Chapter Text
SEONGHWA
The uppermost floor of the private university isn’t marked on most maps, though everyone knows it exists. It can only be found if one is willing to climb past six landings that grow steadily quieter, past the hum of classrooms and the echo of voices, even until one’s own footsteps feel intrusive.
At the very top, a corridor stretches thin and deliberate, bending just enough to conceal what lies beyond it. The floors are polished to a dim, reflective sheen, interrupted only by a runner of velvety, deep, burgundy that swallows sound rather than softens it. The air smells faintly of parchment and something earthier, like leaves left too long in the rain.
Few students come this far. Fewer stay.
The lamps along the walls burn low and steady, casting a warm golden glow that never quite reaches the dark ceilings. They don’t brighten the hall so much as reveal it in fragments–glimpses of movement, the suggestion of presence. Tonight, they catch on something more substantial: two shadows, intertwined, moving in a rhythm that suggests neither coincidence nor comfort.
At the far end, where the corridor folds in on itself, there is a recess easy to miss unless it is intentionally sought out. A quiet pocket carved into the architecture, as if the building itself wanted somewhere to keep its secrets.
It is there that the silence breaks.
It is here where Seonghwa finds himself sincerely debating whether today will be the last time he lets the one person he cannot stand back him into the familiar showered corner, out of sight, in the aftermath of another argument that flared too loudly, too publicly to let either of them go unscathed.
It would be easier, he thinks, if the man in question didn’t blur every boundary they draw with the same reckless consistency.
One moment, it’s sharp words and sharper looks. The next, it’s breath too close, hands too firm, a presence that crowds him back against the wall as though retreat was simply never an option to begin with.
Seonghwa desperately tries to recall how many times this has happened just this week. How many times anger has dissolved into something far less manageable, but the thought slips through his fingers the second he’s pressed flat against the cold surface, held there with an angry insistence that borders on possession.
“You really don’t have a single shred of propriety, do you?” The other voice murmurs in Seonghwa’s ear, low and edged, brown eyes burning with something volatile; irritation yes, but threaded with something far more dangerous.
He keeps Seonghwa pinned against the wall that he had been subtly trying to inch away from.
“That’s a rather bold accusation from someone who just filled an entire lecture hall with his suffocating pheromones," Seonghwa gripes back, his own two hands clamping down on Hongjoong’s shoulders.
“If a single dissenting opinion is enough to provoke such an unruly display, I can only assume you do lack the composure required of society. Just as I thought. Perhaps it’s something your Appa should be made aware of?”
Seonghwa knows this barb will land exactly where he intends it to. Hongjoong has always been acutely aware of the way he was seen. Every gesture of his has been measured, every word chosen with care, as though approval might be earned if he remained composed enough, perfect enough for his Appa’s gaze.
Sure enough Hongjoong’s gaze darkens as he tilts his chin up defiantly to meet Seonghwa’s sneer. Seonghwa’s satisfaction feels almost reflexive, the way it swells up in his chest like a balloon. Hongoong, alpha heir and all certainty and carefully built image, still having to look up at him. Seonghwa has certainly never minded being an omega, but he can’t help but admit there’s a heady rush that follows every time he’s reminded of their uncharacteristic height difference.
“You sabotaged me,” the alpha hisses back. “Don’t think I didn’t see you switch my notes.”
“As if you didn’t have the material memorized anyway,” Seonghwa’s mask of indifference is slowly melting away as wanton heat rises between their two bodies like smoke curling from a chimney. “In fact, I believe you owe me thanks for the challenge.”
“You’re quite literally the devil incarnate,” Hongjoong murmurs, before he’s capturing Seonghwa’s mouth with his own, their lips moving heatedly against each other.
Seonghwa graciously decides to forgo the scathing retort loaded on his lips in favor of pressing up against Hongjoong’s strong thigh that’s slotted between his own two legs, desperately seeking friction.
They move against each other greedily, distributing whatever anger and frustration that’s boiled over onto the other’s willing body.
As always, Seonghwa can’t help but get lost in lust, digging his hands deep into Hongjoong’s hair and tugging at the artfully strewn strands, just to be a nuisance. Hongjoong only tightens his grip, thumbs pressing punishingly against the crease of Seonghwa’s hip bones, and kisses him harder.
The corridor is filled to the brim with their repressed moans and pants until a ceremonial bell rings out, slicing through the tension between them, as the faint swell of students filtering into the corridor below them begins to creep up towards their secluded tryst.
“Get the hell off me,” Seonghwa grumbles and manages to push the angry alpha away from him, entirely displeased that it was only because Hongjoong let him do it.
The alpha only levels him with that familiar antagonizing gaze, one that Seonghwa knows he’s created solely to be cast at him for the rest of their lives. “Make no mistake, we are not finished discussing this, Seonghwa.”
“Like hell we are,” Seonghwa snaps bitterly, as he straightens out the hand-shaped wrinkles in his white button-up shirt before he leans down to grab his discarded blazer. He wants to say something, something that will truly rattle Hongjoong and hopefully render him as dazed as Seonghwa constantly feels in his presence, but his mind conjures no more verbal ammunition.
He does wonder if Hongjoong feels like this too, and that’s why the alpha resorts to such intimate tactics to obtain the upper hand. The very notion of it all causes a scowl to grace the omega’s face and he flips Hongjoong off before leaving the hidden alcove with as much dignity as he can still muster.
He resolutely ignores the heavy footsteps on the polished floor behind him.
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