A week had passed since that dreadful and wonderful night with Sab, and though no one knew what had happened, Jaeha was a shadow of his former self. He was utterly broken. That morning, when he'd finally woken up, he found himself alone. A single note was stuck to the side table, its words as piercing as any blade: "Don't you dare mess with me again, bastard. Oh, and… sorry, but you'll be fine handling rejection, right?"
As he read those words, it felt as if his world was collapsing, like a thousand knives stabbing into his heart. His chest tightened, and a suffocating pain overwhelmed him, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He clutched at his chest, gasping, his entire body trembling as tears began to fall. His hand shook as he covered his mouth, desperate to stifle the anguished sounds clawing their way out.
"N-No… it can't… b-be…"
Jaeha cried, lost and unsure of what to do. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His heart, despite everything, already craved her presence, her warmth—yet he knew she had only done this to make him suffer. The betrayal stung deeper than he could have ever imagined.
In anguish, he gripped his hair, pulling hard, almost tearing it from his scalp, but even that sharp physical pain paled in comparison to the hollow ache within. He screamed, the sound raw and guttural, his sorrow filling the empty room. She had broken him completely, shattered him in ways he didn't know were possible.
His hand instinctively moved to his neck, brushing over the mark she had left. The touch sent a shiver through him, and he coughed, choking on the weight of his sorrow. His body shook uncontrollably as waves of regret coursed through him. He should never have let his ego get the best of him, should never have dared to provoke her. If Sab had been an Omega, she'd be suffering from this bond too. But instead, it was only him, left drowning in a torment he could never have prepared for.
He had made a grave mistake, and now he was facing the consequences. A part of him longed to turn back time, yet deep down, he knew he would have made the same choice. That was simply who Jaeha was. His pride, his arrogance, refused to embrace the bond, even as his body was beginning to grow accustomed to it. The resistance hurt his body as well his mental health.
Jaeha sat in the crowded cafeteria, watching as Sab laughed at something Hajoon said, her eyes glinting with amusement. The two sat close, her arm grazing Hajoon's as she leaned in to speak. The sound of her laughter filled the room, louder than anything else, soft yet piercing, aimed just slightly away from him.
It shouldn't matter, he told himself, he didn't care, or at least, he shouldn't.But that didn't stop the ache that twisted his stomach.
She sat close to Hajoon, and every time she leaned in to whisper something or chuckle at one of his jokes, Jaeha couldn't help but feel a hollow aching and a stab of hatred.
"Hey, Do Hyun," Hajoon smirked, nudging their friend across the table, "you've got some crumbs in your beard. Are you storing snacks for later or just hoping some girl will find it attractive."
Do Hyun rolled his eyes and swiped at his beard. "It's called rugged charm, Hajoon. Not that you'd understand. You can't even grow a shadow of stubble without looking like a misplaced teenager."
The table erupted in laughter, Sab's voice mingling with the others, her laughter brighter and more natural than he'd ever heard it. Jaeha's eyes lingered on her; she looked radiant, a smile on her face, eyes sparkling. Her happiness, her indifference to him, was a strange, cruel beauty he couldn't stop looking at.
"Sure, Do Hyun," Hajoon shot back. "Nothing says 'charm' like food in your beard. Next thing you know, you'll be attracting squirrels and pigeons."
Sab laughed, her hand resting briefly on Hajoon's arm as she did, and Jaeha's heart lurched painfully. He clenched his hands tightly under the table, hoping no one would notice the subtle tremor that had started to shake them. A prickling, unbearable pain radiated from his chest, spreading to his fingertips.
Since she'd bonded with him, Jaeha had been fighting it. Denying the connection had felt like the only choice, a way to prove he was in control. Yet now, Sab had taken his rejection in stride, turning her attention fully to Hajoon, who seemed more than willing to enjoy it. They'd been close before, but this was different. This was Sab openly flirting, right in front of him, taunting him with the sight.
"Hajoon, you're one to talk," Sab teased, her eyes twinkling. "Last week, didn't I catch you sneaking away with half a sandwich in your pocket after lunch?"
"That was different!" Hajoon protested, feigning innocence. "I was just saving it for later. Unlike Do Hyun, I don't keep a mini-fridge in my beard."
More laughter filled the air. Jaeha forced a small, hollow smile, though he could barely bring himself to join in. Every word Sab spoke to Hajoon felt like another layer of ice wrapping around his heart. He watched as she nudged Hajoon playfully, her shoulder grazing his, and jealousy burned hot and painful in his chest.
He looked away, clenching his jaw. Why does it have to be him?
Each look she gave Hajoon, each casual touch, sent a new surge of pain through Jaeha. The bond was rejecting him, forcing him to feel the agony of his own stubbornness, while Sab seemed completely unaffected. Her laughter was light, her gaze relaxed, as though he weren't even there. Every sound, every glance, felt like a dagger aimed straight at him.
How dare she? he thought bitterly. How dare she act as if I mean nothing?
The lighthearted chatter around him suddenly felt suffocating. Sab's voice rang in his ears, gentle and lilting, yet completely void of the warmth she'd once shown him. He looked down at his hands, noting the slight tremor. His fingers were cold, and he dug his nails into his palm, as if the physical pain might somehow quiet the ache within.
"So, Jaeha," Do Hyun said, trying to include him in the conversation, "you coming to the game tomorrow? I heard it's gonna be packed."
"Yeah, sure," Jaeha replied absently, not even meeting Do Hyun's gaze. His eyes drifted back to Sab, even though he knew it was a mistake. She was looking at Hajoon again, her head tilted, a slight smile playing on her lips. Jaeha's breath hitched at the sight of her; no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, she was still breathtakingly beautiful. Her expression, the way she leaned toward Hajoon, as though Jaeha didn't even exist—every bit of it sliced through him like a knife.
"You're distracted," Hajoon observed suddenly, looking directly at him, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his tone. "Anyone home in there, Jaeha?"
Jaeha forced himself to shrug, putting on his best indifferent expression. "Just tired, that's all."
But Sab's gaze flicked over to him for the briefest of moments, her eyes distant and almost cold. It was as if she were looking right through him. She turned back to Hajoon without a word, laughing again at something he said, and Jaeha felt his chest tighten painfully. Each laugh, each look she gave Hajoon, felt like another lash against him.
He couldn't take it anymore. Standing up abruptly, his chair scraped against the floor, startling the group. For a split second, he thought Sab might ask him what was wrong, might reach out to him. But her gaze stayed fixed on Hajoon, ignoring him entirely, as though he were no more than a shadow.
"Jaeha?" Do Hyun asked, his brow creasing with concern.
"I'll catch up with you guys later," Jaeha muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. He grabbed his things and walked out, barely holding himself together. He forced himself not to look back, though every step away from her felt like tearing himself apart. He pushed open the cafeteria doors and stumbled into the quiet hallway, his breaths coming in shallow bursts.
He leaned against the wall, clenching his fists so tightly that his nails dug painfully into his palms. The ache in his chest had only grown worse, a hollow, unrelenting pain that had settled deep within him. The rejection bond was punishing him, and Sab's indifference only made it worse. He wanted her to feel this pain, to suffer as he did. But she was slipping away, indifferent to the agony that was consuming him.
His head was spinning, flooded with memories of Sab's laugh, her smile, the way she had looked at him with warmth once—warmth she was now giving to Hajoon.
How dare she? The thought seared through his mind, igniting a fury he could barely contain. His chest heaved with each angry breath, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. She had been his, bound to him.
If I'm suffering, then she should too, he thought, his mind clouded with resentment. He was the one in pain, the one left with this hollow ache gnawing at him, while she was out there laughing, smiling as though he hadn't mattered at all. Deep down, a small, buried voice whispered that this was his own doing, that he had caused this distance. But his pride, his arrogance wouldn't let him accept it. He couldn't admit he was wrong; he couldn't bear to think he was the one who had driven her away.
No. She doesn't get to walk away that easily.
Jaeha took a deep breath, pushing away the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. He wasn't wrong, he told himself. He had only been protecting himself, refusing to let anyone get close enough to hurt him. But now that he was suffering, she had to feel the same pain. He'd make sure of it.
If I can't escape this, neither will she.
Straightening up, Jaeha steeled himself, a grim determination settling in his chest. He was going to find a way to get to her, to make her feel the same torment, the same ache that had taken root in him.