Oasis

Everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
Everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down

The minutes tick away into solitude with clammy hands clamping the chilly sink, Youngjae's reflection glaring back at him in the mirror. He recognises the person standing in the other plane. Yoo Youngjae, working as a senior executive financial consultant at the Korea branch of a multi-national corporation, one of the highest ranking in this company. Yoo Youngjae is marred with scars across the sides of his jaw, carving grit, intimidation and an animalistic ambition into the fibre of his skin. 

Youngjae lets out a long breath and tilts his head the other way, observing the jarring mirage served before him. This is me, he reminds himself for the umpteenth time, yet the dissociation brews sickeningly in his guts. The powder on his face stirs a itching sensation all over and he squints harder, begging himself to see that the distortion in the mirror is in fact him, just layered.

A drip of melancholy lingers on his tongue as he clutches the sink for a moment more before releasing his grip, leaning back and adjusting his tie. He isn't sure if it is bred from the deep-seated resentment he has for the person in the mirror, or the person underneath that facade. He has always loathed his disguise, the very mask that bestows upon him gifts of riches and security, and clawed it off upon reaching home, foundation clumped beneath his fingernails.

Yet, he can't seem to shake off the hypocrisy. He has never been able to, really. For someone who claims to be dignified, who walks around with his head up high because he believes his kind is meant for a better, more fulfilling life, he sure pretends to be the people he hates so goddamn much.

Youngjae shuts his eyes and inhales deeply. He often shelves these sort of thoughts, but last night's events have shaken him up more than he expected. Daehyun and Yongguk had come to save him from the two hooligans. It leaves him terrifyingly unsettled, and for all the wrong reasons. He should have swung his fist across the man's face and slammed his foot onto his throat. Take the other one down and twist his neck with one foot on his cheek and the other on his shoulder. Break every bone in their bodies and make them pay, make them never dare to even have a crossing, fleet

But he didn't. And to see Heechul shivering with his eyes wide, cowering in fear, makes Youngjae want to hurl. He let them be bullied by those scum. He dreamt of these moments where he could show those ers their place, and he just let it slide past him. For the entirety of his life, watching his mother drop to his knees, battered and worn down to jutting ribs and soulless eyes, how could he have let them go so easily?

If that was Jaejoong and not Heechul... Youngjae emits a shuddering breath, bitterness and an absolutely scathing, venemous hatred boiling in every inch of his blood. He forces himself to calm down and rubs out his thoughts aggressively. He wants to snap something in half and crush it, crush it underneath his foot with all the strength he has.

The bathroom door swings open. Youngjae brushes past Seunghyun and quickly exits, swallowing down all antagonism in him.

He wonders how Heechul is doing. Hopefully, the incident has not taken too much of a toll on him. He still wonders in the back of his mind how Heechul had been reduced to such a state to even abhor his own flesh and blood, but he decides to leave it. Getting involved in any of Daehyun's affairs would just spell trouble for him.

Really, how careless could he have been to reveal his full name to Heechul? He could have given an alias. To walk into his boss' house as his true self, moreover. He had acted irrationally in his haste to protect Minki. If Heechul reveals his identity to even a single soul, he'd be dead for sure. If any of those servants recognise him and call him out, he'd never see daylight again.

So far, Daehyun doesn't seem keen on exposing him—likely because he wants to keep their little arrangement going. Whatever the reason, Daehyun can't get another Omega to speak to his mother for him. Youngjae can fulfill the task, and judging from how meticulous Daehyun is with his mother, Youngjae can ensure he'll be needed around for at least a while more. So, it's a perfect one-for-one trade. Daehyun keeps the secret and Youngjae becomes the bridge between him and his mother.

"Youngjae!"

Youngjae whirrs around and pulls up a smile for the Beta pattering enthusiastically up to him. Junhong flashes a blinding grin and a thrum resonates in Youngjae's head. He persists in his smile despite the guilt threatening to rip through his face, memories of their night together blistering his eyes. A white lie, he soothes himself as he steps forward.

"I, uh, you weren't at your cubicle, so I went around looking for you." Junhong scratches his neck and lowers his head shyly. He is clad in a thick scarf today, masking a bit of his chin. "It's, um, lunch now."

"It is? I hadn't noticed," Youngjae answers, repressing all heinous thoughts still blooming in his mind. If he can keep a smile on Junhong's face and give him a bit of hope to last him through the day, it's worth it, isn't it?

"I just went to the toilet for a while," Youngjae explains. The end justifies the means, and if it's the only way Junhong will be kept happy in a world so revolting like theirs, so be it.

"Oh, okay," Junhong hums, glancing up at the ceiling and swinging his arms. "I... Shall we go for lunch now?"

He glimpses back at Youngjae and melts into a extremely apologetic look. "Ah, uh, sorry. I'm not being too clingy, am I?"

"You aren't. Don't worry." Youngjae chuckles into his fist.

"You seem pretty nervous around me today," Youngjae teases. Junhong has always been cautious around Youngjae, but today, he frequently trips over his words.

"I-I am?" Junhong laughs brashly, running a hand messily through his hair and creating a disaster sitting on top of his head. Youngjae tiptoes and pats his hair down, smothering back a soft giggle and walking ahead to the staff canteen. Junhong rushes to catch up with him and the walk there is unusually silent, Youngjae eyeing the Beta in amusement. 

He must be shy after our hug that day.

The canteen is rather empty today since one of the departments had been sent for a training course to up their skills. Youngjae is thankful for that, since his skin does not flare up heinously with stiff aversion. The fear has somewhat dissapated since Youngjae can somewhat put faith in Daehyun not selling him out for now, as Daehyun obviously has use for Youngjae. However,  it does not cease his habit of casting second glances, afraid of the dissonant chatter and possible gossip ripping off his facade. He's not in the clear, not at least until he finds out what Daehyun plans to do with him. If they can come up with a suitable arrangement, Youngjae may be able to continue working here, but if Heechul's other caretakers return, he's bound to be kicked to the curb and fed to the canines.

The pair settle down as per routine at the far end, Youngjae raking his eyes over the crowd in paranoia. Assuring himself that Daehyun is nowhere to be seen, he swivels his gaze back to Junhong, the boy hastily averting his eyes. Youngjae melts into another amused frown before noticing Junhong's plate is particularly sparse, just rice and soup sitting on his tray.

"Junhong, you didn't buy any meat?" Youngjae queries.

Junhong blinks several times before churning out a toothy grin. "I'm on a diet. I'm getting a beer belly!" Junhong pats his stomach, scrunching up his nose.

Junhong's scarf droops from his chin as he scoops up some plain rice, chewing contentedly. Youngjae catches a trace of a cut on the underside of his jaw. 

Worry creeps through Youngjae's bloodstream and flashes of his nightmares from the other day claw at his sanity. He is sure they had not been nightmares; it was just that his intrusive thoughts were clinging relentlessly to his head, drawing up the worst case scenarios of what could have happened to Minki that day. Minki drenched in a pool of his own blood, throat slit; Minki with a gunshot wound through his temple, lifeless eyes staring back up at Youngjae and demanding to know why he hadn't been there for him; all of the horrors kept him up throughout the night.

"Did something happen?" Youngjae lowers his voice.

Junhong immediately flicks his gaze back up to Youngjae, eyes enlarged. "Huh? No, of course not. What do you mean?" Junhong spurts out too swiftly to be natural.

Youngjae scrutinises the thick scarf coiled around Junhong's neck and his long sleeves, the temperature way too high for him to be clad in such outer wear. Youngjae gently extends his hand and thumbs the gash over Junhong's chin, the Beta fluttering his lashes. Youngjae misses the hazy look Junhong melts into and tenderly pries the scarf from his neck, parting his lips dumbly upon seeing the bruises over his neck.

"Junhong..." Youngjae breathes, pulling down the scarf further to reveal the malicious blue black choking Junhong's pale skin. They manifest in the malevolent outline of handprints, swathing from one end of his neck to the other.

"Who did this to you?" Youngjae quivers, the disarray of suffocating emotions clogging his throat. He tries to swallow them down but his heart simply wrenches even more, threatening to hurl out of his throat as the clash of fury and heartbreak thrashes within his ribcage.

"It's nothing," Junhong exhales, leaning out of Youngjae's grasp and pulling his scarf back up quickly. "Want some of my soup?"

"What happened?" Youngjae tries again, pressing with more urgency.

Junhong avoids his perturbed stare and shrinks back into his seat. Youngjae stresses, "Junhong, what happened?"

"I... I got conned. It got a little violent when I confronted them," Junhong dismissively says, though his words wither away into what Youngjae can only pinpoint as shame and embarrassment.

Junhong ruffles his hair and blurts cheerily, "It's nothing big, seriously. Just the usual. Stupid old me."

"Who conned you?" Youngjae's brows furrow and his lips fold into a thin line, hand clenched underneath the table. He can guess why Junhong got scammed, since it's repulsively common for Betas and Omegas to be cheated. The Alphas toy them along and pick on the lower classes like they're absolute trash, despite the Betas and Omegas already struggling with finances and most earning just enough to live to see another day.

"Some dumb guys downtown," Junhong mutters under his breath. "Really, Youngjae, it's fine-"

"What's their shop name?" Youngjae grits, blood boiling eerily underneath his skin. "I'll go settle things with them."

"Youngjae, it's okay," Junhong urges, desperation permeating his voice. "They ran a street stand. I bet they'll have moved by now."

"What's the name of their stall? We'll be able to track them down." Youngjae swipes out his phone and drafts up a note, waiting impatiently for Junhong to provide details.

"I don't remember," Junhong mumbles.

"What were they selling?" Youngjae interrogates. They can't let those goddamn crooks get away like this. These ers take advantage of the weaker and triumph in their heartless endeavours, refusing to even let the Betas and Omegas live in peace when they are already suffering under the ruthless hierachy.

How dare they hurt Junhong?

Junhong keeps mum, staring down wordlessly at his thighs. Youngjae frustratedly leans over and pleads, "Junhong, tell me. You must remember at least that, right?"

Silence whelms them as Junhong adamantly clamps his mouth shut, refusing to look Youngjae in the eyes. Youngjae softens his voice and implores, "Junhong, please. What did you buy from them?"

Junhong in his chapped lips and lowers his head further, crestfallen eyes missing so dearly of his usual radiance and unbeatable mirth. He wheezes nearly inaudibly, Youngjae straining himself to catch his fleeting, elusive word.

"Supplements."

"Supplements?" Youngjae quietly echoes, tilting his head one side. He nearly reaches out for Junhong's hand but Junhong retracts his limbs off the table, resting them on his thighs like a reprimanded child. Conflict scrawls onto his face and Junhong shuts his eyes, heaving out a frail sigh.

"Bodybuilding supplements," Junhong wheezes, high-pitched words strained against sheer humiliation. Young