung feels it—the subtle shift in his scent but tries to ignore it.
“You skipped step three,” Wooyoung says, flipping the page.
San squints at it. “…That seems inefficient.”
“Trust the manual.”
San glances up at him with a soft look. “Thank you for double checking.”
Wooyoung’s breath stutters faintly and clears his throat to hide it.
Nari hums nearby, building a tower out of leftover packaging foam and the energy in classroom feels different like this.
“Why are you really doing this?” Wooyoung asks quietly.
San doesn’t look up from the screw he’s tightening.
“Because my daughter’s happy here.” He pauses to look over at the omega, “And because you shouldn’t have to stretch your budget for things the kids deserve.”
Wooyoung’s heart starts beating faster at the sincere look in the alpha’s eyes.
San continues, voice thoughtful, “I grew up in classrooms that felt cold and strict. Loud in all the wrong ways.” He adjusts one of the panels gently. “You’ve made this place soft and nice to be in. I respect that.”
Respect.
That word again.
Wooyoung watches the muscles in San’s forearms and biceps flex as he works, how careful he is with something meant for children.
It does something dangerous to his brain and heart.
“You don’t have to keep proving yourself,” Wooyoung murmurs.
San finally looks up.
“I’m not proving anything,” he says calmly. “I’m just helping.”
That hits harder than it should.
Wooyoung finds himself swallowing nervously as San shifts slightly closer to attach the final side panel.
Their knees brush this time and the scent in the room warms gradually—chamomile and patchouli blending into something softer, deeper.
San steadies the bench and gently presses down on it to test it, turning to Wooyoung with a bright, dimpled smile as it holds his weight.
“There,” he says quietly. “Nice and safe.”
Wooyoung stands slowly, walking around it, inspecting like he’s evaluating professional craftsmanship.
“…It’s sturdy,” he admits.
San’s huffs out an amused laugh. “Thanks for the high praise.”
Nari immediately climbs onto it with a book.
“It’s perfect!” she declares.
San watches her with open affection and Wooyoung watches him as they all stand near the newly built table. The alpha rests his hand on Nari’s hair patting her head lovingly.
There’s fuzz from the rug on his slacks and a smudge of something faintly dusty near his jaw.
Without thinking, Wooyoung steps forward.
“You’ve got something on your jaw,” he says softly.
San stills and turns to the omega who reaches up before he can overthink it and brushes the smudge away with his thumb.
The contact is brief.
Barely two seconds.
But the air changes.
San’s scent deepens—not aggressively but instinctively.
Wooyoung’s chamomile blooms the sweet smell of honey accompanying it in response before he can stop it.
San’s eyes darken—his composure slipping slightly. He steps back trying to put some space between them so he doesn’t make the omega uncomfortable.
“Thank you for letting me help,” he says quietly.
Wooyoung’s pulse is way too loud in his ears to be considered normal.
“…Thank you for asking,” he replies.
Across the room, Nari swings her legs happily from the new bench.
“Appa,” she chirps. “So many of my friends are gonna love this.”
San doesn’t look away from Wooyoung as he smiles once again.
“I’m sure they will,” he agrees softly.
Wooyoung’s cheeks burn.
This alpha is really doing things to him.
—
Tuesday afternoon comes and Wooyoung is stressed.
Budget reports, parent emails, supply inventory, a reminder from administration about “behavioral image consistency” that makes Wooyoung’s jaw tighten.
By 3:48 p.m., his desk is a battlefield of folders and half-drank coffee gone cold.
He doesn’t realize his scent has changed.
The chamomile has deepened, becoming a little bitter; the smell of honey completely drowned out — the strong smell of linen sharper than usual.
He’s staring at the numbers when the classroom door opens with a soft knock and San steps in a smile on his face as he sees Nari playing. He stops almost immediately.
His head tilts slightly as he looks at Wooyoung.
“You’re overwhelmed,” he says gently.
Wooyoung stiffens.
“I’m fine, just working.”
San nods once, acknowledging that without arguing.
“Yes,” he agrees softly. “I see that.”
He doesn’t move closer.
Doesn’t crowd.
His scent shifts—not spiking, not trying to dominate but trying to comfort.
Wooyoung feels it before he consciously registers it. The way it smooths over the sharp edge of his stress.
It’s annoying and it’s sweet.
“I said I’m fine, San.” Wooyoung insists.
San studies him for a quiet second.
Then—
“May I come closer?”
The question lands like a held breath.
Wooyoung’s pulse jumps.
No alpha has ever asked him that.
They usually advance whether you want it or not.
He swallows.
“…Why are you asking?”
“Because your scent is full of stress,” San says carefully. “And I don’t want to cross any lines.”
Nari is still playing across the room, blissfully distracted.
Wooyoung hesitates. Every instinct he’s built tells him to keep distance but the other instinct — the quieter one—remembers all the nice things San has done.
He nods once and San steps forward slowly, carefully. He stops an arm’s length away, still leaving space. His patchouli and pear scent deepens just slightly, unfurling like warm sunlight through curtains. Not heavy. Not claiming.
Just calming.
Wooyoung’s shoulders loosen before he can stop them. He hates that his omega finds comfort in the alpha’s presence and scent.
San’s voice lowers.
“You don’t have to carry everything alone.”
The words hit somewhere fragile.
Wooyoung’s chamomile softens the smell of honey getting stronger suddenly—warm, soft, and vulnerable. The sharp edge of stress dissolving slightly under San’s steady presence.
They both feel it.
The air thickens, but not in a suffocating way. San inhales slowly—and something flickers across his face almost like possession but as soon as it’s there it’s gone and the omega finds himself falling even deeper for the alpha.
“You smell calmer,” San points out.
Wooyoung’s breath catches at the look on the alpha’s extremely handsome face and fears he might do something stupid.
“Thank you,” he says weakly.
“You’re welcome,” San replies.
He doesn’t step closer, doesn’t try to touch him; just stands there, offering steadiness without taking anything.
And for the first time in a very long time—Wooyoung finds himself leaning into it for just a second long enough that the distance between them feels like a choice instead of something forced.
Across the room, Nari looks up from where she playing to the two adults, and her little nose scrunches as she takes in the smells filling the air. She blinks and then smiles, letting out a quiet giggle into her small hand.
Outside the school, several minutes later as they’re leaving, she is perched on San’s hip while he unlocks the car. She’s unusually quiet and San notices very quickly.
“What’s going on in that busy brain?” he asks softly.
Nari presses her cheek to his shoulder.
“Appa?”
“Yes, baby?”
“You and Mr. Jung smell good together.”
San pauses as he opens the back door.
“…What?”
She nods seriously.
“Like when you mix paints and they make a pretty color.”
His mind starts to race at the thought of their scents mixing together. Of course, he noticed it too. The way Wooyoung’s scent had sweetened with honey when he tried to comfort him with his own scents, and instead of clashing, they mixed perfectly. He can’t help but selfishly want their scents to be mixed together all the time.
“And how does that make you feel?” he asks carefully.
Nari hums in thought, tapping her chin cutely.
“I like it. It feels safe.”
That word punches the air out of him.
Safe.
San exhales slowly and presses a kiss to her temple.
“Alright,” he says quietly. “That’s enough commentary from you.”
She giggles.
But San’s thoughts are not laughing because inside that classroom, for a few seconds, Wooyoung leaned toward him.
And he’s not sure how to feel about that.
—
A few days later it’s finally Friday.
Seonghwa, his friend and another omega kindergarten teacher, had just come into the room to give Wooyoung some laminated sheets for next week’s lesson. The two of them were talking quietly between each other when San entered the room.
Wooyoung knew the alpha had entered before he even looked up because he could smell him, that same alpha scent that he’s falling in love with more and more as the days go on.
He looks up and San stands in the doorway.
No tie today, a dark sweater instead, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His short hair is slightly wind-tousled, like he’d hurried but didn’t want to show it. His posture is relaxed, and his eyes are fixed on Nari until they suddenly roam over to the two teachers.
Their gazes lock, and this time, Wooyoung doesn’t look away; he holds it just for a second too long. San’s expression softens almost imperceptibly as he gives the omega a small smile and nod.
“Appa!” Nari squeals, abandoning her shoes mid-velcro and running straight into his legs.
San laughs quietly, crouching to scoop her up. “Hi, princess.”
Seonghwa watches the interaction, his fingers still gripping the laminated worksheets, and he goes very still behind Wooyoung.
“…Oh,” Seonghwa murmurs under his breath.
Wooyoung elbows him without looking causing the older omega to laugh softly.
San stands with Nari balanced on his hip and approaches the two of them — unhurried, respectful distance maintained like always. “Good afternoon, Mr. Jung.” He keeps it professional knowing there’s another adult present.
“Mr. Choi,” Wooyoung replies, smoothing down the front of his blouse even though it didn’t need smoothing. “How are you today?”
“Good. How are you?.” A faint smile tugs at San’s mouth.
“I’m doing very well, thank you.” Wooyoung gestures over to the older omega beside him. “Uh- this is Park Seonghwa, he teaches next door.”
The two shake hands.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Park.”
“It’s nice to finally meet the famous father,” Seonghwa adds lightly.
San blinks. “Famous?”
“Nari talks about you a lot,” Seonghwa clarifies smoothly.
Wooyoung shoots him a warning look.
San’s gaze flickers briefly back to Wooyoung.
“Right. Nari.”
“Well, it was nice to meet you Mr. Choi,” Seonghwa says with amusement in his eyes. “Goodbye, Nari-yah.”
“Bye-bye, Mr. Park!”
The omega sets the laminated sheets on the table closest to them before giving another small farewell and leaving the room.
San looks at Wooyoung with a glint in his eyes and a small dimpled smile.
“So… Nari talks to Mr. Park about me all the time?” San asks, teasingly.
A small groan escapes Wooyoung and he closes his eyes as his face heats up in embarrassment.
Nari giggles from where she’s perched on San’s hip her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I’m so glad that you find this funny, little flower.” Wooyoung jokes with her, his hand coming up to tickle her stomach and making her laugh more as she squirms.
“I have a feeling she isn’t the one always talking to Mr. Park about me.” San says with a bigger smile and the unmistakable look of love in his eyes.
“You can feel what you want, San.” The omega doesn’t confirm or deny as he walks away to his desk with the laminated sheets in his hands.
“Mhm. Have a good night, Wooyoung-ah.”
The alpha sounds so casual and Wooyoung feels himself getting more flustered.
“You too, San-ah.”
He turns to face them one last time as Nari giggles again.
“You have a good night, Nari-yah. Okay, sweetheart?”
The young girl grins and nods before laying her head on San’s broad shoulder.
After the two are gone Wooyoung sinks into his chair and throws his head back with a sigh. “God, I am so screwed.”
“I definitely agree.” Seonghwa voices.
Wooyoung yelps as he spins in his chair to face the door where the older omega is standing.
“God, hyung, you scared the shit out of me.” Wooyoung whines as he holds his chest over his heart.
“Sorry, not sorry. You are so into him, aren’t you?” Seonghwa teases with a smile.
“I don’t know what I am, hyung. Really confused, that’s one thing.”
The older omega chuckles and shakes his head.
“Well, he totally likes you, so buckle up, Wooyoung-ah.”
The older omega turns without anything other than a laugh and leaves Wooyoung in his thoughts once again.
—
The following Wednesday, their apartment smells like garlic and sesame oil as San stands at the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, stirring a pot with one hand while Nari sits at the small kitchen table coloring.
It’s been one of the weeks he couldn’t make it to pick up Nari after school; he barely made it home before sunset today.
He treasures every moment they can be together.
“How was school, princess?” he asks casually.
“Good,” Nari replies, tongue sticking out slightly as she focuses on staying inside the lines.
San smiles faintly. “Just good?”
“We painted clouds and Minjae cried because he spilled all his colors and they turned brown.”
San huffs a quiet laugh. “That tends to happen.”
There’s a pause and then—
“Mr. Jung smelled kinda funny today.”
San’s hand stills on the spoon.
“Funny?” he repeats carefully.
“Yeah,” she answers quickly. “Like… bitter funny.”
San turns the stove down slightly and faces her more fully.
“Do you know why he smelled bitter?”
Nari looks up, thinking hard.
“There’s an alpha that comes a lot,” she says. “He picks up Jisoo. He always stands too close to Mr. Jung.”
San’s jaw tightens imperceptibly.
“Really?” he says tightly.
“Mhm.” She nods. “He smiles like this.” She stretches her mouth wide in an exaggerated, unsettling grin.
San does not smile back.
“And he talks loud. Not like yelling loud. But like…” She waves her blue crayon in the air. “Give me attention loud.”
San knows the type, unfortunately.
“And when he talks to Mr. Jung,” Nari continues, lowering her voice like she’s sharing state secrets, “Mr. Jung’s smell always goes funny.”
San blinks once.
“…Like he’s uncomfortable funny?”
“Yeah,” she confirms confidently. “He doesn’t smell like he does with you.”
San turns back to the stove before his expression can give him away.
His chest feels tight, an unfamiliar heat curling low in his stomach—jealous possessiveness.
He tells himself he’s being ridiculous. Wooyoung is not his to get possessive over. He has no right to feel—
“Appa,” Nari says, softer now.
“Yes, princess?”
“I don’t like that alpha.”
San’s hand flexes around the spoon.
“Why not?”
“He makes Mr. Jung feel bad. He doesn’t look at him like you do.”
The words hit him square in the ribs and he turns slowly to look at his daughter in slight disbelief.
“How do I look at Mr. Jung?”
Nari pouts thoughtfully.
“Like the way I look at ice cream when you give me a treat!”
San’s breath catches.
He looks away quickly, turning the stove off completely now.
“That’s… different,” he mutters.
“Is it?” Nari asks innocently.
San crouches in front of her chair, resting his forearms on his knees.
“Mr. Jung seems uncomfortable with that alpha?” he asks, keeping his voice neutral.
Nari nods.
“He smiles. But not his real smile.”
San knows exactly what she means; he has seen both the polite teacher smile and the softer one that warms the air. His scent shifts unconsciously — patchouli deepening, pear sharpening slightly. He inhales slowly, forcing control back into
Wooyoung isn’t something to claim. He is someone who deserves respect, but the image of another alpha standing too close—Of Wooyoung’s scent turning bitter—It makes something primal in him bristle.
“Does the alpha touch him?” San asks quietly.
Nari shakes her head. “No, but he gets close.”
San’s jaw clenches.
He stands abruptly, pacing once across the small kitchen.
“Appa,” Nari says, watching him carefully. “Are you mad?”
He pauses, then walks back to her, crouching again and smoothing her hair back gently.
“I’m not mad, baby. I’m just frustrated for Mr. Jung,” he says.
That much is true.
He is irritated with an alpha who clearly doesn’t understand how to read scent cues. He’s also deeply, irrationally unsettled by the idea that someone else might try to—
He cuts the thought off.
“You don’t have to worry,” he told her softly. “Mr. Jung is very capable.”
Nari studies her father with her big six year old eyes.
“…You like him.”
San goes completely still.
“I like him because he’s your teacher,” he corrects carefully.
“That’s not what I mean, appa.”
He sighs quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Finish your coloring,” he murmurs.
But as he stands again, his mind is already racing and suddenly, he finds himself making a decision he absolutely shouldn’t be making.
Tomorrow—
He will pick Nari up.
Not to interfere or to claim. Just… To see.
And if that alpha leans too close—
Well, San is very good at standing in the right place.
—
The next afternoon San stands outside the kindergarten classroom fifteen minutes before dismissal, hands in his coat pockets, expression calm.
Inside, children’s voices float through the cracked door.
And then an alpha slightly taller but much more lean than him saunters down the hall with a smug look on his face. He smells of sharp cologne layered over cedar, much too strong.
San’s jaw flexes as the man passes by him and walks into the classroom. He steps closer, just enough to see inside the window on the door.
Wooyoung stands near the cubbies, helping a little boy into his jacket. Chamomile and a hint of honey drifting gently in the air—soft, warm.
And then the other alpha approaches and leans in much too close to both Wooyoung and the little boy, close enough that his shadow falls over Wooyoung’s shoulder.
“There you go, Yujun-ah. I think your mom just got here. Have a good evening, okay?” Wooyoung smiles at the little boy and sends him on his way.
“Thank you, Mr. Jung! Bye-bye!” The little boy waves with a smile and walks over to his mother.
Wooyoung stands and braces himself for the grueling conversation he’s about to have.
“Long day?” the alpha asks with a grin that shows too many teeth.
Wooyoung smiles politely and professionally, but San sees it instantly. It isn’t the smile he gives Nari. It isn’t the one he’d given San last week.
And then—
The shift begins, subtle but unmistakable, as Wooyoung’s scent changes. The chamomile smell has gone bitter, something sharper creeping in underneath. The omega is uncomfortable and can’t even hide it.
San feels it like a spark down his spine.
The alpha leans a little closer.
“You must get tired dealing with all these kids alone,” he continues smoothly. “Bet it’d be nice to have someone take care of you for once.”
Wooyoung’s shoulders stiffen at the alpha’s words.
“I manage just fine,” he replies lightly.
The alpha chuckles. “Independent omegas are cute, but everyone needs an alpha eventually.”
Okay, that’s enough.
San steps inside and instantly looks toward Wooyoung and the alpha with barely controlled fire in his eyes. His scent fills the room with that unmistakable angry alpha aroma.
The other alpha straightens instinctively.
Wooyoung turns in shock—
“Mr. Choi,” he breathes.
San meets his eyes first, silently asking if he’s okay before bringing them over to the alpha, whose scent also spikes.
“Afternoon,” San says evenly.
The other alpha sizes him up immediately. “Can I help you?”
“Actually, yes, you can,” San replies calmly. “I’m not sure if you know this or not, but classrooms aren’t exactly huge spaces, and it’s important to be mindful of how close you stand to other people.”
The other alpha’s nostrils flare.
San’s scent deepens just slightly—not aggressive, not explosive—but enough to make it clear that the alpha should back off.
He steps forward.
Not toward the alpha but toward Wooyoung. He stops at a respectful distance, positioning himself slightly between Wooyoung and the other alpha.
The other alpha scoffs lightly. “Didn’t realize Mr. Jung needed a bodyguard.”
San turns to the alpha again, slowly.
“Oh, trust me, he doesn’t, but it’s concerning to me that even though he clearly feels uncomfortable, you still choose to overstep and be in his space,” he says.
Wooyoung looks between the two alphas, his heart beating wildly.
The alpha scoffs and tilts his head, his voice growing agitated. “Listen, dude, stop acting like you’re such a saint. All of us other parents know just how close you want to get with Mr. Jung.”
San huffs out a laugh in disbelief at the man’s words. “What exactly are you getting at? Dude.”
Wooyoung can only stand there frozen at the exchange; he has no idea what to do.
“You know what I mean. We all see it: the way you linger, the way you speak to him, the way you look at him.” The alpha spits out his words aggressively.
“Okay! That is enough, Mr. Kim. You need to help Jisoo grab her things and leave, please.” Wooyoung interrupts, somehow still being polite.
Nari runs up at that moment. “Appa!”
San gives the alpha one more look before he crouches, lifting her into his arms with a dimpled smile.
“How was your day, princess?” he asks gently, scent softening around her.
Wooyoung’s breath hitches at just how quickly San can go from intimidating to completely soft.
“Good!” The little girl starts babbling about her day, and Wooyoung’s chamomile scent wavers—then steadies.
The alpha looks between the three of them and forces a laugh. “Let’s go, Jisoo.”
He leaves after helping Jisoo grab her things.
The moment the door closes, the silence is loud. Thankfully, all the other parents and children had left, leaving just the three of them in the room.
San looks at Wooyoung with so much care.
“Are you alright?” he asks quietly.
Wooyoung’s cheeks are pink.
“I didn’t need rescuing,” he says automatically.
“I know,” San replies. “But I also know when someone is making you uncomfortable.”
Wooyoung’s breath catches.
“You do?”
San holds his gaze.
“Yes, I do.”
Silence wraps around them.
Nari, entirely unbothered, rests her head on San’s shoulder. “I told you,” she mumbles sleepily.
Wooyoung blinks. “Told you what?”
San sighs softly. “She mentioned an alpha has been making you uncomfortable.”
Heat flares in Wooyoung’s chest—embarrassment first and then something warmer.
“You didn’t have to come early just to step in,” Wooyoung murmurs.
“I know.”
But he did because jealousy had crept under his skin in a way that unsettled him and the thought of Wooyoung’s scent turning bitter—
San steps closer, not enough to invade the omega’s space but closer than before.
“You shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable in your own classroom,” he says carefully.
Wooyoung’s heart slams against his ribs.
“It’s been happening less lately.” He pauses to look at the little girl falling asleep in the alpha’s arms with a small smile. “You should get her home; she can barely keep her eyes open. I hope you both have a good night.”
San steps away with a lingering look of concern that makes Wooyoung’s chest ache and it doesn’t stop as the alpha and his daughter leave for the night.
—
The next Monday, Wooyoung is called into the director’s office before the children arrive. Inside, Director Kim, a female alpha, folds her hands neatly on the desk.
“Good morning, Mr. Jung. I’m sorry to call you in here so early, but we’ve received a concern,” she says carefully.
Wooyoung’s spine straightens automatically. “A concern? About what?”
“A parent mentioned you’ve been… overly familiar with Mr. Choi.”
The words hit like ice water.
Wooyoung doesn’t flinch outwardly.
“I speak to all parents,” he replies evenly.
Director Kim nods. “Of course. But lingering after pickup, physical proximity, scent mingling.”
His pulse jumps despite himself.
“Scent—?”
“We have a responsibility to maintain professional boundaries,” she continues. “Especially as an omega teacher. You understand how things can be perceived.”
There it is.
Of course this has to do with him being an omega.
Wooyoung’s jaw tightens.
“I haven’t done anything inappropriate.”
“I’m not accusing you,” Director Kim says smoothly. “But perhaps reduce private conversations. It might protect you.”
Protect him from what?
From being seen as someone who has feelings?
From an alpha genuinely being nice to him?
Wooyoung stands and bows politely.
“I don’t need protection, Director Kim. Have a nice day.”
He leaves with his dignity barely intact.
And his chest feeling hollow.
That afternoon, he is distant.
Professional and short spoken.
When San arrives, he notices immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly.
“Nothing. I’m working,” Wooyoung replies without looking up.
San doesn’t push.
But when Nari is gathering her things, he speaks softly.
“Did something happen?”
Wooyoung’s hands pause.
“Look, it doesn’t matter.”
San’s expression darkens slightly.
“It matters if what happened is hurting you.”
Wooyoung finally meets his eyes.
“This morning I got called to the office. I’m guessing Mr. Kim, the alpha from Thursday, complained about how close you and I are.”
San doesn’t just look upset; he looks furious.
“They basically implied,” Wooyoung continues quietly, “that as an omega teacher, I should be careful about how things look.”
San’s scent shifts — making his frustration known.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. They can’t just talk to you like that,” he says.
“It’s reality,” Wooyoung replies. “As an omega there’s a lot more scrutiny.”
San studies him.
“Then I’ll stay back if I need to,” he says simply.
That hurts more than it should because Wooyoung realizes — He doesn’t want him to distance himself.
Nari tugs on San’s sleeve.
“Appa.”
“Yes, princess?”
She looks between them seriously.
“Did Mr. Jung get in trouble?”
Both adults freeze.
“No, sweetie,” Wooyoung reassures.
San kneels to her level.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because grown-ups were whispering,” she says. “And you didn’t smile today.”
San glances up at Wooyoung as Nari frowns, “I don’t like when people make Mr. Jung sad.”
Wooyoung’s heart aches.
“I’m not sad,” he lies gently.
Nari tilts her head.
“You smell sad.”
Silence falls thick.
San inhales slowly, “Nari,” he says carefully, “sometimes adults can be mean to other adults.”
She crosses her little arms, “Well, they shouldn’t be.”
“No,” Wooyoung agrees softly. “They shouldn’t.”
Nari looks at both of them, eyes thoughtful.
“I like when you smell happy,” she says firmly. “Smells safe.”
Wooyoung’s heart stutters for a whole different reason.
San goes very still.
“And you smell good with appa,” she continues with six-year-old conviction, “I like it so much.”
The simplicity of it shatters something inside Wooyoung.
San stands slowly from where he’s crouching next to Nari.
His voice is low when he speaks.
“I won’t let gossip dictate how I treat you.”
Wooyoung’s eyes lift to his.
“You shouldn’t fight administration,” he says quietly.
“I won’t fight them,” San replies. “But I shouldn’t have to change how I act because a clearly insecure alpha is spreading rumors about us.”
There’s no defiance.
“I will keep my distance if that’s what you want,” he adds. “But not because someone implied you should be ashamed.”
Wooyoung’s throat tightens.
He has spent years bracing against shame and here is an alpha refusing to let him carry it alone.
San watches him carefully.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” San says quietly.
Wooyoung looks between the father and daughter, then the bench San spent time putting together, and at the quiet space that feels less cold when San stands in it.
“I need…” he starts, then stops.
He exhales slowly.
“I don’t want you to keep a distance.”
San nods immediately.
“Okay.”
“Just when other parents are here maybe we should be a bit more careful,” Wooyoung adds, though his voice wavers slightly.
San’s eyes soften.
“If that’s what you need me to do.”
Nari groans dramatically.
“You’re both being weird.”
Both adults almost smile.
But as San turns to leave, there’s a certain look in his eyes. An angry alpha look that leaves Wooyoung worried.
—
The following afternoon, he arrives early to go to the office before picking up Nari from the classroom. He didn’t say anything to Wooyoung because he didn’t want to upset him further.
He’s dressed sharply—dark slacks, crisp button-down, sleeves not rolled this time.
His scent is steady—not aggressive but definitely deliberate.
Director Kim looks mildly surprised when San introduces himself.
“Mr. Choi,” she says politely. “Is something wrong with Nari’s enrollment?”
“No,” San replies calmly. “This concerns the way assumptions are being handled.”
Her smile tightens.
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“Really? Let me refresh you on it then,” San says evenly.
He doesn’t raise his voice. He stays as calm as he can.
“I’ve been informed that interactions between myself and my daughter’s teacher have been deemed ‘inappropriate.’”
Director Kim folds her hands.
“We have to address parent concerns, Mr Choi.”
San’s jaw flexes once.
“With all respect,” he replies, “That alpha, Mr. Kim makes Mr. Jung uncomfortable quite often I’ve even had my own daughter bring it up to me. So if you want to worry about parent concerns you need to take mine as well then. Mr. Jung is a great teacher and I’m not going to let an alpha intimidate him and not do anything about it when that alpha goes to administration to make false accusations.”
Silence.
“I stay after pickup because I donate time and materials to the classroom so my daughter and the other kids can have better learning experiences,” he continues. “I speak to Mr. Jung because I value the person educating my child.”
His scent deepens slightly as he watches Director Kim’s face.
“He shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable in his own classroom, Director Kim,” he adds calmly. “You can’t reprimand Mr. Jung without actually knowing what’s going on just because someone claimed something happened between him and a parent.”
Director Kim stiffens slightly.
“We are simply protecting staff from potential misunderstandings.”
“By implying an omega teacher must limit normal interaction to preserve his reputation?” San asks frustratedly.
The room goes very still.
“I find that very disrespectful,” he says. “To him and every other omega in the work field.”
There’s no room to misinterpret it.
“My relationship with my daughter’s teacher outside of official school hours—whether friendly or more than that—is not grounds for professional scrutiny unless misconduct occurs.”
A beat.
“And there has been none.”
Director Kim exhales slowly.
“…We will review the situation. I had no idea about Mr. Kim making Mr. Jung uncomfortable.”
San nods once.
“Woo-Mr. Jung is not the kind of person to make a big deal out of things unless he has to, which is why you don’t know about it. I just want to make sure that Mr. Jung is being respected, Director Kim. Thank you for your time.”
He leaves as calmly as he entered.
But his restraint is lowered.
—
A couple days have gone by and pickup is at its busiest.
Parents cluster near the cubbies and children talk excitedly. The air is a mix of crayons, winter coats, and too many scents layered in a small space.
Wooyoung is crouched, helping Nari zip her jacket when Mr. Kim approaches once again. His scent is overbearing like usual.
“Mr. Jung,” the other alpha says smoothly.
Wooyoung straightens slowly. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kim.”
The man’s smile stretches too wide. “I was beginning to think the school stopped taking parent concerns seriously.”
Wooyoung’s stomach tightens.
Around them, a few parents quiet.
“And what concern would that be?” he asks evenly.
The alpha glances toward the hallway — where footsteps approach and very familiar mixture of scents come as well.
Patchouli and pears.
San steps into the classroom, and he takes in the atmosphere of the room quickly.
Wooyoung’s posture, the other alpha’s proximity, and all the watching parents.
“Mr. Choi,” the other alpha greets, tone edged. “Perfect timing as always lately.”
San adjusts his cuffs slowly. Dark slacks. Crisp button-down. Immaculate composure.
The other alpha steps closer, his face full of anger.
“I filed a concern,” he says low. “Nothing changed. Interesting, isn’t it?”
San doesn’t move back.
“If you have more accusations to make,” San replies calmly, “you better do it right now. I went to administration myself, and I think it’s interesting you failed to mention how you are constantly making Mr. Jung uncomfortable. Instead of possibly messing with this innocent teacher’s reputation, you should worry about your own.” San steps forward into the man’s space to quiet his voice. “Your wife would be very upset to find out that you’re flirting with your child’s teacher, Mr. Kim.”
San’s words hang in the air and the room shifts as the other parents remain silent.
The alpha’s nostrils flare in anger, “You’re mighty protective.”
San’s jaw flexes once.
I am speaking up for someone who hasn’t done anything wrong,” he corrects. “And I will not tolerate disrespect in a classroom full of children.”
The other alpha laughs — forced now.
“Whatever. I’ll be speaking to the office about switching my daughter’s classroom.”
“Good. Maybe that’ll be for the best.” San responds with a hardly concealed smirk on his handsome face.
The other alpha finally scoffs and turns away to gather his daughters things. San’s scent withdraws immediately once they’re gone, turning gentle again.
Wooyoung is frozen.
Because that was—
God. That was so hot.
The classroom empties and the door finally clicks shut. Wooyoung stands by his desk, arms folded.
“You talked to the director,” he says quietly.
San doesn’t hesitate as he steps a little closer.
“Yes.”
Wooyoung exhales and closes the distance even more between the two of them, keeping them maybe two feet apart.
“You should’ve told me.”
“I should have,” San agrees immediately.
He doesn’t get defensive or try to make excuses.
“I’m sorry if I crossed any boundaries. I couldn’t accept the fact that you were being reprimanded because of that awful alpha.”
San looks at Wooyoung with so much sincerity on his face the omega isn’t quite sure what to feel.
Wooyoung’s fingers curl against his sleeves.
“I am slightly upset,” he admits.
San nods.
“You have every right to be. I’m sorry that-“ The omega cuts him off before he can finish.
“But I’m also…” Wooyoung hesitates. “I’m grateful.”
That lands harder than anger would have.
“No one has ever chosen to defend me without expecting something in return,” Wooyoung says softly.
“I don’t expect anything.” San replies instantly.
“I know,” Wooyoung says.
And that’s what changes everything.
Because Wooyoung does know.
He knows that the sweet alpha in front of him cares like no one else ever has, and he’s not sure how much longer he can go being Nari’s teacher without falling completely in love with her father.