Kyungsoo scrubbed his arms thoroughly while soaking under the shower. The uneven, kaleidoscopic patches on his skin merely faded, however still very visible. He didn’t think he could show up at the meeting with the wedding planner tomorrow like this. Much as he dreaded having to explain why he and his alpha appeared like walking Picasso pieces, he had better let up on the loofah before he rubbed himself raw.

Chanyeol had stayed back to discuss some more of the planning with Jongin, who couldn’t keep a straight face when looking at them in the eye. The younger alpha had kept apologizing though, and then burst out chuckling unwittingly while struggling to stay serious at the same time.

Ignoring the feeling of blood rushing to his face, Kyungsoo convinced himself that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Fine, he was caught making out with Chanyeol. No big deal. They were married, after all. It wasn’t like Kyungsoo got hot and heavy with some random alpha he just picked up from—

Oh.

He did pick Chanyeol up outside of his hotel room… last week.

Kyungsoo ran his fingers over his lips, still tender from Chanyeol’s fervent, seemingly endless kisses less than two hours ago. While Kyungsoo reciprocated just as ardently—and was he surprised he could withstand not breathing for that long—he could somehow feel that Chanyeol was still holding back.

Had they not been interrupted, would he have…? Would they…?

His alpha hadn’t kissed him often, in that short time they had been together, but when he did…

Kyungsoo had never felt so… desired… or needed… or…

He closed his eyes, as though Chanyeol was right in front of him, hovering.

“I can’t let you go,” his alpha had told him in Las Vegas. Chanyeol had sounded… earnest, and yet confused.

Which… confused Kyungsoo even more.

“What did you mean by that?” Kyungsoo wondered softly, his eyes still closed.

“I wish I could tell you what you want to hear from me.”

“I want you to tell me how you really feel,” Kyungsoo whispered, sighing sadly. It was something he couldn’t explain. Had he become so familiar with being in his alpha’s arms that he could almost sense Chanyeol’s presence even when he was far away? Was he just imagining to hear the fast beating of his heart, the way it did whenever Kyungsoo rested his head on his chest?

It had to be real.

He wanted it to be.

His eyes blinked open, and realized that not only warm water from the shower was flowing down his cheeks, but also his tears.

Kyungsoo sniffed, trying to calm down. He finished showering in a flourish and wrapped himself in a fluffy white bathrobe.

He went over to the hair dryer and switched it on, poising it over his wet black hair. Thankfully, the yellow paint from the tips was gone now. He grudgingly glared at his forlorn reflection.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Kyungja?!” He scolded himself. “Chanyeol is meeting and exceeding your expectations. Did you ask him to give you flowers or remember your first week anniversary? ANIYA! He’s playing his role so well that you can’t even tell if he’s acting!”

He stared at the ceiling when two tears threatened to run down his face, but he refused, angling the hair dryer higher so he was at least multitasking. “So what if he kissed you again? He could just be reacting to the moment. What did you stand to gain by touching his tattoo in the first place? Maybe that was his erogenous zone, and suddenly he couldn’t take his hands and his lips off you!”

He turned up the notch of the hair dryer as his tone escalated, and he tried to drown his own rant.

Perhaps he didn’t want to hear his thoughts out loud, but he needed some kind of release.

The possibility that he was on the verge of a meltdown might not be so far off.

“This is simply an arrangement between two consenting adults, with your trust fund—and your art school—at stake here,” He snapped at the defiant omega with the glistening brown eyes in the mirror. “Don’t you dare complicate it by falling for him!”

He gasped, feeling as though several tons had immediately been lifted off his chest. The hair dryer dropped on the bathroom rug, consequently pulling its own plug.

Kyungsoo helplessly stared at himself, stunned by the deafening silence that surrounded him, until more tears blurred his vision.

He was… in love.

With Chanyeol.

How did that happen?

How could he be sure that was what he was feeling?

He hadn’t been in love before. True, he had dated a few alphas in the last five years, in Seoul, in Paris… and received kisses from them as well. Not one ever went beyond the third date. Not that he intended it that way. They had all been very nice and fun to be with, but there was just something always missing.

Whenever his father had gotten wind that he was even remotely seeing someone, Yifan interfered, as any overprotective, strict father would do. In hindsight, Kyungsoo couldn’t be more thankful as it had saved him from initiating the inevitable and awkward break-up conversation.

To him, the myth of the butterflies in the stomach, the weakening of the knees and the mind going blank whenever an omega was in the arms of the alpha he loved remained just that. When Kyungsoo had come across the wondrous words of a passionate poet or the purposeful prose of a romantic writer expressing this heightened, all-consuming sensation—and he’d read plenty—he would perceive the flowery description only looked good on paper but an experience unattainably elusive.

Until now.

What if Kyungsoo just wanted to—and he blushed furiously at the thought—jump Chanyeol’s bones because he found his alpha undeniably attractive and an excellent kisser and his lean and toned physique, which the smaller one would like to inspect artfully and intimately, wasn’t all that bad either…?

Kyungsoo was in serious trouble now.

Just then, he heard his cell phone ringing.

Could it be his alpha calling?

He scrambled out the bathroom.

Wait… What if Chanyeol was already inside the house and Kyungsoo was still undressed?

Omo! What to wear?! (Oh, my!)

He went to the closet, as Chanyeol had vacated half of the space for him and he had placed his few clothing inside. He threw garments here and there, completely indecisive about which ones that wouldn’t be provoking and yet flattering at the same time.

“Argh!” Kyungsoo growled, couldn’t stand the incessant ringing of the phone.

When he got ahold of it, his screen was flashing an unlisted number. The last four digits did seem familiar to him though. “Yeobosaeyo?”

“If I hadn’t called Luhan, I wouldn’t have found out that you have a new number?!”