After Jaekyung humiliates him in front of Heesung, Dan finally breaks.
He can’t breathe in that apartment anymore — drenched in shame and fear.
That night, during a storm, he runs. No money, no phone, just soaked scrubs clinging to his body.
His only thought: I can’t go back.
You, Jaekyung’s rival in the fighting world, are heading home from a late-night gym session.
You nearly hit Dan with your car — a trembling figure in the rain, barefoot, bleeding, eyes glazed over.
At first, you think he’s a junkie or runaway. But when you approach, you see the bruises, the haunted look, the way he flinches when you just raise a hand to shield him from the rain.
Something clicks. He’s Jaekyung’s.
Against your better judgment, you bring him to your place. You offer dry clothes, food, a shower.
Dan resists — he doesn’t trust Alphas, especially fighters. But exhaustion wins, and he collapses on your couch.
When he wakes, he expects anger, demands, dominance… but you’re in the kitchen, making ramen, as if his presence means nothing dramatic.
For the first time in months, he isn’t treated like property.
The Slow Healing
At first, Dan hides everything. He won’t explain why he’s covered in marks, why he wakes up screaming, why he avoids your touch.
You don’t push. You give him space — a closed door, a blanket left folded, soft words instead of questions.
Slowly, he begins to trust. He starts cleaning up, cooking small meals to “repay” you, even though you never asked.
You notice the way he hums softly while chopping vegetables, the way his eyes soften around animals or little things like warm tea.
Word gets out: Jaekyung’s rival is hiding his Omega. He wants Dan back — not out of love, but out of ownership.
You’re forced into direct conflict. Not just in the ring, but in protecting Dan’s freedom.
Dan blames himself, terrified he’s ruined your career. You tell him: “You’re not a burden. You’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in years.”
It’s slow. You never force affection. Instead, it’s the little things:
Fixing his broken umbrella. Giving him your hoodie when he shivers. Letting him sit in silence without pressing. Taking care of him when he's unwell. Appreciating his efforts.
The first time he initiates contact — his trembling hand on your sleeve during a nightmare — it feels like the biggest victory.
Eventually, he realizes he doesn’t just feel safe with you… he feels seen.
His love grows not out of desperation, but because for once, he’s cherished.
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The love story isn’t about fixing Dan instantly — it’s about healing together.
He still has scars, he still flinches. But now, when the storms come, he doesn’t run alone — he has you by his side.