Alpha Trauma Novel - Chapter 22. Cherry Blossom Rain (6)

Wooyeon clutched his mechanical pencil and looked at Junseong. He tried to gauge Junseong’s intention for bringing up such a topic. Despite starting quite suggestively, Junseong grinned as soon as their eyes met.

“But he looks totally different.”

He didn’t seem to be testing him. Junseong wasn’t that intelligent to begin with. Wooyeon, unable to find a reply, secretly clenched his molars.

“He was… really something. He was short as hell and just plump.”

He felt a surge of nausea. His cheeks twitched, and his mouth tightened. If he hadn’t tightened his grip, his expression would have distorted immediately.

“He wore ridiculously large glasses, and his actions were nerdy… In many ways, he was different from you.”

A look of disgust, like a dagger, flew at him. He even shivered, truly despising the past Wooyeon. Then, Junseong looked at the Wooyeon in front of him and marvelled, ‘You’re really pretty.’

“Besides, his family was super rich…”

“What does that have to do with you?”

Finally, Wooyeon irritably put down his mechanical pencil. His stomach was already churning, and now he had to hear truly disgusting words. What was this bastard’s problem, why had he tormented him all this time?

“Huh?”

Junseong reacted with a bewildered expression. Feeling Wooyeon’s cold gaze, he frowned in embarrassment. Wooyeon pressed his stinging solar plexus and calmed his surging pheromones.

“Why are you badmouthing him when he hasn’t even harmed you?”

It was what he always thought. He had never uttered it, but Wooyeon always thought: What does my weight have to do with you? My large frame, my bursting uniform, even my large appetite — none of it had anything to do with Junseong.

“No, I wasn’t badmouthing…”

Junseong trailed off, scratching the back of his head. His bleached yellow hair was frizzy like a bird’s nest. He awkwardly shifted his gaze, then narrowed his brows with a frustrated look.

“But why are you so sensitive? I didn’t say you were fat.”

“You’re noisy.”

“…”

“I’m preparing for my presentation right now.”

His face crumpled. His sharp eyes twisted into an even harsher glare. Junseong, who had parted his lips a few times, finally spoke with a sigh.

“Hey, you really need to…”

“Alright, Group 1, please come up to present.”

Wooyeon didn’t wait for Junseong to finish and stood up. Before heading to the podium, he didn’t forget to grab the paper to submit to the professor. The professor took the paper from Wooyeon and handed him the microphone.

[Hello, I’m Seon Wooyeon, presenting for Group 1.]

As he spoke in English, the professor wore a satisfied smile. Some students were seen hurriedly revising their scripts. Wooyeon tried not to look at Junseong and explained the definition of leadership.

[…Therefore, let’s discuss what qualities a leader should possess.]

As Daniel once said, Wooyeon’s English pronunciation was perfect. They said it was usually difficult to correct pronunciation after age fifteen, but that didn’t apply to him. In fact, Wooyeon spoke better in English than in Korean.

[A leader, as a representative leading a team, must strive to ensure no team members are alienated.]

Wooyeon finished speaking and stifled a small laugh. It was amusing that Junseong had written this content. Striving to ensure no team members are alienated – wasn’t Junseong rather the one who alienated others?

[Furthermore, a leader must…]

‘I know a kid named Seon Wooyeon.’

He remembered. That was the first thought that came to mind. He remembered me, Wooyeon, the middle schooler he used to torment. And he was brazen enough to bring it up in conversation as if it were nothing.

‘But he looks totally different.’

He expected to not be recognized, but not to this extent. Even if he didn’t expect guilt, he thought there might be some sense of remorse. But, as expected, people don’t change easily.

Wooyeon barely managed his emotions and mechanically presented the memorized content. The time wasn’t long, and no one was distracted. Only the professor seemed to understand everything, but in truth, only the professor needed to understand.

[This concludes my presentation. Thank you.]

Loud applause filled the classroom. The professor asked a few questions in English and then dismissed Wooyeon. Seeing the smile on his lips, Group 1’s presentation was successful.

As soon as Wooyeon returned to his seat, he hunched over. He was fine standing, but sitting down made his stomach hurt again. While he stifled groans, Junseong, oblivious, admired Wooyeon.

“Hey… your English is really good. Are all English majors that good?”

Not just Junseong, but the other group members also chimed in. Hearing them say that with him, they wouldn’t have to worry about the midterm presentation, Wooyeon thought, ‘So these guys can talk after all.’ If they could talk so well, why didn’t they help with the outline earlier, why were they so quiet then?

“Next, Group 2, please come up.”

Group 2 also presented in English like Wooyeon. However, it was clearly improvised, and they made vocabulary mistakes here and there. The professor again asked questions in English, then dismissed the presenters without much praise.

Presentations like that continued for about 3 minutes per group. In the meantime, his stomach calmed down a bit, and Wooyeon ran a hand over his pale face, straightening his posture. The last group was presenting in Chinese.

“Everyone worked hard. Especially Group 1, very well done.”

The professor added a few light words of praise and then ended the class. It was about 30 minutes earlier than usual. As soon as he left, Wooyeon was packing his bag when he stopped dead in his tracks as Junseong called him.

“Hey, Wooyeon.”

That friendly address never felt natural to him, no matter how many times he heard it. Seon Wooyeon, maybe. But “Wooyeonie”? It sent shivers down his spine.

“About what I said earlier…”

Wooyeon crammed his notebook and writing tools into his bag and laboriously zipped it up. He intended to leave the classroom immediately, but Junseong grabbed his bag strap, preventing him from doing so. Junseong abruptly started talking, even though Wooyeon hadn’t responded.

“Ah, damn it, I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean to compare you.”

“…What?”

His head rang. For a moment, he wondered if he had heard things. While Wooyeon was speechless, Junseong tugged at his bag strap with an embarrassed look.

“I said I’m sorry. You got mad because I badmouthed that kid with the same name as you, right?”

His tone was serious. Even his awkward gaze towards Wooyeon didn’t seem like a joke. “Hmph,” Junseong sighed and lightly poked his bag with his fist.

“Why do you make such a big deal out of it? I just mentioned someone I know because it came to mind.”

“…”

His blank stare fixed on Junseong’s face. Wooyeon clenched his lips, chewing on Junseong’s words. Apologizing, saying he didn’t mean to upset him. A string of unbelievable words came to mind.

“…Sorry?”

It had been a full three years. Three years Wooyeon was bullied, and three years Junseong tormented him. He hadn’t thought about wanting to die, but he had thought about not wanting to live. If it weren’t for Dohyun, if it weren’t for the teacher, he would still be suffering even now.

But, he was hearing an apology now, one he hadn’t heard even back then. And for such a ridiculous reason, no less.

‘You fat bastard, why are you even alive?’

“…Ha.”

A mixture of emotions swirled within him. His pheromones churned, and the hair on his neck stood on end. The emotions surging up, making him feel like he would vomit, were nothing but pure rage.

“You’re truly funny.”

Wooyeon let out a hollow laugh and faced Junseong. In middle school, Junseong would have flared up, asking what he was staring at, but now he merely blushed slightly and didn’t pick a fight.

“I really dislike people like you.”

Wooyeon snatched his bag from Junseong’s hand. The slowly creeping pheromones were sharp enough to cut. Junseong, as well as other Omegas nearby, gasped in surprise, holding their breath.

“Badmouthing people at your age is nothing to be proud of…”

If he had said something in middle school, would it have been different? If he had looked Junseong straight in the eye and protested like this, would the outcome have changed even a little?

No matter how much he thought about it, the answer was ‘no’. Wooyeon never bowed down to Junseong in middle school. He ignored and shunned him, but he never cowered and avoided him. Yet, hadn’t Junseong always belittled Wooyeon?

“You don’t need to apologize, just don’t act friendly with me.”

With those words, Wooyeon turned his back on Junseong. Only heavy pheromones remained in the spot he had left.

Heading towards the main gate, Wooyeon suddenly collapsed onto a bench. His face was drained of color, as if he might faint at any moment. Wooyeon hunched over, his head bowed, and let out a long groan.

“Ugh…”

He had indigestion. A bad one.

As soon as he left the classroom, his condition suddenly worsened. He wished he could just vomit and feel better, but only his stomach churned, and nothing came out. His head felt dizzy, and his fingertips were cold. While he was doing all this foolishness alone, Wooyeon miserably longed for Dohyun.

‘I miss Teacher…’

Whenever he felt like this, he desperately longed for his teacher. It was because he thought that if the teacher stroked his head and told him it was okay, everything truly would be okay. Just like four years ago, the current Wooyeon would be the same.

‘I miss you…’

If he wished a hundred times that he missed him, would he appear? Wooyeon thought so, hugging one knee. If he went to the main gate, Dohyun would be there, but he didn’t have the energy to go that far now. In any case, even if he met Dohyun, the current Dohyun was just a senior, not his teacher.

Tap, tap—

At some point, raindrops began to fall. The slowly falling rain dappled the ground, soaking the bench and Wooyeon. Wooyeon bit his lip self-deprecatingly and pulled his hoodie over his head.

“…”

If wishing for him to appear worked, he should have appeared four years ago. If everything had gone as he wished, he wouldn’t have cried alone. He wouldn’t have gone to America alone, he wouldn’t have returned to Korea with a faint hope, and he wouldn’t be getting rained on like this.

He was used to abandoning expectations. In that big house, and in America, Wooyeon learned to give up instead of expecting. Whenever memories of Dohyun softened his heart, he suppressed such feelings, thinking they were a luxury.

“Hmph.”

With a short sigh, Wooyeon closed his eyes. His stomach still felt bad, but the flickering hope had been washed away.

Just 5 minutes. Give up within that time.

He thought that, and just as he was about to lift his eyelids.

“…I wondered why you weren’t coming.”

A shadow fell. The raindrops stopped, and the shadow lengthened to two. Wooyeon inhaled, feeling his heart drop. A gentle voice, like a dream, wrapped around his ears.

“You’ll catch a cold.”