Chapter Nineteen
Tuesday starts off deceptively normal. The sun is shining, my shoulder doesn't ache too badly from the "therapy" (read: Donghwa biting the hell out of me during his rut), and I’m walking across the quad with the stride of a man who owns the place. I’ve got my coffee, my fresh haircut, and a fragile sense of peace that I should have known was too good to last.
I spot the disturbance near the fountain before I hear it. A crowd has gathered, a mix of omegas and betas cooing over something in the center like they’re looking at a basket of puppies.
My first instinct is to check for Donghwa. Usually, if there’s a crowd, it’s because the Ice Prince is gracing the commoners with his presence while looking bored out of his mind. But the vibe is different. It’s not the hushed, thirsty awe that follows Donghwa. It’s loud, squeaky, and annoying.
I squint against the sunlight. Then the crowd parts slightly, and I see what they're fussing over.
Lee Sejun.
My stomach drops through the pavement.
He’s sitting on the edge of the fountain, swinging his legs.
He’s wearing a pastel yellow sweater that’s three sizes too big, the sleeves pulled down over his hands to create those "sweater paws" that drive most Alphas insane with a need to protect him.
He looks up, batting those massive Bambi eyes at a sophomore who looks ready to hand over his credit card information right then and there.
"Fuck," I whisper into my coffee cup.
Sejun. My ex. If you can call a two-week disaster a relationship. He’s the definition of a chaos agent wrapped in soft wool. He’s been studying abroad for a semester, and I had happily forgotten he existed.
I pivot on my heel, intending to take the long way to the design building. I’ll climb a trellis if I have to. I just need to not be seen.
"Sihwan!"
The voice cuts through the air like a dog whistle. High, sweet, and loud enough to stop traffic.
I freeze. Every head in the vicinity turns toward me. If I run now, I look like a coward. If I stay, I’m dead. I force a smile onto my face that probably looks more like a grimace and turn back around.
Sejun is already hopping off the fountain. He bounds over, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea. He’s beaming, that innocent, wide-eyed look locked onto me.
"You’re here!" Sejun chirps, stopping right in front of me. He looks exactly the same. Soft brown hair, petite build, the kind of face that says I’ve never done anything wrong in my life while his hand is actively in your pocket stealing your wallet.
"I didn't know if you'd be on campus this early. "
"Sejun," I say, keeping my voice steady. "You're back."
"Just got in yesterday!" He steps closer, invading my personal space. "Did you miss me? You never texted me back when I sent you that picture of the Eiffel Tower."
"I was busy," I lie. I blocked his number three months ago.
"You're always so busy, Hyung." He pouts. Actually pouts. It’s a weaponized expression. "But look at you! You got even bigger."
He reaches out and squeezes my bicep.
The contact is bad enough, but then the wind shifts, and his scent wafts over me.
Before the bond—before Donghwa ruined my life—Sejun’s scent was pleasant. Vanilla and sugared milk. Sweet, harmless, appealing.
Now? It hits the back of my throat like expired dairy.
My stomach lurches violently. The sweetness is instantly nauseating. It clashes horribly with the phantom scent of frost that seems to permanently cling to my nose these days. My gag reflex twitches, and I have to swallow hard to keep my breakfast down.
I jerk my arm back, stepping out of his reach.
"I have class," I say, a little too abruptly. "I'm late."
Sejun blinks, looking hurt for a split second before the mask slides back into place. He tilts his head, his eyes scanning me with a sharpness that doesn't match the innocent act.
"Class?" He checks his imaginary watch. "But it's lunch time in twenty minutes. Walk with me? I have so much to tell you about Europe. The Alphas there are huge, but none of them are as handsome as you."
He tries to link his arm with mine.
I dodge him like he’s holding a live grenade. "Seriously, Sejun. I have a project due. I have to go."
"Oh, come on." He giggles, stepping into my path again. He’s tenacious, I’ll give him that. "Don't be mean. We’re still friends, right? Plus, I've been hearing some interesting tidbits."
He lowers his voice, leaning in. The vanilla scent intensifies, and I feel a sheen of cold sweat break out on my forehead. I hold my breath.
"I heard there's a new Alpha in the department," Sejun whispers, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Kang Donghwa? They say he's rich, scary, and totally hot. You know him, right? Introduce me."
Of course. That’s what this is. He doesn't want me; he wants the new shiny toy.
The thought of Sejun anywhere near Donghwa makes a low, ugly growl vibrate in my chest before I can stop it. It’s possessive and irrational, and it terrifies me.
"No," I snap.
Sejun’s eyebrows shoot up. "No?"
"He's not interested," I say, stepping around him. "And neither am I. Move."
I start walking, fast. My legs are long, and I use that to my advantage, putting distance between us.
"Hyung, wait!" Sejun calls out, his footsteps pattering behind me. "Why are you running away? Are you jealous?"
I don't answer. I just keep walking, my hand clamped over my nose and mouth like I’m stifling a cough, trying to filter out the smell of sugar and manipulation. I need to get to the design building. I need fresh air.
"I'm coming with you!" Sejun announces cheerfully, catching up and matching my pace, though he has to practically jog. "I'm taking Visual Comm electives this semester. We're going to the same place!"
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second as I walk.
Great. Just great. I’m bonded to a chaotic freshman who likes to stick his tongue in my ass, and now my ex-boyfriend is back to torment me with his vanilla stench and social climbing.
I need a drink. Or a fight. Or, god help me, I need to find Donghwa and bury my face in his neck until the world stops smelling like a candy factory explosion.
By the time we reach the lecture hall, I am holding my breath until my lungs burn, taking shallow, strategic sips of air through my mouth.
"So, I was thinking," Sejun chirps, oblivious to the fact that I am currently fighting a war against my own digestive system.
He swings around to block the doorway, effectively trapping me.
"We should grab coffee after this. There’s that new place near the gate?
I heard their caramel macchiatos are to die for. "
Caramel. Just the word makes my gorge rise.
"I can't," I say, my voice sounding a little strangled. I adjust my bag strap, trying to maneuver around him without physically brushing against his sweater. "I'm cutting caffeine. Messes with my... creatine absorption."
It’s a lie so stupid I almost wince, but Sejun just blinks those wide, wet eyes at me.
"But you love coffee," he points out, tilting his head. "You used to drink three shots of espresso before your morning swim."
"New regimen," I say shortly. I manage to squeeze past him, holding my breath as I enter the scent-neutral zone of the lecture hall. "Coach is being a hardass about diet."
"Oh." Sejun’s face falls, his bottom lip jutting out just enough to be pitiful. "Well, maybe a smoothie then? Or dinner? I really missed you, Hyung. Europe was fun, but it was lonely without my favorite Alpha."
He reaches out, his fingers brushing the sleeve of my jacket. The contact sends a jolt through me—not electricity, but a wave of pure biological wrongness. It’s like touching a hot stove when you’re expecting ice. My skin crawls.
"I'm really booked up this week, Sejun," I say, stepping back faster than is socially acceptable. "Seriously. Don't wait up."
I flee to my seat before he can answer, dropping my bag with a heavy thud.
I risk a glance across the room and immediately regret it.
Donghwa is already there, slouching in his usual spot in the back.
He’s watching the whole interaction with one eyebrow raised, looking entirely too entertained by my misery.
I glare at him. He smirks and turns a page in his sketchbook. Bastard.
I thought the brush-off would be enough. I thought Sejun, with his fragile ego and high maintenance needs, would take the hint and move on to an easier target.
I was wrong.
Sejun is like a heat-seeking missile, and apparently, I am the heat.
For the next three days, he is everywhere. I walk out of the gym, smelling like chlorine and exhausted, and he’s there, leaning against the brick wall with a protein shake in hand.
"I got you chocolate," he says, beaming.
The smell of the synthetic chocolate mixed with his milky vanilla pheromones makes my gut churn. I have to pretend to tie my shoe just to put my head between my knees for a second.
"I already drank one," I lie to his shins.
"Oh."
Two hours later, I’m in the library, trying to actually study for once because I’m terrified of failing this semester amidst all the bonding drama. I feel a presence before I see it.
Sejun slides into the chair opposite me. He doesn't even have a book. He just props his chin in his hands and stares at me.
"You look so serious," he whispers loudly. "It's sexy."
I grip my pen so hard the plastic creaks. "Sejun, I am trying to work."
"I know, I know. I just wanted to see you." He slides a note across the table. Dinner tonight? My treat. I’m wearing that shirt you used to like.
I stare at the note. The shirt he’s referencing is a sheer mesh thing that, three months ago, would have had me cancelling all my plans to get him into bed. Now, the mental image just makes me feel tired and vaguely queasy.
"I have a family thing," I whisper back, sliding the note away. "My dad is... in town. It's a whole crisis. Can't talk."
I pack up my stuff and leave before he can ask why my dad, who lives forty minutes away, constitutes a crisis.