𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨

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The rest of that week had been some type of Hell, Wooyoung felt. San never came to school, which was to be expected, and neither did Mingi. Seonghwa had skipped two days of classes for some unknown reason, but returned nonetheless. All else was pretty much normal, completely contradictory to the raging storm in both the omega's head and body.

He couldn't get that boy off his mind. It was like every time he was given a reprieve from work and worrying, his brain reverted back to San. Those hazel eyes that pleaded with his own were constantly in his vision, and he hadn't a clue what to do.

Sometimes, sitting in the library on his own to catch his breath from a back-breaking day, he'd find Youngmi doing much the same. She sat by the stained-glass windows a lot, usually wistfully staring onwards towards the unforgiving outdoors. Summer had struck finally, and the sun caught her dark, straight hair and encased it in a halo. She was pretty, no doubt, and Wooyoung had to wonder if she was San's type.

Was that what he pictured himself settling down with in the long run?

Was a weak little omega like himself so far below that league?

The ravenette hated to admit it, but he craved and missed that attention he had before. The constant pestering from the alpha, or the sexual innuendos that had his head spinning and stomach fluttering. Was all this going to be his downfall? A giant mistake?

Why do I ponder so much? He wondered one Wednesday afternoon while wandering up to the church doors. He was on his own for once, and perhaps for the best. The feathered creatures taking off into the clear sky were singing extremely peacefully, and it was days like these where he thanked God for gifting them. For sun, for heat, for animals, for life.

The wooden panels wailed as they were pushed, the hinges whinging like old folks until the interior of the holy space was visible. The omega would admit that he didn't often come on his own, for he rarely had the time or confidence to waltz on up without a proper reason.

This time, however, he felt pressed to ask for guidance. Perhaps for why it was his body was designed to feel such strong attraction to what he couldn't have. Or maybe to request forgiveness for lusting over a man. In the end, nobody but God could read his thoughts, so this was his escape.

"Welcome," a tall, beautiful male Wooyoung recognised well waved from the top of the church. His long robes hanging loosely upon his lanky frame, and the ruffled brown hair falling over his eyes was quite cute. He resembled a puppy, actually. "Wooyoung, yes?"

"Um, yes. Sorry to disturb," he bowed politely and tucked a strand of his black locks behind his ear. Oh wow, it's Yunho, he inwardly panicked, the one guy I look up to.

"Don't bow for me," the older hummed, "Come over and bow for our God. He's the one deserving of respect in here, right?"

"Of course," he gushed and scampered down the aisle swiftly to reach him. The polite navy button-up adorning his torso fitted perfectly, and the black slacks he kept on when visiting the House of God were as pristine as usual. Jung Wooyoung was a sight for sore eyes...it was just unfortunate he attracted the 'wrong' gender.

Yunho smiled beautifully, a glint and shine to his mocha irises that made one feel as though everything would be okay somehow. He was very popular amongst the community, even as an omega. This man was writing down a new passage in history as he lived, and it was incredible. "Why is it you're here, hm? Perhaps to thank Him, or ask of His forgiveness?"

Something like that, the younger thought, and he couldn't exactly admit aloud to what his intentions were. His simple answer was a little too hollow, but somewhat believable; "I have something to get off my chest."

"I see. Don't mind me, I'm simply cleaning up for the service tonight."

"Okay," Wooyoung bowed slightly once more, then proceeded to drop slowly to his knees before the large stained-glass windows shedding red light onto the alter. The image of Jesus and his halo was ever-present here, yet admittedly a bit discomforting. Perhaps that was just because the ravenette was always reminded of what a disgusting disgrace his body was.

Tilting his head down and squeezing his eyes closed, the young boy pressed his palms together and grazed his tongue over his bottom lip. At first, his prayer started out normally:

Dear God, please forgive me for what I'm feeling...and what I'm thinking. I've never felt so unlike me before in my life, and it sometimes seems like I have no guidance to get me back on the path I started out on. His throat tightened as yet again, he thought of San.

Oh that beautiful man.

The boy was sitting here, before the entity that he believed would save him...yet still thought of the Devil's incarnate who was wooing him with that sinful body and face, as well as that sugary tongue that tempted him. Those deep, deep eyes that held galaxies and stories, pleading with him a week ago to save him from the worst type of pain. His heart fluttered, his stomach dropped...

His eyes burned up...

And tears fell.

He silently sobbed a little to let go of the pent up stress he'd been hiding. He felt so horrible and disgraceful, but in the best way somehow. He wanted to do what he desired, instead of the nasty inevitable misery he'd throw himself into with a woman.

He just wanted to man to tell him how gorgeous he was. To explain in detail how cute he found his smile, or to brush his hair back like they did in stories.

Or furthermore, to have a baby with him someday that was his, and not a girl's. Was it such a sin to want to be loved?

I'm not here to ask for your forgiveness, it seems, he suddenly changed his tune, fingers bending down into a clasped form with more determination and fervour. Dear God, I'm here to apologise for what I am about to do. I know you won't accept this, you won't want what I want...but I hope one day you'll understand why I'm feeling and thinking the way I am. I want him.

I like him.

And I'm not going to die a weak old man with dreams that were never fulfilled.


Shooting his eyes open, Wooyoung elicited a hoarse sigh and trembled on unsteady knees. Getting to his feet felt like a massive struggle, but he didn't even notice. Right now he was wondering what Hell looked like, and if he'd be sent there with San. Or perhaps, the Hell itself wouldn't have him, and that was the pain.

"Alright?" Yunho murmured from the side, rubbing down a goblet with a rag. "You're...tearing up?"

"I'm actually..." the younger omega gushed, cracking a small smile that suddenly evolved into a genuine, big one. "I'm really good. I feel really good right now."

"Oh? I'm glad to hear it."

"So am I," he beamed excitedly and started dashing back down the length of the church to the double doors again. "Thank you for your time!"

"Of course," the trainee blinked, quite confused but happy all the same. It was nice to see a burst of enthusiasm here and there.


The small boy shoved straight past the doors and stumbled unceremoniously onto the stony driveway, breathing wild and eyes alight with fire. He had flames in his hands and in his heart, more heat than he'd ever experienced before in his life.

And the most incredible thing about it?

He knew why.


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𝗽𝗼𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗼𝘂𝘀; woosanWhere stories live. Discover now