[BL] Alpha, You've Got the Wrong Mate!

Chapter 188 — My Love

A warm breeze brushed against his face. A field of red roses stretched beneath his bare feet, their petals swaying gently in the wind. Then, his gaze flickered upward, finding the figure of a young man standing a little far from him. He couldn’t see his face but Ren knew him by heart—by soul. He didn’t need to see to know.

It was unmistakably Ilyan.

The lavender strands were blown gently by the wind, and his skin had a hint of red—like always. He could never stand the summer heat.

However, Ren tilted his head, confused. He was surely lying in a field of snow—the cold biting under his skin. The iron-like scent of blood filling his lungs.

Was this a dream?

He chuckled, shaking those thoughts away. It didn’t matter. He stepped forward to reach the young man.

"Ilyan," he called, gently placing his hand on the man’s shoulder to catch his attention. He had been looking at the distance as if there was something beyond this place.

But Ren’s voice came out strange—not like the one he was used to. It was deeper, rougher, and cracking mid-word. It was nothing like the voice Ilyan used to tease him about at all.

The man turned, sunlight spilling across his face. His pale green eyes glimmered under the light—like the precious gems hung on the walls of the Temple’s hallways. The ones Ren merely admired from a distance—too afraid to touch–too afraid to damage.

However, Ren froze, struck by the sight. Those eyes... he had seen them somewhere else, too.

But where?

His mind searched for a memory that slipped through his fingers like water.

"Are you just going to stand there like a statue?" Ilyan’s tone was playful, the same teasing one Ren remembered. He sat down among the roses and patted the vivid green grass beside him. "Come here."

Without hesitation, Ren obeyed. He moved closer and lowered himself beside him. Then, he leaned his head against Ilyan’s shoulder. The touch was so familiar, so deeply carved into his being that he almost forgot how to breathe.

Ilyan’s scent—the smell of fresh roses, sunlight, and summer—filled his lungs. It hurt, how much he had missed it–how much he had longed for this.

But Ilyan didn’t seem to have missed it all. A bright smile tugged at his lips, and he hummed the song Ren used to love hearing from him, the sound echoing in the background.

Was this a dream? Or was everything he went through the dream? He didn’t know, and honestly, he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember what it was, but he knew it hurt. Extremely. To the point he wished for death.

He wrapped his arms around the man, not too tight for fear he would disappear.

Ilyan chuckled, straightening his legs. He swiftly pulled the man onto his lap, holding him tightly.

"My love, what is wrong? You rarely hold onto me like this."

"What is wrong?..." Ren repeated in disbelief.

Was all that a dream after all? However, it was too vivid to be a mere illusion.

"I thought..." he began, a tremor in his voice. "I thought I would never see you again."

Ilyan chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through Ren’s hair. "You’re always so dramatic. When did I ever say I’d leave you? Hmm? Where would I go without you?"

Ren closed his eyes, face buried in the man’s neck. The warmth seeping from Ilyan’s shoulder felt too real to be a dream. His heart ached—painfully.

"You say that... but you did," he whispered. "You left, and you never came back," his voice cracked despite himself. "You left me all alone," tears welled up in his eyes.

Silence followed.

The breeze faltered, the warm sunlight hitting his skin, causing a slight burning sensation.

Ilyan let out a soft sigh, the sound so soft it almost broke him.

"I’m here now, aren’t I?"

Ren didn’t answer. He just nodded, afraid that if he spoke, the illusion would shatter. The world around them felt fragile, as if held together by that single thin thread.

He wanted to stay here.

Just a little longer.

In this place where time didn’t exist.

Where the blood, the pain, the cold didn’t reach.

And so, he closed his eyes again, sinking deeper into that warmth—unaware of how the roses beneath them had begun to wilt, one by one.

The sounds of a distant voice interrupted his deep slumber. When he came to, his eyes widened at the sight of the dead flowers—once red, now gray.

"I-Ilyan? What happened?" He gasped in horror, quickly pulling himself away, still sitting on his lap but locking gaze with him.

"What do you mean?" The man asked, smiling at him as if nothing was unusual at all.

"Why did everything change?—It was fine before I fell asleep," he frowned, looking up at the sky—heavy dark clouds hovered over them and even the fresh grass had turned brown—dead as well.

"My love," Ilyan whispered, smiling bitterly at him. "What did you expect?"

"What do you mean?.." Ren’s voice trembled. He didn’t know if he was angry, or sad. But the tears forming in his eyes were unmistakable.

The other man exhaled and leaned slightly backward, his hands resting on the ground.

"He is calling for you."

"Who?"

"Hah," Ilyan forced a faint laugh, though his eyes betrayed the pain beneath. "Who else? The one you love. You don’t belong here, Ren. You belong on the bright side of the world."

He reached forward, catching a strand of Ren’s hair between his fingers, running them down its length with quiet fondness. "You still look pretty... even with short hair."

Ren frowned, his chest tightening. "What nonsense are you saying? I love you!" he snapped, glaring at him. "Have you lost your mind?!"

"Really?" Ilyan’s voice was gentle, almost fragile—but it stirred something inside Ren that unsettled him.

The silver-haired man nodded firmly, almost desperately, as if convincing himself and not Ilyan.

"Of course I do."

The lavender-haired man smiled faintly, his expression flickering with sadness.

"Then why did his voice wake you?"

Ren froze. Ilyan’s fingers traced the curve of his cheeks, trembling as if afraid to let go.

He followed the movement of those hands with his gaze, lost for words.

"I just heard a voice," he murmured. "That’s all."

Ilyan’s smile softened, his thumbs brushing the corners of Ren’s lips. "Do you really think it would have reached you," he whispered, "if you had nothing for him in your heart?"