And there was an argument about shelf height.
Not a real one. A symbolic one. The kind that happens when an Omega who color-codes his underwear drawer moves in with an Alpha who thinks a sock pile is a valid filing system.
"I just think," Si-won said, perched on the counter in glitter-trimmed sweatpants, "that shelves should reflect emotional need. Like... ramen should be at eye level. Because sometimes I cry and need carbs without reaching."
Min-jae stared at him. "You installed a scented drawer liner for tea bags."
"It's peppermint. For clarity."
"It made the garlic smell like toothpaste."
"That's called layering."
Mochi barked from her donut bed in support. Or protest.
Min-jae came home one night to find Mochi wearing a pearl collar and a post-it that said Hostess. Si-won was trying to teach her how to bow to guests.
The only thing that bowed was the curtain rod, which collapsed when Si-won climbed the windowsill trying to "adjust the lighting vibe."
"I'm failing," Si-won declared one morning, face-down on the floor in front of the laundry machine. "I wanted to be a perfect Omega. You know, apron, sexy casserole, neutral pheromones. Instead I'm shedding and emotionally unstable."
Min-jae handed him an iced coffee and gently peeled a dryer sheet off his cheek. "You're doing great."
"I wore your hoodie to the corner store and three Betas tried to talk to me me. One asked if I was 'the influencer who cried at the fragrance panel.' I AM."
"You are," Min-jae said, brushing his fingers over Si-won's pink bangs. "And you're bonded with me."
That nearly set off a heat spike. But instead, Mochi sneezed into Min-jae's drink and they decided to go for a walk.
Si-won dressed for the moment like it was a paparazzi shoot. He wore wide-legged beige pants, a cropped white sweater that showed just a sliver of skin when he reached for Mochi's leash, and round sunglasses he claimed made him look "artistically unattainable." He also brought a miniature tote bag just for Mochi that included paw balm, a rice cracker, and a tiny spray bottle of "emotional mist."
Min-jae wore a plain hoodie and the exact same black sneakers he always wore. Mochi wore a new pink harness with rhinestones that spelled out "FERAL."
They barely made it five meters into the park before Mochi started drama with a golden retriever. Si-won gasped like he'd witnessed a social betrayal.
"She's setting boundaries," he said, scooping her up like a weaponized marshmallow. "Let her self-advocate."
"She just tried to bite a butterfly," Min-jae said flatly.
"Metaphor."
Eventually they found a bench under a gingko tree and Si-won fed Mochi tiny pieces of rice cracker while Min-jae, in full dad-mode, wiped her paws with a wet nap and muttered about grass pollen.
"Do you ever think," Si-won said between sips of bubble tea, "that we're kind of... functional?"
Min-jae looked up. "Define functional."
"We haven't had a public bonding malfunction in four days. Mochi only screamed once this morning. I made toast and didn't burn it."
Min-jae nodded solemnly. "Low bar. But impressive."
They walked to a small outdoor café tucked between a bookshop and a florist. It had wrought iron chairs, hanging plants, and an unspoken rule that all patrons must be vaguely whimsical. Si-won chose a table near the window and ordered a lavender lemonade and a grilled cheese with "aesthetic crusts." Mochi got a dog-safe muffin. Min-jae just got coffee.
When the waiter brought a small dish of water with a flower floating in it, for Mochi, Min-jae nearly lost it.
"She has a better hydration setup than me," he said, watching Mochi dip her entire face in like a snobby koi fish.
"She's sensitive," Si-won said, dramatically adjusting his sunglasses. "Hydration is an act of rebellion."
Min-jae reached for Si-won's hand across the table.
"You're ridiculous."
"You like ridiculous."
Min-jae smiled softly. "I like you."
That shut Si-won up for a full twenty seconds, which was a record. Then he stood, walked over, and sat on Min-jae's lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The waiter blushed. Mochi barked at a potted fern.
"We should invite Nari over," Si-won said suddenly.
Min-jae glanced at him. "For what?"
"To witness our domestic excellence," Si-won declared. "We've evolved. We grocery shop like adults. We have a throw blanket now. Mochi has boundaries. Sort of."
Min-jae raised a brow. "You want to show off... our lunch schedule and chaos dog?"
"I want her to see that I'm not just the hot mess she adopted at sixteen," Si-won said, then shrugged.
Min-jae tried not to look smug. "You want a domestic victory lap."
"I want a domestic parade," Si-won corrected. "With candles. And dessert. And maybe... a playlist."
Mochi barked at a pigeon like it owed her money. Si-won nodded. "She agrees. It's time."
It was supposed to be simple: Nari was coming over with another club member, a Beta named Jae-yul who had one dimple and no concept of personal space.
Si-won made japchae but forgot the soy sauce. The rice was undercooked. Mochi peed on the placemats. And the outfit Si-won chose, a ruffle-trimmed button-down with slacks that screamed Bonded But Cute, split along the thigh when he bent to adjust the air purifier.
"I wanted to be impressive," he hissed, pressing a kitchen towel over the tear.
"You are," Min-jae said. Then glared at Jae-yul for looking too long.
Nari caught it.
"Oho," she said, sipping soju like it was gossip. "Possessive Alpha alert."
Jae-yul added, "Didn't know strawberry boy had a guard dog."
Si-won grinned and held up his glass. "He bites."
Later, after two rounds of dumpling jokes, a failed game of scented charades (don't ask), and Mochi stealing a shrimp tempura, the group ended up on the living room floor, lazily full.
"You two are disgustingly domestic," Jae-yul said, licking his spoon. "It's giving Bonded, Burnt, and Blissed."
Min-jae looked away, cheeks tinged pink.
"We're still technically part of a research study," Si-won said, twirling the end of his hoodie string. "All of this is temporary. Like... seasonal flavor bonding."
Nari raised a brow. "You okay with that?"
Si-won paused.
"Yeah," he lied. "Of course. I mean, what happens when the bonding data's collected? We shake hands, upload the results, and go back to our sad single lives?"
Min-jae said nothing. But his grip on Si-won's knee tightened ever so slightly.
Later that night, after Mochi had dramatically flopped onto the clean laundry and Jae-yul had left with a head full of jealous thoughts, Min-jae found Si-won curled up on the couch with a blanket over his head.
"Okay, what happened?" Min-jae asked gently, crouching beside him.
"I didn't want to say it before," Si-won said, voice muffled under the blanket. "But I don't have parents. My grandma raised me, and she passed when I was sixteen. Nari's family kind of adopted me after that."
He peeked out, eyes red.
"I act all glossy and impossible because... well, it's how I stayed safe. Cute distractions. Strategic bonding. If I was loveable, maybe no one would leave."
Min-jae sat beside him. "You're not a distraction."
"Yeah," Si-won said, voice breaking just a little. "But what happens when the study ends? When the bond data's collected and the research is over? Do I just... go back to being a funny little Omega in mesh tops?"
Min-jae exhaled.
"The bond may be temporary," he said. "But my choice to stay with you isn't."
Si-won blinked. "That's dangerously close to a real emotion."
Min-jae nodded. "I'll code you a firewall for it."
Si-won laughed, watery and wild. "Promise?"
"On Mochi's tiara."
There was a beat of silence. Then Min-jae added, with the calm of someone who absolutely didn't understand social panic triggers:
"Oh. And my parents are coming to town next weekend. I said we'd do dinner."
Si-won sat bolt upright. "I...what...excuse me?"
Min-jae handed him the iced coffee. "They want to meet the Omega who's reorganized my pantry by mood."
"You can't just casually spring a meet-the-Alpha-parents on me!"
"You already cooked dinner for two Betas and a dog," Min-jae said. "You're qualified."
"That's not... what if they hate me?! What if they think I'm unstable?"
Min-jae looked pointedly at the pink bow in Si-won's hair and the half-assembled aromatherapy diffuser tower in the corner.
"They won't be wrong," he said. "But they'll love you."
Si-won flopped backward again, groaning dramatically.
"Fine. But I'm wearing the tiara to assert dominance."
Mochi barked approvingly.