For a Hungry Omega

Haon sat on the living room sofa with an extremely awkward expression, glancing toward the kitchen every three seconds.

In the kitchen, a man was clearing the dinner table alone.

Haon had begged to at least be allowed to do the dishes, but the man had firmly handed him the remote instead. He’d said that doing absolutely nothing and resting was part of the favor he was asking, then placed a cushion on Haon’s lap before walking away.

Unable to refuse the host’s stern request, Haon ended up pretending to watch TV while sneaking glances at the man. He’d been worried because there were a lot of dirty dishes, but surprisingly, the man finished cleaning up in no time.

“Haon-ssi, want something to drink?”

Inho, who had just placed the last plate into the dishwasher, asked as he opened the refrigerator. He pulled out a can of beer and a blue bottle of sparkling water, holding them up for Haon to see. When neither option seemed to excite Haon—who made a less-than-enthusiastic face—Inho added a bottle of orange juice.

“Anything is fine.”

Though he said that, his expression clearly brightened most at the sight of the orange juice. Inho gave an OK sign and grabbed the can of beer for himself and the orange juice for Haon.

“Have you decided what you want to watch?”

He had told Haon to pick a movie, but judging from the look on Haon’s face, he hadn’t managed to choose. The home screen Inho had left up was still there, untouched.

Sitting at a comfortable distance from Haon, Inho handed over the orange juice and asked what genre he liked.

“Drama? Action? Comedy? Romance?”

He listed each genre while watching Haon’s face, but none seemed to strike a chord.

“I like everything.”

So basically, he didn’t really have anything in mind. Inho took a sip of beer and rephrased his question.

“Then, do you prefer something light or dark in tone?”

After taking a sip of orange juice, Haon puckered his lips and went, “Hmm,” as he thought about it. It seemed like he didn’t watch movies often—he hadn’t even been able to name a favorite when asked earlier. That meant it was probably safe to pick something from a list of well-known films.

“Uh… something light.”

Light, huh. That gave them plenty of options.

Inho nodded and held out his hand to Haon—asking for the remote. But Haon seemed to misunderstand. He suddenly wiped the rim of the orange juice bottle he’d been drinking from.

Puzzled, Inho watched silently as Haon held out the bottle and said, “Here, try it.”

Inho clenched his jaw.

“It’s good.”

“…Is it?”

He must’ve thought Inho had asked because he was curious about the taste.

“Yeah, it’s the best juice I’ve ever had.”

Inho barely held back a laugh as he brought the can to his lips, pretending to drink. All juice pretty much tasted the same, but seeing Haon genuinely impressed made it hard not to smile. The more he looked at him, the cuter he seemed—it made him want to laugh.

“It’s really good.”

“Right?”

Haon, having taken the juice back, smiled brightly. He didn’t look like the type to smile often, but surprisingly, his expressions were quite cheerful. His voice was soft, and he tended to shrink back a lot, but he sure smiled more than one would expect.

Haon drank from the same spot on the can that Inho had touched with his lips—without wiping it. He had wiped it for Inho, though. Watching silently, Inho playfully shook his beer can and asked,

“Want to try mine too?”

He asked it assuming Haon would refuse. He was twenty-one, sure, but for some reason, Haon didn’t strike him as someone who drank. He seemed like someone who might even avoid coffee.

But contrary to Inho’s expectations, Haon looked at the beer can with noticeable curiosity. As Inho gave it a light shake, Haon’s deep auburn eyes followed the motion, shifting side to side.

“Should I grab a new one?”

Since he seemed more interested than expected, Inho was about to get him a fresh can.

“No, just a sip…”

Before he could, Haon leaned forward with his hand and head stretched toward him. Seeing this, Inho brought the can to Haon’s lips—thinking he wanted him to feed it to him.

But judging by the startled reaction, that probably wasn’t what Haon intended. Hesitating, Haon awkwardly reached out, fingers hovering like he was about to take it, then parted his lips instead. Inho brought the can’s rim up to the opening of his mouth.

Gulp. The cool liquid passed through Haon’s small lips, down his throat, the sound vividly clear. He must have liked the taste—he ended up taking two gulps.

“Good?”

Inho pulled the can back and looked at Haon’s face. But now that he’d had it, he seemed less thrilled—his eyebrows scrunched slightly.

“…It’s refreshing.”

With a bitter expression and a small smack of his lips, Haon gave his reply. Inho couldn’t hold back his laughter and brought the can up to his mouth to hide his smile.

“Have you had alcohol before?”

It was obvious this was his first time. Watching him try to wash away the bitterness with orange juice was just too funny.

“Not a lot.”

So he had tried it.

“With who?”

At some point, Inho had turned fully toward Haon, ignoring the TV altogether. Honestly, he hadn’t cared about the movie to begin with—he’d just wanted to spend time with Haon.

“My grandma and hyung.”

“Oh, you have a hyung?”

“He’s not my real brother—just someone I’m close to.”

Murmuring that he was three years older than him, Haon took another sip of the juice. He must’ve really liked it—he kept checking the label on the bottle to see what brand it was.

“When did you start living alone?”

Inho wanted to know more about Haon. What kind of person he was, what he did, and why he ended up living alone in that shabby goshiwon. He wanted to know everything.

“Uh… it’s been about a year and a half since I moved to Seoul.”

“Before that, you lived with your family?”

Haon glanced between his orange juice and Inho before giving a faint nod. He kept flicking glances toward the TV, like someone trying to explain why they don’t watch movies. Inho, catching on, idly pressed the remote, pretending to look for a film.

“Then why’d you come to Seoul?”

He worked all week, so it didn’t seem like he was going to school. And his family seemed to be far away. What brought him to a place where he had no ties or connections?

“My mom lives here.”

Haon spoke slowly as he sipped his juice, then turned his eyes toward the TV. Inho stared at him but didn’t pry further. Instead, he gently tapped Haon’s wrist with the beer can just as he was about to scratch his cheek again.

“Don’t scratch.”

Haon rubbed the spot where the cold can had touched his wrist and looked back at Inho.

“You scratch a lot. You’ll hurt your skin like that.”

It had been bothering Inho for a while—how often Haon scratched at his cheek. His skin looked thin, the kind that bruised and cut easily. He didn’t want him to damage it.

Haon just stared back at him blankly. No reaction. Maybe he was overstepping. Inho studied his dazed face, then quietly set the beer down on the table. Gripping the remote properly, he began trying to find a movie Haon might enjoy.

“I’m only staying for a year and a half, then I’ll go back.”

But Haon spoke again before he could get too far. He said he planned to return to where he originally lived, a soft smile spreading on his lips as he added the words. He seemed genuinely happy.

“You should come visit sometime.”

“Seriously?”

Inho’s smile bloomed wide, mirroring Haon’s. Had the walls finally come down enough for him to be invited to his hometown?

“I’ll cook for you and make snacks too!”

The way he even clenched his fists while saying it—it sounded totally sincere. Inho was already thinking about going. Even if Haon’s hometown was in a faraway country across the sea, he’d find a way to visit. Honestly, he wanted to go right now.

“The air’s clean, and the people in the village are all really nice. There’s a lot of great food, too.”

Then why not just stay in that wonderful place? Inho listened warmly but swallowed his words. He wanted to ask why Haon had come all the way to cramped, dangerous Seoul—but he held back. He was also curious about what Haon’s mother was doing, and where she was, but again, he kept it to himself.

“You can see a ton of stars at night. Even shooting stars show up pretty often.”

“That’s hard to see in Seoul.”

“Yeah. But even without looking up, there’s a lot to see here at night.”

Haon, who had suddenly grown talkative, leaned toward Inho, saying he’d been shocked by the night view from the room.

“When it gets dark in the countryside, there’s not much to do. But you sleep really well. And—”

As soon as the topic of his hometown came up, Haon began chattering on, and little by little, his cheeks started to flush. Inho, listening closely to that small voice, glanced briefly at his beer can, then rested his chin in his palm.

“You can stay as long as you like.”

After proudly talking up the countryside, Haon smiled with satisfaction and offered those kind words.

Inho gazed at him gently, then quickly seized on that last sentence.

“Then you stay as long as you like, too.”

Haon’s eyes widened as if caught off guard. When Inho suggested he stay here until he returned to his hometown, the color in his face deepened, and he quickly shook his head.

“No, that’s a bit…”

Right then, Haon suddenly let out a muffled sound—eup—and clamped a hand over his mouth. His eyes, suddenly filled with panic, began to tremble visibly.

He shot to his feet and dashed toward the room, covering his mouth with both hands. The amusement vanished from Inho’s face as he immediately followed after him.