Oasis

It can't be possible that rain can fall,
Only when it's over our heads
The sun is shining everyday, but it's far away
Over the world it's said

On some nights, Youngjae lets himself fall prey to gnawing thoughts thrashing at the back of his head. Nights where Minki turns in early and he's left alone watching the stock market, he thinks of his mother and why he chose to keep him. It's evident that aborting him would have made life much easier for Jaejoong. In fact, in a world like theirs, what was the point of living as a disfigured Omega?

Perhaps it was this fact—that Jaejoong kept him alive and slogged so hard to bring him up, burnt his bones against the revolting toxins and inhaled suffering for ten hours a day—that made Youngjae so hell-bent on making sure he clawed his way to the very top. He needed to make sure his existence was worth the blood his mother spat out day after wretched day, so he polished up his shrewdness and sharpened his craftiness without hesitation. He would have shed blood if necessary so as to go higher, which in all honesty, made him no different from the top-tier Alphas stepping over the heads of the poor Omegas and Betas.

He admits that kindness isn't one of his fortes. Minki thrives in that, in mindless justice and playing hero without thinking of the consequences. Kindness is but a weakness in a society that leeches on their flesh and builds every flourishing metropolitan by crushing the bodies of Omegas into bloody cement. He thought of no one but himself because he had no extra hands to save anyone else, considering his mother gave his life to him so he could live.

Minki was an exception, because Youngjae made the mistake of meeting eyes with him while he was being attacked. He had riskily gone out to get a late dinner and had stumbled upon that brute pinning Minki to the asphalt, not bothering to even shift to a more secluded location. Minki saved himself by looking into Youngjae's eyes and scrawling out his face into Youngjae's mind, one that he would have nightmares about again and again because he did nothing to help.

Junhong's case is obvious. Youngjae hated the Alphas and he saw a reflection of himself in Junhong who slouched to soften his tall stature and dared not look anyone in his eyes. He was a genius in his department yet was confined to low wages all because of his weightless status. It was because he could not divorce his own reflection from Junhong that he befriended him.

Why show kindness in a world so wretched? All his life, nothing has ever been kind to him. He never got the chance to attain scholarships despite his stellar grades; he was not spared a glance and his title of being the top in school was given to some snot-nosed Alpha three points below him. He was not eligible for government grants to pursue his studies or join research agencies because the damn system dictated he be a housewife from the moment he was born.

Perhaps he may have overlooked someone. For most of his childhood, the reason why he had a place to stay was because his landlord had generously allowed them to stay despite the repeated, delayed payments. Unmarried Omegas were not allowed to own apartment units—not that Jaejoong could afford one, anyway. From what he knew, Yoochun had taken them in upon seeing Jaejoong on the streets with a defenseless infant.

Yoochun came from a well-to-do family. He was a Beta, or more importantly, an accident for his family. Because of their religious background, they kept Yoochun but hid him from the public eye, disguising him as a sponsored child for charity. His love life was a dramatic tragedy—he was in love with an Omega who had been wedded to his older Alpha brother since young. Junsu saw nothing of him but the poor adopted Beta who had no place in the family. Yoochun left the household on his own accord to save his family the trouble of kicking him out and leased apartments for a living.

Though Yoochun had been lavishly generous to offer Jaejoong a tiny place to stay and take only a meagre amount as rental fee, he seemed rather averse to Youngjae all throughout his upbringing. He was somewhat close to Jaejoong though he kept his distance but he maintained a strict separation between him and Youngjae. On the few occasions he came to collect rental payment, Yoochun barely interacted with Youngjae, though Youngjae sometimes caught him peeking into his room. Their conversations were short and awkward, mainly because Yoochun was terribly uncomfortable with Youngjae and couldn't hide it.

Maybe it was because Youngjae was a child, a son, which essentially mocked Yoochun's being as a Beta—someone X-ed from the family and never considered in his love's eyes, meant to die out with no chance of an offspring to continue on his name.

Nonetheless, Jaejoong tried to show his gratitude by taking part of Yoochun's first name to be Youngjae's surname. After Jaejoong passed on, the discomfort between them thickened. Yoochun skipped out on collecting fees on several months, and it seemed like he could not bring himself to meet Youngjae—there were several times Youngjae saw he came yet left without a single hint. Regardless, Youngjae moved out as soon as he could. He's been routinely wiring a portion of his paycheck to Yoochun to repay him ever since he got this job.

The car ride is silent, smithereens of melting neon shattering onto the windscreen. Between the light patter of rain and the drone of the engine, nothing adequately fills up the quietness. Daehyun doesn't seem bothered by the lack of noise, however, straight face giving no indication of whatever's going on in his head. This is how the filthy rich live, Youngjae think. They wear a mask that stitches into their face, shrouding all their emotions from the public eye and giving a safe guise of unbreakable stoicism. Just another rehashed cliche among the elites, except Daehyun is one step too far behind—he doesn't know what it means to wear an indissoluble smile. He should learn how to smile, considering he stands above the hoi polloi so mightily.

Every once in a while, Youngjae glances out the window to check that they're not entering a remote place. Though he has lowered his guard, he reminds himself to always be cautious around people like Daehyun who hold the world in their hands. Youngjae can easily be silenced with just the snap of a finger. That's not to say that Youngjae doesn't have his own leverage—since Daehyun insisted on keeping their arrangement that night confidential, it means that there's something Youngjae knows that Daehyun doesn't want anyone else knowing. Whether it is that Daehyun's mother is mentally unstable or that he hates his own son, he's got something to hold over Daehyun.

It takes no more than another ten minutes for them to reach a lavish hotel, stature mighty and grand for all to see. Daehyun exits the car and winds over, but Youngjae swiftly opens the car door for himself and slams it behind him. He's not sure if Daehyun is being mannerful by being a gentleman to who is rightfully an Omega, or if he's taunting Youngjae, reminding him of his status. Whatever it is, he doesn't like it.

Expectedly, the restaurant inside reeks of grandeur and an untouchable class, probably just another common dining place for Daehyun. Youngjae spends a moment warily staring at the sharp corners and glistening, stellar signboard before glancing down. The host blinks at him for a moment and Youngjae clears his throat, lowering his head to shroud his scars.

"Reservation under Jung Daehyun," Daehyun states to the maître d' and hands his car key to the valet on stand by. The host leads them to a secluded room and Youngjae instinctively sinks into suspicion, squinting at Daehyun's broad back as they make their way in. A dining table sits in the well-furnished room, interior lined with exquisite gold tiling and a lush, massive chandelier hanging overhead.

The waiter hands them each a menu and Youngjae skims through the prices, thinning his lips. Daehyun spares not a glimpse at the menu and sets it down underneath his arms, watching Youngjae silently. Discomfort bristles on his skin and Youngjae lowers his head to hide behind the menu.

"Pick whatever you like, Mr. Yoo. I'll pay for it," Daehyun intones, continuing to bore his eyes through Youngjae's head.

"No need," Youngjae returns immediately, squinting at the lowest-priced dish. He lifts his head and mutters, "Can I get the wonton soup?"

"That's a side dish," Daehyun cuts in, looking quite disgruntled. Youngjae glances at him for a short moment before nodding to the waiter, handing back the menu.

Lighting out an almost inaudible exhale, Daehyun turns to the waiter and indicates, "The deluxe set for two, please."

The hosts promptly leave, allowing a stagnant quietness to overthrow the atmosphere. Daehyun sips at his red wine and reclines into his chair.

"Have you found a mate yet, Mr. Yoo?" Daehyun breathes as he sets down his wine glass, jazz tunes unwinding on his shoulders.

Youngjae clenches his hands. He spouts brusquely, "I would prefer if you do not into my personal business, Mr. Jung."

Despite the harsh tone, Daehyun does not flinch or make even a single deviation in his stone-faced expression. "Apologies, Mr. Yoo. I am just concerned about the problem I brought up with you that day—about your heats."

Youngjae grits his teeth and remains silent, staring down at the tablecloth. A lump rises in his throat and the air suddenly wraps around his neck like a noose, choking him tightly. The memories of that jarring afternoon with Daehyun has barely faded and Daehyun has no decency to keep the matter under wraps. There's no denying Daehyun has the right to question him since it does pose an interference to his work and Daehyun is his boss, but he should at least be merciful enough not to remind Youngjae that he was the one who solved his first and only heat.

"You do not have to worry about that, Mr. Jung," Youngjae rebounds curtly, a part of him still wary of offending Daehyun. He has been mulling over this issue for the past week ever since Daehyun had brought it up. Waiting his heats out would be impossible, since heat when left unattended to can take a week or more to blow over, not to mention the excruciating pain and restlessness that comes with it. He would never stoop to one night stands like Minki, so he has no solution as of now.

"I see you're not so afraid of me anymore, Mr. Yoo," Daehyun sighs, slowly blinking. "That's good."

Is he taunting me?

The two men exchange stares, Youngjae drilling his glare through Daehyun while the other looks back expressionlessly. Daehyun shifts and reaches for his bag, pulling out a brown box. He leans over and hands it to Youngjae, the latter warily regarding the parcel.

"My mother insisted you take it," Daehyun provides just as Youngjae lifts the cover. It's the conch shell from that night at the beach, the one that Heechul had given to him right before those thugs had approached them. He had left it in the car purposely since he felt uncomfortable receiving a gift from Daehyun's mother.

Youngjae stares at the faded beige pigmentation ensconcing the spiral shell, flared lip tinted with a breathtaking gradient of salmon pink. He runs a thumb over the jagged texture and softly asks, "Is your mother okay?"

Daehyun nods. "Thank you for taking care of him that day, Mr. Yoo. I'm very grateful."

Absent-mindedly admiring the tanned cream shade wrapped around the conch shell, Youngjae fiddles gently with one of its spikes as he simmers back into his recollections. Apart from the heinous grudge toiling within his guts, he can still remind himself of the majority of the time spent at the beach.

"Your mother really likes conch shells," Youngjae mentions with a light hum, a buoyant feeling rising in his chest. Perhaps he had tailed Heechul more fervently than he should have because his frail form and watery silhouette reminded him so much of his own mother. Perhaps because he regrets still not holding on and instead, pushing Jaejoong as far from him as he could.

Daehyun's expression softens for a brief while, the moment catching Youngjae off guard. Daehyun sips at his wine and shares, "Conch shells were used as trumpets in the past. Sometimes for war, to summon allies; sometimes to ward away evil spirits at sea."

Youngjae flits his lashes and runs his fingers tenderly over the ridges in the shell. He conclusively caps the box and places it aside, meeting Daehyun's eyes.

"What did you call me here for, Mr. Jung?"

Daehyun momentarily looks down as he collects his thoughts, white noise drowned out by the symphonies of snazzy strings and languid tunes. He ultimately sighs and interlocks his fingers, resting his hands on the table.

"I was wondering if you would be kind enough to do me that favour I asked for you, but this time, as a routine arrangement."

Youngjae folds his lips. Definitely, he knew Daehyun asked him out for dinner to make this request, but he's still hesitant on saying yes. Naturally, he has to agree since Daehyun obviously kept him in the company in spite of his status just for this. High-class households such as Daehyun's families would hire only Alphas as servants to upkeep their reputation. Since Heechul assumedly only allows Omegas to approach him, Daehyun needs an Omega who he can keep on a leash and watch over regularly. With the dirt Daehyun has on Youngjae and the fact that Youngjae is a surbodinate in his company, Youngjae is unsurprisingly a good candidate.

He's putting a lot on the line to help Daehyun out. The moment he's deemed useless, he'll be outed immediately and fed to the sharks. Visiting a household like that will arouse suspicion and draw rumours. Even if Daehyun and Yongguk keep his identity a secret, what about the maids and Heechul? Sure, Youngjae had been wearing a mask, but it's not foolproof. No one can guarantee that Heechul will keep Youngjae's secret.

The weighty pause stands vigilantly between them. Sensing no sign of an answer, Daehyun heaves.

"As you've seen, my mother is not in the best state now. No one except you and his caretaker can placate him, and as I've mentioned, his caretaker is... not available at the moment."

Must be that Himchan person Heechul talked about, Youngjae notes. Daehyun leans back into his chair and furrows his brows, deliberating on his words.

"I have no bad intentions, Mr. Yoo. I just need someone to be the bridge between my mother and me. His mental health is deteriorating and I need someone who can take care of him well without alarming him."

They lock eyes, abysmal grey irises latching onto topaz brown. Daehyun straightens up and firmly offers, "I'll be willing to pay you if you accept, Mr. Yoo. This arrangement will be strictly confidential and I'll ensure your identity will be kept private as well."

A light knock comes at this instant and the waiters enter, setting out the appetisers. As they disperse, Youngjae sighs and edges the untouched cup of wine further away. Daehyun watches the minuscule gesture wordlessly.

"Can I ask a few questions first, Mr. Jung?" Youngjae murmurs. "About your mother's condition."

"...Go ahead. Please keep this between us, however."

Daehyun picks up his utensils and stirs his soup, noisily slurping at it.

"How long has your mother been this way?" Youngjae quietly asks.

Daehyun munches on the dumplings, quickly gulping them down as he briefly meets Youngjae's gaze. "Since I was young. He turned reclusive quite a long time ago. The... aversion towards Alphas developed from there."

"So he lashes out at all Alphas?" Youngjae inquisitively questions.

"Yes." Daehyun broods for a moment before lowering his voice. "With the exception of my father."

"Your mother's okay with your father?" Youngjae surmises, refusing to touch the lavish dish splayed out before him.

Daehyun continues munching, though his answer comes late. "No."

Youngjae tilts his head up. Daehyun is eating wordlessly, blatantly not keen on providing any more details.

"How did it happen?"

Daehyun stops short for a split second before resuming his eating, chewing in a rather boorish manner. "We don't know."

Silence assumes its position once more as Youngjae quells the grumbles in his stomach. Begrudgingly, he takes a bite of his food, melting into a surprised look at the savoury taste. He scoops more of the dumplings and nibbles contentedly.

The noisy chewing from the other side of the table ceases. After a belated moment, Youngjae lifts his head to find Daehyun gazing at him, utensils placed down. After an odd exchange of glances, Daehyun returns his attention back to his food. 

As he finishes up his soup, Youngjae asks through munches, "What do I do as your mother's caretaker?"

Daehyun's dark eyes light up at this. "It's not an around the clock job. You just need to visit him a few times a week for a few hours, talk to him and bring him out. Be a companion, essentially."

Youngjae silently nods as another knock resounds. The waiters wheel in the main course, setting out an array of luscious cuisines. Youngjae discreetly ogles at them and eagerly digs in when Daehyun starts eating, trying out a few dishes at once. Even with his high salary, Youngjae has always been thrifty, refusing to go out to high-end restaurants to dine. Even a ten dollar meal for him is way too much, thus he and Minki mostly eat home-cooked food.

To be truthful, Youngjae had considered accepting the job solely because of Heechul. Putting aside his supposed debt to Daehyun, he'd witness how distressed Heechul could become without a proper companio