Oasis

Bitter morning dries upon chilly dew drops, the stream of artificiality and concrete corners jarring the sunrise's stillness. The cool air rests upon Youngjae's tensed shoulders as he gazes out the window, the first in a long, long time. He doesn't do so often since there's a chance a neighbour may be walking down the street and happen to look up. A scarce few, not more than two, probably, have seen who occupies the last unit on the fourth floor, but Youngjae still plays safe, no matter if it's dawn or dusk. After all, Minki has no qualms about showing his face, so those who recognise this household to be Minki's may suspect why another Omega resides there.

A draft catches along the fluttering blinds and Youngjae shuts his eyes, inhaling deeply. It's been a while since he's gotten the chance to just stand around and do nothing. Work has been his main priority over the years, and thrashed with the gnawing paranoia of being found out and the meticulous, painstaking efforts needed to maintain his vulnerable guise, Youngjae has forgotten what it even means to catch his breath.

He takes no more than two minutes by the window sill, quickly recoiling and swivelling on his feet. Collapsing onto the couch, he tries to catch a wink of sleep, but the daunting thoughts doubles his insomnia. It simply can't be possible. There has to be something Jung Daehyun is planning to have let him walk out alive for these three weeks without any mishap whatsoever. Perhaps today. Yes, it has to be today. The Alphas will hound him, and as of now, he can't even give himself that bit of faith to envision walking back home to Minki.

Youngjae curls himself up against the arm rest and his skin bristles with an eerie shadow of a touch. The scratch marks down his arms are healing, though many spots are sore and irritated. Minki has done a good job patching him up and cutting Youngjae's nails secretly at night so as to prevent more injuries.

The same plethora of emotions accumulates within his lungs and Youngjae struggles to heave. He can't pinpoint its exact concoction but he's sure of a few toxins: humiliation, self-hatred and anger. He doesn't know who he's more angry at—Daehyun, the heavens or himself. He has never let himself believe in the otherworldly, since it yield nothing concrete, but at times like this, there's nowhere else to vent. If there is an entity out there, Youngjae swears he'll rip himself apart in front of him to fulfill its sick yearning. After all, what else could he have wanted by cursing Youngjae to be an Omega?

If God was as the world made him out to be, why did he make Omegas like this? He made sure there were no means of escape and scathingly underscored the Omega's primary, sole purpose of breeding. The moment they go into heat, they've hit the cul-de-sac. Basically a bloody body drifting in the sea of sharks with no means of covering the scent of their pheromones. The worst is that it rips them apart mentally, crushes them to their lowest and most pathetic form to crave like an animal. And it can never be quelled until they reach the end of their heat—or until they've come into contact with an Alpha's fluids that contain the dire modulator pheromones they so desperately need to rid their smell. 

If God existed, there was no way in hell he was impartial. He played favourites; he twisted the world into a sick game; he enjoyed watching people suffer so pitifully. Youngjae guesses perhaps God had shown him a little mercy by delaying his heat so unnaturally late, but ultimately, it'd arrived at the worst timing possible. It almost feels purposeful.

Minki believes otherwise. He always does, dwelling in the delusional hope and optimism. It's the people that screw things up, he'd said once before. Youngjae had screamed at him in response and locked himself in his room. It was an overreaction, definitely. The reason why he'd gotten so worked up was because the words were all too familiar, and it ignited heinously in him the memory of his late mother. Jaejoong had passed on before Youngjae graduated from his cyber university.

Youngjae leans back against the couch and his head back, letting out a fragile breath. He doesn't think of his mother often. He had died in an explosion at his workplace, but truth be told, Youngjae believes he would not have lasted long even if the accident had not happened. The working conditions at that sugar factory were dismal and his mother had contracted cancer from the extended exposure to the chemicals. Jaejoong had been terribly ill around the time he passed on. There was nothing they could do since they were poverty-ridden, and as a single parent, Jaejoong had to continue working to raise Youngjae. One would ask why Jaejoong had to work at a sugar factory, where the most illiterate of Betas and most unattractive Omegas who could not find a spouse to care for them worked. The Omegas were often abused as well and many would rather be a e no matter the indignity.

Jaejoong had to work there for he fell into the aforementioned category. Ironically, there was a time where Jaejoong was hailed for his beauty. Youngjae had seen old photos of his mother and he could not deny how alluring his mother looked with such etheral, porcelain features. Jaejoong had told Youngjae of stories where rich suitors would chase for his hand, and horrors of the unwanted, massive attention he received. He had been molested numerous times and ually assaulted, and Omegas around him scorned him for his good looks that would help him escape the poverty cycle.

It had all been ripped away from him. One eye blinded, half his face burnt off, horribly, horribly disfigured. Jaejoong never spoke about it and Youngjae never pried, but it was assumedly the consequence of an acid attack—they were frequent in the past when Omegas dared disobey their Alphas. Jaejoong too never spoke about Youngjae's father, and there was no doubt Youngjae despised whoever his father was.

There was no doubt too that Youngjae hated his mother just as much.

Youngjae's eyelids flutter to a close and he wraps his arms securely around himself. It's been years but he still can't pinpoint why exactly he hated his mother. It's a number of reasons, really. The obvious ones would be that he hated his mother for not aborting him and sparing him a miserable life of being degraded to a damn object, and for being so utterly pathetic and making his child go through such a painful life. Having lived through days and days of stealing from the trash can and starving till his ribs jutted out grotesquely, it's not difficult to link his abhorrence to the tormenting childhood he suffered.

The other reasons are more subtle, and more terrifying. Perhaps Youngjae had hated his mother not because of what his mother was, but because of who he himself was. He watched as his mother's health slowly deteriorated to a point he wheezed toxic, and that was all Youngjae could do. Watch like he was at a circus, like he was at a freakshow with his mother on the chopping board, while the world just laughed. People picked their nails and glanced away, bored; others cackled and threw popcorn; some gave a rousing applause and asked for more—all while his mother was gradually dismembered, torn limb from limb, strangled painstakingly slow. And as a son, all Youngjae could ing do was watch.

He hated it. He hated it so, so much and because there was no way out, he decided it were better if his mother was not around so he did not have to suffer the grief, the irascibility and the helplessness. 

Perhaps he hated it that his mother volunteered to be cut open just so Youngjae could get by and live to see another day. Jaejoong slogged hard day after day so Youngjae could get books and have that meagre morsel of bread in the morning. Maybe Youngjae hated it too because he knew, he just knew that the reason his mother lived from hand to mouth instead of depending on an Alpha, why he was deformed and could not get married, was because of him.

His mother lived such a cruel life, and it was all his fault.

"Youngjae?"

Youngjae hastily wipes his eyes and cradles himself into a ball, feigning sleep. The groggy voice hoarsely calls out once more, "Youngjae?" Footsteps grow in decibels before halting. Moments dribble away into convoluted panic and the terrors of his shut eyelids, darkness swarming every corner. Warmth materialises against Youngjae and he nearly makes the mistake of jolting. Minki drapes a blanket over Youngjae and Youngjae feels brief wetness against his forehead. A soft giggle escapes Minki along with a soothing lull.

"When is this pretty little thing going to find himself an Alpha?" Minki sighs, fingers threading through Youngjae's hair. "At this rate, he's going to marry me instead." Minki chuckles and gently down Youngjae's cheek. "Yah, Youngjae, I can't go out and get a boyfriend because of you. You know how many people I have to turn down for you?" He teasingly chides. "Hurry up and get yourself an Alpha so I don't have to worry about you anymore."

Heat vanishes in the next few seconds and footsteps diminish into utter quietness. Youngjae pries open his eyes and glances to the bedroom, weight sitting on his shoulders. No matter if Minki is joking or not, Youngjae knows there is some truth to what he had said. Minki is gorgeous, no doubt will he attract many Alphas, so Youngjae has wondered many times why Minki has stopped going on dates these few years.

Hours tumble by and Youngjae finds himself in the midst of his routine as per normal, striding down the street with Minki clinging to his arm. It's stifling. The polluted air seems to coil around his neck and tightens proportionally to the closing distance. His mind thrashes but he flashes a smile at Minki in a bid attempt to assure him. Jung Daehyun holds him in the recesses of his mind and Youngjae nearly vomits halfway, shuddering violently at the sudden intrusive memory. Minki looks at him in concern and Youngjae churns out softly, "I'm not feeling well. I think I drank too much milk."

"I told you not to drink so much," Minki nags, patting Youngjae's back gently. Youngjae melts back into his touch and calms the swelling lump in his gullet. He's already written his will, where all his assets will be bequeathed to Minki. Maybe he'll be shot today. Stabbed, even. Maybe... maybe Daehyun will let him live another day.

They reach the office building and Minki tenderly unwinds his arm from Youngjae, Youngjae instinctively holding on before pulling away apologetically. Minki pecks him on the cheek and whispers, "Not all Alphas are monsters." He leans back to offer an encouraging smile and Youngjae forces one back, waving and robotically spinning towards the door.

The wariness chains Youngjae bit by bit as he walks through the office, escalated sensitivity noting every turn of the head and incoherent mumble. Despite this, nothing seems amiss. Junhong greets him as usual, eyes bright like moonlight shimmering off small, hopeful ponds, and they agree to eat lunch together. Youngjae makes it to his cubicle safely and he settles down uncomfortably. 

Time dwindles away and as the many colleagues shuffle away to get lunch, Youngjae leans back into his chair and shuts his eyes tiredly. He doesn't know why he's still alive. He's cheated a multi-national corporation and he's not just being let off scott-free, but also, allowed to retain his identity and continue working here? It doesn't make sense. Youngjae broke a law by lying on his paperwork and he dared swindle such a prestigious company despite his lowly status. Yet...

"Youngjae."

Youngjae sharply twitches but he masks it swiftly, rising from his chair and turning to face Junhong. Junhong grins a thousand-watt smile that puts Youngjae a little more at ease. "Let's go," Youngjae whispers, his voice softer than usual. It's not too uncharacteristic since Youngjae has always been a silent one, so Youngjae does not berate himself too much for his slip-up.

Junhong rambles off about the new coding software the company has installed as they join the queue, Youngjae growing more distracted as people crowd the area. An insatiable itch brims on the surface of his skin but he wills it away, reminding himself that if he's able to stay alive for so long, he'll be able to get through another day.

They sit at a corner table as usual, segregated from the large troupe of Alphas who throw them scornful, taunting looks every once in a while. Thankfully, no one spares him a glance for too long, and Youngjae simmers into composure as he adapts to the amplification in noise. He quietly hums while Junhong blathers away enthusiastically in the opposite chair, Youngjae's mind drifting off into acute blankness. A sudden cough startles Youngjae out of his trance and he snaps his head up to see Yongguk towering over them, a kind smile adorning his lips.

"May I sit with you two?" Yongguk asks politely. Junhong's expression is comical, eyes bulging out and blinking sharply. He stumbles over his words, "S-sure! I mean," Junhong veers his gaze to Youngjae in anticipation.

Youngjae stares up at Yongguk as a chill runs down his spine, clawing down at his skin and threatening to reveal his identity. Yongguk knows he's an Omega. Is this it? Will he be fed to the sharks right here? It'll be a big spectacle for the whole canteen to see, probably hauled up by the collar like bait on display. Minki's words treads through his mind and Youngjae swallows thickly.

"Mm," Youngjae hums nearly inaudibly, looking down to his food. Yongguk flagged a cab for him the last time so he could get home safely. Yongguk will understand, right? He will understand what it's like to be part of a prosecuted race, even though he's a rank higher. Bile prods Youngjae's throat and he scrapes his spoon against the bowl listlessly. What does it matter any more? They might as well get this tug-of-war over with. It's high time Youngjae's punishment arrives.

"Thank you," Yongguk chimes and takes the chair beside Junhong. Junhong seems very excited, his innocent eagerness inciting some solace in Youngjae. He's probably happy to have another Beta in the company, Youngjae muses. Junhong clears his throat and twiddles with his fingers, Yongguk calmly digging in.

"Ah... you're Mr. Jung's secretary, right?" Junhong laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. Yongguk peers up in amusement and replies with a chuckle, "Yes. I heard you're the genius programmer."

Junhong widens his eyes and swats his hand, spouting, "No, no! I'm not that good. But uh, thank you, uh, Mr. Bang? I mean, I'm not that good, really." Junhong nervously rubs the back of his neck and Yongguk nods amiably. "I've seen your work. It's impressive. And please, call me Yongguk."

"What? No way, I'm really just mediocre," Junhong puffs, though the blinding grin on his face is hard to restrain. Youngjae muffles back a hint of a chuckle and Yongguk lifts his head. He meets Youngjae's eyes, casting him a warm smile. "Mr. Yoo, are you feeling better? You were absent for several days."

Youngjae freezes and he scrutinises Yongguk fearfully for a moment. The genial look in Yongguk's face cannot be mangled no matter how hard Youngjae tries. Does he really not know why Youngjae had skipped work, or is he just playing dumb?

"Yeah," Youngjae breathes. "Thank you."

Contented, Yongguk dips his head in acknowledgement and returns to eating. As Junhong's cheery voice placates his jumping nerves, an abrupt movement and a sharp rattle incites all of their attention. This goes for the whole canteen as well, but Youngjae has little time to dwell on the flabggergasted faces. He stares at Daehyun who looks down at him with cold-cutting eyes, his tray placed onto the table. Every ounce of blood seems to rush into non-existence and a piercing coldness imbues Youngjae's every nerve.

This is it.

Daehyun clears his throat gruffly and regards Yongguk and Junhong for a mere second before returning his gaze to Youngjae. "May I sit?" He grunts, eyes dissecting Youngjae mercilessly. Youngjae looks back with no response, waiting for a slap, a punch, anything, but Daehyun simply gazes back at him with creased brows.

"Sir," Junhong bleats, his voice coming out as a squeak. He jumps to his feet and bow so low his hair nearly touches his food. The whole canteen's bustling atmosphere sways into a consistent murmur, curious drone buzzing around endlessly. Daehyun tears his eyes away from Youngjae and repeats curtly, "May I sit?"

"O-Of course, Mr. Jung!" Junhong stutters. Daehyun does not make a move, waiting for Youngjae's consent. Youngjae gingerly nods and slowly rotates his head back, lowering it and staring limply at his tray. Daehyun tugs out the chair and settles down, lips pulled into a thin line as he regards the three sitting with him. He looks down to his food and begins wolfing down his food without any qualms whatsoever.

Junhong grabs his tray at this moment and nearly stumbles back into the chair. "I'll leave," Junhong offers readily, spinning on his heels when a frigid voice slashes through the air.

"Why are you leaving?" Daehyun questions, sounding just like an interrogation. His eyes bore intimidatingly through Junhong's head. "Am I bothering you?"

"N-no, sir!" Junhong hastily plops back into his chair, lips scrunched up and face contorted in misery. Youngjae would laugh to see how freaked out Junhong is, evidently uncomfortable with the disparity in social status, but he can't seem to register anything in his mind.

Daehyun goes back to eating silently. His warmth ignites a reminiscent feel on Youngjae's flesh and he edges away discreetly, still nauseously looking at his food. Silence overwhelmes the quadruple, awkwardness hung on ends. Junhong has his arms plastered to his sides as he attempts to eat as unnoticeably as possible, whereas Yongguk resumes eating as he had done before. 

No one breathes a word. The whispers flood the break room, questioning in incredulity why the boss had chosen to sit with the sympathiser Youngjae and the beta Junhong, of all people. Youngjae's skin is still sweltering with prickling coldness.

A deep, rasping cough resounds between them and something scratches the table. A yoghurt cup is prodded into Youngjae's line of sight as Youngjae's breath hitches, staring stringently at the hand that had pushed it over.

"Eat this." Daehyun's frightening voice resounds through the air gruffly. Youngjae blinks twice and hesitantly reaches out for the cup, fingers trembling just the slightest bit.

Is it... poisoned?

He obviously already has one, since both of them had gotten the same set lunch from the vendor. Youngjae dares not meet Daehyun's eyes to question him, so he simply grimaces and breathes out a quiet "thank you". They simmer back into silence as Youngjae stares blankly at the cup, thoughts flushing through his mind.

Why is Daehyun being nice to him? It has to be spiked. It just has to be. Youngjae plays with the cup slowly, twirling it stiffly around as he keeps his mouth shut.

Daehyun wants to kill him slowly. Force him to ingest poison and die as his immunity system peels off layer by layer into a mess of sores and infections.

A cough breaks Youngjae's ruminating and the same scratching sound manifests. This time, a small bowl of soup and chicken appears in front of him and the two faces opposite them snap their heads up. Youngjae glances at the bowl and veers his gaze slowly towards Daehyun.

Daehyun is already staring him down, his stern eyes inciting instinctive panic in Youngjae. Daehyun maintains strict eye contact before grunting, "This too."

"...Thank you," Youngjae wheezes, the paranoia clawing through his system. What the hell is Daehyun trying doing? Is he just outright feeding him poison? Is one not enough?

They return to eating, Junhong wearing a clearly weirded out look. A heavy awkwardness remains in the air amidst grates of untensils and their chewing. Youngjae's mind has drowned into utter turmoil, trying his utmost hardest to decipher Daehyun's future plans.

Daehyun raises his hand and clasps onto his half-eaten plate of beef and spinach. He hoists it out of the tray and places it in front of Youngjae's plate, clearing his throat once again.

"This... is nice," Daehyun declares in a low, husky timbre. Junhong parts his lips silently while Yongguk flutters his lashes, the two equally as confused as Youngjae.

"...Thanks," Youngjae breathes, end of his sole word dwindling into an airy choke. Daehyun is taunting him. It's so obvious. He's practically given away everything on his tray, save for the kimchi and his rice.

Daehyun nods stiffly and glances to his almost empty tray, staring down at it for a moment before taking a scoop of his plain rice. Yongguk glimpses over at Daehyun and hums softly, "Mr. Jung, would you like some beef?" He places his plate before Daehyun and adds, "I don't think I'll be able to finish it."

Daehyun regards Yongguk for a short while before uttering, "Is this true?"

Yongguk nods lightly, not at all intimidated by Daehyun's cold question.

"Then, I will have it. Thank you, Yongguk." Daehyun grabs the white plate and dumps the whole thing into his rice, up to the very last drop.

"You may also have my yoghurt, Mr. Jung." A hand reaches forward and plops the similar yoghurt cup into the tray. Daehyun pries it open without any hesitance.

"I see. Thank you." Daehyun wolfs down his lunch quicker than before, Yongguk extending his arm to offer his bowl of soup. 

Youngjae stares silently at his food, unable to comprehend what exactly has just happened. He refuses to touch his food and simply stabs at his rice, his tray now cluttered with double of the dishes he had already been given.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Daehyun glancing over periodically, as if anticipating him eating the food he had been shoved. As Daehyun finishes up his meal, the table clouded with utter silence, Yongguk glances to his watch and calls, "Mr. Jung, Mr. Choi wants to see you in five minutes."

Daehyun nods swiftly and rises, Junhong stumbling to rise as well. Junhong bows hastily as Daehyun nods to him and speaks, "Goodbye."

He swivels his head and looks down at Youngjae, who gets to his feet and bows, lowering his head wordlessly.

"Goodbye, Mr. Yoo." Daehyun strides off coolly, Junhong's eyes following like a fish out of water. Yongguk follows after Daehyun, not before squeezing Youngjae's shoulder and whispering, "You can throw them away if you can't finish them."

When Daehyun and Yongguk finally disappear from view, Youngjae reclines into his chair and his eyes flutter exhaustedly to a close. The pile of food innocently remains in front of Youngjae and Junhong's face spells utter bewilderment.

What had Daehyun been trying to do?

--

Daehyun swiftly strides ahead while Yongguk tails behind at a close distance, strong footsteps reverberating through the hallway. The second-hand embarrassment still lingers in Yongguk's mouth, the scene that had just unfolded making Yongguk wish he could bury his head in the ground.

What exactly made Daehyun think it was a good idea to dump a whole pile of food to Youngjae? He knows Daehyun has trouble establishing relationships, what with his no-nonsense personality and strict behaviour, but Yongguk had not known it was this severe. Daehyun has been raised to take the affairs around him seriously, trained solely by his father since his mother had allegedly gone senile. He guesses he can't exactly fault Daehyun for being so stiff and... eccentric.

But what he had done to Youngjae... The poor man looked scared out of his wits! Yongguk emits a frail sigh and massages his nose bridge. What exactly did Daehyun want from Youngjae?

"Mr. Jung..." Yongguk calls, Daehyun's stride not faltering. Yongguk bites his tongue, dwelling on his words, and churns out, "Were you trying to make friends with Mr. Yoo?"

Silence. The footsteps continue before Daehyun grunts.

"Yes. I don't think it went very well."

Yongguk's face contorts and he restrains a slap to his forehead.

Well, obviously...

--

Evening bleeds out into full-blown dusk, so