Oasis

Saturday evening falls with an ominous darkness as Youngjae stands in front of the mirror. Clad in a thick long-sleeved white shirt, he glances to the maroon button dress shirt by his cupboard. It’s one of the shirts Minki had bought while they were still in the midst of pulling off Youngjae’s fraud. Absolutely thrilled and determined to see it through to the end with Youngjae, he had bought numerous shirts for Youngjae—those that were fitted for Alphas.

Youngjae puts on another white shirt and hides his cotton stomach warmer underneath. Finally, he dons the similarly thick dress shirt, pulling on a pair of denim jeans. It’s a more humid day than usual, so having to wear his routine garb for work is an annoyance. He has to wear several layers to work, needing to look as built as the average Alpha.

Youngjae combs his hair to the side and scrutinises his reflection. Without the make-up, his face somewhat jars with his attire. Youngjae locks his jaw to make it more angular, adding that temporary touch of masculinity. Junhong would balk to see him like this—face small, eyes doe, appearance all too feminine.

Today, he’ll be meeting Junhong for dinner, as promised. With the nervousness now caught in his throat, Youngjae once again regrets not evaluating the gravity of the situation. What has all the years of being intentionally hostile to his colleagues been for? He’d avoided everyone not just because he loathed Alphas but because he feared them looking too sharply at his skin. He’s inviting trouble by allow another occasion for someone to scrutinise him too hard, no matter if it’s been years since Youngjae joined the corporation.

Still, he didn’t have the heart to reject Junhong when he wanted to pay back the favour. Youngjae knows the feeling of owing others—and he abhors it. It’s why he still wires an allowance to Yoochun every month, despite Yoochun stating that he’d paid him more than enough.

Youngjae softens at the thought of Junhong and how enthusiastic he’d been last Friday, ideas pelting him as he blubbered about making a reservation and even back-up plans, in the event the dinner date unexpectedly goes awry. Youngjae exhales lengthily in an attempt to soothe himself. This is only a one-time thing and it’s not the first time he has gone out with this face—he’s gone to Daehyun’s place after work in his disguise and even daringly removed his face.

Youngjae briefly thinks about what Daehyun is doing. Reading another demeaning self-help book, probably. Since Daehyun mentioned he doesn’t have friends, Youngjae wonders how Daehyun fills his free time. Perhaps he liaises and makes connections in that time.

Shaking the thoughts away, Youngjae steps back and takes in his reflection one last time.

Now comes the difficult part. Youngjae peeks past the ajar door to the living room where Minki sits, eyes indifferently trained on the television. He has yet to ask Minki to help him out with his make-up, and god knows he would never be able to pull it off without Minki’s make-up expertise.

Youngjae stills when Minki glances over. He instantly hardens his gaze in defense while Minki gazes back in fatigue.

“Need me to do your make-up?” Minki asks with a long sigh. Youngjae’s expression melts into a deer-in-headlights look and he dumbly nods, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Get the stool,” Minki instructs. He winds past Youngjae into the room and gets the make-up kit, specially curated for Youngjae—rigid collodion, liquid latex, silicone, pencils, etc.

Like an obedient child, Youngjae sits on the stool in the middle of the living room, waiting for Minki to emerge. He twiddles with his fingers, somewhat surprised that Minki had taken the initiative to speak first. He had bitterly assumed Minki would take advantage of Youngjae’s reliance on him, refusing to help till he squeezed out an apology from Youngjae.

Youngjae straightens up when Minki brings out the box. He sits in front of Youngjae and gets to work, silence as always clouding their living room. Outside, traffic bursts against the sharp weekend chatter and garish laughter, emphasising a contrast between them and the outside world.

Minki pieces in the scar down Youngjae’s left cheek, pressing it in tightly. He dusts Youngjae’s skin and contours his jawline with ease. It still amazes Youngjae up till now that Minki has memorised the exact placement of his scars. Every ridge, every curve drawn into Youngjae’s skin with a precise depth—least to say, it must be difficult.

“Where are you going?” Minki asks.

The question catches Youngjae off-guard. “Out with a friend,” he belatedly replies.

Minki wordlessly nods. He cleans up the last of Youngjae’s contours before packing up the make-up kit. Before he enters his bedroom, Youngjae manages out, “Thanks.”

Shortly humming, Minki shuts the door, leaving Youngjae to wallow in the quietness by himself. He puts on his watch and checks the mirror one last time, ensuring his look is adequate. Youngjae grabs his car keys and leaves.

Jogging down the stairs, Youngjae glances to his phone when he feels a buzz.

Hey, Youngjae! It’s me, Junhong. I’m the programmer from AXS. I’ll see you at the restaurant! Just in case, the address is below. It’s okay if you don’t want to come. We can eat something else too. If you’re busy, we can have a meal another day! I can buy food for you and deliver it to your house too!

Youngjae suppresses a laugh. It almost seems like a work email. The fact that Junhong bothered to include his position, as if they haven’t been eating lunch together for years, is endearing. He can picture Junhong fretting over their arrangement, worrying like the good-hearted soul he is if he’s infringing on Youngjae’s personal time.

Youngjae types back a reply. I’ll be there. See you.

As Youngjae enters the car park and finds his car, he gets a response. Okay! Yeah, see you! I’ll be there early and I’ll wait for you at the door. Be careful when you’re coming here! I can call a taxi for you.

Grinning to himself, Youngjae places away his phone and drives out of his condominium. With one hand lax against the steering wheel, Youngjae sinks back into his seat as he joins the evening traffic, belatedly noticing the quietness in the car. He switches on the radio, fleetingly thinking about Daehyun’s habit of not turning on the radio. Youngjae chided him for that but admittedly, Youngjae doesn’t do it often too.

A playlist of pop tunes fills the vehicle while the neon green and red stoplights burn against Youngjae’s face. He reaches the Italian restaurant in twenty minutes, emerging from the car park to the radiant signboard. Blatantly, it’s a higher-end restaurant, a Beta greeter stationed outside to in patrons.

Peering further, Youngjae spots Junhong waiting some distance away. Instead of standing by the entrance, he stays by the alleyway, making himself as discreet as possible in the crowd of Alphas and Omegas.

Junhong’s clad in a short-sleeved blue polkadot dress shirt along with white jeans, hair gelled to the side. He’s not slouching like always nor does he have his usual scarf or pulled-up collar that covers up his Beta symbol. He cuts a sleek profile, flaunting a long neck and a sharp jawline.

A couple of passing Omegas spare Junhong a few glances, whispering about him. Youngjae catches a piece of their conversation.

“Hey, look at that guy. He’s so tall. His face is cute, too.” The shorter one giggles, mascara thick and lips a burning cherry red.

“He really is. Too bad he’s a Beta.” His friend remarks with a disappointed sigh.

Youngjae flattens his lips. Though he understands Omegas’ predicament in being with a Beta—the problem of dealing with heats—the way they spoke about him still pisses him off.

Youngjae brushes past them and paces up to Junhong, tapping his shoulder. Junhong jolts and turns around, wariness quickly dissipating into a radiant grin.

“Y-Youngjae! You’re here!” He clumsily pockets his phone and ends up dropping it. Youngjae picks it up and blinks at the long message Junhong had written to him, still kept as a draft.

Thank you so much for meeting me for dinner, Youngjae. I’m sorry to be such a burden.

Youngjae swiftly tears his gaze from Junhong’s phone before he can read anymore, handing it back to Junhong. He smiles up at Junhong and softly hums, “You look good.”

“Oh!” Junhong widens his eyes as red creeps up his neck. “Uh, thanks! No, I don’t. Not at all. But thanks.”

He laughs nervously and blurts, “Your eyes. They’re really pretty. Uh, you’re handsome!”

Youngjae bites back a laugh, tears forming in his eyes in utter amusement. “Thanks. I didn’t know you were this fashionable. You usually wear duller colours to work.”

“Ah, yeah, I like fashion a lot, actually. But it’s weird for Betas to dress up nicely. Feels attention-seeking,” Junhong returns. He evens out his shirt with a luminous smile.

“That’s stupid. You should wear whatever you want.” Youngjae angles his chin towards the restaurant. “Let’s go in. It’s cold.”

Junhong nods readily. He steps up to the Beta greeter who casts him a discreetly dubious look, despite being someone of the same rank.

“May I help you, sir?”

“Yes, I made a reservation for two under Choi Junhong.”

The greeter nods slowly and flips through his record book. “Do you mind waiting for a while? We have no more free tables. Sorry, sir.” He quickly glances behind Junhong to the couple in queue, the middle-aged Alpha impatiently tapping his feet.

“Oh, um, the reservation didn’t go through?” Junhong squirms, eyes darting over to Youngjae.

“Yeah. I’m really sorry about that,” the greeter quietly answers, some guilt in his expression. He nearly moves to usher the waiting couple in but Youngjae steps up. Immediately, the greeter’s jaw slackens, eyes widening in fright at Youngjae’s scarred face.

“Junhong, I thought you made a reservation for us,” he lowers his voice, locking stares with the greeter.

“It didn’t go through,” Junhong anxiously answers. “I’m so sorry, Youngjae. Um, we can eat at another restaurant! I’m sure there must be no queue someplace else. Or- or I can send you home! , I’m really so sorry. I don’t know why the reservation didn’t go through.”

Junhong’s spiel ends off miserably while the astonished greeter glances between the Alpha and the Beta.

“It’s not your fault. You made a reservation, didn’t you?” Youngjae states. He furrows his brows at the greeter who straightens up in trepidation.

“Um, sir, I think a table just freed up,” the greeter frantically exclaims, ducking his head in to check for not even a second. “Let me show you two in.”

“Oh, great!”

They wind in and sit in a more secluded booth, auburn lights dispersing over their figures. The interior is somewhat vintage with a classy feel to it, impressionist paintings fixated to the maroon wallpaper.

Junhong’s shoulders collapse in relief and he releases a loud sigh. “For a second I thought you’d have to wait in line. I felt so horrible.”

“It’s fine, Junhong. I really don’t mind waiting with you.” Youngjae narrows his eyes at the greeter returning to his place. “I was annoyed because that staff wanted to let the couple go first, even though you made a reservation.”

“Oh, so that’s why you were angry?” Junhong chuckles, mood brightening significantly. “It’s alright. It must be pressurising for that guy, having to deal with such crowds on a weekend.”

Junhong shrugs. “It’s common, anyway. That Alpha behind me looked like he would have made a racket if I went in without you. That greeter probably just wanted to keep the peace.”

“It’s not fair,” Youngjae mutters. “What’s the difference if you went in versus I went in?”

Junhong smiles. He taps on his symbol and heaves. “Should have worn a scarf. On good days when I’m squinting and clenching my jaw, people mistake me for an Alpha.”

Youngjae suppresses a laugh. He gets a menu and blinks hard at the prices listed by the dishes. Junhong had said the price would be lower than those restaurants he’d initially picked, but they’re still quite exorbitant.

“Their roasted chicken looks good.” Junhong leans closer. “Anything you like?”

“Um…” Youngjae flips through the pages and compares the prices in his head. He spots the cheapest main course and chooses, “I want the carbonara.”

“Oh! Yeah, that looks great.” Junhong notices the price tag and glances up at Youngjae, squeezing his arm.

“Youngjae, you like curry, don’t you? It’s under the chef’s recommendations. Looks more filling, too.”

“It’s okay. I like carbonara,” Youngjae assures.

Junhong bites his lip. “I, um, got my paycheck the other day. I can treat you to whatever you want, so don’t hold back.”

“I’m not. I really do like carbonara. It’s my favourite food.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Junhong takes a moment to internalise the information, nodding conclusively. He plays with his fingers. “You really mean it? You’re not just picking what’s cheap?”

“Of course not. I told you to prepare your wallet, didn’t I?” Youngjae places away the menu, calling for the waiter.

After putting in their orders, Youngjae starts to feel a little uncomfortable with the silence as the anger from before disintegrates. To wear his scars and have dinner in a fancy restaurant, on a Saturday night with Junhong, his colleague—it’s an unfamiliar experience. Restaurants like this reek of the highest echelon, where the rich Alphas stride in with a beauty magazine cut-out Omega around his arm. Plastic smiles, shrill laughter, no worries.

It’s not to say Youngjae hasn’t been to high-class dining spots. He brought Minki out to similar places on his birthdays, but his reserved nature kept him indoors against Minki’s whines. The most recent time was when Daehyun wanted to discuss their arrangement over dinner.

Youngjae’s lips droop. It’s irritating that he thinks of Daehyun so casually nowadays, as if he’s a full-fledged friend.

“What are you thinking about?” Junhong asks, grin toothy.

“Nothing. Your stomach’s better, right?”

“Yeah, definitely! It was only for a day. I’m really okay.” Junhong rakes his gaze over the establishment in wonderment. “I’ve never been to a place like this. It’s pretty.”

“It is.” Youngjae offers a small smile, rubbing his arm in slight awkwardness.

Junhong seems to mirror him, though he looks more eaten up by nervousness. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing much. Stayed home and read some books.”

“Oh! That’s nice.”

“What about you?”

Junhong falters, shyness permeating his smile. “Nothing much too. Was… preparing for tonight.”

Youngjae chuckles. “You did well. You look handsome.”

“I’m not. Completely not,” Junhong hastily exclaims, though the mirth drips from his embarrassed voice. “You’re the one that’s handsome.”

“Even with my scars?” Youngjae jests.

Junhong earnestly nods. “Yeah, definitely! You’re beautiful, with or without your scars.” He drifts off and noticeably winces at his choice of words.

“Thanks. You’re someone with a good heart, Junhong,” Youngjae exhales, resting his head in his propped-up arm.

“No, I really mean it. I’m not just being nice,” Junhong insists. He purses his lips in discontent. “I hate it when people in the company make fun of you for your scars. So what if you have scars? It doesn’t change what kind of person you are.”

“Even without my scars, I think people wouldn’t like me with how I am,” Youngjae comments matter-of-factly.

“I would,” Junhong murmurs. “They’re not still bothering you, right? Mr. Wu and the rest. I… overheard them gossiping about you when Mr. Wu dropped by my department.”

Youngjae scoffs, a victorious edge to his minuscule smirk. It’s incredulous how obsessed Kris is with him.

“Kri