For a Hungry Omega

Inho pressed his temple gently as he climbed the long staircase.

The drunken haze was getting worse by the minute, and he just wanted to lie down already. For a moment, he considered collapsing right there on the stairs for a quick nap, but then thought of Haon waiting in the guest room and kept going. If Haon saw him passed out like that, he’d probably be scared out of his mind.

“That won’t do.”

Muttering softly, he shrugged off his stifling shirt and tossed it onto the floor. He reached for his pants zipper but paused again, remembering Haon downstairs, and decided to undress in the bedroom instead. He didn’t want to do anything that might startle someone as timid as him—like a skittish little sea otter.

A sea otter. From the moment he brought that small, skinny Omega into the house, Inho had thought he resembled a sea otter.

Not in appearance, but in his peculiar behavior. That dazed expression and the way he constantly tried to snuggle into him reminded Inho of a sea otter he’d seen in an animal video recently.

His face didn’t resemble one at all. Inho himself had to admit—Haon had striking features. He just dressed carelessly, that’s all. But if someone cleaned him up a bit, he was attractive enough to make even the most stuck-up Omegas shrink away in intimidation.

Was that why he wore those plain clothes—so he wouldn’t stand out? If that was the case, Inho wanted to stop him. Honestly, Haon would be better off dressing like the people around Inho—adorned in designer brands and dolled up with flair. The overly ordinary look only made his face stand out more.

That was probably why Park Jung-hyuk had taken such a keen interest in him.

Bzzz—

Inho glanced at the buzzing phone and let out a dry chuckle. Of course, it was Park Jung-hyuk calling. Guy had instincts like a ghost.

– “Where are you? At home?”

The voice on the other end sounded just as drunk as Inho felt. From the quiet background, it seemed Jung-hyuk had also left the club.

He was a distant cousin who had spent his school years in the States with Inho. Jung-hyuk was a year older, but they had been in the same grade, so they treated each other like peers. That didn’t mean they were close—far from it. They just happened to move in the same social circles and saw each other often because of that.

“What are you gonna do if I am?”

– “Su-hyun called me crying, said you ditched her mid-fuck.”

“I left before we even started.”

– “Same difference, man.”

Jung-hyuk burst out laughing, exaggerated and loud, then suddenly swore at his driver. Judging by his outburst, the guy must’ve driven over a speed bump too roughly.

Inho regretted picking up the call and was about to hang up.

– “Don’t tell me you’re with that baby boy right now?”

But the mention of Haon kept him on the line. Jung-hyuk must’ve taken his silence as confirmation, because another bout of exaggerated laughter came through.

Haon was the Omega Park Jung-hyuk had brought to the club. One of their high school classmates was visiting Korea on vacation to celebrate his birthday and had been throwing parties every night. That’s where Inho first met Haon.

– “You really liked him that much? Just how good was he?”

“Jung-hyuk.”

– “I even gave him up for you without a taste. The least you could do is give me a review.”

“Park Jung-hyuk.”

The moment Inho called him by his full name in that low, warning tone, Jung-hyuk’s snickering died down. Even without seeing him in person, he must’ve sensed that Inho’s expression had hardened. After all, Jung-hyuk had known Inho longer than even Inho’s own siblings. He knew exactly what piqued Inho’s interest and what turned him off.

“Leave Mr. Haon alone.”

Jung-hyuk stifled a laugh at Inho’s use of “Mr.” to refer to Haon. Then he replied slowly.

– “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

Inho walked into the bathroom, debating whether to hang up. If he’d been sober, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But with the alcohol clouding his thoughts, his reflexes dulled.

– “Inho, do you even know what kind of person he is?”

Inho rubbed his forehead and let the words slip past one ear. He rarely paid much attention to what Park Jung-hyuk said anyway. In truth, it wasn’t just Jung-hyuk—he tuned out most people.

– “I told you, right? He sells his body.”

Jung-hyuk had introduced Haon at the club as a male whore. He’d said it when he noticed Inho showing some interest, insisting the guy was someone he’d picked up at a bar, definitely not Inho’s type. He’d made up all sorts of lies—just so he wouldn’t lose Haon to him.

“That’s why I bought him from you. So what’s the problem?”

Inho had paid far more than the price Jung-hyuk had named, then walked out with Haon. When he threw his watch instead of cash, Jung-hyuk—despite looking a little regretful—had shut his mouth without protest. Haon clearly wasn’t worth as much to him as that watch.

– “The problem is, I’m worried you’ll fall for that pretty little shell of his.”

Between his dragging words came deep, unpleasant sighs.

– “If you start dating a whore, you think your brother will just sit back and let it happen? And if he finds out I’m the one who told you about him, I might get on his bad side too.”

“You probably already are.”

Inho let out a quiet chuckle as he set his phone down on the sink in speaker mode. He brushed aside the strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes and turned on the water. Jung-hyuk’s voice came through softer now, thanks to the running tap.

– “Anyway, just use him a few times and toss him. Don’t go feeling sorry for him and try to take care of him.”

The faint sound of liquid being poured echoed through the line. Jung-hyuk was still drinking even after leaving the club.

– “Those whore brats, they’re all just acting to leech off our money. You saw him moaning on that table, didn’t you? Wagging his tail like a damn mutt, trying to seduce anyone rich—”

Click. Inho ended the call and furrowed his brow. He should’ve hung up much earlier. He’d let that filth stain his ears for too long.

Even after closing his eyes and shaking off the lingering sound of Park Jung-hyuk’s voice, the foul mood clung to him.

Inho stepped into the shower booth and soaked his entire body with cold water. He dozed off while standing, then leaned against the wall as he lathered up with shampoo. He scrubbed twice as long as usual to wash away the lingering scent of alcohol on his body.

Even after finishing, the sluggish feeling didn’t go away. Why was that?

With a damp towel draped around his neck, he sat on the edge of the bed and tapped the blanket lightly with his fingertips. A question mark lingered across his drowsy face. Why?

“Why hasn’t he asked for my name…?”

He had already pushed the phone call with Park Jung-hyuk out of his mind. What lingered in Inho’s thoughts now was the fact that Haon hadn’t once asked his name.

“Is he just not curious?”

Even though Inho kept calling him Haon-ssi, Haon never once asked what his name was. It struck him as odd. He didn’t seem disinterested, either.

Maybe it’s because they’d only seen each other for a few days—perhaps there just hadn’t been a reason to ask. But the thought strangely made his mood sink further.

If he closed his eyes now, he’d probably fall asleep right away, but he didn’t want to sleep like this. Whenever he did, he always ended up having bad dreams. He wanted to dream of something light. Something bright.

Wait—did I drink any water?

Suddenly feeling parched, he got up and headed back down the stairs. He was far more drunk than Haon probably realized. He’d assumed a shower would sober him up a bit, but oddly enough, the alcohol only seemed to hit harder.

Maybe it was because he’d relaxed.

Inho had been really worried when he got that call from Haon. He’d thought something serious had happened. In that rundown gosiwon, nothing would’ve surprised him. It was shocking that Haon had even managed to live there unscathed for so long.

Well, not completely unscathed—but since there hadn’t been any physical injuries, it was a relief. Still, a small sense of guilt tugged at him, thinking that someone might have tried to force the door open just because they’d followed him. Not a lot of guilt—just a little.

Maybe he should’ve just ripped the damn door off and brought him home right then. That thought had crossed his mind when Haon called him. If he’d known no one else was around, he wouldn’t have left Haon in a place like that by himself.

Should I just rent him a place? He seems uncomfortable staying here… Ah, but then again, maybe that’d make him even more uncomfortable.

Downing two bottles of sparkling water, Inho stared at the firmly shut guest room door. His liquor-fueled body started to drift subtly in the direction of the room where Haon was sleeping.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Snapping himself back to his senses, he forcefully opened the refrigerator instead. The sight of the bare interior made him sigh. The only things inside were a few drinks and some fruit he’d bought to snack on.

He’d definitely have to order something or eat out tomorrow.

Sneaking glances at the guest room, he took out a bowl and neatly arranged the fruit. He figured Haon might come out to the kitchen if he got hungry. Knowing Haon’s personality, though, it didn’t seem likely he’d open the fridge on his own.

He left the fruit plate with a fork on the dining table, hoping that if Haon got hungry, he’d at least eat some of it. But…

“Maybe he won’t touch this either.”

Inho stroked his chin as he stared at the bowl piled with fruit. In the end, he decided to stay downstairs.

He lay down on the living room sofa so he’d know the moment Haon came out of his room. He was a light sleeper—and sensitive, too.

Inho expected Haon to look for food the moment he woke up. The image of Haon’s frail, skinny body and the way he cried that first day they met, constantly saying he was hungry, had left a strong impression.

“I’m hungry…”

Haon’s whimpering voice, tinged with a moan, still echoed vividly in Inho’s ears. It wasn’t something easily forgotten.

He craned his neck to watch Haon’s door for a while, then eventually buried his face into the backrest of the sofa. Wrapped in the stillness of dawn, he curled into himself and closed his eyes, using the heavy silence of early morning like a blanket.