For a Hungry Omega

Haon, as pale as a sheet, stood frozen, unsure what to do, awkwardly extending both arms toward the man.

Even through the thick knit sweater, his thin frame was evident—his arms looked especially frail today. Even with a knife in his hand, he didn’t seem the least bit threatening to the other man.

“Haon-ssi.”

The moment his name left the man’s lips, Haon’s eyes widened even more. Thin capillaries had burst in his eyes, leaving them red and bloodshot. The stress from the man’s sudden appearance rushed in all at once, causing his face to flush with heat. Haon’s body had always been overly sensitive, reacting strongly to even the slightest stimulation.

“Isn’t it too dangerous to live here alone?”

‘Pretty sure you’re the dangerous one right now.’

He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, so he just looked at the man. For someone who had just rattled the doorknob like he was about to yank it off its hinges, he was strangely calm.

“Move out. As soon as possible.”

Even his voice was low and composed, like this was nothing unusual. The man pulled out his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and held it out to Haon.

Haon swallowed hard and stole a glance at the screen. The dialer was open, glowing as if prompting him to enter a number.

“You can stay at my place until you find another one. If you’re considering it, give me a call.”

The man gave a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, saying that living at his place or staying here wouldn’t make much difference—either way, Haon would be living with an Alpha.

As he slowly scanned the cracked hallway walls, his expression darkened. Not that Haon had asked him to take him in.

Still unable to catch up with the absurdity of the situation, Haon kept glancing back and forth between the man and the phone. When the screen went black, the man used his long fingers to wake it up again, reopening the dialer.

“If you ever need help, you can call.”

“……”

“I’m not expecting anything. I’ll just help—nothing more. So just give me your number, Haon-ssi.”

He held the phone close until Haon’s fingertips brushed against the dialer. Before he even realized it, Haon entered his number—like he’d been put under a spell.

When the man pressed the call button, the corners of his mouth curled into a gentle smile. He told Haon to save the number once he got his phone back and added a soft smile with his eyes.

“I’ll enjoy this.”

He gave the bottle of water and the energy bar a little shake, told Haon to contact him anytime, and walked away. Maybe standing around in that shabby hallway was uncomfortable, because his stride as he left was brisk.

Left alone in the worn-out hallway, Haon stood blankly for a long time.

‘Why the hell did I give him my number?’

The thought hit him too late. He rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head in confusion.

And yet, strangely enough, he didn’t regret it.

Sure, he’d been startled when the man had looked ready to break down the door. But he hadn’t been scared. Normally, he would’ve bolted without looking back from that kind of aggressive Alpha behavior—but instead, he’d worried about him.

‘What’s wrong with that guy? Why would someone who seems totally normal act like that?’

With a final glance down the hallway, Haon returned to his apartment, a bundle of questions swirling in his head.

Thankfully, the doorknob was still intact.

Creeeak.

Haon shook the perfectly fine door a few times before stepping inside. After kicking off his worn sneakers—well-suited to the old apartment—he stood for a moment, absentmindedly taking in the familiar sight of his room.

Unlike the man’s spacious home, where even finding the front door had been a challenge, Haon’s entire place could be seen without turning his head.

“Give me a call.”

Leaning his back against the front door, Haon could still hear the man’s voice echo in his ears like a lingering refrain.

***

The next morning, Haon woke up early and kept glancing at the clock. It was to make sure he could leave in time to help open the restaurant where he worked during the week.

Since he didn’t have his phone, he kept checking the small alarm clock every ten minutes.

He had woken up much earlier than the alarm he’d set, giving him some extra time. After using the bathroom, he towel-dried his still-damp hair and sat on the bed. The sunken mattress creaked loudly, even under his light weight.

He placed the clock on the desk near the bed and mentally reviewed what he had to do today.

If he hadn’t been fired from the restaurant yet, his plan was to head to the bar where he worked weekends after finishing his shift.

Of course, it was possible he had been fired… After all, he’d skipped work without notice. He needed to go apologize as soon as possible.

‘The weekend boss is seriously terrifying.’

Just thinking of the gruff bar owner made his heart race.

The man, who looked to be in his late thirties, swore at Haon more than anyone else. Ever since Haon spilled a water jug on his first day, he’d gotten scolded for even the smallest slip-ups.

There were probably tons of angry, profanity-laced messages waiting on his phone.

Haon had worked enough part-time jobs to develop a kind of immunity to verbal abuse. Where others might’ve quit on the spot, he had endured and held onto every job until he was actually let go. He had never once quit on his own.

Rubbing his sore back, he opened a fresh disposable heat patch and pressed it just above his tailbone. The ache in his lower back still lingered—dull and tender.

Still, it was far better than yesterday. At least he could walk properly now, without hobbling.

Stretching and glancing at the clock again, he suddenly reached under the bed and pulled out a black shopping bag.

Inside the stiff paper bag were the clothes the man had given him yesterday.

He hadn’t washed them yet, both because he’d only worn them briefly and because he didn’t want to risk ruining them in the wash.

But more than anything, he hadn’t put them in the laundry because he liked the way they smelled.

Haon pulled out the soft, plush-knit sweater and buried his nose in it.

It didn’t smell as strongly as it had last night, which made him feel a bit disappointed.

“It looks expensive as hell…”

‘Is it really okay for me to just keep this?’

He unfolded the neatly folded knit and bit down lightly on his lower lip. He had a habit of chewing on his lips or the inside of his cheek when he got lost in thought.

‘He probably gave it to me because he doesn’t wear it anymore. But… who wore it before?’

The perfectly fitting knit and slightly loose-fitting pants stirred a pointless curiosity in Haon.

The sizes clearly wouldn’t match the man, so they couldn’t be his. Then who had worn them before? He had said they weren’t new, which meant he likely lived with someone else.

Well, of course—there’s no way he lived alone in that huge house.

Haon held the knit up to his body and, recalling the man’s spacious home, nodded to himself as if things finally made sense.

He could easily imagine someone with a similar build sitting next to the man in that living room. He didn’t know who it might be, but he felt a pang of genuine envy—envy at the thought of someone living in that house, with that man.

Suddenly, the man’s voice echoed in his head again, the one that said he could stay at his place.

Scratching at his ear, still feeling mentally scrambled, Haon folded the clothes neatly and placed them back into the shopping bag. Worried about dust, he laid a dry towel over the top.

“First things first—find my phone.”

He wanted to find his phone quickly and save the man’s number. He could only hope that his wallet and phone were still sitting in the locker room at work.

“I have to properly thank him.”

Checking the clock again, Haon mentally ran through the rest of his to-do list. He would thank the man, and then ask—really ask—if it was okay to keep the clothes.

If the man gave his blessing, Haon planned to save them for something special: the day he returned to the countryside. On that day, he would dress his best, carry delicious food and gifts in both arms, and make the trip in style.

Just imagining it made him smile.

‘Oh, and don’t forget to say no to his offer.’

“Ask about the clothes. Say no to staying over.”

He tapped his forehead with his fingers and kept muttering to himself. He’d started talking to himself more often since he began living alone. Even back when he lived with his hard-of-hearing grandmother, he had the habit of asking and answering his own questions. It was something he’d done since he was very young.

“Thank him, ask about the clothes, turn down his offer.”

He extended one finger at a time, mentally engraving the steps so he wouldn’t forget.

It might’ve looked like overkill, but for Haon, this kind of effort was essential.

Ever since presenting as an Omega, he’d started suffering from a range of exhausting symptoms—beyond the once-a-month energy crashes and loss of appetite.

“Thank him, ask about the clothes, turn down his offer.”

If he didn’t consciously imprint these tasks in his memory, they’d slip away in no time.

His forgetfulness had grown so severe it was beginning to interfere with daily life.

Even when he wrote things down on a notepad, he’d end up forgetting he’d written them at all. That’s why, instead of relying on his easily misplaced phone, he began using something that couldn’t disappear—his own hands.

At first, he used to write directly on his skin, but now he simply memorized the count of things to do using his fingers.

As long as he looked at his hand and took his time thinking, he could recall everything without issue.

“Ah.”

Just as he was mentally locking in three fingers’ worth of reminders, Haon extended a fourth. He’d nearly forgotten.

“Look for a new place to live.”