Chapter Text
The morning sun filtered through the tinted windows of Tle’s sleek black Lucid Air as the car glided along the quiet road toward the university. FirstOne sat in the passenger seat, knee bouncing with restless energy, fingers drumming against his thigh. The confined space carried Tle’s scent—warm cinnamon, dark roasted coffee, and that possessive undertone.
As the campus gates appeared, FirstOne spoke. “Drop me off here. Before we enter the campus area. I don’t want anyone to see us together.”
Tle drove another twenty meters and turned into a narrow side street shielded by tall trees. The engine died.
FirstOne reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll—”
Tle moved instantly. One strong hand clamped around FirstOne’s wrist, yanking him back across the console. The other slid to the back of his neck, threading into his hair. Their mouths met in a fierce, hungry kiss filled with the heat of last night apart.
FirstOne gasped into the kiss, clutching Tle’s shirt. Tle broke away just enough to speak against his lips. “You think I’d let you walk away that easily after last night?”
His free hand dropped lower, pressing firmly between FirstOne’s legs. “Fuck… you’re already so hot here.”
FirstOne’s hips jerked forward. A soft needy sound escaped him as he rocked against Tle’s palm.
“Tle…” The name came out shaky.
Tle kissed him again, slower but no less intense, while his hand continued its deliberate strokes. The windows fogged rapidly.
Finally, Tle rested their foreheads together, both breathing hard. “You’re mine to drop off wherever I want. Even if we have to pretend we’re nothing once we step on campus.”
He gave one last firm squeeze before withdrawing his hand. “Get out before I change my mind and drag you back to my place.”
FirstOne stepped out on unsteady legs, cheeks flushed. Before he walked away, Tle called after him, tone deceptively casual. “See you at the class, Wannakorn.”
FirstOne didn’t turn around, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. Tle’s scent still clung to his clothes, along with the lingering heat between his legs.
Behind him, Tle remained parked, fingers drumming restlessly on the steering wheel as a dark, satisfied smirk played across his face.
“Stubborn omega,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes following FirstOne’s retreating figure until it disappeared through the gates.
The day had only just begun.
Nat stood in the driveway, keys dangling from his fingers as he stared at his silent red Mustang. He turned the key for the third time. Nothing.
“Great,” he muttered.
Max stepped out of the house, briefcase in hand, gold wedding band glinting on his finger.
“Car trouble?” Max asked calmly.
Nat crossed his arms. “It’s nothing. I’ll figure it out.”
“You’ll be late,” Max stated. “I’m heading to campus now. We can go together.”
Nat hesitated, then gave in. “…Fine. Only because I can’t be late.”
They drove in silence for the first five minutes. Max eventually spoke. “How’s your morning lecture going this semester?”
“Fine.”
Max tried again. “Your birthday is next week. I was thinking we could go out for dinner. Just the two of us.”
“Not necessary.”
“I can cancel the seminar.”
“I’m not available that day. You should go.”
The silence that followed was heavier, more oppressive than before.
Max’s fingers tightened visibly on the wheel, the gold band catching the sunlight once more. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then closed it. For the remainder of the drive, he stayed quiet, but the air inside the car crackled with unspoken words.
They pulled into the faculty parking area. The moment Max killed the engine, a small group of students spotted him and began waving enthusiastically.
“Professor Max!” one bright-eyed omega called out, jogging over with a bright smile. “Good morning! I brought the notes you asked for last week.”
Another student—an alpha this time—fell into step beside them. “Sir, are you free after your lecture? A few of us wanted to ask about the research project—”
Max answered them all politely, his voice smooth and professional, but his eyes flicked once toward Nat, who was already striding a few steps ahead, bag slung over his shoulder, face carefully blank and unreadable.
Nat didn’t wait. He didn’t look back. He didn’t offer a single word of thanks for the ride.
He simply headed toward the mathematics building alone, the ghost of Max’s scent still clinging stubbornly to his clothes and the memory of that heavy, silent car ride burning like acid in his chest.
Behind him, Max stood watching as Nat disappeared into the crowd of students, his fingers brushing unconsciously over the wedding band he had never once removed.
Nunew balanced the warm paper bag and the tall coffee cup carefully in his hands as he walked down the quiet corridor of the mathematics faculty building. The early autumn air still carried a faint chill, but his steps were light and almost bouncing with quiet excitement. Inside the bag was a warm croissant sandwich—ham, cheese, and a delicate honey drizzle, prepared exactly the way he had once seen Zee devour it during a department meeting last semester. The coffee was black with exactly two sugars and no cream. He had memorized the order perfectly over the past year.
He stopped in front of the closed office door at the end of the hall. The polished gold nameplate gleamed: Prof. Dr. Zee Pruk Panich.
Nunew took a deep, steadying breath, plastered on his brightest, most genuine smile, and knocked twice.
“Come in.”
The voice from inside was low, calm, and unmistakably Zee’s—steady as always.
Nunew pushed the door open and stepped inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, Zee’s fingers paused mid-keystroke on his laptop. The new scent hit him instantly—lighter than usual, still sweetly inviting but now carrying a soft citrus note, like fresh orange blossoms blended with warm vanilla. It was subtly different, yet it filled the room in a way that made Zee’s chest tighten for the briefest second.
Zee sat behind his large wooden desk, glasses perched neatly on the bridge of his nose, focused on whatever document he was typing. The morning light streaming through the window behind him cast a soft glow over his dark hair, making it appear almost black. He didn’t look up immediately.
“Professor Zee,” Nunew said cheerfully, walking straight to the desk without hesitation. “Good morning! I brought you breakfast and coffee. I was at the café anyway and thought… well, you always work through breakfast, right? So I got your usual.”
He placed the paper bag and the coffee cup neatly on the corner of the desk, right beside Zee’s keyboard. The inviting aroma of fresh pastry and rich coffee slowly mingled with the air, but underneath it all, that new citrus-vanilla scent clung to Nunew’s uniform shirt and the delicate curve of his neck, drifting toward Zee with every small movement.
Zee finally lifted his gaze. His expression remained largely unchanged—the same cool, unreadable mask he wore with almost everyone—but there was the tiniest flicker in his eyes when they landed on the offerings. And when that new scent reached him again, stronger this time, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. He noticed. He always noticed everything.
But he said nothing about it.
“Chawarin,” he said instead, voice even and measured. “Again?”
Nunew’s smile didn’t falter for even a second. “It’s not ‘again’ if it’s a new day, Professor. And this time I added honey on the sandwich. You liked it last time, didn’t you? I saw you finish it in three minutes during the last faculty breakfast meeting.”
Zee leaned back in his chair, arms crossing slowly over his chest as he regarded the bag, then Nunew, then the bag once more. That new perfume kept drifting toward him, lighter and brighter, almost playful—and it suited the young omega far too well. Zee’s jaw flexed once, but his face stayed perfectly neutral.
“You should be focusing on your own classes,” he said, though there was no real bite behind the words. It was the same firm-yet-gentle tone he always reserved for Nunew—stricter than with other students, yet softer around the edges. “Not running errands for your professor.”
Nunew tilted his head playfully, his eyes sparkling with unmistakable affection. “But I’m a very good student, Professor. My grades are perfect. And bringing coffee to my favorite lecturer is basically academic support, right? It helps you focus, which helps us during lectures. Win-win.”
Zee exhaled slowly through his nose, almost like a sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely. He reached for the coffee cup, his fingers brushing the warm cardboard. He didn’t take a sip yet, but he didn’t push it away either. The citrus-vanilla scent continued to curl around him like a gentle invitation he refused to acknowledge.
“You’re persistent,” he muttered, almost to himself.
Nunew grinned wider, undeterred. “Only when it’s important.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The office fell into a comfortable quiet, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds of students passing in the hallway.
Zee finally picked up the cup, took a small, deliberate sip, and set it back down. His eyes flicked up to Nunew again, lingering for half a heartbeat longer than usual on the curve of the omega’s throat where the new perfume seemed strongest.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. It was the same two words he offered every single time Nunew did this—short, almost reluctant, but undeniably genuine.
Nunew’s heart performed a little joyful flip in his chest. He knew Zee wouldn’t say anything more. He never did. But that small “thank you” was always enough to fuel him for the rest of the day.
“I’ll see you at the class later, Professor,” Nunew said, still beaming as he took a small step back toward the door. “Don’t work too hard before then, okay?”
Zee didn’t reply with words. He simply glanced down at the croissant bag again, the faintest trace of something almost soft crossing his usually stern features.
Nunew slipped out of the office, closing the door gently behind him. Once safely in the hallway, he let out a quiet, happy breath and pressed a hand to his chest, smiling to himself.
“One day,” he whispered softly, “you’re going to say more than just ‘thank you.’”
Inside the office, Zee stared at the closed door for a long moment. Then he reached for the paper bag, opened it carefully, and took a slow bite of the warm sandwich.
He swallowed, eyes narrowing slightly as the lingering citrus-vanilla scent still hung in the air like a persistent ghost.
“That guy…” he murmured under his breath, but the words held no trace of anger. Only the quiet acknowledgment that something had shifted—and he wasn’t ready to mention it.
The day’s last class. Students began shuffling in cheerful clusters, chatting and laughing as they packed remove, but the four omegas in the back row remained seated, their desks pushed together in their usual tight formation. Namping, FirstOne, Nat, and Nunew were packing their bags at a deliberately slow pace, clearly in no hurry to leave the comfortable bubble they had created.
Namping zipped up his pencil case with a soft sigh. “Okay, what’s the plan for tonight? We could grab something to eat on the way home and watch that new drama Nunew keeps talking about.”
FirstOne slung his bag over his shoulder, a slightly guilty expression crossing his face. “I can’t join you guys. They just added an elective to my schedule today—some advanced statistics thing. It starts after this lesson.”
Nunew’s eyes widened with genuine surprise. “Wait, seriously? Today? That’s so random.”
FirstOne rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. “Yeah… I checked the system this morning and it was suddenly there. No idea how it got approved last minute.”
Nat smirked, leaning back casually in his chair. “Or maybe a certain research assistant made sure it appeared on your timetable so you’d have an excuse to stay on campus longer.”
FirstOne shot him a sharp look. “Shut up.”
Nunew burst into bright laughter. “Oh come on, we all know it’s Tle. He probably stared at the admin office until they added it just so he could ‘accidentally’ run into you after class every single day.”
Namping grinned widely, nudging FirstOne’s arm playfully. “Classic Tle move. ‘Oh no, FirstOne has an extra class, guess I’ll just happen to be walking by the classroom every single day.’”
The three of them dissolved into laughter while FirstOne tried—and failed—to keep a straight face.
“Stop it,” FirstOne groaned, though a smile tugged clearly at his lips. “It’s not like that.”
Nat raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Sure it’s not. That’s why your neck still smells like cinnamon and coffee even though you sprayed perfume twice this morning.”
Nunew clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles. “He’s so obvious. You two are hopeless.”
Namping leaned his chin on his hand, still chuckling warmly. “Honestly, at this point the only thing we can actually do is go home and play with Kao. That kid is the only one who doesn’t make our lives complicated.”
The other three immediately nodded in agreement, their expressions softening.
“True,” Nat said, his voice gentling noticeably. “Kao’s the best part of the day. He’s probably waiting by the door with his little ‘maaaa’ already.”
Nunew smiled warmly, eyes crinkling with affection. “Yeah… let’s just go home. I miss the tiny chaos machine.”
FirstOne stood up, still grinning despite himself. “You guys enjoy your Kao time. I’ll text you later if I survive statistics hell.”
They were still sharing soft laughter when the classroom door opened again with a quiet creak.
A tall figure stepped inside, papers neatly tucked under one arm, his gaze scanning the nearly empty room.
Nat’s eyes widened first. He straightened up and muttered under his breath, “Keng is here.”
All four omegas turned at once, their conversation cutting off abruptly.
Keng stood just inside the doorway, his attention already locked onto them—or more specifically, onto Namping.
The laughter died instantly.
For a split second, the entire room seemed to hold its breath. Namping’s breath caught sharply in his throat. Three years. Three whole years since he had last seen him this close—since that painful day when Keng had stood before him with that same calm, professional mask and declared their relationship over because his career demanded it. Now here he was, taller and more composed than Namping remembered, dressed in a dark gray button-up that hugged his frame perfectly, papers held with careful precision.
Keng’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly the moment they landed on Namping. His fingers tightened around the edge of the folder he carried. For the briefest heartbeat, something raw and unguarded flickered across his face—recognition, shock, and a heavier emotion he quickly buried beneath layers of control.
He cleared his throat, stepping fully into the classroom and closing the door behind him with a soft, decisive click.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” he said, his voice steady and impeccably professional, the same tone he employed in every lecture. “Most of you already know me. I’m Dr. Harit Buayoi. Miss Lilly had to take sudden leave today, so I’ll be taking over her class for the rest of the semester. I apologize for the short notice.”
He walked toward the front of the room with controlled strides, setting his papers down neatly on the lecturer’s desk. His movements were precise, yet his gaze kept drifting back toward the back row—to Namping—as if pulled by an invisible force he couldn’t resist.
Namping’s hands froze on the strap of his bag. His heart hammered so loudly he was certain the others could hear it. He forced himself to look down at his notebook, pretending to reorganize his notes, but his fingers trembled noticeably. He’s here. He’s actually here. In my class. Teaching my class.
FirstOne leaned over slightly, his voice dropping to a concerned whisper. “Ping… you okay?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t find the words.
Keng turned to face the class fully, leaning back against the desk with that familiar calm, authoritative posture. His eyes found Namping’s again, holding for half a second longer than strictly necessary.
“Since this is the first time I’m stepping in, let’s start with a quick roll call so I can match names to faces,” he continued, picking up the attendance sheet with steady hands. “I’ll try not to disrupt your usual flow too much.”
He began calling names one by one, his voice smooth and even, but every glance toward the back row made the air between him and Namping feel thicker, heavier—like the three missing years had suddenly collapsed into this single, charged moment.
Namping gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white, the weight of unspoken history pressing down on him with every measured word from the front of the room.
Namping kept his head down, pretending to scribble notes he wasn’t actually reading. His heart was pounding so violently he felt dizzy. The familiar deep, woody scent of Keng — the same scent that had once wrapped around him for months — was now filling the entire classroom, making it impossible to breathe normally.
The moment Keng said “Class dismissed,” Namping shot up from his seat like the chair had burned him. He grabbed his bag with shaking hands and practically bolted toward the door without waiting for the others, weaving through the few remaining students with urgent steps.
“Namping!” FirstOne called after him quietly, but Namping didn’t stop.
He pushed through the classroom door and hurried down the corridor, footsteps echoing too loudly in his ears. He needed air. He needed distance. He needed to get away before—
“Namping.”
The voice stopped him cold.
Keng’s long strides caught up to him just as Namping reached the end of the hallway. A firm but gentle hand closed around his wrist, pulling him to a halt beside a row of lockers.
Namping froze, breath caught in his throat. He slowly turned around.
Keng stood close — too close — his expression unreadable but his eyes intense. The same dark gray button-up, the same composed posture, but there was something raw flickering behind his usual professional mask.
“You don’t have to come to my class if it makes you uncomfortable,” Keng said quietly, voice low enough that only Namping could hear. His thumb brushed once over the inside of Namping’s wrist before he realized what he was doing and let go. “I can speak to the department and arrange something else. You won’t be marked absent.”
Namping opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His mind was blank, overwhelmed by the proximity, the scent, the memories crashing over him all at once.
Before he could find his voice, his phone suddenly vibrated loudly in his pocket.
The screen lit up with an incoming call.
Kao ❤️
The name flashed brightly on the screen, impossible to miss.
Namping’s eyes widened. He quickly pulled his arm free from Keng’s lingering presence and took a step back, putting distance between them.
Keng’s gaze dropped to the glowing screen. His entire body went still.
Namping’s thumb hovered over the answer button, but he didn’t press it. His chest felt too tight, his throat too dry. He couldn’t speak to Kao right now — not with Keng standing this close, watching him with those sharp, unreadable eyes.
Before he could make a decision, hurried footsteps approached from behind.
“Ping!” Nunew’s voice called out, slightly out of breath as he caught up to them. He slowed down when he saw the tense scene, eyes flicking between his older brother and the tall alpha professor. “Ping, our dada—”
Nunew stopped mid-sentence, realizing too late that he had almost said too much in front of Keng. His eyes widened in panic.
Namping didn’t wait for anything else.
Without sparing Keng another glance, he grabbed Nunew’s wrist tightly and pulled him away, practically dragging his younger brother down the corridor toward the exit. His steps were fast, almost frantic, as if putting physical distance between himself and Keng could somehow erase the last ten minutes.
“Ping, wait—” Nunew started, but Namping didn’t slow down.
They burst out of the mathematics building into the afternoon sunlight. Only when they were several meters away from the entrance did Namping finally release Nunew’s wrist. His breathing was ragged.
Nunew rubbed his wrist gently, looking back toward the building with wide eyes before turning to his brother.
“Ping… are you okay?” he asked softly. Then his expression shifted into something more serious. “Listen, when you didn’t answer the phone, I picked it up. It wasn’t Kao calling.”
Namping stopped walking. “What?”
Nunew bit his lip, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.
“It was someone from the Child Protection Services. They said they need to do a routine home visit today. They’re already waiting outside our apartment. Something about checking on Kao’s living conditions since you’re back at university now… They sounded pretty formal.”
Namping’s face paled. His hands started trembling again.
“Today? Right now?” he whispered, voice cracking.
Nunew nodded, looking worried. “Yeah. I told them we’d be home soon. FirstOne and Nat are already heading there to help stall if needed. I came to find you as fast as I could.”
Namping ran a hand through his hair, panic rising fast in his chest. The last thing he needed today — after seeing Keng again — was strangers from child services showing up at their small apartment, asking questions about how he was raising Kao alone.
He let out a shaky breath and started walking again, faster this time, heading toward the parking area.
“Come on,” he said, voice tight. “We need to get home. Now.”
Nunew hurried after him, matching his pace. “It’ll be okay, Ping. We’ve handled worse. Kao’s happy and healthy. That’s what matters.”
But Namping wasn’t listening. His mind was spinning — Keng’s scent still clinging to his clothes, the way Keng had looked at the name on his phone, and now this sudden visit from child services.
The weight of everything felt crushing.
Behind them, still standing near the lockers inside the building, Keng remained motionless, staring at the empty corridor where Namping had disappeared.
The name “Kao” kept echoing in his head, louder with every passing second.