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The library was quiet, a low buzz of chatter and tapping keyboards the only sound as Yoongi made his way through the main floor to the lifts.

 

He tapped the button and waited, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

 

It hadn't been a very good day. After a grand total of three hours’ sleep, he’d dragged himself out of bed for his eight AM class--only to receive last week’s assignment back with a less than brilliant grade, accompanied by a note from his professor: please come and see me after class.

 

“Ah, Min Yoongi-ssi,” she greeted as he approached the podium. The rest of the the students were chattering happily as they made their way out of the lecture hall, and he stepped back as he waited for a couple to pass, glancing at his watch again--his afternoon shift started in twenty minutes, and he really needed to get a move on.

 

“Gyosoo-nim," he inclined his head, "you wanted to see me?"

 

"Yes, I thought it would be good to touch base --your past few assignments haven’t been up to your usual standards.”

 

Yoongi shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had a lot of... well, a lot of time.”

 

“Ah, yes, I thought that might be the case. You have a part time job outside of the university, don’t you?”

 

Yoongi nodded. He had two, actually. But he didn’t correct her.

 

“I do understand it’s difficult, trying to balance work and your studies. But, well. Unfortunately, you can’t really afford to have your grades slipping like this.”

 

“I... I know,” Yoongi murmured.

 

Her face softened a little. "You’re still well within the grade requirements for your scholarship, so don't worry too much. I just wanted to warn you.”

 

Yoongi nodded. “Thank you, gyosoo-nim. I’ll work harder.”

 

That, of course, was easier said than done. 

 

If only I didn’t need sleep, he thought, idly, as he stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the library’s top floor.

 

But he was really pushing the limits on that one as it was.

 

To make matters even worse, he'd checked his bank balance on the way over here, only to discover he'd gone into his overdraft--a rare occurrence, since he was usually very careful with his money. But he'd been trying to cut down a bit on his shifts this month (he knew his professor had only been trying to help, but he really didn't need to be told that his work was affecting his studies).

 

Thank god the end of the month--and payday--was only three days away. He'd just have to cut back until then.

 

He stifled a yawn as he stepped out of the lift. The top floor was even quieter, a handful of students scattered about the tables with laptops and stacks of books.

 

It had been incredibly tempting just to go straight home after his shift had finished--but he didn’t quite trust himself not to end up falling asleep under the guise of lying down for a minute (an all too frequent problem).

 

He’d thought he’d have a better chance of getting his work done in the library. At least wasn’t too busy this time in the evening.

 

Passing a student in the process of unscrewing the lid of his thermos, steam rising from the inside as the enticing aroma of coffee filled the air, Yoongi thought sadly of his own, half empty in his bag--and definitely freezing cold by now.

 

He rounded the corner to his favorite table--tucked away in an area which was almost always deserted, and overlooked by a large window with a view over campus, the skyline of Seoul just beyond.

 

It was by far the best table in the library, and it was--

 

Occupied.

 

Yoongi did a double take.

 

There was someone else--some kid--at his table. He stared, first in surprise, then irritation, at the head of dark hair ducked over the books spread out across the desk.

 

On another day, he might have left it. Found somewhere else to sit.

 

But... no. Screw that. He’d had a really fucking shitty day, he was exhausted, and he still had several hours more studying to get done.

 

And he was going to do it at his table. He stepped closer, dropping his heavy bag onto the desk, wincing as his shoulder twinged slightly.

 

He coughed. The kid looked up--and Yoongi found himself staring into a pair of wide, brown eyes. At the same moment, he inhaled, breathing in the distinct scent.

 

Ah. He was an alpha. And, Yoongi noticed, grudgingly, as his eyes scanned the kid's face--kind of, maybe, quite good looking.

 

He shook himself. It didn’t matter if the kid was alpha. And it definitely didn’t matter if he was attractive. (Or if his scent was... oddly appealing.)

 

They both just stared at each other for a long moment.

 

Finally, Yoongi cleared his throat. “Look... sorry to bother you, but I usually sit here.”

 

A faint line appeared between the boy’s brows, and he looked around them. When he said nothing, Yoongi added. “So, could you maybe... move?”

 

“There’s plenty of space over there,” the boy said, slowly, as if Yoongi was particularly stupid. He nodded at over at the row of desks a few meters away--all empty.

 

“I know. But I don’t want to sit over there. This is my table,” Yoongi snapped, a little petulantly. He was aware he was acting like an asshole-- but something about the kid’s attitude just irked him.

 

The boy’s eyebrow raised. “I don’t see your name on it.”

 

Yoongi stifled a growl. “Could you please just move?” He rubbed at his sore shoulder absently, feeling a low thrum of annoyance when the kid still made no move to get up.  He was just... sitting there, looking at Yoongi with an unreadable expression.

 

After a moment, he shrugged. “Fine,” he said, “since you asked so nicely.”

 

Yoongi ignored the heavy sarcasm, breathing an internal sigh of relief. The kid stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, stacking a couple of books on top of his laptop and grabbing the pile.

 

“Thanks,” he said, inclining his head slightly as the boy passed him. “Sorry--I just. Long day,” he muttered, gruffly, after a pause.

 

It came out so quiet he was pretty sure the kid hadn’t heard him--but then he turned, glancing back at Yoongi. Yoongi waited for him to speak, but he said nothing, just stared at him for a few moments.

 

“What?” Yoongi asked, finally, irritated.

 

“I--” the kid seemed to shake himself. “Uh. Nothing.”

 

He turned away, and Yoongi stared after him for a moment, confused, before he huffed. Whatever. The kid was weird. And annoying.

 

He probably thinks the same about you, his brain reminded him, helpfully. Since you just acted like a complete dick.

 

Oh well. It didn’t matter, he told himself, firmly. It didn't matter what the kid thought of him.

 

They'd probably never see each other again, anyway.

 

 

*

 

 

That, however, turned out not to be quite true--much to Yoongi’s annoyance, the kid didn’t go far, instead settling himself at one of the bank of desks a few meters away, the ones he’d originally suggested Yoongi should move to.

 

And if that wasn’t enough, he then pulled out a bag of snacks and began crunching. Loudly.

 

Finally, Yoongi stuck headphones in, tapping the volume key a little too aggressively in his effort to drown out the sound. T hankfully, that worked, and he finally manage to dredge up enough focus to buckle down and get going on his assignment.

 

He jumped, startled, an indistinguishable amount of time later, when a bag was dropped on the table with a light thud.

 

He looked up. “Tae?”

 

“Hey, hyung,” Tae grinned, placing a takeaway coffee cup on the table before dropping his backpack and sitting down, starting to pull out his books.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Came to study with you.”

 

Oh--yeah. Taehyung had asked him earlier if he wanted to do something tonight--and Yoongi had told him he needed to get some work done at the library. That explained how he'd known Yoongi would be here. He was about to ask why he hadn't gone out like he'd said he was going to, but was distracted by the appetizing smell wafting from the bag on the table.

 

“You brought food?” Tae nodded. Yoongi’s eyes fixed on the takeaway cup. “Is that... for me?”

 

“Yep. Just finished work so I thought I’d bring it over for you.” Despite his intense dislike of coffee (“It’s so bitter, hyung! It’s gross!) Taehyung worked part time as a barista at a coffee shop on a campus--the same one where Yoongi sometimes picked up shifts. He probably would’ve headed there instead of the library if it hadn’t already been near to closing when he’d gotten off work.

 

“I love you,” he said, fervently, reaching for the cup and taking a long gulp. “Oh, god. I really love you, Kim Taehyung.”

 

Tae giggled. “Love you too, Yoongi hyung.”

 

“Weren’t you going to go out tonight?” Yoongi finally remembered to ask, a couple of minutes later, around a mouthful of food.

 

Taehyung shrugged. “Yeah. But I probably shouldn’t. I have an essay due the day after tomorrow and I need to start researching it.”

 

Ah. To be a sophomore again, Yoongi thought wistfully. Starting an essay barely over a day before it was due. Damn, he missed that. A lot.

 

“Anyway,” Taehyung added, “I knew you were here, so I thought we could study together. Plus, I figured you probably hadn’t eaten properly, today, so...”

 

Yoongi felt his lips curve into small, fond smile. “You’re the best, Tae," he murmured. "Seriously, thanks. I've... ah, well, I've a pretty bad day, to be honest."

 

“Oh, really?”

 

Yoongi began to fill him in, realizing too late he couldn't mention the issue with his overdraft--if he told Taehyung about that, the kid would probably just insist on helping Yoongi out, which was ridiculous because he hardly had any money himself.

 

Instead, he skipped to the disagreement with the annoying alpha kid-- lowering his voice as the kid in question was still there, only a few meters away from them.

 

Taehyung glanced over when Yoongi mentioned that part--and his eyes widened.

 

“Hyung,” he said, “don’t you know who that is?”

 

Yoongi frowned. “No. Should I?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Have you been living under a rock?” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “That’s Jeon Jungkook.”

 

“Who?”

 

“You know, the kid of that super rich CEO.”

 

“Never heard of him.”

 

"Seriously?" Taehyung asked. "Okay, how about Jeon Corp? Heard of them?"

 

"Yeah, obviously." Who hadn't? The company was well known--they'd traditionally been big in print media, but in more recent years, in an effort to keep up with the times (and the dying print industry) had branched out, with a number of profitable acquisitions in tech and social media.

 

"Well, that's his dad's company."

 

"Oh, right."

 

"Yeah. Anyway, he just transferred here--he studied abroad in his freshman year, at some really big deal American university. But apparently he got in trouble there, and they kicked him out!"

 

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

 

Taehyung shrugged. “I mean... I don’t know. It’s just a rumor. But everyone’s going crazy about him!"

 

When Yoongi just stared blankly at him, Taehyung huffed. “C’mon, don’t be dense, hyung. He’s hot, and he's loaded--apparently his dad’s company is worth millions. He’s on the football team, too. Loads of people--omegas mostly, even some betas--have practically been throwing themselves at him."

 

“Don’t see why,” Yoongi muttered.

 

Taehyung gave him a look. “Really.”

 

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Yes, really. He was rude. And annoying. And he’s not even that good looking.”

 

Taehyung looked decidedly skeptical. “If you say so.” Then he giggled. “I can’t believe you kicked Jeon Jungkook off your table. His dad could probably buy this entire library!”

 

Yoongi shrugged, as if to say who cares. He certainly didn’t--didn’t care about some privileged, entitled, jerk of an alpha--and it seemed as though that’s what Jungkook was.

 

He did move, though, didn’t he, the little voice in the back of his head piped up. And really, you were the one who was acting like a jerk.

 

Sitting here now, pleasantly full, an hour so of studying already done and his Americano craving satisfied, Yoongi found himself a little bit guilty about how he’d acted.

 

He wondered, briefly, if he should apologize.

 

But... no. It didn’t matter, not really. In the scheme of things, was Jungkook really going to care about some random omega with an attitude problem? (Since he couldn’t deny that must’ve been the impression Jungkook had gotten). He probably wouldn’t even remember it in a few days. Wouldn’t remember Yoongi.

 

It didn’t matter.

 

*

 

 

Yoongi was warm. Warm, cozy and comfortable. With a pleased noise, he snuggled deeper under the covers.

 

Ah, if only he could just stay here forever.

 

After a moment, hes sleepily blinked one eye open. What time was it?

 

He fumbled for the phone on his nightstand. And then shot bolt upright. Fuck.

 

He was late. So fucking late. Shit, he must’ve forgotten to set his alarm last night.

 

Yoongi scrambled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. He showered for all of twenty seconds before getting out, drying off, dressing hurriedly and running out the door

 

He realized, halfway down the corridor, that he’d forgotten to bring lunch with him. But it was too late to go back.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he was pushing open the door to the staff entrance, panting. He flicked the hair away from his sweaty forehead, opening his locker and shoving his bag inside.

 

He turned to the uniform rack, and groaned.

 

This was what he got for being late. All the decent outfits were gone (not that any of them were decent, really, but--comparatively speaking). There were only two left.

 

He grabbed one, changing as fast as he could before heading to the mirror. He really needed to get out onto the floor--like, ten minutes ago-- but he also needed to look a little less like he hadn’t slept in two days and had just ran a half marathon (neither particularly far off the truth--but his boss would kill him if he went out to serve customers looking like this).

 

He jumped, startled, when he felt hands on his shoulders.

 

“Hi, Yoongi-ssi!” He turned to see his co-worker Lisa grinning at him.

 

“Stop sneaking up on me like that,” he grumbled. 

 

She laughed. “Sorry.” Then she frowned a little. “Hey, are you okay? You look a bit--”

 

Yoongi sighed, turning to reach for the BB cream he kept in his locker. “I know, I know. I look like shit. I overslept, had to run here.”

 

Lisa shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. You just look tired, is all.” She opened her locker, reaching inside and pulling out a bag of honey chips. Yoongi’s stomach growled--he hadn’t had breakfast and it was already past eleven. “Thank god you’re here, though, it’s so busy today. Sungho-nim wouldn’t let me take my break. I had to pretend I was gonna cry before he finally caved.”

 

Yoongi rolled his eyes. Their boss was somewhat... less than accommodating. (Actually, he was a fucking asshole.)

 

“Hm, that kinda suits you,” Lisa added, through a mouthful of chips.

 

Yoongi looked down at himself with a grimace. The outfit had been the least offensive of the two--though that really wasn’t saying much.

 

The dress was pale pink and blue, the ruffled skirt impractically short--and just to really add insult to injury, the ensemble came with a matching choker and knee high socks. (For fuck's sake What the hell kind of maid dressed like this?)

 

God, he hated this job.

 

When he’d stumbled on the advertisment several months back, it had looked innocuous enough--staff wanted for a tearoom and patisserie.

 

The fact that it specified omegas only was a little odd-- but then, there were still a few omega-only establishments scattered about here and there-- a throwback to a time when it hadn’t been thought appropriate for omegas to venture into public alone, without being accompanied by a beta or, better still, an alpha.

 

He’d sent his CV and the requested photo (again, that part should really have tipped him off) and had been called for an interview. When he’d arrived, and caught a glimpse of what was going on through the cafe’s window, he’d nearly turned right back around and left.

 

The Cookie Jar was decidedly not a tearoom and patisserie. It was a fucking maid cafe. An omega maid cafe.

 

Yoongi was aware of the concept--an all-omega staff catering to a clientele comprised almost entirely of alphas. But he’d never actually seen one before, much less set foot in one.

 

The advertised pay, though, had been decent, and he’d had been more than a little desperate for money at the time.

 

Even so, he’d been on the verge of quitting just a week in. For a start, he hated the costumes they were required to wear-- and they hadn’t even been that bad back then, more or less just standard maid uniforms-- though still revealing enough that Yoongi quickly grew tired of being ogled by alpha customers.

 

He’d been groped two separate times by the end of his first week-- even though it was strictly against policy, Sungho was... lenient, to put it mildly. He typically only told customers off if a staff member complained.

 

And while he did occasionally ban alphas who really overstepped the boundaries, it was extremely rare.

 

But then... there was the tips. By the end of the week, Yoongi had made nearly enough in tips alone to cover a whole months’ rent. Not to mention enough to eat something other than instant noodles for every meal.

 

So, in the end, he’d had to swallow his pride and keep the job. It was humiliating, for sure--but he really needed that money.

 

“I hate it,” Yoongi grumbled, in reply. “Sungho is really fucking pushing the whole maid concept with these new uniforms."

 

Lisa giggled. “They are a bit much.”

 

It was easy for her to say, Yoongi thought. Lisa always managed to pull off whatever ridiculous outfit she got stuck in, looking perfectly at ease. 

 

“You look cute, though,” she added. “Like I said, it suits you.”

 

Yoongi glanced at himself in the mirror. And, okay... so maybe he didn’t hate the outfit, per se. It was... somewhat aesthetically pleasing, he could admit. He’d just rather not wear it in a room full of leering alphas.

 

He said as much to Lisa. She nodded in understanding. “I know,” she sighed, expression growing more serious, “it sucks. But hey, we gotta earn money somehow, right?”

 

“Min Yoongi-ssi!” Yoongi jumped at the sound of his boss’ angry voice.

 

“Ah, Sungho-nim, I’m sorry, I’m--”

 

“You’re nearly half an hour late!”

 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

 

Sungho stared at him in displeasure. “I should deduct this from your wages. And the time last week as well.”

 

“It’s my fault, Sungho-nim!” Lisa piped up. “I was chatting to him, keeping him from going out on the floor!”

 

Yoongi opened his mouth to disagree, but then thought better of it-- their boss had a soft spot for Lisa, and let her get away with a lot.

 

Sungho glanced at Lisa. She blinked at him innocently.

 

Finally, he grunted. “Fine. Just get out there.”

 

Yoongi nodded, mouthing a grateful thank you at Lisa before rushing onto the floor.

 

 

*

 

Lisa had been right. It was busy. After an hour or so of being rushed off his feet, taking orders and serving customers, Yoongi was grateful when one of his regulars requested him for tea, meaning he'd be able to sit down for a little while. He was even more relieved when he saw who it was who had asked for him.

 

Kim Jongsoo was Yoongi's favorite customer by far (not that there was a lot of competition).  Only clients with a certain amount of points on their loyalty card could a request a maid for tea, and most had a preferred maid. Yoongi wasn't really a fan of any of the alphas who typically requested him--though he tried to hide it as best he could--but Jongsoo was the exception.

 

He hadn’t known what to make of the elderly alpha at first. He was quiet and reserved, and their initial conversations had been awkward and stilted. Besides, Yoongi was automatically suspicious of the motivations of anyone who was a regular at an omega maid cafe. 

 

After a while, though, it became clear why the old man came so frequently--he was lonely. His husband had passed away the previous year, and, now in his eighties, he had very few friends and family left.

 

When they’d got to talking, he’d discovered that that Jongsoo had lived a fascinating life. He’d been in the army and had traveled extensively, and was full of stories and anecdotes. He treated Yoongi with a kind of old fashioned courtesy and deference which, while completely outdated, was still vastly preferable to the way the majority of the other customers tended to act.

 

Yoongi liked him a lot--so much that he often spent longer than his allotted time with the alpha, unless Sungho was lurking around.

 

He’d just finished up and was clearing the table, when the door chimed. Yoongi glanced up to see a sizeable group making their way inside--great, it had just started to calm down a bit--and. Oh. Oh, no. They were college students.

 

College kids weren’t the typical Cookie Jar clientele. Their customers tended to be older alphas, with the occasional group of giggling schoolgirls drawn in by the obnoxiously pastel decor and cutesy outfits. The advantage of both groups, however, was that Yoongi was unlikely to run into either anywhere aside from the cafe--the same couldn't be said for students from his own university.

 

The group made their way over to a table by the window, laughing and joking loudly. Yoongi felt himself tense at the overpowering scent--always more pronounced with younger alphas.

 

A moment later, he froze as one particular, familiar scent reached his nose--Yoongi still couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but it didn’t make his nose twitch in displeasure like the others did.

 

He glanced up, and--sure enough, there he was. Jeon Jungkook.

 

He finished stacking the plates and hurried to the kitchen, almost colliding with Lisa.

 

“Shit, sorry,” he said, reaching out to steady her--she was carrying a full tray.

 

“Are you okay?” She asked, frowning at him.

 

“Yeah, I just-- there’s a group of college kids who just came in. Would you mind taking their table?”  It wasn’t an unusual request--Lisa usually agreed to trade tables with him on the rare occasion kids from the university came into the cafe.

 

Lisa made an apologetic face. “I would, but I’ve just been requested by two different tables.”

 

Yoongi sighed. “Ah. Alright. I’ll take them.”

 

“Sorry!” Lisa called after him.

 

Yoongi headed to the kitchen to dump the plates and get a drink of water before slowly heading back out to the table by the window.

 

“Welcome to The Cookie Jar, my name’s Min Yoongi, and I’ll be your server today. Are you ready to order?”

 

“Well... hey,” the closest kid, an alpha with a particularly unpleasant scent, grinned at him, staring unabashedly. The rest of the alphas at the table were doing much the same--except, he noticed, Jungkook, whose eyes were fixed on his menu.

 

“Are you ready to order?” Yoongi repeated, forcing himself not to shift uncomfortably under the leering gazes.

 

“Mm. Yeah,” the alpha said.

 

“What would you like?” Yoongi prompted, when he didn’t continue.

 

The kid licked his lips. “Hm, I think I’ve got an idea...” he drawled, slowly dragging his eyes down Yoongi’s body in a way that made his skin crawl. Several of the others at the table laughed.

 

Yoongi was just fantasising about punching the alpha in his stupid, smug face, when Jungkook suddenly spoke up. “I’ll have a strawberry milkshake, please.”

 

“Okay. One strawberry milkshake coming up,” Yoongi wrote the order down on his pad. “And what else?”

 

This seemed to prompt the rest of the table, a couple of the others glancing down again at their menus, and--aside from a whole lot more inappropriate staring--Yoongi managed to take the rest of their order without incident.

 

He’d brought their drinks to the table and was reaching over to hand the last kid his Coke, when he felt a hand on his thigh.

 

He glanced down, and--of course. It was the same alpha kid from before. He smirked up at Yoongi, as if daring him to do something about it.

 

Ordinarily, Yoongi would’ve been furious. But instead, all he felt for several moments was humiliation. It was one thing being groped by some random, middle-aged alpha. But this kid went to the same school as him--they all did. There was every chance Yoongi would have to see them again.

 

The hand squeezed his thigh.

 

Hyung,” came a quiet voice, and Yoongi glanced over to see Jungkook glaring at the alpha kid, sharp expression entirely at odds with his tone.

 

The alpha removed his hand. “Oops,” he said, still smirking obnoxiously. Yoongi’s hand twitched, the urge to punch the kid in his smug face returning along with a sharp jolt of anger.

 

Jungkook made a low noise, and the alpha rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. Calm down, JK. It was just a joke.”

 

Yeah, really fucking hilarious, Yoongi thought. But all he said was, “This cafe has a strict no touching policy.”

 

He was met with a shrug. “Sorry. My bad.”

 

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “Right. Well," he bit out, "ring the bell if you need anything else." With a final, icy glare, he spun around and left.

 

It wasn’t fucking fair, he thought, that the kid would get away with this. There was no point even reporting him to Sungho--all his boss would do was repeat the same warning Yoongi had already given him.

 

And if he gave the kid a piece of his mind, took him down a few, much needed, pegs--well, then, that’d only succeed in getting him trouble--and at worst, fired.

 

It was useless.

 

He’d just reached the kitchen doors, tray in hand, when he was stopped by Irene, a longtime employee, and a couple of years’ his senior.

 

“I saw what happened, Yoongi-ssi. Are you alright?”

 

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, noona.”

 

“I’ll take over that table for you,” she told him.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

She nodded. “Yes. I know some of those kids, they’re friends with my little brother. I doubt they’ll try anything with me. And if they do, I’ll report them to Sungho--and tell him they harrassed you, too.”

 

“I... okay,” Yoongi agreed, reluctantly. While Sungho didn’t particularly like Irene, she’d worked at the cafe for a longer than any of the rest of them, and had so many loyal regulars that business would probably suffer significantly if she were to quit.

 

Still feeling a little guilty, he let Irene take over the table, heading to the door to greet a group of businessmen who’d just arrived.

 

He’d served them tea--thankfully, they all seemed more interested in discussing some incredibly dull sounding project than they did in him--before he noticed the time. It was finally his break. Thank god--a precious half hour in which he could sit down in peace.

 

He headed towards to the back, mind on his sad lack of lunch--hopefully one of the kitchen stuff would take pity on him. Or maybe--

 

A by now familiar voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

 

“Min Yoongi-ssi?” Yoongi turned, startled, to see Jungkook standing there.  His eyes flicked up and down Yoongi's body, so quickly Yoongi almost didn’t catch it, before snapping up to his face and fixing there.

 

“Yes...?” He asked, frowning slightly. Without his permission, his hand reached down to tug at the hem of his skirt. The way Jungkook was looking at him was... well, not the same way his friend had. But still, it made him feel... weirdly exposed.

 

“I...” Jungkook shifted from one foot to the other, the only sign he was anything other than completely at ease--his expression was impassive as usual (not that Yoongi had been looking at him enough to notice something like that. Obviously). “Look, I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for what happened before, for my friend...” He trailed off.

 

“Groping me?” Yoongi finished for him, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Yes. That. It was..." Jungkook paused, a line appearing between his brows, "... completely inappropriate." Yoongi stifled a snort at his choice of words. “He was being an asshole, and I’m sorry,” Jungkook finished.

 

“Right. Well, thanks, kid. Though your friend really should be apologizing to me himself.”

 

Jungkook hesitated, and Yoongi laughed dryly. “That is, if he was even remotely sorry. Which he isn’t, is he?” He sighed. “Honestly, it’s fucking knotheads like that that make me hate my job,” he muttered, under his breath.

 

It was true, after all. Yoongi didn’t have any deep seated opposition to serving tea and fancy pastries, or even with talking to customers. It was the ones who took at too far, who acted as if they had some kind of... some kind of right to stare at him, to touch him--they were the ones who made it so shitty for him, and for all the other omegas working there.

 

“Why do you work here, then? I mean... if you hate it?” Jungkook's voice was quiet. Yoongi  looked up at him in surprise. For a moment, he thought he saw a hint of something like concern in Jungkook's eyes.

 

But... no. That was ridiculous, he told himself. They didn't even know each other.

 

And it was a stupid question, anyway--Yoongi would have thought that much was obvious. But Jungkook’s tone was genuinely confused.

 

Of course... what would this kid know about not having enough to pay rent and bills, enough to buy food?

 

“Money,” he said, shortly. “Why are you friends with assholes?” He couldn’t resist adding.

 

Jungkook’s brows knitted together. “They’re... they’re not always like that,” he murmured, though Yoongi couldn’t help but think he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

 

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Right. I'm sure they’re all wonderful, upstanding members of the community."

 

Jungkook was frowning now. “Look,” he said, “I just came to apologize. I didn’t ask for your opinion on who I choose to spend my time with.”

 

“Fine,” Yoongi snapped, “well, you did it. You apologized, for something you didn’t even do in the first place. Give yourself a pat on the back, you’ve achieved absolutely nothing.”

 

Jungkook’s eyes widened, and Yoongi suppressed a small wince. Shit. He hadn’t really meant to be that rude.

 

It wasn’t his fault, though, he told himself. He was already in a bad mood--not to mention fucking starving, at this point--and somehow, Jungkook was just making it worse. With his... his stupid asshole friends, his stupid, broad shoulders and irritatingly handsome face, his strangely appealing scent. Everything about him made Yoongi feel as if he’d been thrown off balance, and he didn’t like it one bit.

 

Jungkook was staring at him now. He looked... surprised? Shocked? He probably wasn’t used to being spoken to like that, Yoongi thought, wryly. His eyes had gone wide, and it made him look younger. Yoongi wondered how old he was. Taehyung had said he was a sophomore, so he couldn't be more than, what, nineteen? Twenty?

 

He didn’t speak, and Yoongi huffed. “Well, thanks for apologizing.” Oops. That didn’t sound particularly sincere. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I’m on my break now.”

 

And with that, he turned and stalked off, not sparing Jungkook another backward glance. He wondered if the kid would complain to Sungho about his rude employee. Sometimes Yoongi got the feeling it wouldn't take much for Sungho to find an excuse to let him go. He wasn't even sure the man had wanted to hire in the first place--it had eventually transpired that Yoongi, along with a couple of others, had been recruited to replace several previous employees who'd all quit at short notice.

 

For a while he'd at least had the advantage (if you could call it that) of being the cafe's only male omega staff member--male omegas were comparatively rarer, after all. But there were a couple of others now, too, both of whom Yoongi privately thought were much more suited to the role than he was, much better at playing into the omega stereotype--sweet, cheerful, and accommodating, flirty while still being respectful. All things Yoongi struggled with--having to smile through it all, pretend that he enjoyed being flirted with by alphas twice or three times his age (or... by alphas, period) that he wasn't bothered by being spoken to in a way that was at best patronizing, and at worst, downright creepy.

 

Really, he could completely and utterly understand why, from what he'd heard, one of the previous employees had quit right in the middle of his shift. It was something he fantasised about doing himself. Often.

 

But... he couldn't.

 

So hopefully the kid wouldn't say anything.

 

He managed to scrounge up a slice of walnut cake from the kitchen--not exactly a nutritious lunch, but he did manage to get his hands on a mug of coffee, too--and the rest of his shift, thankfully, passed quickly.

 

It was his turn on the rota, along with Lisa and a couple of the others--Jiwoo, one of the other male omegas, and a new girl whose name he wasn’t sure of--to stay behind for an extra half hour of clean up duty. Yoongi rushed through his section as quickly as possible before heading to the staffroom. He had a free evening, and he couldn’t wait to take the ridiculous outfit off, go home and curl up on his couch with his laptop and Netflix queue.

 

Lisa joined him at his locker after he’d changed back into his (blessedly comfortable and oversized) hoodie and jeans. “Hey... wasn’t that Jeon Jungkook you were talking to earlier?” She asked, eyes alight with interest.

 

Yoongi resisted the urge to bang his head against his locker. “What the fuck," he muttered, "why is everybody on campus obsessed with that guy?”

 

Lisa’s brows raised in surprise. “Woah, calm down. I was just wondering.”

 

“Sorry,” Yoongi muttered. “Just... not really a fan.”

 

Lisa frowned. “Did he do something?”

 

Yoongi sighed. “Ah--no. I just...” he huffed. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

 

Lisa was watching him, expression far too interested for Yoongi’s liking. “Ooh, is there something going on with you guys?”

 

Yoongi’s head snapped around. “What? No. No. What would make you think that?”

 

Lisa giggled. She reached out, gently poking his cheek. “You’ve gone kinda red.”

 

Yoongi opened his mouth to protest, but someone else spoke up first.

 

“I wouldn’t bother if I were you.” It was the new girl. “People are saying he’s slept with half the omegas on campus already. I mean... if you’re looking for a fuck buddy, I guess--but I hear he’s shit in bed, too.”

 

“Yeah, pretty sure that part’s not true," Jiwoo piped up, "one of my friends hooked up with him last month, said it was the best sex he’s ever had with an alpha.”

  

The girl raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? In my experience, alphas like that don’t tend to bother. I mean, he's rich as fuck--and hot, too. Everyone’s gonna throw themselves at him regardless."

 

Jiwoo shrugged. “Well, apparently he did bother. My friend wouldn’t stop going on about it for nearly a week afterwards, said he came like four times.”

 

Yoongi slammed his locker shut, making them all jump. “Gotta go, gonna miss my bus.” He muttered, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

 

“See you tomorrow, Yoongi-ssi!” Lisa called after him as he made his way out, the others echoing her.

 

“See you,” Yoongi called back.

 

He stepped out into the cold night air, shivering a little. The hoodie wasn’t really enough in this weather--he really needed a proper winter coat. However, unless his tips suddenly started doubling, that was unlikely to be a possibility.

 

He made the short walk to the bus stop, leaning against the bench and closing his eyes--okay, so he’d lied, his bus was still ten minutes away--rubbing at his temples in an attempt to assuage the headache he could feel creeping up.

 

Best sex he’s ever had with an alpha.

 

He came like four times.

 

The words popped into his head unbidden, and Yoongi groaned, banging his head lightly against the wall of the bus stop, wincing when the action set off a dull ache in his right temple.

 

Shut up, he told his brain, I don’t care. I don’t care about Jeon Jungkook.

 

I don't care about his sex life. I don’t care who he’s friends with. I don’t even care if he thinks I’m an asshole.

 

I don't care.