The car pulled away from Jaemin's apartment, the soft hum of the engine the only sound in the stillness. But unlike the ride there, the silence between them felt different now. It was heavy, but no longer with unspoken hurt. Now it was a silence filled with a fragile vulnerability, a quiet understanding that they were once again standing on the other side of things, together.
Jaemin leaned back into the leather seat, the tension that had held him captive for days finally beginning to bleed out of him. The ache in his heart was still there, but it was now a dull throb, not a sharp, agonizing stab.
He could smell Do-hyun's scent, a clean, familiar cedar, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it was everywhere, an encompassing, warm comfort that filled the car and settled deep in his bones.
The scent of safety.
He watched the city lights flicker past, a soft, ethereal blur against the dark canvas of the night, and in the quiet of the car, he let his own scent bloom, a soft, shy whisper of cherry blossoms that timidly mingled with Do-hyun's bolder scent. It was an offering, a small, quiet apology that he hoped Do-hyun would accept.
He felt Do-hyun's hand, a warm, solid weight, settle on his knee. He didn't say anything, but the simple gesture was enough. It was a promise, a confirmation that they were okay. Not perfect, not yet, but on their way there.
The car glided to a stop in front of a modest two-story house, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. But as Do-hyun unlocked the front door and let them in, Jaemin immediately noticed that the interior of the house was anything but modest.
It was a space that spoke of old wealth and quiet taste. Do-hyun's cedar scent permeated the place, deep and layered, like a secret that had been passed down for generations.
The air was cool and crisp, and the furniture, antique and well-cared for, was arranged with a minimalist's eye. The walls were adorned with what looked like priceless art, and in a corner of the living room, a grand piano sat, its black lacquer gleaming under the soft, diffused light.
It was a home that was both imposing and welcoming, a space designed for a single person, but one who held himself to the highest of standards. A space that was a reflection of the man himself, a quietly unmoving anchor in the chaos of his life.
Jaemin looked around, a quiet awe building inside him. In favour of Jaemin's comfort in the safety of his nest, Do-hyun had so far always been the one to come over. But now, seeing the alpha's own home for the first time, Jaemin could see the ways the space was a perfect extension of the man who was fast becoming a non-negotiable part of his life. It lit up a warmth inside him, right in the middle of his chest.
"Come on in. Let me get you some water," Do-hyun murmured, his voice low in the quiet, empty house as he started to move towards the kitchen.
"Wait." Jaemin caught the edge of Do-hyun's sleeve, his fingers tightening in the soft fabric. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his own cherry blossom scent flaring in the quiet space, a silent, desperate offering.
He had been so passive, for so long, letting himself be led, letting things happen to him. But tonight, he wasn't going to let that be his story.
Do-hyun stopped, his gaze falling to Jaemin's hand, then slowly lifting to meet his eyes. There was a vulnerability in Jaemin's expression, a raw, aching need that mirrored his actions in the car earlier.
"Kang Do-hyun," Jaemin began, his voice a soft, tremulous whisper. He took a hesitant step closer, closing the distance between them. "I... I don't want water."