Falling for the Omega Idol-Chapter 91: TAEYANG’S HYPER FIXATION

TAEYANG straightened his posture and drew in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before slowly exhaling. He repeated the process, each breath helping him shed the tension and frustration that clung to him. After a few cycles, a sense of calm washed over him. With his mind clear of distractions, he stepped back into the rhythm, allowing his body to flow effortlessly into the dance once more.

He kept dancing, his mind blank, yet his body moved instinctively, perfectly attuned to the rhythm. Despite the emptiness in his thoughts, his movements flowed seamlessly with the beat, as if guided by the music itself.

Anyone watching him would think he was pushing himself to the brink, striving to impress the mentors with his best performance. While there was some truth to that, the real reason was much simpler—he was dancing to avoid thinking about Haneul.

Taeyang had always prided himself on his strong will. When he made a decision, he followed through, no matter the challenge. So why was it so hard for him to stick to his choice to distance himself from Haneul?

It hadn’t even been a day, and he was already struggling. And that was before he heard Haneul sing. Now that he had, that angelic voice—like a gift from heaven—kept echoing in his mind, refusing to fade. That’s why he was pushing himself so hard, just to silence that voice, if only for a moment.

Should he just give in and let his instincts take over? It would certainly make things easier—for him, at least. But it wouldn’t be fair to Haneul, not at all.

If he didn’t put an end to this unhealthy obsession, he knew he would only end up hurting Haneul. How was he so sure? Simple—when has anyone ever had a good experience being the target of someone’s obsession? The answer was obvious. And so was what he needed to do. But why was it so hard to follow through?

It would even be worse in this situation, because he was an Alpha and Haneul was an Omega.

Some might say he was overreacting, but Taeyang knew himself too well. He had a tendency to hyperfixate, whether it was on his music or his deep need to be loved and accepted by his mother.

He had succeeded with the first, but failed miserably with the second. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have stopped seeking his mother’s approval if it hadn’t been for that accident. He really had to die before he could finally let go.

As that thought crossed his mind, vivid scenes flashed before his eyes.

He saw himself being rushed down a hospital corridor on a stretcher, his mother’s desperate cries echoing through the halls. She was begging the doctors to save someone. Taeyang felt an unprecedented happiness at first until he realized it wasn’t him she was pleading for.

He shook his head, pushing those memories away, forcing them out of his mind.

You see? Once he fixated on something, only something as final as death could break the obsession. That’s why he had to distance himself from Haneul now, before this fixation grew any stronger. At least for now, he still had the chance to stop himself.

But what if they debuted together? After hearing Haneul sing, that possibility seemed even more likely. So, what would he do then? Could he still manage to keep his distance?

As he mulled over that thought, another question surfaced: how had he never heard of Haneul before now? With a voice like that, Haneul should have debuted in this survival program. Even though Taeyang had never paid attention to the idol industry or the music they produced, he was sure that if Haneul had debuted, he would have remembered that voice. The fact that he hadn’t meant only one thing—Haneul didn’t debut at all.

He suddenly recalled all the issues his cousin had to deal with because of this program. Since he had never been interested in the idol industry, he hadn’t watched the show when it aired. By the time he debuted as a solo artist, the group that had come out of the program had already disbanded. Focused solely on his own music, he hadn’t paid much attention to what happened to them—other than knowing that three of the members had been blacklisted from the industry after the scandals they caused.

However, being cousins with the CEO of the entertainment company that debuted the group, he had no choice but to learn about some of the major issues that had come up in that world. In hindsight, he was glad he did. Armed with that knowledge, he made sure that the problems that plagued the original show wouldn’t be repeated in this world’s version.

One of those problems was the program’s PD. Taeyang had heard how he abused his position, deliberately preventing contestants he didn’t like from debuting. Could Haneul have been one of those unlucky ones? But even so, with his voice and looks, surely some agency would have signed him. Yet, no such thing had happened.

At this point, he could only think of one possibility—something must have happened to Haneul that stopped him from pursuing a career in music altogether.

The thought made Taeyang subconsciously clench his fists. For a voice like Haneul’s to go unheard felt like a crime. He wasn’t sure what his next step should be, but one thing was clear—if Haneul didn’t debut through this program, Taeyang would do everything in his power, quietly from the background, to help him debut as a solo artist.

And if they ended up debuting together at the end of the program? He’d deal with that when the time came. Maybe, by keeping his distance throughout the show, his fixation on Haneul would fade by the time they debuted.

Hopefully.

But after a few moments, Taeyang let out a soft curse. How could he hope for that when his once-clear mind was now consumed with nothing but thoughts of Haneul?

Yeah. This would definitely be a long and arduous process.