Still, the child thought he’d been loved a fair amount. After his mother died, the man often said “Someone like you should never have been born,” and every time he drank he’d say “I wish you had died and my wife had come back to life” — but even so, the child never went hungry until adulthood and grew up without material want.
His problem lay elsewhere: he had no idea what his own sex actually was. Every person in the world was biologically either male or female, and either alpha, omega, or beta — but for Eunseo, the latter part was deeply ambiguous. Blood tests always came back omega, yet he had none of an omega’s traits. He was an omega with no cycle, no pheromones, and no heat.
Still, he had his reasons for thinking of himself as an omega. Partly the blood test results, but also because he could sense alphas and omegas the way they could. But the reverse didn’t hold. Other alphas and omegas couldn’t sense him as an omega at all. Fair enough — with no pheromones and no heat, how would anyone know?
So Eunseo always felt like an outsider. At first he’d thought simply — why not just live as a beta? — but he only reacted to alphas. Yet he couldn’t live as an omega either. No alpha perceived him as an omega. And something felt off about confidently calling himself an omega.
There was no need to rehash a worry he’d carried since his second puberty. But… Eunseo sat vacantly on his bed and just turned his head to the side. On the kitchen table sat the pizza box Jaeheon had forced on him, and it caught his eye.
“Ah, seriously…”
He wished he could swear with Seunghu’s relish — shit, this fucking sucks.
On top of the pizza Jaeheon had forced on him, he’d eaten every bit of the cooked pineapple on the Hawaiian pizza he’d stupidly ordered himself, so Eunseo was hit with terrible indigestion and had been stuck in bed all morning. As soon as he’d gotten home last night he’d thrown everything up, just rinsed his mouth, and barely managed to sleep — but when he woke at dawn he was burning with fever. He was in no shape to go to school, so he’d had no choice but to contact his professor and Jin Seunghu, apologizing profusely and saying he’d come in a little late.
Then, unsteady on his feet, he’d made a wet towel in the bathroom, wiped himself down, and taken fever medicine. He slept a good while more, and when he woke again his stomach was churning — whether from yesterday’s indigestion or not. Just like the morning after drinking way too much. The ceiling spun round and round, he threw up nothing but stomach acid — he’d nearly died and come back to life.
Looking at the pizza box made his stomach churn as if it had been waiting for it, so Eunseo averted his eyes. The pizza box made him think of salmon, and salmon made him think of Han Jaeheon. He barely shook off the thought and got up when his phone started ringing. It was Jin Seunghu.
“…Yes, sunbae.”
“Feeling any better?”
“I’m getting ready to head out now.”
“If you’re sick, rest up. Come on out.”
“Don’t come out if you’re sick.”
“I’m not sick. I’ll get there within the hour.”
“I said don’t come if you’re sick.”
“I said I’m not sick.”
Without meaning to, he’d let out a whole heap of irritation, and Eunseo clapped his hand over his mouth in surprise. A long silence passed, and then Seunghu spoke.
“You really do sound sick. Rest. I’ll handle your experiment.”
“…I’m sorry, sunbae.”
Sweeping his cold-sweat-damp hair back, Eunseo tapped the bed leg with his foot. Snapping in irritation just because he felt sick — that was really unlike him.
“Forget it. You’re home alone?”
“Yes…. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. You should be a little sorry.”
The joking, laughter-laced voice made him feel a tiny bit better. After listening to a few more nagging remarks, Eunseo hung up and flopped down onto the bed. And his stomach started churning again.
“TA, you looked unwell when you left — are you okay?”
“I feel like I was pushy. Sorry. Please contact me if you’re all right.”
After staring at the texts for a long while, Eunseo set his phone down and ran back into the bathroom. His stomach wasn’t cooperating.
***
Putting his phone down, then picking it up again, glaring at it, then looking away — after repeating that for over an hour, Eunseo finally finished a one-line message, and had to spend nearly as long again just to press send. The message he’d started writing the moment he got to the lab that morning wasn’t delivered to its recipient until just before lunchtime.
“Eunseo. The professor’s calling for you.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Probably about your graduation thesis.”
Shoot — he’d been so distracted lately that the thesis had nearly slipped from his hands entirely, so Eunseo was a little flustered. Still, he gathered what he’d prepared last semester and the experiment results he’d gotten over break, and went into the professor’s office.
“Eunseo.”
“Hello, Professor.”
“Sit. You’ve looked distracted lately, and your face looks terrible.”
At the worried words coming from his not-particularly-attentive professor, Eunseo’s face stiffened. He hated standing out so much that he always worked hard to seem perfectly normal — so if everyone was commenting on it like this, it really meant he looked awful.
“I’m sorry.”
“You need to take care of your health in your last semester.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Did you finish the table of contents last semester?”
“Yes, and you even approved the outline.”
“Then let’s hear your progress.”
His stomach started aching softly again. The professor had approved the outline at the start of this semester, and almost nothing had been done since. Eunseo had nothing to say, so his head sank lower and lower, and the professor, watching him quietly, went on.
“You’re diligent, Eunseo, but I’d say you don’t know how to prioritize… Seems like you take on too many other things.”
“………”
“When students cling to you, brush them off. If the same student keeps asking you to do things, don’t do them.”
“…Yes, I understand.”
“Our next meeting will be in two weeks, so come with more filled in by then.”
“I’m sorry, Professor.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
At the gesture telling him to go, Eunseo gathered his materials haphazardly and left the room. Then, clutching the bundle of papers stuffed with everything he’d left unsaid, he leaned against the wall and let out a heavy breath.
His eyes felt a little stingy.
It was true he’d been so scattered he hadn’t known what mattered most. Still, this was one hurdle he’d barely cleared…. The moment he thought of the message he’d sent that morning, his phone started ringing as if it had been waiting. He set his bags on the floor, pulled out his phone, and there was the name of the person who truly tangled up his head.
Han Jaeheon
Not picking up would look weirder. But I don’t want to pick up. While Eunseo hesitated, the call cut off. He sighed — relieved, maybe, that he didn’t have to agonize anymore. As he bent to pick up his bags again and straightened, he heard it: tap-tap, footsteps crossing the empty hallway. It was quite familiar to Eunseo — and it also made him strain his ears and broke him out in goosebumps.
“TA?”
A voice that was smiling, but somehow not smiling at all. Eunseo turned around very slowly. He’d hoped he wasn’t the one being called, but there wasn’t another soul in the hallway besides him.
“Ah, you couldn’t pick up because your hands were full.”
Jaeheon smiled sweetly, waving his phone. But his eyes weren’t smiling at all.
“…Hello.”
“Yeah — if you were ignoring me, I was about to be a little hurt.”
“……..”
He clearly already knew Eunseo had ignored his call.
“It’s lunchtime — want to eat together?”
“No. I already bought a sandwich for lunch.”
“Ah, then should I go buy a sandwich too?”
Jaeheon wasn’t failing to understand. He just wasn’t listening. Reading every bit of refusal on the other person’s face and still pretending not to get it — Eunseo had to admit that took talent. Eunseo spat out his refusal with everything he had.
“I’m saying I don’t want to eat with you.”
“Hm… why not?”
“I….”
“I get that you’re too busy to keep helping me, but why don’t you want to eat with me?”
“……..”
“You’re going to eat lunch anyway.”
Something flickered beneath that brightly smiling face again. Eunseo stepped back without meaning to, but Jaeheon immediately followed.
“That looks heavy — want me to carry it?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re always saying you’re fine, TA.”
Leaving Jaeheon’s outstretched hand hanging in the air, Eunseo gathered his bags close and tried to walk past him. He didn’t want to be caught and shaken in that grip anymore. The feeling lodged in his body — whose nature he couldn’t even name — was hollower than anything, and its end would obviously crumble into pain. Barely — if it was now, he could barely cut it off. That’s what Eunseo believed.
“I… don’t know why you’re acting like this, Han Jaeheon-ssi.”
“What?”
“If there’s anything you don’t understand outside of class, or any questions about writing the assignment reports, I’ll help anytime. But personal time is….”
“Ah, does eating lunch together count as spending personal time?”
Jaeheon opened his eyes wide as if he’d never even considered it, then curved them like a waning moon.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way at all.”
After pretending to think it over for just a moment, Jaeheon snapped his fingers and sealed Eunseo’s mouth shut with intangible words.
“Ah, then are you and Jin Seunghu-sunbae in a personal relationship?”
“…What?”
“I saw you two eating together so nicely.”
“What’s that supposed to….”
“You said eating together counts as spending personal time.”
“…”
“Then wouldn’t that mean you’re in a personal relationship with Jin Seunghu-sunbae?”
Eunseo, who’d been about to snap that it was an absurd leap, closed his mouth. It didn’t seem wise to provoke Jaeheon with careless words, and it felt awful how every word he said laid his insides bare. And he was caught between a rock and a hard place: deny it and he’d lose any way to refuse Jaeheon; affirm it and he’d be admitting to something with Seunghu.
“You’re not in any relationship, right?”
“…”
“I’m not in any relationship with you either, so let’s eat lunch together.”
Smiling with just his lips curled up, Jaeheon didn’t even ask this time — he just took the bags from Eunseo’s arms. Then he walked a few steps ahead, turned back, and beckoned him along with utter nonchalance.
***
Entering the cafeteria felt like déjà vu. The exact same scene was playing out as at the pizza place where they’d had dinner that night, so Eunseo pointlessly shook
his head, covered his face a little more, and stood facing the wall.
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