Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A new workplace brings to Hongjoong new opportunities, new coworkers and an entirely new environment; a fresh start. New York City is nothing like Seoul, much less Anyang, and though it's a relief, Hongjoong struggles. A lot. 

He has trouble adjusting, trouble communicating despite having some language in English, and the numbing pain whenever he thinks of Seonghwa doesn’t help. 

They’d talked after their breakup, albeit over text, and agreed to tell their friends it was mutual and they held no hard feelings for each other, despite how untrue it may be. All their friends knew each other, and neither of them wanted to force them to pick sides and split them all apart. 

So lying it was. 

At least in New York, in the States, few people care about his secondary gender, content with making their own assumptions and acting accordingly. That, at least, works in his favor. 

Of course, the biggest change after moving, other than the gaping absence of his now ex-boyfriend, is Jung Wooyoung, his new roommate.

Wooyoung is three years younger than him, born and raised in Ilsan and came to New York on a dance scholarship along with his friend Kang Yeosang, who’s also living with them and is super smart, he’s in law school, isn’t that crazy, but went out just now to pick up food. Wooyoung’s a beta, his friend is an omega, and can he call Hongjoong as hyung?

He says all this in one breath when Hongjoong first steps over the threshold of the apartment and Hongjoong blinks at him, a bit dazed. 

“Kim Hongjoong,” Hongjoong finally says, as Wooyoung continues to grin at him, unfazed. “You can call me hyung, I guess.”

“Cool!” Wooyoung chirps, “Can I know your secondary? You don’t have to say, but it’d make cohabiting easier if we all knew about each other.”

Hongjoong hesitates, teeth sinking into his lip. Then he decides, fuck it, and says, “I’m an omega. Which way is my room?”

Wooyoung doesn't blink at his curt tone, smiling wide, “This way, I’ll show you.”

Kang Yeosang is something of Wooyoung’s opposite, quiet and somewhat meek. This, as Hongjoong learns, is only because he’s shy and within a week, he’s subject to Yeosang brutally destroying the little confidence he had in his DIY haircut. (Okay, even he admits it sucked, but still.)

It’s nice. It’s some companionship in a lonely world of awkward English and tight deadlines and late nights in the studio. Mostly, it helps him forget. 

Hongjoong’s scheduled heat hits somewhere around three months in, planned around four days of leave and the extra weekend. He’s nervous about it, and scared in a way he hasn’t been in years. After all, it’s the first heat he’s had since Seonghwa left. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang insist on helping him through it, even if only by reminding him to eat and drink, and Yeosang offers to help him with his nest. 

Heats haven’t really been sexual with Hongjoong, mostly an overwhelming urge to be with non-existent pack or to cuddle with his mate. Of course, there have been times when he and Seonghwa had done. . . things. . . during his heat, but they were few and far between. After all, unlike normal omegas, it’s not like he wanted to get pregnant. 

It was hard to forget, when that was the very reason Seonghwa had left. 

“Thank you,” Hongjoong says, lip trembling, and Wooyoung hugs his arm, carding his fingers through the hair at Hongjoong’s nape. 

“Anything for you, hyung. Really.”

On his other side, Yeosang leans his head on his shoulder and intertwines their fingers. It feels a lot like love, and if Hongjoong lets a few tears slip down his face, none of them comment. 

His heat takes four, almost five, days and he wakes up in some form of lucidity on Saturday afternoon, cocooned in a nest of familiar scented blankets, feeling oddly empty, and yet content.

Wooyoung is making breakfast, Yeosang scribbling in a notebook, when he emerges, wrapped in a comforter, blinking blearily. 

“Ah, hyung,” Yeosang says, smiling at him. Something warm blooms in his chest, where the emptiness resides. “How do you feel?”

Hongjoong thinks about it. “I’m hungry,” He says. "What's for breakfast?"

“Who’s Seonghwa?” Wooyoung asks one day, as they return from the convenience store, plastic bags with snacks, drinks and hair dye dangling from their fingers. 

Hongjoong freezes, the ice-cream in his hand almost slipping from his hand. “What?” He breathes. 

“Seonghwa,” Wooyoung says, watching him carefully. “You call for him in your heats. A lot. A lot less since the first time but regardless. An ex?”

Hongjoong tries to breathe normally, tries to blink back the reflex tears, tries not to recall the way Seonghwa stared at him with bloodshot eyes, the way his voice rose, the way the door had clicked with chilling finality. 

“Yeah,” He says finally. “We broke up just before I left Seoul. It was a mutual break-up.” He adds, almost by habit. 

Wooyoung nods, lips pursed thoughtfully. Then he says, quietly, almost understandingly, “Was it?”

Hongjoong blinks hard. “It was a while ago anyways,” He says, forcing some cheer into his voice. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything, it’s okay if you don’t want to help again.”

“Don’t be silly,” Wooyoung chides, “Let’s go quick, Yeosang might actually murder us if we take too long getting him his snacks.”

That night, Yeosang and Wooyoung enter his room, cautious in the darkness, and slip under the covers on either side of him to nestle under his arms. 

“Hyung,” Yeosang says quietly. “You know that we love you, right?”

“I know,” Hongjoong says. 

“No,” Yeosang says, insistent now. “We love you. Both of us. And it doesn’t matter if you’re not completely ours, doesn’t matter if we have to wait for the rest of our lives for you. We’re yours, we want to be mates with you, and it’s okay if you don’t want us the same way. We’ll love you regardless.” He hesitates, “You know that, right?”

Hongjoong shuts his laptop and breathes in deeply. He presses his lips to the crown of Yeosang’s head, then turns his head and kisses Wooyoung’s temple too. 

“I know.” He says, “Thank you.”

Hongjoong is at work when he gets the text, although he only sees it several hours later, well into the evening, eyelids heavy and body weary as he trudges home. 

‘Yeosang is in pre-heat. Can you pick up some chicken?’

All exhaustion seems to disappear in a flash.

He’s panting when he enters the apartment, chicken in hand and an extra plastic bag with Yeosang’s favorite snacks.

The smell hits him first, sweet and sharp, like candied ginger. 

“Sang-ah! Wooyoung-ie” He calls, shedding his coat and carefully placing the bags on the counter. He places a few pieces of chicken on a plate and grabs a pair of chopsticks, tucking a bottle of water in the crook of his elbow. The door to Yeosang and Wooyoung’s shared room is closed and he knocks on it twice before cracking it open. 

The two of them are curled together tightly, seemingly naked but for the thin blanket over them. 

“Hey,” Hongjoong whispers, when he sees Yeosang blink wide, round eyes at him, face flushed a peachy red. “Can I come in?”

Yeosang nods, and Hongjoong tiptoes in, easing the door shut. He offers the boy water first, using the edge of his sleeve to dab at the light sheen of sweat. 

“Hungry?” Hongjoong asks, already bringing up a piece to Yeosang’s lips. 

“Thank you, hyung,” Yeosang says, teeth sinking into the crispy skin. Hongjoong smiles at him fondly, brushing away small bits that clung to his lips. Yeosang ruffles at Wooyoung’s hair. “Young-ah. Hyung-nim bought food for us.” 

Wooyoung whines, half-heartedly batting away Yeosang’s hand and Hongjoong laughs quietly. “It’s okay. I’ll wake him up to eat later.”

Yeosang nods sleepily, obediently opening his mouth for Hongjoong to give him another bite. When the plate is clean, Hongjoong pets his head, taking in his scent, eyes half closed as Yeosang nuzzles into his neck. 

“You smell good,” Yeosang murmurs. “Like pack.”

Something warm fills Hongjoong’s chest, and he hums, cupping Yeosang’s bare neck. “Do I?”

“Mm. Like Luna.” 

Surprisingly, Hongjoong feels none of the panic he thought he might, only a warm satisfaction. He kisses the top of Yeosang’s head. “Sleep now. Luna will take care of you.”

Three years after meeting Wooyoung and Yeosang, his pack, they return to Korea. It’s the younger two’s first time in Korea since they were teenagers, and they act appropriately awed by everything around them, amusing Hongjoong to no end. 

The weeks leading up to the departure had been filled with crazed packing and last-minute purchases, and Hongjoong spending hours on finding a decent place to stay that all three of them could agree on. They’d finally settled on a decent-sized flat, near enough to Yeosang’s law firm he’d gotten a job at, as well as Wooyoung’s dance studio, and only a single train commute from Hongjoong’s workplace. 

It’s basically perfect, and as Hongjoong watches Wooyoung races in excitedly to explore the little flat, Yeosang at his heels, he realizes he can’t wait to call this place home. 

All three of them share a room, unused to separation after countless nights spent together, spreading blankets and pillows on the floor in lieu of a bed, making something vaguely resembling a nest.

Hongjoong curls into Yeosang’s side, inhaling the omega’s scent as Wooyoung switches off the lights, content. 

The night is cold, and there aren’t enough blankets to cover them all comfortably, Yeosang’s elbow digging into his stomach in a distinctly uncomfortable way. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter Text

Four years after they get together, Seonghwa breaks up with Hongjoong. If asked, both of them will say it was mutual. 

“It made sense,” Hongjoong shrugs carelessly, uncaring, “I was going abroad for an internship and he had career opportunities elsewhere. If we didn’t break up then, it would've been later. Neither of us are built for long distance.”

What they don’t ever mention, don’t dare to think about the countless fights and tears, finally ending with Seonghwa slamming his hand down on the table, jerking Hongjoong’s attention away from his laptop. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s wearing his coat, a duffel bag in his hand.

“I can't do this.” Seonghwa says. “I’ve tried so long, but you’ve refused to see reason, and I’m done pretending this is something I can’t compromise on.”

Hongjoong is dazed, but a chilling realization is spreading in his gut. “You said you understood.” He accuses. Horrifyingly, he feels his throat clog. “You said, years ago, even before we started dating, that it was okay. You said.”

Seonghwa looks away, a tell-tale tremble in his lip. “I was wrong, I guess. I want a family, I want children with my mate and I don’t want to commit with a relationship with you if that’s not something I can have.”

“Fuck off,” Hongjoong snaps, hands cradled protectively over his abdomen, “It’s been four fucking years, you’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea, we fucking mated a year ago, it’s too late to not commit!”

Seonghwa’s knuckles are white, and his eyes are wet but his voice is firm. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Hongjoong-ah. A clean break is what's best for us.”

“You mean what’s best for you,” Hongjoong spits venomously, “You don’t even want to talk about this. We could have found a solution if you came about this like a fucking adult.” His voice cracks then, his rage draining into plaintiveness. “Please don’t leave. I know you don’t want a pack, but we can work around it, please, Seonghwa, please don’t do this.”

Seonghwa takes a deep breath. “San will come to collect my things later.” He says, instead of a scathing retort. “I’m sorry.”

The door clicks shut and Hongjoong stares at his laptop screen blankly, the images blurring together. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, motionless, only vaguely aware of the hot trickle down his cheeks, dripping into his lap, the faint smell of strawberries lingering in the air. 

It’s hard to come to terms with this. In some ways, he should’ve seen this coming, should’ve approached Seonghwa for what was bothering him long ago. Should’ve spent more time at home so he could see the festering resentment build-up in the alpha as he watched all his school friends get mated, get married, have pups while he sat, with only a pathetic omega who spent days on-end holed up in his studio, refused to have pups, and wanted to wait a few years until marriage. 

An omega who longed to have a pack, but had somehow managed to fall in love with a serial monogamist.

Then Hongjoong blinks, once, twice, and pulls up his email. 

Guess he would be accepting that internship to New York after all. 

Before he knows it, they’ve been in Seoul for almost six months. The rest of their things had arrived from New York, which meant they had actual furniture and dinnerware. Which was good, because Hongjoong wasn’t sure his back could take anymore of the hardwood, abused as it was from countless hours sitting in a chair, hunched over a computer. 

He yawns, stretching out on their little couch. His laptop is set over his lap, still open to his producing program, and he glares at it half-heartedly. He loves his job, really, but sometimes it really makes him want to throw something. And the added pressure of who the song is intended for, the Lee Taemin himself, makes him spend endless hours peering fixated at his screen, obsessed with delivering a flawless tracklist. 

The door clicks open just as he’s contemplating calling Maddox to pick at his brain and hopefully get some feedback.

“Hyung-ie, we’re back!” Wooyoung calls, “We decided to pick up food on the way. Have you eaten?”

Hongjoong turns, smiling at his mates, feeling himself relax as their familiar presence fills the room. “I could eat a little bit. What did you get?”

“Fried rice,” Yeosang says, spreading out the containers on the table. 

Hongjoong scrambles to grab his laptop and save the track it was open to and shut it, keeping it away safely, then leans forward to kiss Yeosang lightly in greeting, the other tilting his head obediently.

“Wooyoung met someone,” Yeosang adds casually as he pulls away and Wooyoung groans loudly. 

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. “Oh, did he now?”

“Traitor,” Wooyoung hisses, sitting down, “And yeah, maybe. He’s just a guy who joined our dance class recently.”

“And who happens to ‘have a face that looks fucking unreal’,” Yeosang says, dancing out of reach of Wooyoung’s responding smack.

Hongjoong giggles, “Oh yeah? Wanna tell Luna about this guy? Are we gonna have a new pack member?”

Wooyoung pouts, “He’s already part of a pack,” He says sulkily, “But hyung, he smells so good, it makes me want to cry a little.”

“An omega?” Yeosang asks, mouth full, and Wooyoung nods. 

Hongjoong leans over to pat Wooyoung’s head, “It’s okay baby, you already have two omegas all for yourself.” 

Wooyoung puffs his cheeks out. “I really like San though, he’s really cute, he has these adorable plushies from when he was in uni and showed me pictures of them.”

Yeosang rolls his eyes, “Why don’t you just ask him out then? Plenty of packs have open bonds. My co-worker Jongho is in one.” 

Hongjoong doesn’t say anything, mind racing, a solid weight forming in his gut. It’s too much of a coincidence, he realizes, and asks quietly, “Not. . . Not Choi San?” 

Wooyoung glances up, cheeks bulging comically and eyes wide. “How’d you know?” He leans forward, “Is he one of your friends from before you moved?”

One of his friends. 

Hongjoong swallows thickly. He had tried his best not to think about them since returning to Korea. Although they had never parted on bad terms, after going to New York contact had gradually faded. Yunho, San and Mingi, though he’d missed them dearly, thinking of them reminded him of Seonghwa, a wound still raw and festering, despite the years. He had never been one for an active social media presence, and because of their overlapping friend groups, all he saw on his feed was Seonghwa with San, smiling gently into the camera, Seonghwa sandwiched between Yunho and Mingi, fairy floss in his hands, Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa.

So Hongjoong had logged off his accounts and changed his numbers, effectively cutting off contact with his oldest friends just because he was a fucking coward who couldn’t get over the guy who dumped him. 

It was something he had regretted for so long, and left coils of guilt squeezing his throat. It was selfish and impulsive and cruel, especially because said friends likely had no clue why he’d suddenly ghosted them immediately after moving away. 

Yunho was his longest friend, the friendly neighbor’s son he’d befriended in elementary school. The one who had been there for every major event of Hongjoong’s life, for his presentation as an omega, his first heat, his mother’s funeral; the list went on. They’d met Mingi in high school, and Yunho had all but adopted the shy, lanky boy at first sight. It had made Hongjoong jealous at first and then he’d seen how Yunho looked at Mingi when the other boy was distracted, eyes overflowing with fondness. It was adorable, and Hongjoong found himself filled with the desire to protect.

Mingi was painfully awkward around Hongjoong, a newly presented alpha. He was clearly more comfortable around Yunho, a beta, but it didn’t take long before he was clinging to ‘his Hongjoong-ie hyung’, demanding cuddles. He shared Hongjoong’s passion for music, and Yunho’s passion for dance, either with one or the other. They’d become an inseparable trio by the end of high school, and had been contemplating pack bonds. 

Then they went to college. Hongjoong went to a different college, a year earlier than the other two, who enrolled together in a college a two-hours journey from his. In college two things happened; Yunho and Mingi met San, a passionate dancer from Namhae, and Hongjoong met and subsequently fell head-over-heels in love with Park Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa melded seamlessly with the rest of them, first as the Hongjoong’s roommate, then his boyfriend. The five of them went through thick and thin together. There was a time when Hongjoong had believed with all his heart he’d have them forever. 

Seonghwa had been clear about his preferences before they’d started officially dating, and he’d held Hongjoong’s painted fingers between his softly on a quiet night, foreheads pressed together. 

“I don’t want a pack,” He had confessed to Hongjoong then, “I understand that this might be a deal-breaker for you, but I just want to make it clear now. I,” He hesitates, and Hongjoong  reaches up with his free hand to cup Seonghwa’s face, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin of his cheek reassuringly. “I don’t have the best experiences with packs and pack bonds. I’ve seen how messy they can get, and I don’t want that for me. I’ve only wanted a mate, one person to go through life with.” He looks hopefully at Hongjoong. “Is that okay?”

Hongjoong thinks it over. Something in him twists angrily, feeling his little fantasy of the five of them forming one happy pack shrivel and die, but if it means having Seonghwa. . . It’s not the worst sacrifice he could make, he realizes, and gives Seonghwa a smile. “It’s okay. I,” He takes a deep breath, “I don’t want to have pups. I do,” He backtracks, “But not my own. I can never give you pups that are half-me and half-you. The thought of getting pregnant terrifies me, and if you don’t want to be with a useless omega then now’s your chance to back out.”

“You’re not useless,” Seonghwa says fiercely, eyes blazing. It’s ridiculously hot. “Oh darling, please never say that about yourself, okay? I want you, Hongjoong, not what you can give me.” He lets go of Hongjoong’s hand and winds his arms around his shoulders, fingers twisting strands of bright red hair. “We’ll figure this out,” He says and kisses Hongjoong on the cheek.

Later, as they lie in bed, separately because it’s too hot to cuddle but fingers interlocked between them, Hongjoong says, “Go out with me tomorrow? We can watch that movie you wanted.” and Seonghwa squeezes his hand. 

In hindsight, Hongjoong should’ve known something would give; after all, Seonghwa had never said it was okay. Only that they’d ‘figure it out’. How typical of him. 

“Hyung?” Yeosang asks carefully, “Are you okay?”

Hongjoong blinks hard, unable to withhold the tears at the sudden onslaught of memories. “I’m fine, just. . . It’s been a while since I’ve thought about them. They must be furious with me.” He laughs, but it’s a brittle, fragile thing. 

Wooyoung frowns. “Why would they be mad? People drift away all the time, it’s not that uncommon. I’m sure they wouldn’t blame you.”

Hongjoong cringes. It’s at times like this that he regrets never telling Wooyoung and Yeosang the full story of everything. Wooyoung is asking a harmless question, but it hurts.

“Not. . Not exactly,” He hedges, and then sags, suddenly not hungry anymore. “Listen, can we talk about this later?”

He stands up quickly, plate in hand and goes to the kitchen, pretending not to notice the concerned look Wooyoung and Yeosang share. He washes his plate numbly and hangs it up to dry. His hands are shaking. 

He leans forward, hands on the edges of the sink. He’s crying, he realizes. He misses them. Hongjoong misses them so fucking much. 

Being with Seonghwa had meant sacrificing his dreams of a pack with his dearest friends, and though they had all discussed it, they had all been okay with it, he couldn’t help but mourn what could have been if he and Seonghwa had never dated. It made him resent the man, the fact that he’d pretended to be okay with something he wasn’t and that ended up tearing everything apart. Seonghwa had been everyone’s friend, and he knew how fond they’d all become of him, with or without the label of Hongjoong’s boyfriend. 

And no matter what, Hongjoong knew that he couldn't break their hearts by telling them about it, he couldn’t force them to give up Seonghwa just because Seonghwa had given up on him. 

And yet. . . They’d been his friends first, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Seonghwa got to show up in his life, make him fall so deeply in love, be so good to him, be so irrevocably kind, get along so well with all his friends that it was like he’d been a part of them all along, and then break up with him in the harshest way imaginable, that even thinking about him made his omega wither up. 

He’d lost his appetite, lost his drive to do anything following the break-up. It’d come to the point where his brother had staged an intervention, forcing food and water down his throat and making him swear on their mother’s grave that he wouldn’t do anything dumb while in New York. His brother was the one to suggest changing his number, detaching himself from everything that even reminded him of Seonghwa. 

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this,” His brother had begged, “Do this for me. Do it for yourself, please. It doesn’t have to be forever. Just until you. . .”

 ‘ Until you get over him’ went unsaid. 

Getting over Park Seonghwa was a truly impossible task. 

It was a little funny, he thinks now, through the tears he’d never shed for all the things he’d lost. San and Mingi often joked about who was their favorite among the two, and whenever they fought, they cried over who would get custody. It seemed Seonghwa had won that, even if it was because Hongjoong had simply run. 

He chokes on a little sob, head hanging low, faded blue hair hanging down. A pair of arms wind around his waist, and Wooyoung’s soothing scent, like fresh citrus fruit, wraps him in an embrace. 

“I’m sorry hyung,” Wooyoung says quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Hongjoong closes his eyes, “Don’t be sorry,” He says, “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He clasps Wooyoung’s hands, and raises them to kiss his palms gently. “There’s so many things I never told you and Yeosang, I guess I’d just hoped if I ignored it long enough, I’d never have to face it.”

“Hyung,” Yeosang says, leaning against the counter. His eyes are soft, and his voice a gentle murmur. “You know, you don’t owe us anything. No matter what happens, we’ll be with you. And we’ll wait for you to be ready to tell us, no matter if it takes months or years.”

Hongjoong shakes in Wooyoung’s hold, hot tears sliding down his face. He reaches one hand toward the other omega who steps in swiftly to hug him close, shielding him from the world. Encased in the protective canopy of their arms, Hongjoong ducks his head closer, grips them both tighter, and cries. 

Chapter Text

Yeosang picks up the call just when Hongjoong is considering hanging up.

“Yeosang-ah,” Hongjoong croons into his phone, laughing at the heavy sigh Yeosang gives in response. “I’m taking an early day, do you want to get lunch with me?”

“Sure,” Yeosang says eagerly. It wasn’t often that they got to eat lunch with Hongjoong, mostly having shared, hurried breakfasts, or late-night dinners on the days he actually returns at a sane hour. “I’ve already decided to go with Jongho and his packmate, do you want to join or should I cancel?”

Hongjoong mulls it over, lips pursed thoughtfully. “I’ll join you guys.” He decides. “It’s about time I meet your coworkers anyways.” Hongjoong shoulders his bag higher up, chewing thoughtfully on a brightly painted nail. “Text me the address, yeah? I’ll be there in ten. And could you order something to-go for Wooyoung; he’s busy but I figured I’d drop something off at his studio in case his classes run late.”

Yeosang hums affirmatively. “I will. See you, text me when you get there.”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong says, and chirps, “I love you!” and cuts the call before Yeosang can respond, grinning. A moment later, his phone chimes with a text from Yeosang with the address of the restaurant. Then another text:

I love you too :/

He chuckles fondly. Even after three years, he can hardly believe how lucky he got. Wooyoung and Yeosang, although they might not know it, had been somewhat of a rock in the turbid, unfamiliar waves he’d been thrashing in for weeks that’d stretched out until exhaustion pulled at his limbs and the only thing keeping him going was a fervent dream, and a brother’s desperate plea. 

Late nights spent in the studio, eyes burning with strain and heart aching with countless rejections and criticisms, it was comforting to have a place to return to that wasn’t filled with tension. His relationship with Seonghwa had really derailed the last several months, both of them full of their own frustrations, obsessing over their works, and refusing to be the first one to reach out. It came to the point where Hongjoong found himself unwilling to go home from work, reluctant to see Seonghwa; it would just end up in another fight anyways, and Seonghwa taking longer and more frequent business trips.

 It was a bit shameful to admit, but Hongjoong felt most comfortable in his home when he knew Seonghwa was out, and wouldn’t come back for a few days. He could sleep in his bed peacefully without worrying about waking up to spiteful glances and passive-aggressive remarks, which he’d return in kind, eventually devolving into a shouting match that’d only end with either Hongjoong or Seonghwa leaving the house, only returning when they were sure the other was asleep or out. 

The only time they’d willingly share their spaces with one another that didn’t end in anger was their synced heats and ruts. The days of whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears were in the past, hardly conceivable now. They’d both say little, only holding each other, both hoping for their fragile peace to last as long as it could. When the urge came, the air was filled with sharp gasps and muffled moans, that gradually dimmed and then the silence returned. 

They had tried. They had really tried to make it work. They’d tried to talk, tried to reason with the other, tried to dig into the other to find their problem and fix it. 

“I’m lonely,” Hongjoong had finally said, nails digging into his palm, after Seonghwa had sat down across from him, a determined look on his face. 

By the startled look on the alpha’s face, that wasn’t the answer he expected. “What?”

“I’m lonely,” Hongjoong repeated. “I get sad when I come home and you’re asleep, or you’re not home, and then I get mad at you for making me feel that way. I want to have people to nest with, I want. .” He faltered. Looked away.

“You want a pack.” Seonghwa said emptily. He laughs bitterly. “Of fucking course, you do.”

Hongjoong’s lip curled. “Watch your tone,” He growled. “I can’t help what I feel. My omega wants a pack. I can’t stop the feelings that come with that.”

“Sure, use your omega as an excuse,” Seonghwa said harshly, “Just say I’m not enough for you.”

Hongjoong shot up. “Park Seonghwa, you know that’s not fucking true. All I want is you, but I can’t help it when you’ve been actively avoiding me for months.” 

And on and on they went. Eventually, something had to give. And it did. 

Hongjoong exhales, rubbing his eyes in aggravation. Fuck, something about being in Korea made him think more about Park Seonghwa since he’d moved than he had in years. 

He enters the restaurant, a quaint family diner, and spots his mate immediately, with his bleached head and slightly overgrown roots, sitting with two other men who had their backs to him.

He should do a touch-up, Hongjoong reflects, and mentally puts down that Saturday as ‘Hair Day’. All three of them were long overdue for a proper haircut. And Hongjoong has been eyeing that purple dye for a while now, anyway. 

“Sang-ah!” He calls, and Yeosang glances up, lips curling upwards. 

“Hyung! Come sit, we already ordered, if that’s okay.” 

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong kisses Yeosang on the cheek softly, as he sits and finally turns to look at the other two. 

He identifies Jongho immediately from the selcas Yeosang often sends into the group chat, with a round face and rounder eyes. 

The other man is startlingly familiar to Hongjoong and he freezes, transfixed, gazing wide-eyed at slender eyes, and a long, handsome face that slackens in surprise, full lips parting in a gasp. 

“Hongjoong hyung?” Mingi rasps, his voice somehow even deeper than it was in college. 

Hongjoong gapes at him soundlessly, and Mingi fumbles with the napkin he holds. 

“Hyung,” Jongho says, peering at the two of them curiously. “You two know each other?”

“We did,” Mingi says. 

Hongjoong flinches.

“Is he-?” Yeosang lets the question hang in the air and Hongjoong nods numbly, unable to look away, drinking in every detail. The heartbreak is evident on Mingi’s face, quickly getting covered by scorned indifference.

“Well,” Jongho says. His arm is wrapped around Mingi’s shoulders protectively, and Hongjoong tries not to stare. “I’m Jongho. It seems you both know each other already.”

Hongjoong concentrates on his hands, picking at the polish of his ring finger. “I’m Hongjoong.” He says, and Jongho nods thoughtfully. 

“That’s who I thought you were, but it’s nice to be right,” He says. 

Whatever he was going to say next is cut off by the waiter bringing their food, four bowls of noodles set in front of them. 

An awkward silence blankets them. 

“Uh, so Mingi-ssi, Jongho said you’re a producer? Hongjoong hyung is a producer too, funny isn’t it?”

“Not really.” Mingi says flatly, and Yeosang droops. 

Hongjoong stiffens, “Ya, Song Mingi.” He says warningly, but Yeosang grips his elbow tightly. 

“It’s fine hyung.” He says calmly. 

Jongho clears his throat. “You know, whenever I thought of the infamous Kim Hongjoong, I always pictured more of a jerk, so this is kinda throwing me off. You and Yeosang are mated?”

“We’re pack,” Yeosang agrees, and Mingi snorts. 

“Of course you are.” He mutters. 

Once again, silence falls, interrupted only by the sounds of cutlery against the bowl. Hongjoong pushes his bowl towards Yeosang, appetite good as gone, and mouth dryer than sandpaper. 

“Hyung,” Yeosang says softly as they stand, Hongjoong carrying the bag with food for Wooyoung “I have to go to work, will you be okay?”

Hongjoong inhales deeply. “I will.” He turns to Mingi and Jongho. “Mingi. Can we talk? If you aren’t busy after this, of course, or we can set another time and talk then?”

Mingi glances away. He’s holding Jongho’s hand tightly. “We can talk now. There's a park around the corner we can go to.” 

Hongjoong nods, and then spends the next three minutes arguing over the bill. “I’m the eldest here,” He says firmly, “Sang-ah, you can pay next time.” He’s lying through his teeth and Yeosang knows it, shaking his head with a sigh. 

As always, he eventually acquiesces, and Yeosang catches his hand as they leave, falling two steps behind Jongho and Mingi.

“Hyung, you’re alright?” 

Hongjoong sighs. “Yeosang, honestly, with San showing up at Wooyoung’s studio, this seemed predestined. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and I needed to face them eventually.” Impulsively, he cups Yeosang’s cheek lightly, startling the other omega. It was rare for him to engage in acts of affection so publicly, after all. “I promise to tell you and Wooyoung tonight about. . . well, everything. I think it’s time.”

Yeosang smiles at him reassuringly. “I’ll see you later hyung. Text me when you get home.” 

Hongjoong nods tightly, and after a moment of deliberation, surges forward, pressing a quick kiss to Yeosang’s lips, “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

Yeosang steps away from him, falling in step with Jongho as they walk toward their firm, and Hongjoong swallows, gathering his will and turning to Mingi, who’s already walking, presumably in the direction of the park. Hongjoong follows quietly, the plastic bag between his fingers swinging with every step.

It’s a work day, and lunch hour is ending, so the park is quiet and relatively empty. Mingi sits down on the nearest bench, and after a moment of hesitation, Hongjoong follows. 

“How have you been?” Hongjoong asks quietly, unable to stand the silence. “You and Jongho-ssi. . . How long have you-?”

“Ya, Hongjoong,” Mingi says and Hongjoong clamps his mouth shut, a familiar guilt tightening around his chest, squeezing his lungs. “I don’t want small talk, I don’t want to try to reconnect like nothing ever happened. I want answers, and if you’re not going to give them, don’t bother wasting my time.”

Hongjoong stares at the toes of his sneakers. They were nice sneakers, a joint gift from Wooyoung and Yeosang for his last birthday, and he’d spent several hours reforming them, often with one of his mates sitting next to him, or draped over his back, enjoying each other's company. He fixes his gaze on the blue peace sign on the toe, teeth digging into his lip. Finally he says, “Ask. I promise to answer all that I can.”

Mingi finally turns and meets Hongjoong’s eyes, jaw set. “Keep your promise,” He warns and then says, “The break-up wasn’t mutual, was it?”

It’s far from the first thing Hongjoong expected to hear, and his voice catches for a moment. 

When the moment draws out a beat longer than it should’ve, Mingi scoffs, standing up, “Forget it,”

Hongjoong snaps back to sense, and grabs his sleeve quickly. “Mingi, please, wait. I’ll answer, I was just. . . Caught off guard.” Slowly, Mingi sits down again, and Hongjoong licks his lips. “You’re right. Me and Seonghwa. . . We didn’t part on good terms.” Just saying it aloud releases a weight off his chest he never knew he had and he exhales deeply, before looking back at Mingi. 

He looks. . . Shocked is not the word, more like a resigned disappointment. 

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” He whispers, and Hongjoong’s eyes smart. 

“I, no, we couldn’t do that to you all.” He says, “Neither of us wanted for you to have to pick sides. No matter what happened, you all loved Seonghwa, and I didn’t want him to be alone when I. . .” He trails off. 

“When you left?” Mingi completes flatly. “Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but the only person I’m still in contact with is San. Whatever bullshit plan you had to ‘keep us all together’ failed, because guess what, it wasn’t the break-up but you leaving that tore us all apart in the end.”

Hongjoong jerks. “What?” He breathes.

Mingi’s head droops, twisting one of many rings he wore. “After you left, and presumably changed your number too, Yunho was devastated. All of us were, but Yunho especially. He even went back to your hometown to track down your brother and ask him where you were. I don’t know what happened, but when he came back he refused to talk to Seonghwa hyung.” Mingi’s voice cracks, and he wipes a stray tear away aggressively.

Hongjoong feels his heart break as he watches Mingi cry, helpless, longing to reach over and comfort him, but certain his attempt will be rebuffed. 

“Yunho hardly talked to any of us after that, and it was pretty obvious that something had happened with you and Seonghwa hyung, and none of us believed that ‘mutual’ crap. Seonghwa hyung took it hard. He refused to tell us anything because he said you didn’t want us to know,” Mingi said with a sardonic smile. “Fat load of good that did. San and I were basically caught in the middle, with Yunho, who’d become a stranger to us, and Seonghwa who basically threw himself into work. He got drunk once, and all he’d talk about was how much he’d fucked up.” 

Hongjoong’s nails press crescents into his palms as he listens, throat tight and tongue too heavy to speak.

“Yunho was the first to leave. He said he’d return to his hometown and then just up and left. Other than New Years and birthdays, we don’t even text anymore,” His voice is empty and Hongjoong’s chest aches for him. “The next one to leave was Seonghwa. He called up me and San, apologized and told us not to contact him anymore. That we were better off without him.” Mingi shrugs, almost uncaringly, but Hongjoong can see the slight tremble of his hands. “And then it was just me and San. We met Jongho almost a year ago, and he helped us get through. . . everything. And that’s it.”

“Mingi-ah,” Hongjoong says, “I’m sorry, and I’ll accept it if you say no, but can I please hug you.” 

Mingi shudders, eyes squeezed shut. Then, almost hesitatingly, he nods. 

It’s all the answer Hongjoong needs and he launches forward, all but landing in Mingi’s lap. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, please believe me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Mingi’s arms come around him, fisting the material of his sweater, clinging to him in a way that’s familiar to both of them. “Don’t go.” He begs and Hongjoong rubs a hand along his spine. 

“I won’t.” Hongjoong says firmly. “I’ll never leave you again.”

Eventually they leave the park, Hongjoong anxious to deliver the food he’d picked up to Wooyoung, all too aware of the youngest’s tendency to skip meals while immersed in dancing. 

“Ah,” Mingi says, when Hongjoong tells him. “That’s where San works as well.”

“Are you busy?” Hongjoong asks nervously. “Do you want to go together? We can talk on the way”

Mingi beams at him, eyes disappearing into crescents, and Hongjoong feels his heart melt with fondness. 

“I owe you all an explanation, but I have to ask you,” Hongjoong says, “why did Yunho, why did he. . . I didn’t realize he’d take it so hard.” 

Mingi blinks. “Of course he would. Hyung, he was in love with you, it all but destroyed him when you just disappeared on us.”

Hongjoong chokes, almost tripping over his own feet. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

Mingi sighs. “Yunho was in love with you.” He says patiently. He doesn’t look surprised at Hongjoong’s reaction, only defeated. “Somehow, I’m not surprised you didn’t know.”

“No,” Hongjoong protests, “It was you he was in love with. You and Yunho were always. . .” He trails off. 

A flicker of anguish crosses Mingi’s face, before it clears away. “Yunho and I never would’ve worked out. Not without you anyways.” He clears his throat. “Anyways, tell me about you now. Where have you been all these years?”

“New York City,” Hongjoong says. “I accepted an internship abroad, and the studio there decided to hire me, so I stayed there for three years. It’s also where I met Wooyoung and Yeosang.” He smiles softly at the thought of his mates, “Coming back to Korea was a joint decision. Wooyoung had a friend who offered him a position in his choreography team, one of my sunbaes, when he heard, helped me find a job in Seoul as well. And Yeosang was basically snatched up as soon as he sent out his resumé.”

Mingi watches him carefully, an unfamiliar sobriety in his eyes. “You really love them, don’t you?” 

Hongjoong ducks his head to hide the truly embarrassing grin he wore. “I do. But you didn’t hear it from me. Wooyoung it as an open invitation to be casual with me, the brat.” His voice drips with fondness. It’s horrific, he realizes and takes it as his cue to shut up.

He sneaks a glance at Mingi to see if he notices and is startled to see the alpha with glittering tear tracks over his cheeks.

“Mingi,” He reaches up tentatively, “Are you okay?”

MIngi smiles at him, lip quivering. “I’m happy for you, hyung, I really am. But. . . Why not us? Why didn’t you form a pack with us like we’d talked about in school? You left us then as soon as you went to college and met Seonghwa hyung, then after him, you moved on to other people. Are we so replaceable to you?”

Hongjoong freezes. “I didn’t-” He falters, unable to string together his words and Mingi turns away. 

“Don’t answer that please.” He says hurriedly, and jogs forward so as to keep some distance between them. “Hurry up, at this pace we’ll reach the studio tomorrow.”

Hongjoong is still thinking about Mingi’s words when they reach the studio. Before they go in, he pulls Mingi back by the arm until the taller male is facing him. 

“Let me give you my number,” Hongjoong says, holding one hand out for the other’s phone as he pulls his own out. “We have a lot to talk about. I have a lot to explain.”

Mingi stares at him and Hongjoong frowns, shaking his outstretched hand. 

“Well?”

Mingi snaps out of whatever daze he was in and fumbles for his phone, passing it to him. 

As Hongjoong puts the data in, he says, forced casualness in his voice, “For what it’s worth, it broke my heart when I left you all. None of you are replaceable and I never want to hear you say something like that about yourself again.” He hands back Mingi’s phone, then, with an exaggerated scowl, flicks his arm. Mingi yelps, and he gives him a glare, “That’s for talking down to me at the restaurant, cheeky brat.”

“Hyung,” MIngi whines and Hongjoong laughs, all but skipping to the studio entrance. 

Before he can reach the doors, they swing open. 

“Hongjoong hyung.” Wooyoung says, eyes wide with surprise. And because the universe hates him:

“Hongjoong hyung?” San breathes.

Chapter Text

When Hongjoong had been in his final year of college, working obsessively into the night on a semester project as Seonghwa slept deeply next to him, fingers loosely curled in the sheets, his phone had rang, and he’d scrambled to pick it up so as to not disturb Seonghwa, who had just turned in his own assignment the day before and crashed immediately. 

It was late, and he wondered who could possibly be calling him at, he checked the time quickly, 3:40 in the morning. San was probably the last person he’d expected and worry surges through him.

“San-ah? What’s wrong, is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“Hyung-nim,” San slurred from the other end. There was a muffled sob, and then, “Can you come pick me up?”

It’s probably the most successful anyone had been getting Hongjoong to stop working. He was already pulling on his coat, phone pressed to his ear, as he told San to stay exactly where you are, Hyung is coming in ten minutes, okay?

San was sitting on the sidewalk when he found him, face flushed red and swaying as he sang softly to himself, dried tear tracks on his face. 

“Sanie.” Hongjoong called, and San looked up, a wobbly smile forming on his face. 

“Hyung!” He cheered, and held his arms out expectantly.

For once, Hongjoong didn’t think twice about walking into the other’s arms, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” He whispered, “San-ah, you’re freezing. Are you okay? What happened, why are you out so late?”

He pulled away to shrug off his coat and wrap it around San securely, pulling him against his side with an arm around his waist to steady him. San seemed to have not heard what he said, staring intently at a freckle on Hongjoong’s exposed neck. Hongjoong sighed. 

“Hyung,” San said, before Hongjoong could say anything, half-incoherent, but seemingly determined to say what he wanted, “Hyung, do you know? I really want this forever. You, and Seonghwa hyung, and Yunho and Mingi and me, I don’t want us to ever not,” he frowned, grasping for words, lips pushing out into a pout, “to not, you know, friends. To be friends. Even if we have fights, or have mates or join another pack.”

Hongjoong hissed as San stepped on his foot, descending into unintelligible mumbles. Half of what San said was garbled, and he could only pick up their names from whatever jumble had fell out his mouth. “Yah Choi San, why’d you drink so much, you have morning classes, for fucks sake.”

To his horror, San burst into fresh tears, “Hyung-ie, don’t hate me please.”

Hongjoong awkwardly patted his back, gritting his teeth as San crushed his toes under his boot again. “I don’t think it’s possible to hate you,” He said tiredly. “Don’t cry San-ah,” He backtracked quickly when that only made San wail into his shoulder, “I promise I won’t ever hate you.”

San looked up, lower lip jutting out and eyes shimmery with tears. “Even if I said I wanted Seonghwa hyung too?” 

Hongjoong stiffened, blood becoming ice in his veins. It wasn’t something completely out of the blue. He had suspected for years that San had held a torch for Seonghwa, never really begrudged him for him either; it was hard not to fall for Seonghwa and San had never done anything inappropriate, wholly respectful of Hongjoong’s relationship with him. But knowing it was one thing and hearing it said aloud was another. 

San sniffled quietly, and Hongjoong sighed, reaching up with his free hand to brush away the stray strands of hair from his forehead. “I promise,” He said, “Let’s go home now, hm?”

In the weeks following his unexpected meeting with Mingi and San, and by association, Jongho, Hongjoong spends all his free time searching for Yunho. 

The revelation that despite his efforts, everything was ruined, and all that he’d feared had indeed come to pass. He can’t shake away the memory of Mingi, with heartbreak in his eyes, a desolate loneliness as he told Hongjoong of what he’d done. Couldn’t forget the wide-eyed disbelieving look on San’s face, unable to even accept that Hongjoong is there that it’s not a figment of his imagination, and he’s not hallucinating from overwork. (Which is actually seriously concerning, Hongjoong has been meaning to ask him about that.)

Something else that takes him off-guard is how well everyone gets along. Wooyoung and San act as if they’ve known each other for years, and Yeosang melds with them almost seamlessly. Jongho, as Hongjoong finds, is quiet and sensible, but just chaotic enough for Wooyoung to adopt him immediately. Mingi, who’d bowed a perfect ninety degrees when he saw Yeosang again, apologizing for snapping at him, also warms up quickly, to the point where Hongjoong can get home and find five bodies curled together in the living room in a makeshift nest of blankets and borrowed clothes. 

It’s something he’s never even dared to imagine in his wildest dreams, and makes his Luna swell with pride at his pack, both packs, getting along so well. It also makes him miss Yunho all the more, so he doubles his efforts to try and find him, even when it becomes abundantly clear that wherever Yunho is, he doesn’t want to be found.

What a coward Hongjoong was, so certain that running away would solve all his problems. 

He wakes up one day, still in his studio where he’d fallen asleep at some ungodly hour, burning hot and his clothes soaked in sweat, his whole body aching.

“Fuck.” He says, and fumbles for his phone, mind racing. His heat wasn't supposed to be for another month, and he’d been lucky so far to be pretty timely in that aspect. Of course his body had decided to betray him this time. No doubt it was a stress heat; he thinks, somewhat spitefully. His experiences with stress heats have been horrible; they hit hard, and though they lasted only a few hours or at the most, a full day, they were a bitch without someone around to take care of him. Clearly, he’d reverted to bad habits. 

He hits the speed dial for Wooyoung’s number, and the other picks up within three rings. 

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong whimpers before Wooyoung can say anything. “Can you come pick me up?” He stifles a cry as he moves a little, pain flaring in his abdomen and pelvis region. “I think I’m in heat.”

There’s a commotion on the other end, and then Wooyoung’s voice comes through, steady and comforting. “Is it a stress heat? Do you want me to bring you anything with me?”

Hongjoong shakes his head, belatedly remembering Wooyoung can’t exactly see him, and groans, “Just come get me, please.”

The travel journey between their apartment and the studio is twenty-ish minutes, maybe fifteen if you sprint. Wooyoung makes it in ten, with an armful of scented hoodies and scent blockers. 

Hongjoong is only vaguely aware of Wooyoung bundling him up, hushed whispers that sound garbled to his ears as he’s lifted up carefully. 

He must have fallen asleep somewhere in the middle, because he wakes up in a hastily made nest in their room, an insistent pressure in his bladder. He can feel a heavy weight on top of him, and opens his eyes, ready to push off his mate, whichever one it happened to be, so he can relieve himself. 

He freezes. 

San groans softly as he’s jostled, nuzzling closer to Hongjoong’s neck. Now that he’s aware of it, Hongjoong can smell San everywhere, his soft honey scent infused with the lingering scents of Yeosang and Wooyoung. It feels right, and it scares him. 

San shifts again, and his knee presses into Hongjoong’s abdomen and he hisses, carefully pushing the omega off of him. Right or not, he really needs to pee.

Hongjoong slides off the bed and quietly and gently as he can, so as to not wake the other, unwilling to be the one to disturb the smooth, relaxed look on San’s face. When he’s done, he comes back to San sitting up on the bed, his bleached hair an adorable mess, sticking out in every direction and eyes wide and confused. 

“Where’d you go?” He asks through a massive pout, as if Hongjoong had personally offended him, and Hongjoong blinks. 

“Bathroom. I had to piss.” Hongjoong tries to order his thoughts, “San, why are you, no, how are you here? Where’re Wooyoung and Yeosang?”

San’s pout seems to grow even more. On anyone else it’d look ridiculous, but somehow he still manages to look cute. “Do you not want me here?”

Hongjoong sighs, climbing into bed, pressing a pillow to his stomach, “Not even remotely what I asked,” He reminds San, “What happened? My memory is a bit fuzzy.”

“You called Wooyoung just when he’d reached the studio,” San says, reaching for Hongjoong’s foot, oddly reminiscent of a cat. Hongjoong jerks, tucking his feet under him and San huffs, “I happened to be there, so we took the car to pick you up as quick as we could. Yeosang took a leave and came as well.” He squirms a bit, cheeks pinkening, “You didn’t really let go of my hand so I stayed with Yeosang and Wooyoung to take care of you. They stepped out just now to get breakfast.”

Hongjoong nods thoughtfully, trying to ignore the part where San said he had basically attached himself like a leech to him, in case already feeling his face warm.

The door swings open and Mingi walks in with Yeosang, Mingi swinging a water bottle at his side and Yeosang carrying a tray with two bowls of what looked to be soup and a plate of bread. 

“Ah,” Yeosang says when he sees the two of them sitting up, “You’re awake.” He smiles softly. “Hongjoong hyung, are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong says, ducking his head. Somehow, he already knows what’s coming, and doesn’t flinch when Yeosang sets the tray down on the bedside table and reaches over to flick his forehead. Hard. 

“You had us worried sick,” Yeosang says calmly, “I’m going easy on you this time, but that’s only because Young-ah is very upset with you right now. I’ll try to talk to him, but you should be prepared in case he wants to scold you too.”

“I’m your hyung,” Hongjoong says, somewhat pitifully, rubbing at the mark on his forehead. “You can’t scold me.” 

The words fall flat and Yeosang only raises an eyebrow. “Maybe when you start taking care of yourself and stop pushing yourself into stress heats. But until then, which seems to be in the very,” he sighs, “very, far future, you’re our hyung who deserves a scolding every now and then.”

Mingi laughs lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on Hongjoong’s knee. “You really haven’t changed at all, have you hyung?”

“He had like, four stress heats in college,” San tells Yeosang glibly, and Hongjoong groans deeply, head drooping. “And those are the ones we knew about. We all knew he probably had even more than that, especially when he first started working in a proper company, Seonghwa hyung was really tight-lipped about it.” 

“Because it was none of your business,” Hongjoong says sharply, ignoring how his own scent had gone bitter and sad at the mere mention of the alpha. San flinches at his tone, eyes wide. 

“I’m sorry hyung, I didn’t-.” 

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong says, regret seeping into him. By now, it’s a familiar feeling. He leans into Yeosang. “He was your friend too. You should be allowed to talk about him.”

“Eat,” Yeosang urges him quietly, in the ensuing silence, and Hongjoong takes the bowl, passing one to San who takes it silently, a troubled look on his face. 

They eat in silence, Mingi pulling up his legs for San to lean into, and Yeosang carefully carding his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair, rubbing circles in his scalp that made his eyes droop with contentment. 

“Where’re Jongho and Wooyoung?” Hongjoong asks, through a mouthful of bread.

“Jongho had to go to work,” Yeosang says, “And Wooyoung decided to go since both him and San couldn’t skip work, and you wouldn’t exactly let go of San’s hand.”

“Oh.” Hongjoong says, ignoring the heat that rushes to his cheek at the reminder of his clinginess. He leans up to press his lips to Yeosang’s jaw, “I am sorry, you know. I really didn’t mean to this time. I didn’t even realize things had gotten so bad.” He glances at San and Mingi remorsefully, “I’m sorry to you two as well. I know you must have been worried.”

“Can I have a kiss too?” Mingi asks cheekily, and Hongjoong rolls his eyes, “It’s okay hyung. We were really worried, but what matters is that you’re okay now. As long as you at least try to not have it happen again.”

Hongjoong nods, and glances at San, who still looks a bit upset. It’s not hard to discer the reason why and he sighs, carefully handing his bowl to Yeosang and sliding over to San. “San-ah,” He says, frowning when San only ducks his head. “Sanie, baby, look at Luna will you?” It slips out, and he hears a sharp intake of breath from both Mingi and Yeosang, but their scents remain strong, with no sign of disapproval, so Hongjoong keeps his gaze on San. 

San raises his head slowly, hands curled around the now empty bowl. He’s not crying, but his face tells Hongjoong all that he needs to know. 

Hongjoong feels the corners of his lips turn down. “Oh pup, I’m sorry,” He breathes, “You miss him too don’t you? I’m sorry for taking him away from you.”

San shakes his head, furiously blinking away any tears that rise, “I don’t, why would I ever- It’s not your fault, hyung, you didn’t-,” his voice cracks, “you didn’t force him to leave. He did that on his own. I hate him,” He says, almost desperately, trying to convince himself more than he is anyone else, “I hate him, I really do, please.”

Hongjoong gently takes the bowl from him and sets it aside. He scoots closer, so their knees are pressing into each other, holding San’s face between both hands. “It’s okay if you miss him.” He says through the lump in his throat. “I know, San. I always have.”

San stares at him, almost disbelievingly. From the corner of his eye, Hongjoong can see Yeosang and Mingi talk in hushed whispers, and collect the bowls and trays before leaving the room silently. He’s grateful for the privacy, aware that this is a talk he should’ve had with San weeks ago, when they’d first reconnected. 

San shakes his head, avoiding Hongjoong’s eyes. “How do you- When. . When did you find out?”

Hongjoong sighs. “I always knew. The way you looked at Hwa; I saw that same look in the mirror every day. It wasn’t hard to notice, not for me at least. And,” he hesitates, “you told me yourself when you got drunk once. San-ah,” Hongjoong says when he sees tears fill his eyes. “I’ve never held it against you. Not once. I didn’t then and I don’t now. I just wish I had realized how much you’d be hurt by this. I’m sorry.” 

San sobs, crumpling like a puppet with it’s strings cut, face pressed into Hongjoong’s lap, his whole frame shuddering with his cries. 

Hongjoong keeps a hand on the back of San’s neck, soothing in its own way, and the other supporting himself as he leans backwards. They were all a little bit broken, he realizes, and they’d all dealt with it in their own way. 

Like Hongjoong with his pack, there were clearly things San had been unable to tell Mingi and Jongho, that he’d held close to his heart for so long that finally letting it out was like the weight of the earth lifted off his shoulders.

They all needed each other to heal, to come to terms, to rebuild what once was. And Hongjoong will be damned if he ever lets them go again.

Hongjoong is in the living room, chatting idly with Jongho after a long, warm bath to clear off all the sweat and other bodily fluids that he was sure was still on him, despite multiple reassurances from Yeosang and San that they’d kept him clean, when Wooyoung enters the house. Even after three years, he still takes Hongjoong’s breath away when he looks at him, dressed in a black wind-breaker and track pants, shaggy hair pulled back from his face in a tiny ponytail. 

His face twists oddly when he sees the two of them. “Hojong-ah, do you mind if I steal my Luna for a bit?” It’s oddly menacing, and Hongjoong can’t help but stare desperately at Jongho, begging him to stay with his eyes. 

Jongho, the dirty traitor, smiles beatifically and nods. “Be my guest. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

“Come on, hyung,” Wooyoung says, and Hongjoong doesn’t argue, following the beta to their room, which Wooyoung shuts with a little click. They stare at each other at first, neither saying a word. 

When the silence drags on for too long, Hongjoong breaks, “Are you really so upset with me? I’m sorry, don’t be mad anymore, please. Hyung can’t bear seeing you unhappy knowing I’m the cause.”

Wooyoung closes his eyes. He looks exhausted, Hongjoong realizes, looks weary in a way wholly ill-fitting his age. Because of him. Because he was stupid, and over-worked himself into heat, and forced him to take care of him for hours. 

“I’m confused.” Wooyoung says. “I was upset for a while, but I talked with Yeosang and understood why, and I don’t blame you. Now I just want a clear answer from you.”

“Of course,” Hongjoong says immediately, and Wooyoung takes a deep breath. 

“Do you love them?” Wooyoung asks, “Not like a friendship love, but really love, like how you love Yeosang and I.”

Hongjoong stares at him dumbly, panic rising in his throat. 

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Wooyoung says softly. “We don’t mind. It’d be pretty hypocritical of us to judge you for that anyways.”

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong rasps, “I think, I’d definitely been in love with Yunho, before, but he was so taken with Mingi for so long, and the last thing I wanted was to get in between them; for thelongest time, I’d just assumed we’d be in a pack together, even if it was platonically, and then I met Seonghwa. And Seonghwa didn’t want a pack, so I just erased all possibility of it ever happening, I always thought that that was our forever, but now- now-.”

“Now that you’re free to consider pack you realize you want them too.” Wooyoung finished for him. 

“I’m sorry,” He blurts out and Wooyoung takes one big step to cross the distance and hugs him. 

“Don’t be.” He says. “You’re our Luna, you can add whoever you want to our pack. Yeosang and I have already talked about it. It may take some time, but we know we can grow to love them the same way you know. Yeosang is half-way to falling for Jongho anyways. And they’re all pretty damn good-looking too, ya know,” He winks playfully and Hongjoong laughs. 

They stay locked in the hug for a while, until Hongjoong pulls away, reaching instead to tangle their fingers together. 

“You mean it, right?” He checks, “If I ask them to join us, if they all agree, you really don’t have any problem?”

Woyoung grins mischievously, “Why would I ever turn down a chance for another omega with two alphas? Maybe if I ask nicely enough, they’ll let me help them with their ruts. I bet Mingi is huge.” 

Hongjoong squawks, scandalized, and smacks him, the beta shrieking with laughter at the look on his face. 

“Begone, foul demon!” Hongjoong says, pushing him out the room, dodging Wooyoung’s attempt to kiss him in a faux apology. 

The living room is full when they get there, and Yeosang smiles at them from his spot, squished between Mingi and Jongho, San sprawled across all their laps.

“How was your talk?” He asks, while Wooyoung dives to jump atop San, knocking the breath out of him. His knowing eyes glint with an unspoken question, and Hongjoong smiles. 

“It was fine,” He says and Yeosang’s grin widens. 

From the pile on the floor, Mingi squeals something unintelligible when Wooyoung’s elbow digs into his spleen. Jongho sighs, trying to push San’s head off his lap in a discreet attempt to get away from the chaos, but is pulled back in by Yeosang, whose grin has turned devious. 

Hongjoong’s heart swells as he looks at them. His pack. 

There’s a shriek as San digs his fingers into Wooyoung’s ribcage, tickling him mercilessly, and Hongjoong laughs, and goes to join them.

Chapter Text

Yunho has always loved Hongjoong. It’s something of a universal truth, a constant for him. The sky is blue, grass is green and Jeong Yunho is head-over-heels for KIm Hongjoong. 

He can’t ever pin-point exactly when he fell for the elder, it just was, in a way that he couldn’t ever remember a time that he didn’t look at Hongjoong and see forever in him. He remembers high school, when Hongjoong had his first heat and Yunho had been the one to help him get through it, obediently listening to everything Hongjoong told him to do, helping him make his nest, letting the heat-dazed omega use him as he wished, spending the time Hongjoong was passed out by cleaning his body, almost reverently with a damp cloth, and holding him close as they slept. 

For Hongjoong, it was a thing of convenience, and for Yunho, it was just a taste of what he didn’t have. What he could have one day. 

When he meets Mingi, it’s hard not to fall for him as well. That’s just how Yunho is; he falls too easily, and can’t deal with what comes after. 

Sometimes, when they’re all together, clustered together on the roof of Yunho’s dad’s car that Hongjoong drove since he was the only one with a license, somewhere far away from home, with flat plains and deserted roads surrounding them, watching the sun bleed into the sky, staining it with life, streaks of red and pink and orange indicating the end of the day, Yunho breathes in deeply and wishes for this to last forever. He fantasizes of them all as one pack, an alpha, an omega and a beta, bonded together to live out eternity together. 

He should’ve known he was tempting fate. 

It’s almost three months after Hongjoong had called Yunho, and told him, voice painfully steady in a way that Yunho knew he was faking it, that he and Seonghwa broke up, that Yunho realizes he’ll never see him again.

A part of him that he’d thought had long since died away had jumped at the news, and the rest of him had filled with shame. What a great friend he was, truly, for celebrating in the heartbreak of two of his close friends. Maybe if he hadn’t been so conflicted, he would’ve pressed Hongjoong into telling him why he sounded like he’d been crying, why he was calling in the middle of the night; maybe then things could’ve been different. 

Hongjoong had been different after his break-up, but he’d insisted it was mutual, and Seonghwa had said the same, albeit with a sad, self-deprecating look on his face, and a tendency to quickly change the subject. Yunho had put his apprehensions aside and believed them, sure that Hongjoong would go back to normal soon; after all, ending a long-term relationship, mutual or not, was bound to have some effect, especially considering how out-of-the-blue it was. Who knows, maybe with some time to think about it, they might even get back together. 

None of that happened. 

Yunho had woken up to several missed calls from Hongjoong and a singular text; ‘I’m sorry. Don’t look for me.’

His number had been deactivated and Yunho. . . Yunho had lost it. 

After speaking with Hongjoong’s brother, who was stubbornly tight-lipped, he had realized what he should’ve known from the beginning. Whatever bullshit Hongjoong had sprouted about ‘a mutual decision we both came to,’ was the furthest thing from the truth. 

Yunho had confronted Seonghwa about it in a moment that was not his proudest, miserable and furious, had spat words of vitriol and poison at the man who only sat there silently, the very picture of a guilty man. 

“Just tell me,” Yunho begged finally, sinking to his knees before Seonghwa as he ran out of steam, his anger finally spent leaving only pain. “Just tell me where he is. Please. It’s the least you could do after everything.”

Seonghwa didn’t say a word. He looked terrible, skin almost sickly, and red hair a mess with overgrown roots. 

“Please.” Yunho whispered and Seonghwa closed his eyes. 

“He left.” It was hardly louder than his own breath and Yunho had to strain to hear it. “I wanted to talk to him, and he was already gone. He had an internship abroad, I don’t know exactly where, but he must’ve taken it, and left Korea as soon as he could.” Seonghwa’s head drooped down, shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry.” He says, voice wobbly, “I fucked up everything. I really am sorry.”

The sight of him had filled Yunho with an incandescent rage. How dare he? How dare he even have the nerve to cry in front of Yunho after everything?

But Hongjoong had loved him. Still probably did, and that was why he’d left. So Yunho does nothing, and leaves. 

He packs up everything, just like he imagines Hongjoong had done, and leaves. It’s hard. Mingi and San are his best friends, and he’d be lying if he said if he wasn’t even a little bit in love with both of them. But without Hongjoong it just feels wrong to hang out. There’s always an empty space where he should be and Yunho just can’t take it anymore. 

So he leaves, goes back to his hometown, and tries to forget. 

He’s in Gwangju for a week when he meets Lee Felix, who offers him a job in his and his friend’s choreographer team in Australia. He takes the offer without thinking twice.

He’s in Australia for two years and life is. . fine. He’s okay and the hurt has somewhat faded. The guilt though, that stays fresh, and festers like an open wound whenever he thinks about what he’d left behind.

Mingi and San didn’t deserve what had happened. Losing three of their friends all at once, and not one of them had the decency to tell them where they were, or why they’d left. 

They were all just a bunch of assholes. It was a sobering thought. 

He makes friends, that’s something that’s always come easily to him, luckily. (He absolutely does not think of how Hongjoong must be, alone in a new area. He was always so quiet, outside of work, and Yunho hoped he’d found someone to remind him to take care of himself.)

He has hookups, and pretends to not see other faces attached to their bodies. 

He’s fine. He is. 

Felix is something of an angel sent from the heavens, in that he knows not to prod into why Yunho was so damn quick to drop everything and follow him to a foreign country when he could barely speak English. He’s kind enough to let Yunho sleep on the couch at first, even though they both just end up playing games well into the night, even after Yunho finds a place. 

“You know,” Felix says, controller still in hand, as he looks at Yunho upside-down, head hanging off the edge of the couch. “A couple of my friends from Korea are coming down soon. We’re gonna have something of a get-together party, and I’d like it if you joined us.” He smiles at Yunho, neither pressuring him, nor forcing him to refuse. An open invitation. 

Yunho shrugs. “Sure. Sounds fun.”

Calling it a party is something of an exaggeration, maybe fifteen people at most, all smiles with barely any alcohol at all. It’s nice, and Yunho finds himself enjoying himself as the night goes on. 

Felix is speaking in the corner with three other guys, one of whom Yunho recognizes as Chris, who makes the other half of Felix’s situation-ship. He grins, ready to tease them both a bit as he goes up to them and feels the words dry up in his throat as one of the other males raises his head. 

His hair is black now, and slicked away from his forehead with a stylish undercut, a stark contrast from how Yunho had seen him before, but nothing could stop him from recognizing the high cheek-bones and elegantly curved nose of Park Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa stares at him, mouth half open, clearly just as speechless as he is, and Felix follows his gaze. 

“Oh, Yunho hyung!” Felix says cheerfully, “Let me introduce you, these are my friends Minho hyung and Chan hyung, and Minho’s friend Park Seonghwa-ssi. Guys, this is Yunho. He’s part of me and Hyunjin’s dance crew.”

Yunho numbly returns their greeting, unable to take his eyes off of Seonghwa.

Seonghwa tries for a smile, shaky and unsure. “Yunho-ya, it’s been a while. Have you been well?”

“You two know each other?” Felix asks curiously. 

Yunho nods, suddenly hyper aware of how intensely Minho was staring at him, as if he could see straight through him, and shifts uncomfortably. “Seonghwa-hyung was my sunbae in college,’ Yunho says, and they all make sounds of understanding. 

“Small world, huh,” Chan says.

“Sorry,” Seonghwa says, “can I borrow Yunho for a bit?” At Felix’s cheery nod, Seonghwa tilts his head to where Yunho knows the guest room is, eyes flickering timidly. 

It’s such a stark contrast from the Seonghwa hyung Yunho had known for years, Yunho can’t help but follow his lead, stomach churning uncomfortably. When the noise of the party is reduced to low murmurs, the two of them just stare at each other for a while. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho blurts out finally, “for everything I said to you before, I was just so angry, I’m sorry hyung. I was mad, and you may have been at fault, but that doesn’t excuse what I said to you.” He bows then, body perpendicular in a way he hasn’t done for so long after years in Australia, gaze fixed on the polished leather of Seonghwa’s boots. 

Seonghwa grasps Yunho’s shoulders, pulling him up frantically, “Yunho-ya, it’s alright, it really is, I’ve never resented you for anything.” He sighs deeply, and as Yunho slowly stands straight, he sees the edges of Seonghwa’s eyes glisten with tears. “It took me a while to come to terms to it, but I. . . I really messed up Yunho. I’m sorry,” 

Yunho digs his teeth into his lip. “Will you tell me what happened?” He asks, after much deliberation, twisting the ring on his finger nervously. 

Seonghwa’s gaze drops to the floor. “Not now,” He says finally, almost hopefully, “what about tomorrow? Over coffee?”

Yunho looks at Seonghwa, his eyes wide and hopeful, fingers twisting into his sleeves, and instead of the familiar anger and resentment, he feels a little bloom of fondness, reminiscent of times long past, when things were still okay, and he, Mingi and San would bully Seonghwa into buying them their meals, ribbing at him playfully despite their year difference in age, while Hongjoong smacked the back of their heads lightly, chiding them for their disrespect.

“Sure.” He says.

Seonghwa picks up their coffee, and they decide their conversation is probably not something either of them want in a very public area, and brings them to Yunho’s flat, who manages to convince his roommates to step out for the next couple of hours. They’re reasonable people, and agree without much of a fuss, so Yunho has time to clean a little bit before their meeting.

When Seonghwa enters, hair combed and clothes cleanly pressed, he sticks out like a sore thumb in the mess of his house. He doesn’t seem to mind though, sitting cautiously on the sofa, tentatively offering Yunho a cup. 

Yunho takes it, sinking into the seat opposite him. 

There’s a beat of awkward silence, then Seonghwa says, with a laugh, “To be honest, I don’t know where to start.” He shifts, elbows resting on his knees. “I’ll start with the obvious; I broke up with Hongjoong. It wasn’t at all anything of what you’d call a clean break, but we both agreed to tell you all it was mutual.”

“Why?” Yunho asks, “why were you the one to break it off, you both were so happy, it came out of nowhere, there must be a reason.”

Seonghwa laughs softly. “We’d been fighting for months before we broke up. Hongjoong and I are just good at hiding it when we’re with you. You guys would worry too much and try to meddle. In the end, it came down to the fact that we both wanted different things from each other.”

Seonghwa takes a sip of his drink, and leans back with a sigh. “Before we got together we talked for a long time about, like, boundaries, long-term decisions. Neither of us wanted a fling, and wanted to make us last. I told Hongjoong I didn’t want a pack,” He looks at Yunho meaningfully, and Yunho feels himself go pale. “And he agreed. He told me he didn’t want pups.” Seonghwa smiles self-deprecatingly, “I assumed he meant he didn’t want pups then, while we were in college, and stupidly, without asking for clarification, I agreed too.”

“Wait,” Yunho says, mind racing, dread settling in his veins, “You don’t want a pack? Then the time me and Mingi asked you. . .” He trails off. 

Three years after Hongjoong and Seonghwa had gotten together, about a year before their split, Yunho and Mingi had approached Seonghwa. They’d always wanted a pack, and it seemed that the first reasonable step to go about it was telling the only other alpha in the group about their intentions first, especially considering he was dating who Yunho and Mingi considered Pack Omega.

Seonghwa had shut them down almost immediately, gently but firmly, but Yunho had never seen him so shaken before, with the unease lingering in his eyes for weeks. 

Seonghwa nods, “It scared me. I was afraid you’d go ahead with making a pack anyways, you and Mingi and San, and Hongjoong would want the same. I would never forbid him from anything, he’d have kicked my ass if I tried anything like that, but I didn’t want him longing for something else while he was with me.” He exhales, “It was fucking stupid of me.”

Yunho doesn’t say anything, lips pursed. 

“That was around the time both Hongjoong and I were somewhat swamped with work. The modeling industry is not kind to newcomers and I needed to work hard to put my name out there, and Hongjoong’s company was starting to lay off producers due to financial reasons and he was scrambling to meet deadlines and find a new place to work in case he was next. We hardly had any time to ourselves, and whenever we did, all we did was fight.”

Seonghwa chews on his lip, concentrating on a patch of wall behind Yunho. “The only times we didn’t fight was when we were with you,” He says, “and whenever our cycles happened. And that was probably because we were too tired to start anything. Then Hongjoong had a lot of things happen to him all at once; his company told him he only had the rest of the month to work with them, and a sunbae from college reached out around the same time to offer him in a position in the studio he was at. Abroad.” 

Yunho finds himself somewhat captivated by the story, still holding his drink that remained untouched.

Seonghwa’s mouth twists, as he falls back into the past, recalling memories he’d tried his best to put behind him, “I never got the chance to find out where exactly. We started yelling before that. I was. . . You all, and Hongjoong especially, you always saw the best in me, but the truth is, I was scared and insecure. I had somewhat of a bad experience in high school,” He continues with a grimace, “I had to take a gap year because of that. It was the first and only pack I’d ever known, and I just assumed every pack ends up like that. I came to believe that if someone isn't ready to settle down with you, it means they planned on leaving you eventually.”

“Hyung,” Yunho starts and Seonghwa holds up a hand. He closes his mouth. 

“I tried to talk about it, and although Hongjoong is normally good at communicating, he always avoided the subject. It was the only conclusion I was left with, and he was spending more and more time with all of you when I was away; I thought it was only a matter of time before he left me to form a pack with you all like he’d wanted to.”  He shrugs. “So I took the coward's way out, and broke up with him before he could. Sannie. . . He was the one to knock some sense into me, but by the time I’d gathered enough courage to apologize, Hongjoong was already gone. And everything really fell apart after that.”

Seonghwa falls silent then, and Yunho takes a deep breath. “Hongjoong’s eomma passed away when he was twelve.” He says and Seonghwa’s eyes snap up to him. “She was his father’s second wife. His older brother is his half brother, and she passed from sepsis postpartum. After Hongjoong hyung, she had several miscarriages, getting sicker and sicker. When she finally got past two trimesters, I remember seeing Hongjoong hyung finally let himself get excited at the possibility of being a big brother.”

Seonghwa sucks in a sharp breath. “But Hongjoong doesn’t have any other siblings.” He whispers.

“It was a stillborn.” Yunho says heavily, “After that, Hongjoong Eomma kind of just gave up. She died a week or two later. She’d just given up on living, and the toll of her multiple pregnancies was too much for her body. Hongjoong doesn’t think I know, but when he presented, he was terrified of ending up like her. He swore that he’d never have pups because he was scared of ever becoming so weak, confined to a hospital for days on end, relying on other people for the most basic of tasks. .” Yunho keeps his gaze steady. “It had nothing to do with commitment, and everything to do with independence.”

Yunho is quiet as he tip-toes across the floor, pressing a finger to his lips when Minho’s eyes land on his. The man nods in understanding, and he nods, letting Yunho creep closer and closer to his target. 

Seonghwa, with a white face mask draped over him, frowns. “What are you looking at?” He asks a beat before Yunho pounces, wrapping his arms around the others ridiculously tiny waist.

“Seonghwa hyung!” He shouts directly into the other’s ear, “Surprise!”

Seonghwa yells loudly, more shock than anger. “Ya Jeong Yunho!” He scolds, whipping off the mask. Across him, Minho collapses in a fit of giggles. The surprise melts into happiness and he pulls Yunho close to hug him. “When did you get here? How long will you stay?”

Yunho sets his chin on Seonghwa’s shoulder contentedly. “I’m not going back,” He says simply and Seonghwa’s grip becomes a little tighter. “Felix and Channie-hyung finally got their shit together, and decided to move in together. As of now, I’m jobless.” He seems entirely too pleased at the idea.

“If you want the spare room, I’ve already called dibs,” Minho says quickly, “You can share his bed or something.” He winks, and Seonghwa groans.

“Minho, you can’t have my spare room, I’m already using it, I’ve said this already. And what do you mean Yunho can share my bed, you-!” He reaches over to swat him and Minho dodges, cackling. 

Yunho laughs. “I’ll stay on your couch,” He says and Seonghwa gapes at him. 

“I’m sorry, when did I ever agree to any of you staying at my place? Where did you even come from? I didn’t hear the door open.”

“I was here before you,” Yunho says shamelessly. “Minho let me in, and agreed to keep it a secret for a chicken nugget.”

Seonghwa sighs. “You both suck. I hate you.” 

“You looooooove me,” Yunho corrects in a saccharine coo. “You love me so much, you’re coming with me to Chan hyung and Felix’s ‘thank-fuck-we-don’t-have-to-see-you-guys-pining-anymore’ party tonight.”

Seonghwa squints at them. “Who made that name?”

“I did,” Minho says at the same time that Yunho points, 

“He did.”

Seonghwa sighs heavily. “Yeah, I figured. Who’s gonna be there?”

“Just our group,” Minho says, “I think Chan hyung is bringing over a coworker friend of his, I don’t remember his name, he’s nice though, tiny and pretty, exactly your type.”

“Who are you talking to when you say that, me or Yunho?” Seonghwa asks dryly and Minho smiles with all his teeth. 

“Both.”

“Come on hyung,” Yunho prods, “It’ll be fun. It’s my first time in Korea in five years, please?”

“Why aren’t you jet-lagged, that’d be easier to deal with,” Seonghwa mutters, catching Yunho’s eye with a playful grin so he knew he was teasing. “Fine,” he concedes. “I’ll go with you. What’s the worst that could happen?”

And truly, Seonghwa really should have learned not to tempt fate like that.

Chapter Text

Hongjoong bans everyone from the room after San and Wooyoung, fighting over Hongjoong’s favorite pair of distressed jeans, manage to widen the tears until it’s no longer distressed and just torn. The loud popping noise of thread tearing has Hongjoong whipping his head back so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, to his precious denim-wear in a ruined pile on the floor, the two culprits already kneeling, fists raised in the air.

“Not distressed, but in agony,” Yeosang says and Jongho and Mingi collapse into a fit of giggles as Yeosang sits back on a pile of old skirts, pleased with himself. 

Wooyoung and San tremble with the effort to restrain their laughs, until Jongho quips lightly, “Some might say, suffering,” and Wooyoung’s cackles echo in the cramped closet which of course, sets off the rest of them.

Hongjoong is not amused. 

When they’ve all been shoved out with various levels of force, Hongjoong can finally get ready in peace. He returns to sorting through his many, many clothes, this time without the distractions, glad for the little peace he has. 

He emerges almost a half-hour later, dressed in a dark, navy blue, almost black, suit-piece, with a miniskirt of the same material over straight pants, and is sitting in front of the dresser carefully doing his make-up when Wooyoung walks in, takes a single look at him and collapses to the floor dramatically, a hand pressed to his chest. 

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. 

“This much beauty,” Wooyoung gasps, rolling over on his back, “I fear my poor heart cannot handle such sights of excellence.”

“If you get off the floor in the next five seconds, you can help me choose my jewelry,” Hongjoong suggests, and Wooyoung is at his side like lightning, sifting through his collection. 

“Say hi to Changbin for me,” Wooyoung remarks as he sets aside a few rings, and moves to go through earrings. “Can’t believe that jerk didn’t invite me,” 

“You turned him down all three times he did because you wanted to fuck instead.” Hongjoong deadpans and Wooyoung bats his eyelashes at him in the mirror. 

“Don’t sound so jealous hyung-ie, you know we’re all ready to fuck in a heartbeat if you’d just ask,” He simpers and Hongjoong shoves him. “Besides, San and I have been planning this date for months. And it's just a house-warming party anyways, I’ll take him and his pack out for drinks some other day.”

“For your information,” Hongjoong says smarmily, as he dabs concealer under his eyes. Every damn singer who spontaneously decided they wanted him to produce their special end of the year gift to their fans was taking their toll on his complexion. Great for his self-esteem though, his sense of self-worth has never been higher. “It’s not just a house-warming party. It’s a ‘thank-fuck-we-don’t-have-to-see-you-guys-pining-anymore’ party for Channie-hyung and Yongbok.”

Wooyoung bursts into a fit of cackles that make Hongjoong smile involuntarily, then giggle himself when Wooyoung gasps for breath, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Who came up with that name, I need to know,” He giggles again. 

“Lee Minho-ssi, I think,” Hongjoong says, “He’s the only one I haven’t properly met, he’s a pretty famous model so he’s often away,” Wooyoung scrunches his nose up, trying to recall, and Hongjoong sighs, “The one involved with Jisung and Changbin,”

“Ah!” Wooyoung snaps his fingers, “Him. Yeah, he’s hot. Changbin is whipped as hell for him, I remember because I’ve never heard someone sound so starry-eyed when describing someone feeding a whiny packmate tissues to shut them up.”

“Not a bad idea,” Hongjoong muses and Wooyoung makes an indignant sound. 

Wooyoung rests his cheek in one hand as he watches Hongjoong put the finishing touches, and finally begin fastening on the earrings Wooyoung had picked out, “When do you leave?”

“Party starts at eight,” Hongjoong says, slipping on a few rings. “I’m going a bit earlier though, I wanted to run something by Chan hyung before we go into holiday mode.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “You damn workaholics,” He mutters. The bedroom door opens and Jongho pokes his head in, and when he sees them, walks in to stand behind Hongjoong, who’s admiring himself in the mirror, greeting Wooyoung with a brief kiss dropped on the crown of his head.

“You look good,” Jongho says quietly, and Hongjoong reaches back to pull his arms around his neck, leaving a pink smudge on the inside of his forearm as he tilts his head.

“Thanks, baby,” Hongjoong says, “Are you going out with Yeosang later?” 

“Mm,” Jongho hums in agreement, “Mingi-hyung is basically forcing us to, he was really happy to have the house to himself.” 

Wooyoung snickers, “I bet he’s gonna watch porn in the living room television,” 

Hongjoong groans, “Leave Mingi alone,” He says wearily, “Let him have his alone time without you teasing him about it.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes dramatically, but still squeezes Hongjoong’s arm in an unspoken acceptance. 

Hongjoong stands, sliding his lip tint with a little mirror and his phone into a little purse he slings over his shoulder. He takes an extra moment to fiddle with his hair, running his fingers carefully through the wavy brown strands. 

“Right,” He says, “Both of you text me when you’re going out, and when you come back, just in case I stay out late. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

They both nod, and Hongjoong holds out his arms letting them both step closer, kissing his cheek lightly. 

The rest of his pack meet him at the front door, and say their goodbyes in a similar fashion, Mingi being a bit more clingy than usual, nosing into his collar as Hongjoong ruffles his hair, “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” Hongjoong says quietly. Mingi was going to go into rut soon, and though he’d insisted he’d be fine for the next few days, they all knew he’d need his pack with him more often. Today was the last day before his rut they’d all be leaving the house, after which they planned to stay as long as possible with the alpha. Mingi had been clingy with all of them, but especially Hongjoong, knowing that his own heat would come sometime in the middle of his rut.

“Have fun,” San says cheerfully, handing him the gift bag he’d left behind on the counter, while Yeosang straightens his tie and pats his chest, toeing the line of a goodbye pat and straight-up groping.

When Hongjoong is finally sitting in the taxi, he pulls out his phone to send Chan a quick text to tell him he was on his way. Then he plugs in his earphones and sits back, eyes half-lidded, content, fingers drumming against his thigh in time with the beat. 

It takes twenty minutes to reach Chan’s place, a large house for his whole pack in the suburbs a distance from the hustle-bustle of the city. It’s a nice place, and he remembers coming with Chan when the rest of the older alpha’s mates were busy with their own jobs to help him with house-hunting. 

Changbin lets him in, a wry smile on his face and a comb in his hair. “Chan’s studio is on the second floor, he’s already there. You look great” He adds and Hongjoong grins.

“Thanks,” He chirps, and holds out the bag, “No one else is here?” The house was oddly quiet considering it housed eight young and very loud people. 

“Minho, Felix and Hyunjin are gonna bring some of their friends over, so they went to pick them up. And the rest went to pick up the food,” Changbin says simply, “I was taking a nap.”

“Sorry for showing up so early,” Hongjoong says apologetically and nods to the bag, “Got some good wine for you all. Have it with your pack some other time, yeah? Oh yeah, and Wooyoung says hi,”

Changbin laughs, “He could’ve texted me. Right, I’ll leave you and Chan to do your stuff, we’ll come get you when everyone arrives,” He says and Hongjoong nods. 

True to Changbin’s words, Chan is already sitting on his chair, headphones on and already dressed up. He slips off the headphones as Hongjoong sits down next to him, pulling him into a brief side-hug, “Thanks for coming,” Chan says, “About that track you sent me, I modified it a bit, tell me which version you like better.”

It’s easy to fall into work, and neither of them are aware of how much time has passed by until Felix enters the room.

“Minho sent me to call you guys,” He says, sliding into Chan’s lap. It’s clear he’s not going to leave without them, and Hongjoong stands, smiling at the two of them.

“Fine,” Chan sighs, as he stands, Felix still clinging to his neck, grinning like the cat got the cream. “Thanks for your help, Hongjoong-ah.”

“No problem,” Hongjoong says cheerfully as he stretches, “Do you mind if I use the bathroom?”

“Go ahead. We’ll be downstairs.”

The bathroom is occupied when he gets there and he sighs, pulling out his phone to check his messages as he waits. He has a few messages from Wooyoung and Jongho, telling him they’ve both went out, a picture from San that’s just Wooyoung peering at his phone as he texts Hongjoong’s with a heart emoji, and Mingi has sent Hongjoong a selca, bundles in blankets so only his eyes and dark hair peeking out. It’s hopelessly endearing and Hongjoong begins to send him a message in reply before the door clicks open, and he glances up. 

Hongjoong feels the blood drain from his face, the world going silent around him. The other person hasn't yet noticed him, typing on his phone as he makes way for Hongjoong with a soft apology. His voice is the same as it was five years ago, a little deeper, but no less smooth and velvety and warm as he’s remembered. Hongjoong feels his phone fall from his numb fingers, clattering to the floor next to the other person’s foot and Seonghwa startles, glancing at him. His eyes go wide.

Hongjoong finds control over his body then, shoving past him to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, locking it and pressing his back against it. He’s breathing heavily, and his hands are shaking. 

There’s a hesitant knock on the door. 

“Hongjoong?” 

Hongjoong can’t breath, can’t hear anything but the slam of the door, and the vibration of the vase on the tabletop when Soenghwa had left, the raspiness of both their voices as they screamed, tore into each other where they it’d hurt, can’t see anything but Seonghwa’s bloodshot eyes, the downwards curve of his mouth, his blank face when Hongjoong cried, begged him to stay, his retreating back growing smaller and smaller.

“Joong, you need to breathe,” He hears over the incessant buzzing in his head. “Okay? I need you to breathe in. . . and breathe out. Concentrate on my voice? Just breathe, come on.” There’s a pause, then, “Do you want me to call someone else?”

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong says finally, feeling his face go hot with humiliation. How mortifying, to run into your ex and immediately have a panic attack in the bathroom while said ex helps you get through it through the door. He curses under his breath, then curses again when he realizes he’d dropped his phone and forgot to pick it up before diving into the bathroom like a fucking psychopath. 

The silence that stretches out is so long, Hongjoong thinks Seonghwa must have left, until a soft voice calls out, “Hongjoong? Can you open the door?”

“I need to piss,” Hongjoong blurts out, voice cracking halfway. If there was a way to die of embarrassment, he would’ve been gone twice over. 

He could already imagine the awkward look on Seonghwa’s face as he digested the statement. 

“Oh. I’ll just. . . go then. You dropped your phone by the way.”

Hongjoong groans out loud. He takes a while to actually get off the floor and finish his business and glares at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands. His face is wet and blotchy and he sighs. He takes his time to wash his face and touch up his makeup, unwilling to look like a complete mess after already embarrassing himself. 

Seonghwa is still standing outside when he finally swings the door open, shifting uneasily on his feet, Hongjoong’s phone in his hand. He holds it out as soon as Hongjoong comes into view, its screen dark and sporting a new crack across the display. 

Before Hongjoong can reach for it, it lights up with a message, showing off Hongjoong’s lockscreen; a candid picture Wooyoung had taken of him and Yeosang, leaning their heads together against the New York skyline with Wooyoung making a finger heart at the side.  

Hongjoong all but snatches the phone, hurriedly turning it off, somehow uncomfortable with the idea of Seonghwa even perceiving Wooyoung and Yeosang. 

“It’s good to see you,” Seonghwa says quietly, and Hongjoong stiffens. “When did you come back to Korea.”

Hongjoong closes his eyes. “I’m not doing this,” He states, “I’m not going to try and engage in small-talk with you and pretend nothing ever happened.”

Seonghwa makes a small aborted movement, reaching out and freezing halfway as Lee Minho rounds the corner. 

“Hwa, there you are. Yunho was wondering if you’d gotten lost,” He chuckles and his gaze lands on Hongjoong. “Oh, Hongjoong-ssi, it’s nice to meet you finally,.” He winks exaggeratedly at Seonghwa, “I see you’ve gotten a head start. Told you he was your type.”

It’s a lot to process all at once. 

Hongjoong spits, “‘Your type’?” with fire in his eyes before the rest of his brain catches up and he says, “Yunho?” He looks at Minho, “Yunho is here?”

Minho looks taken-aback. “You guys know each other? Wow, déjà vu. What a small world we live in,” He looks at Hongjoong appraisingly, “Yunho is downstairs.”

Seonghwa catches his wrist before he can make a break for it and he hisses, snatching his back, glaring when Seonghwa keeps his grip tight. “Don’t touch me, Park Seonghwa.”

“I want to talk to you,” Seonghwa says calmly, eyes almost pleading. Hongjoong couldn’t give less of a fuck, not when Yunho was downstairs.

“And I don’t,” Hongjoong snaps. It’s surprisingly easy to fall back into an argument, and Hongjoong sees Seonghwa’s face flicker with a familiar irritation. 

“Stop running away from this.” Seonghwa says sharply. “This is why we can never communicate, because you always run, and you always ruin normal conversations because you can’t control your damn temper.”

Hongjoong sneers, “Look who’s talking about running away.”

“Says the person who left the fucking country and abandoned everyone, just because you got dumped.” Seonghwa retorts, and Hongjoong flinches. It’d been a long time before San and Mingi had managed to convince him that the blame for the resulting split-up of their friend group did not lie squarely on his shoulders, but that didn’t stop the creeping thoughts, and to have it out in the open, by Seonghwa of all people, feels almost violating.

Five years of no contact, and Seonghwa still knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt. 

Soenghwa sags, regret painted on his face, “Wait, no, I don’t mean that.” He says heavily.

“Clearly, you do. How long have you been waiting to say that to me?” Out of the corner of his eye, Hongjoong sees Minho typing on his phone quickly. 

“I’m sorry, it just came out.” Seonghwa says desperately, “I really don’t want to fight.” 

Hongjoong’s lip curls, “Let go of my wrist first.”

Seonghwa does and Hongjoong yanks his hand away from his reach, taking a large step backwards, and staring the alpha down. 

“I want to apologise,” Seonghwa blurts out, and Hongjoong frowns. 

“Yeah, whatever. You didn’t say anything wrong, I did abandon everyone, after all.” It stings a bit to say it, and Hongjoong resolutely keeps his gaze steady. 

Seonghwa shakes his head, “No, I mean yes. That was a horrible thing to say, and I’m sorry. But I’m also sorry for leaving you first. For not letting you talk, and for blocking you out after walking out like that. I’m sorry for all our arguments, I’m sorry for always talking about pups when I’d promised not to, I’m sorry for making you sacrifice so much for me. I’m sorry for all of it.” 

Hongjoong’s throat feels tight, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his blazer to hide how violently they shook. Of all things, that was perhaps the last thing he’d expected, and it leaves him feeling. . . confused? Uncomfortable, perhaps, but that’s not quite it either. 

“Hyung, why did Mingo hyung text me about a ‘Situation’ again, with the caps and everything, are you actually flirting with Chan-hyung’s friend, I swear I’m going to. . .” Yunho’s voice dies as he comes into view, looking from Seonghwa to Minho then falling to Hongjoong and staying there. 

“Yunho,” Hongjoong gasps and they meet each other in the middle, collapsing to the ground when neither of their legs support themselves. Hongjoong clings to Yunho, who’s buried his face into Hongjoong’s chest, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. They’re both crying, gripping each other as if afraid one of them might disappear if they let go for even a moment. 

“Hongjoong,” Yunho gasps like he’s drowning, “Hongjoongie hyung, don’t let go, don’t go again, please, I can’t do it again, hyung please, please let this be real.”

Hongjoong feels a fresh wave of tears blind him for a moment, and he runs shaky fingers through Yunho’s hair, “Hyung is sorry, hyung is here, I promise it’s real. Hyung is so, so sorry, Yuyu, don’t cry, it’s okay, hyung isn’t going anywhere, I promise.” 

“You left,” Yunho sobs into his shirt. “You left us, you left me, I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

Hongjoong only holds him tighter, starkly aware of the dampness of his shirt, the fingers digging into his back tight enough to hurt. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Eventually, the tears run out, and Hongjoong pulls away to cup Yunho’s face in his hands, his lip trembling. 

“I was so afraid,” He chokes out, Yunho’s face getting blurry and he blinks rapidly to remember, to see him after so long, “I was so afraid when I came back and you weren’t here, that I’d never see you again, that I’d fucked up everything for good. That you’d resent me forever.”

Yunho shakes his head tearfully, hands coming up to keep Hongjoong’s palms on his cheeks. “No matter what,” He says, “I could never hate you. Never.”

Whatever little bubble they were in is broken by Minho clearing his throat awkwardly and they both glance up. 

Both Minho and Seonghwa are still standing where they were. Minho has his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised as he stares unabashedly at the two of them, and Seonghwa. . . Seonghwa looks lost, shoulders slumped and eyes wet. He was always a sympathetic crier. 

“Ya Kim Hongjoong!” Bang Chan calls from downstairs, “Did you drown in the toilet or what?”

Hongjoong jerks in Yunho’s grip and goes to stand up. Yunho pulls him back down, resting his chin on Hongjoong’s shoulder. 

“Don’t.” He breathes, “Let me stay like this a while longer.”

And Hongjoong could never say no to Yunho, anyway. 

“Give me a minute!” Hongjoong calls back instead, choosing to ignore how choked his voice sounds.All he can concentrate is Yunho, his warm embrace, his familiar and yet unfamiliar scent. 

When they finally go downstairs, Yunho has latched onto Hongjoong’s back like an overgrown parasitic backpack, Seonghwa and Minho having gone ahead without them. The party is in full swing, many familiar and unfamiliar faces scattered throughout, on the couches, laughing in the corner with drinks in their hands, sitting on the floor in groups. Hongjoong looks for someone he knows and spots Felix near the counter checking his phone, chewing idly on a fruit skewer. 

“Yongbok-ah,” Hongjoong calls, putting a hand over where Yunho’s are clasped together around his stomach. He carefully doesn’t look at where he sees Seonghwa, sandwiched between Minho and another man who looks vaguely familiar, “I’m sorry, but I think I might be leaving early. Something came up. I’ll make up to you all, I promise.”

Felix’s eyes dart from him to Yunho, then to Seonghwa on the couch, and he smiles, nodding, “Of course. Don’t worry, I’ll tell Chris. You guys go. You look like you need to talk.” He adds knowingly, and Hongjoong smiles gratefully. 

When the door shuts behind them, Hongjoong gently pulls away to call a taxi, while Yunho texts someone quickly. 

Hongjoong shifts awkwardly, staring up at the sky where the stars wink at him merrily, without a care in the world. Lucky, he thinks wistfully. 

Yunho comes to stand next to him, gaze fixed on Hongjoong as if afraid he’d disappear. “I still can’t believe this is real.” He confesses.

“To be honest, I can’t either,” Hongjoong says, exhaling heavily. “I know we’ve a lot to talk about, but first, can I ask where you’ve been?”

“Australia, actually,” Yunho says, laughing at Hongjoong’s surprised face, “It came out of nowhere for me too. I knew Felix from college and when he invited me to join his dance crew, I accepted without thinking twice.”

Hongjoong nods thoughtfully, then he says, more hesitantly, his voice hardly louder than a whisper, “And Seonghwa?” 

Yunho’s smile fades. “He’s my friend.” He says firmly. “We met a few years ago through Minho hyung and talked everything out. Hyung, I know you might be on bad terms with him, but he’s still my friend.”

Hongjoong shakes his head, “You misunderstand. I’m glad that Hwa- I mean, Seonghwa, hasn’t been alone. And I could never really hate him. In fact,” He says, pausing briefly, and continues more softly, “I think we could all benefit from actually talking things out. He seems a lot more willing to hear my side of things now than he’s ever been.”

Yunho sags in relief, “I’m glad.” He perks up almost immediately after. “The car is here.”

They both slide into the backseat of the car, and Hongjoong is closing the door when Yunho asks him, “So. . . where have you been? Hwa hyung said you had an internship abroad but wasn’t sure if you took that or something else.”

Hongjoong nods, “I did. It was in New York and I got a permanent position there and stayed for three years. We came back to Korea almost two years ago.” He looks away, “I’m sorry for cutting you all out,” He blurts out, “It was selfish of me, and I know I hurt you by abandoning you like that. It was my fault, and I’m sorry.”

Yunho doesn’t say anything for a while and Hongjoong chances a glance at him. He looks thoughtful, staring out the window.

“We?”

Hongjoong frowns, “What?”

“You said ‘we came back to Korea’.” Yunho clarifies and Hongjoong’s lip part in realization. 

“Ah,” Hongjoong says, “I met some people while abroad,” He admits cautiously. “They’re my pack now.”

A series of emotions cross Yunho’s face; hurt, jealousy, longing, wistfulness. 

“How many?” Yunho asks instead, and Hongjoong unzips his purse to pull his phone out. 

“Six of us now. I met Wooyoung and Yeosang in New York and when we came back, Mingi and San had also formed a pack with an alpha named Jongho.”

He finds a good picture and shows it to Yunho; one of their movie nights, Wooyoung holding the camera, the rest of them sprawled on the couch and floor. Hongjoong and Yeosang swaddled in a fluffy blanket, Yeosang fresh out of his heat. San is pressing a kiss to Yeosang’s cheek, and Mingi and Jongho are on the floor, leaning against their legs. Except for Wooyoung, none of them are looking at the camera, Yeosang’s eyes squeezed shut as he laughs, Hongjoong smiling down fondly at Jongho who has taken hold of his hand, grinning his wide, gummy smile and Mingi watching both of them with a grin. 

“You look happy,” Yunho says quietly, if a bit wistfully. 

Hongjoong chews on his lip and says haltingly, “Yunho-ya, I don’t know if I might be overstepping, or being too forward, but I’ve waited too long and for so long I’ve thought I’d lost my chance to be in a pack with you for good, and I’d regret it too much if I don’t ask now. So, if the rest of my pack agree, would you be willing to join us?” 

Yunho stares at him and Hongjoong rushes to clarify. 

“Since the beginning, there’s always been a place for you. I’ve wanted a pack with you for so long, in the end I know it’s my own fault for waiting so long, so it’s okay if you already have a pack, you don’t have to accept, I just wanted to say it or else I would’ve regretted it forever.” He says quickly, tripping over his own words. 

Yunho's eyes are glassy but his voice is firm. “It’s not your fault,” He says quietly. “Can we talk about this another time? I’m not rejecting, but I’m not accepting either. There’s still so much we need to talk about before something like this.”

Hongjoong curls into himself in embarrassment. “Right. Of course.”

Yunho drapes a comforting arm across Hongjoong’s shoulders. “How have they been?” He asks tentatively, “San. And. . . and Mingi.”

Hongjoong smiles despite himself. “It took a while for them to forgive me,” He admits, “But it was worth it. Mingi and I workin the same studio, and San is a dance teacher with my other pack mate, Wooyoung. Those two are inseparable, true soulmates in every sense of the word.”

“I’m glad you had them,” Yunho says sincerely, “No matter what happens, I’m glad you’ve found happiness, despite everything.”

“And you?” Hongjoong asks, “Did you find happiness too?”

Yunho mulls it over. “Seonghwa hyung helped a lot.” He says. “I was content. It was nice to have a friend who knew everything without having to tell them. I wasn’t unhappy, definitely.”

Hongjoong nods. “I’m glad.”

It’s still relatively early when they arrive, and they both stand outside the doorstep of Hongjoong’s pack home. 

“Mingi is the only one in,” Hongjoong says quietly, “Do you want to-?”

Yunho shakes his head, a storm of emotion in his eyes. “Not today. Some other time, when I know what I should say. If I see him now, I don’t think I’d be able to get a single word out.”

Hongjoong accepts it, “I’ll see you soon,” He promises. “It might take a while because we have some cycles soon, but Yunho-ya, I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

“And if you do, I have your number, address and Chan hyung’s phone number too,” Yunho jokes. He sobers quickly, and puts a hand on Hongjoong’s arm. “Hyung, can I do something a little selfish? Like you said, I’d regret it forever if I didn’t while I had the chance.”

Hongjoong frowns, “Do what-?” He barely gets the words out when Yunho has put another hand on the back of his neck, tilting his head up, and presses their lips together. 

Hongjoong would be lying if he says he’s never thought about kissing Yunho before. They already have, in fact, several times in their teenage years, in the throes of heat, or when they were both drunk and decided to see if they could taste the alcohol the other had already drunk by sticking their tongue down each other’s throat. None of those kisses felt like this, lightning through his spine, every heartbeat ringing loudly. 

Hongjoong comes to his senses after a moment that takes too long to be excused and puts his hands on Yunho’s shoulders, pushing at him weakly. 

It’s barely any force at all, but Yunho leans back immediately, eyes moist. “I’m sorry,” He says, “I had to do that at least once.”

Hongjoong stares up at him, momentarily too stunned to make words, unable to push Yunho away to put an appropriate distance between them.

Luckily for him, he doesn’t have to, as Yunho is all but yanked away from him, arms wrapping around Hongjoong from behind and pulling him away. Hongjoong flails, and almost smacks Yeosang in the face, who’s staring at Hongjoong like he’s a stranger. 

“What the fuck,” Jongho seethes, hands still fisted in the back of Yunho’s shirt, “is going on?”

Chapter Text

At first, Hongjoong is too stunned to do anything, confused at how drastically things had suddenly changed. Then his brain comes online as Jongho gives Yunho a shake.

“Who even are you?” Jongho snarls, and Hongjoong pulls away from Yeosang. 

“Jongho, let him go.” Hongjoong says firmly. He looks at Yunho, who looks devastated at the sudden turn of events. “Yunho. Go home. I’ll text you tomorrow, we can properly talk things through then.”

Yunho glances at back at Hongjoong’s packmates, “Hyung, I’m sorry-.”

“Jeong Yunho,” Hongjoong says sharply, and Yunho clamps his mouth shut. His voice softens. “Go home. I’m not mad at you, but we still have a lot to talk about.” 

Yunho nods, face drawn and bows twice to both Jongho and Yeosang with a flurry soft apologies, and turns away. Hongjoong tries not to watch him go. 

“Hongjoong hyung, who was that?” Yeosang asks quietly. “Yunho. . I’ve heard that name before but why were you two. . ?”

“Let’s go inside first.” Hongjoong says and Jongho crosses his arms. 

“No.” He says forcefully, “Tell us why you were kissing someone who’s not our pack at the doorstep of our house first.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong snaps, a wave of irritation cresting, “did I miss the memo when you became pack alpha?” Suddenly he feels unreasonably angry, furious at Yeosang and Jongho for misunderstanding, at Yunho for kissing him out of nowhere, at himself for not stopping him.

Yeosang tugs on his arm lightly, “Hyung.” He begs and Hongjoong turns away, pulling out his keys and opening the door. Mingi is on the sofa, in a pile of blankets with his laptop casting a light on his face, and he glances up, startled when they enter. He looks even more confused when Hongjoong comes into view, the lines of his face drawn and angry.

“You’re back?” He asks, “Did something happen?”

“Hongjoong was kissing someone.” Jongho says flatly, and Hongjoong slams his purse on the counter. 

“Ya Choi Jongho!” He shouts, and Jongho spins to face him. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He challenges. “Tell me that it was dark, that Yeosang and I misunderstood, that there is a reasonable excuse for what we saw.”

“Hyung?” Mingi asks shakily, “Is that true?”

Yeosang has sat next to Mingi on the couch, face unreadable. They all look the same; disbelieving, unsure, angry. Hongjoong feels his heart crack open. It’s too much for one night, he can still hear Seonghwa’s scathing voice in his head, and now with the accusing glares of his pack on him, the tears come up automatically. 

“You all really have no trust in me do you?” He whispers, “You don’t even think for a second there might be something else. You just go straight to the worst possible case and don’t doubt for a second that it’s something I’m capable of.” 

“It’s not like you did anything to make us think differently,” Jongho mutters, and Yeosang hisses a quiet warning. Jongho looks like he regrets it as soon as he says it, but it doesn't make Hongjoong hurt any less.

Hongjoong swallows thickly. “I see.” He whispers. He looks at Mingi. “First of all, I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me, and I pushed him away as soon as I could. Second of all, it wasn’t just anyone, it was Yunho.” He sinks his teeth into his lip, trying to hide how it trembled. “I’m going to my room,” He says, ignoring the punched out gasp Mingi let out when he heard the name. “Don’t disturb me. I really don’t want to see any of you right now.”

Despite all six of them living together, they all still have separate rooms. It was a joint decision by them all, deciding that they all needed their own space. The largest bedroom was their pack room, and the other three rooms split among the six of them, Hongjoong with Wooyoung, Yeosang and Mingi, and San with Jongho. 

Hongjoong shuts the door, peeling off his clothes and shrugging into an old sleep shirt and sweatpants that might be his or Wooyoung’s before collapsing on the bed, letting silent tears soak the pillow.

It’s too much, too many things to process in one night. It’s hard to believe how quickly things had escalated, from having a panic attack in the bathroom, to having a cat fight with his ex in the pack house of Bang Chan while the pack omega watched them, then Yunho showing up and everything that devolved to. 

It was dumb, he thinks, and curses himself for letting Yunho get so brazen, especially when they’d hardly even talked things through properly. Despite it, he couldn’t blame the beta for his actions. Knows that had the situations been reversed, Hongjoong would be the one throwing himself at Yunho, desperate to hope he still would have some place in the other’s life after finding out they’d gone ahead and formed a pack without him. 

And then he’d went ahead and yelled at Yeosang and Jongho, who were only worried for the pack, and Mingi, who must be in turmoil now.

What a fucking mess.

His phone pings, and he rolls over to pick it up, holding it above his face. 

Wooyoung has messaged the group chat, ‘we’re coming back now! anyone who wants a pick up???’

Yeosang is the first to reply, a quick, terse, ‘we’re all home already.’ 

San sends a couple of question marks in, but Hongjoong doesn’t get to see the response when Wooyoung calls, and he sighs. 

Hongjoong answers the call and immediately has Wooyoung’s voice in his ear. 

“Hyung, what happened?” Wooyoung demands, “Why are you back so early, why does Yeosang sound so pissed, what’s going on?”

“Young-ah,” Hongjoong says, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. He fails miserably and Wooyoung’s worried voice is quickly overlapped by San’s concerned murmurs. 

“Hyung please, Yeosang isn’t answering his phone either.”

Hongjoong swallows. “Come home,” He says, “I’ll tell you then.” 

When Wooyoung knocks on the door he barely lifts his head from the pillow when he calls for him to come in, and doesn’t see it coming when Mingi wraps his arms around his waist, tucking his face into his spine. 

“I’m sorry for how I reacted hyung,” Mingi says softly, “Jongho and Sangie want to apologize too but wanted to give you space first.”

Hongjoong doesn’t dare move, unable to make sense of the swirl of emotions that blended into an undistinguishable mess within him, unable to relax his stiff body. He feels Wooyoung’s hand press down on the nape of his neck, leaving firm, soothing presses over his shoulders. 

“Tell me what happened, Luna.” Wooyoung says calmly. 

Hongjoong takes a deep breath. Wooyoung is here. Wooyoung would never accuse him of anything, especially if he knew only bits and pieces of the whole story. 

“Chan and I didn’t leave his studio until everyone had already come,” Hongjoong starts, figuring it was best to get everything off his chest now, when he has the chance. “I needed to use the bathroom so, I went. And bumped into Seonghwa.”

Mingi sucks in a sharp breath. “Seonghwa hyung is here?” He breathes, and Wooyoung clicks his tongue. 

“Let hyung speak,” He reminds gently, and Mingi falls silent.

“I don’t know why I reacted as I did with Seonghwa,” Hongjoong laughs, “I really thought I’d put all that behind me, but I panicked. And we fought. And then Yunho showed up.” Hongjoong pauses, eyes squeezing shut. He can feel Mingi stiffen, still sprawled across his back. “We decided to leave the party, talk a little bit, and Yunho said he’d come with me to drop me off. We talked,” He says, and continues in a whisper, “I was just so happy to see him again. To know he didn’t hate me, that I hadn’t lost him forever. I want him, Young-ah, I want him with us in our pack so badly. I told him he could.”

Wooyoung combs through Hongjoong’s hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp. “So what happened next?” He asks calmly when Hongjoong falls into a contrite silence. “I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re our Luna, you can invite anyone you like. It doesn’t mean we’ll always agree, but your intuition is good and we trust you. When Yeosang said he wanted Jongho to join our pack, even before San and Mingi, what’d you say then?”

“That I trusted him and his choice, and we should all spend some time with Jongho first to see if he’s compatible with us.” Hongjoong says quietly, and Wooyoung makes an agreeing noise. 

“It’s the same, hyung-ie. We trust you, and we trust your choice. And we’ll all spend time with him, get to know him, and then make a decision. It’s not like you made him a part of the pack immediately, right? Don’t beat yourself over it.”

“That’s not all,” Hongjoong says, mashing his face back into his pillow. “Yunho kissed me.” He says in one breath. The silence that comes after, feels suffocating.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung says finally, “Can I see your face please?”

Hongjoogn swallows, but obeys, Mingi sitting up so he can roll over, resting up against the headboard, revealing his bloodshot eyes and teary face. 

“Hyung,” Mingi says, sounding heartbroken, “Hyung, don’t cry.” Next to him, Wooyoung still looked at Hongjoong expectantly, waiting for him to finish his recount and Hongjoong drops his gaze. 

“Yunho kissed me,” Hongjoong says again. “I guess it was just to convince himself that I was really here, that I wouldn’t disappear again as soon as he turned the other way. I pushed him away as soon as I could, I swear I did, but Jongho and Yeosang happened to be coming home at that moment. . .”

“And they jumped to conclusions.” Mingi finishes. Hongjoong nods. 

Now that everything was out in the open, he was beginning to feel a little foolish. A bit like he’d overreacted to something that probably could’ve been taken care of easily had he just stayed calm and not let himself get so overwhelmed. He can feel his cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Right,” Wooyoung exhales. “Clearly, the pack has a lot to talk about.” He says, and reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind Hongjoong’s ear, brushing stray strands off his forehead. “But before that,” He smiles almost sympathetically, “Hongjoong hyung, do you know you’re in pre-heat?”

Hongjoong jerks, “That can’t be true,” He refutes, “My pre-heat won’t be until a few days!”

“He’s right,” Mingi mumbles, one of Hongjoong’s pillows clutched to his chest, “It might’ve been triggered by,” he waves a hand vaguely, “everything.”

Hongjoong throws his head back with a groan, an arm coming up to cover his eyes. “This day just keeps getting better and better.” He mutters. 

“Do you want to nest together hyung?” Mingi asks shyly, “You don’t have to say yes, but I think your pre-heat might affect my rut, and I wanna stay close to you.”

Hongjoong thinks it over. “Young-ah,” He says, “Can you tell Jongho and Yeosang I’m sorry? And I forgive them? And call Sannie over to nest with me and Mingi?”

Wooyoung breaks into a bright grin, Mingi mirroring him, “Sure!” He chirps. “Wanna go to the pack room?”

Hongjoong hums, opening his arms to let Mingi cuddle against him happily. “Not yet. Maybe in a bit though.”

Wooyoung shoots them a thumbs up, clearly relieved that Hongjoong had been pulled out of his slump and all but skips out, calling for San.

Mingi’s eyes slip shut and he shifts a bit, “Hyung, your chest is really comfy. Have you been working out?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me push you off the bed,” He warns, and Mingi giggles. He can already feel his eyelids get heavy, wrapped in the warmth of alpha, content and happy. Maybe Wooyoung was onto something about his pre-heat. “Mingi-ya,” He mumbles suddenly, a thought striking him, and the alpha makes a small noise of acknowledgement. “Come with me tomorrow to talk with Yunho. You and San,” He yawns, “All of us should talk.” He nods to himself and lets his eyes slip shut. 

He falls asleep quickly, worn out from the excitement of the day, and doesn’t hear when Mingi registers what he’d said and begins to protest before realizing his desperate words are falling on deaf ears. 

When Hongjoong went to college, for a year, Mingi and Yunho were all but left to their own devices, seniors in high school and no sunbae to keep them from trouble or get them out of it. They talked often, but college freshmans are busy, as they'd discovered, and they had college entrance exams to prepare for, so often whittled down to once or twice a week, then to once a month if at all. 

Truthfully, Yunho feels lost. He’d always had Hongjoong. They’d been walking to and from school together for so many years, he still subconsciously glances to his side to talk to Hongjoong before realizing he wasn’t there. 

Mingi and Yunho get closer than ever, following Hongjoong’s departure. They’ve always been close, but now it’s as if they’re joint at the hip. They stay long hours in the dance studio, until their limbs are limp and help each other stretch while bopping to each other’s favorite songs, go home with their fingers interlocked and swinging between them.

It’s late on a Saturday night, and the two of them are lazing around in one of their favorite haunts; the playground, normally packed with screeching children and families during the day, and eerily silent now, the squeaking of the swings haunting in the otherwise quiet environment.

Mingi is hanging upside down with his legs hooked in the monkey bars, with a clear view to Yunho who’s sitting on a swing seat, legs singing aimlessly. It doesn’t have the same effect as it had before his growth spurt. Now with every swing, his shoes kick up small wood chips into the air. 

“Do you ever think of mates?” Yunho asks, blowing mint-dyed hair from his eyes. He’d dyed it with Hongjoong and Mingi at the start of the year, and desperately needed a retouch, and was contemplating getting it fully bleached again. He looked good in blond hair, if he did say so himself. 

“Not really.” Mingi says simply. His hoodie has rode up, bunched up around his armpits and the only thing keeping him from flashing Yunho is the white tank top he’d tucked into faded jeans. “You and hyung are all I need.” 

His bluntness is endearing, and Yunho laughs. “Oh yeah? Even when you grow up and want to have a family?”

Mingi pulls himself up with a grunt, twisting so he can sit up and face Yunho. “You are family.” He says. He crosses his ankles, swinging them in the air, bracing his arms behind him to tip his head up towards the sky. “Yunho-ya. You know I’m in love with you, right?”

Yunho gazes up at his friend. “I do.” He says softly. 

“I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same way,” Mingi says, tracing out constellations with his eyes. “It doesn’t bother me. I just wanted to make sure you knew. You’re in love with Hongjoong hyung aren’t you?”

“I think so,” Yunho says quietly, “I don’t know if what I feel is any different from what I feel for you. I just know I want us to be together no matter what happens. After graduation,” He says, with a new determination in him, “let’s form a pack.”

“Can I be the leader?” Mingi asks interestedly, and Yunho gives a short bark of laughter. 

“Hell no. Hongjoong hyung might actually gut you if he doesn’t get to be a Luna.”

Mingi nods in agreement. “That’s true.” He agrees. “Hyung has a lot of Luna energy. I think it's the BDE.” 

They both giggle like morons for the next few minutes, imagining Hongjoong’s reaction if he ever heard that word used to describe him. 

“Daddy energy,” Yunho adds, between a fit of giggles and that sets them off again. 

When they collect themselves, Mingi jumps off his perch and goes to sit next to Yunho on the other swing. 

“Yunho,” Mingi starts, voice faltering, and Yunho looks at him, head tilted adorably. “What will you do if Hyung finds someone in college?” A sliver of anxiety creeps in. “What if he doesn’t want to be in a pack once he meets someone he wants to mate with?”

Yunho purses his lips, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He reaches over and pulls Mingi’s hand into his lap, playing with the rings on his hand. “I’ll wait for him. For however long it takes, no matter what happens, I’ll wait for him to be ready. And if he never is?” He flicks Mingi’s elbow and smiles, “Well, at least we’ll always have each other right?”

Mingi grins. “Right.”

Hongjoong wakes up in the pack room, with no memory of how he’d gotten there, and Mingi drooling on his neck. He groans, pushing the alpha off of him, suddenly aware of how uncomfortably hot he feels, draped in a blanket and his mates all around him. San is glutes ot back, and Jongho has settled on his one free side, hugging Hongjoong’s arm to himself, lips protruding in a pout in his sleep. Yeosang and Wooyoung are spooning next to San, Wooyoung’s hand stuffed down the front of Yeosang’s night pants. 

Hongjoong tries to find his phone, and sees it on the side-table, lined up with five other phones neatly. Oddly enough, it reminds him of something Seonghwa would do and he frowns at the thought. Ever since seeing him again, Hongjoong has been unable to get the alpha out of his head. It pisses him off.

He takes note of two things when he switches on his phone; the time, fucking seven in the morning, terrible, why did he even wake up, and second, the message from an unknown number. 

‘Hey. It’s Yunho.”

It was sent at six that morning. Hongjoong stares at the message, momentarily ignoring Mingi as he climbs back up Hongjoong’s torso to drop his forehead on Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“Why’re you up?” Mingi slurs drowsily, digging his nose into Hongjoong’s armpit, who absently runs a hand through his hair. 

“Yunho texted me.” He murmurs, quickly saving him as a contact, and sending a message. “I’m thinking of calling him over at lunchtime. The pack can get a chance to meet him, and we can have a proper talk with him.”

“Okay,” Mingi says quietly. Then, “Can we sleep some more?” and Hongjoong sighs, and puts his phone down, ready to tolerate the heat and discomfort for a while longer. 

He sleeps fitfully, eyes cracking open at the slightest disturbance, until Yeosang begins to stir, waking up Wooyoung who whines as Yeosang pulls his hand out from his pants, a lazy smile on his face when Yeosang calls him a pervert in a low mutter. 

“You love it, you freak,” Wooyoung says cheerfully. Hongjoong watches through slitted eyes as they both carefully maneuver off the bed, trying not to wake up the rest, every movement careful to make the least amount of disturbances. 

Yeosang trips on the carpet and lands with a thump on the fluffy carpet San had insisted on getting, a surprised look on his face and Wooyoung's whole face compresses with the effort of holding in his laugh, hands clasped over his mouth. 

Jongho rolls over, glancing at the two through his messy mop of hair. “Shhh!,” He hisses, “You’ll wake up Hongjoong hyung.” He glances over guiltily, and Hongjoong quickly shuts his eyes. “He was so tired yesterday,” Jongho says in a whisper. “And I had the nerve to talk to him like that, and didn’t get to apologize before he fell asleep.”

“You know Hyung forgives you, right? I’ll bet anything he’s been drowning in his own guilt since he shouted at you.” Wooyoung says, stepping forward to ruffle Jongho’s hair. Next to him Yeosang nods, clearly torn on the same issue. 

“That’s what makes it frustrating.” Jongho says fiercely. “Hyung forgives so easily. And considering what happened yesterday, I’m worried he’ll end up hurt.”

“You’re not talking about the fight, are you?” Yeosang says, and Hongjoong opens his eyes a sliver to see a tired look on Yeosang’s face. 

“The three of us are the ones who are most unfamiliar with what happened with the hyungs.” Jongho says. “I’m the most, of course, but Mingi and San hyung have told me enough. Are we seriously going to let that alpha get close to Hongjoong hyung again? Wooyoung, you said Hyung wanted to talk to him?”

“I’m not happy about it either.” Wooyoung says. “Hongjoong tries not to talk about it, but he was really hurt. Especially since he wasn't allowed any closure. When Yeosang and I met him in New York, he was like a zombie. He did nothing but work, and never allowed himself time to relax. I don’t want to see him like that ever again, and the fact he’s even thinking of willingly talking to that bastard again-!” He huffs out a breath. “It makes me mad.”

“Doesn’t San still talk about him though? Is he really that bad?” Yeosang asks timidly. 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Don’t even start. It’s the one thing I can’t stand about him. How can you still look at someone favorably after he breaks the heart of one of your friends for no reason and runs away from giving an explanation?”

“Don’t blame San,” Hongjoong interrupts quietly and all three jump, spinning to stare at him. “And don’t talk about people behind their backs.”

“How long were you awake?” Jongho asks, chagrined, and Hongjoong sits up, a hand under Mingi’s neck to keep from falling abruptly, wiggling out of San’s grip. 

“Long enough.” He says simply, stretching his arms out with a low groan, wincing as the joints popped loudly. “Yunho will be coming over in the afternoon. You guys can meet him then.” He hesitates. “And about Seonghwa. . . I still want to talk to him. All I can promise is that I’d never do anything that would harm the pack. And if you all aren’t okay with it, I won’t. I love you all too much to do anything to risk us.”

They nod, a bit sullen, a bit upset, but mostly accepting.

Hongjoong will take it. 

As they’d discussed over text, Yunho shows up after lunch, the doorbell ringing while Hongjoong and Yeosang are washing the dishes. The main door isn’t visible from the kitchen, but Hongjoong still twists around to see Jongho be the one to go answer it. 

They finish up the dishes as Jongho is bringing Yunho into the living room, a bemused smile on his face. Yunho looks exceptionally nervous, dressed in a gray hoodie and jeans, hair parted in the middle in a way that Hongjoong knows he must have agonized over for long moments. He stops short, eyes widening and Hongjoong knows he must have seen Mingi sitting on the couch, staring at him with watery eyes, Wooyoung sat next to him with a hand on his back. 

San appears at the bottom of the staircase then, and he breaks into a wobbly smile. 

“Yunho-ya.” He gasps and barrels to him with little warning. Yunho catches him effortlessly, arms wrapped around the omega, only swaying a little bit as the two former roommates were reunited.

“San.” Yunho whispers. “I missed you.” He hooks his chin over San’s shoulder and looks straight at Mingi who was slowly standing up. “I missed all of you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left.” Mingi snaps and bursts into tears. 

Yunho pulls him into a hug, still holding San against him, tilting his head to the ceiling, pressing his lips together in an attempt to stave off the tears. “I shouldn’t have.” He agrees. 

Jongho goes to Wooyoung’s side, the older immediately drawing the youngest of them into his arms, hiding his face into Jongho’s back, oddly emotional at the sight. Next to Hongjoong, Yeosang holds his arm timidly as they watch the three cry together quietly. He doesn’t comment on the silent tears that streak the Luna’s face. 

Something Hongjoong had been worried about the most was Mingi and Yunho. It had been hard enough to get Mingi to finally forgive him, he had been worried that the alpha would straight up reject Yunho at first. He held grudges the most out of all of them, and Hongjoong had worried and worried. Seeing him now. . .

Yunho is softly wiping away the tears off the faces of San and Mingi, lips moving in silent apologies that blur together, and he looks at them with soft eyes, rocking back slowly. He's given up on trying not to cry, and Mingi makes a soft sound when he sees the tears on his face, reaching up to brush his thumb under his eye. 

Hongjoong has the feeling taht maybe, just maybe, things will be okay. 

Chapter Text

The rain is just clearing up when the waiter comes with their drinks, the gray blanket over the sky splitting apart to allow slivers of light peek out, falling across the table where Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit in stark silence. Hongjoong curls his hand around coffee, staring at the swirls of steam that wafts up, rings clinking against the ceramic. Across him, Seonghwa mirrors his position, a hot chocolate cupped within his palms. 

They’ve been sitting together for almost ten minutes, and neither of them have said a single word. 

Outside the sky has almost completely cleared up, a cheery blue, and the sun shining brightly, the beginnings of a rainbow appearing in the distance. 

Hongjoong takes a sip of his coffee and grimaces; it’s become lukewarm and is far too sweet, cloying on his tongue. He sets the cup down on the table and sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“I'm starting to feel that this was a bad idea,” Seonghwa says quietly and Hongjoong snorts without meaning to. 

“You don’t say,” Hongjoong says drily. “Why did you even call me out in the first place anyways?”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “Sure, just push all the blame on me, why don’t you? This was hardly my idea, and you know it.”

Hongjoong frowns. “It literally was, why are you. . .?” He trails off, realization dawning. He pulls his phone out. “Jung Wooyoung, you’re actually dead.”

“You’re kidding,” Seonghwa sighs, an incredulous laugh bubbling out, “He set us up?”

In hindsight, Hongjoong feels dumb for not realizing it sooner. Soon after Yunho had somewhat joined the pack, it was natural that Wooyoung was to hear about Seonghwa beyond the little Hongjoong had spoken of him. It had taken little convincing to get Yunho to dive into the depths of his iCloud storage. 

“Seonghwa is really not the bad guy you think he is,” Yunho had said softly, with a cautious glance at Hongjoong who tried his best to pretend he was still asleep, legs propped up in Wooyoung’s lap, “Hongjoong hyung and him were really happy when they were together. I always thought they were true soulmates. They just had issues with communication bottling up every inconvenience. Eventually it ended up blowing up in their faces.” He pauses, “I know it turned out for the better, but. . .” He stops talking then. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me to say.” 

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung says, “Thank you for telling me,” 

That incident had seemed to be the catalyst for Wooyoung, and by proxy (and some inventive persuasion by Wooyoung) the rest of the pack getting into their heads that Hongjoong and Seonghwa needed to talk everything out properly and in typical Wooyoung fashion he’d gone ahead with Yunho and even met up with Seonghwa, befriended him and having weekly brunches.

Hongjoong is not yet sure how to feel about that, the fact that his ex had so quickly become so close with his mate, but he couldn’t blame Seonghwa; it is very difficult to not love Wooyoung, after all.

He didn't really have a problem with it, but avoided any mention of reconciliations, or even just a phone call conversation. After all, if the person making these offers weren't even from the person he'd be talking with, there really wasn't much of a point in going. Which is why when Wooyoung told him that this time, Seonghwa was the one extending an invitation to talk, Hongjoong accepted. 

How he’d not thought for a moment to second guess him is nothing short of a miracle. 

Which was what brought him to the situation he is in now, sharing a table with his ex after the both of them had been duped into showing up. 

Wooyoung responds to his flurry of angry text with a simple, succint, ‘ :P’

“I'm going to kill him,” Hongjoong seethes. 

“What a waste of time,” Seonghwa mutters, standing up. He picks up his drink, cold in his cup and drains the rest of the cup, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. Hongjoong quickly tears his eyes away before he gets caught staring. As if he could sense the eyes on him, Seonghwa fixes his gaze on him. “Do you really have nothing to say to me? You can yell at me, curse at me, anything. I'm right here. You can. I've already said what I needed to say that day. Whether you choose to accept my apology or not is your decision and I'll respect it.” 

“I already have,” Hongjoong blurts out. He avoids Seonghwa's eyes, “ I forgave you a long time ago. I know it wasn't fair to you, wasn't fair to the both of us. I shouldn't have run away and cut everyone off. I’m sorry, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa stares at him blankly, then jerks his head away, blinking hard. “Yah, you. . . I thought you didn't want to talk,” his voice cracks. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” Hongjoong says. His voice comes out much softer than he'd intended and Seonghwa slumps back into his seat almost defeatedly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

They don’t speak then, the silence now significantly less awkward but just as emotionally stifling.

“I'm happy for you, by the way,” Seonghwa says then, gaze fixed on the table, and Hongjoong falters, “You always wanted a pack, back in college. I'd be lying if I said I never felt guilty for rejecting you then.” He smiles gently. “They're good for you. You look good. Happy.”

“They make me happy,” Hongjoong admits softly. “And you?” 

Seonghwa laughs lightly. “I'll die alone, it seems. I haven't been looking for a relationship, and neither has anyone approached me.” 

“Oh fuck off,” Hongjoong says incredulously, “as if you haven't been turning down Wooyoung everytime he asks you out.”

Seonghwa gawks at him.

“Ah.” Hongjoong says, “did you not realise?” 

Seonghwa’s head lands on the tabletop with a soft thump. “He wasn't just teasing me?” 

“He was definitely teasing you,” Hongjoong says, “but somewhere along the way, he started to mean it as well.” 

Seonghwa hesitates, “And. . . You don't mind?”

“I did, at first,” Hongjoong says thoughtfully, “but eventually, I realized how happy Wooyoung and Yunho are when they talk about you. San was bouncing on the walls for days after you two reconciled. I can’t be mad about that.”

Seonghwa’s eyes curve into a shy smile, and he ducks his head in a poor attempt to hide it. “Oh,” He says.

Hongjoong hesitates, then with a burst of courage he didn't think he had, he says casually, “You should come by sometime. I know the rest of the pack would want to meet you if you do start going out with Woo. Brunch, maybe?”

There is a brief moment of silence. Hongjoong can hear his heartbeat drumming a heavy rhythm in the wake of his offer, scarcely able to believe what he’s just done.

Seonghwa lifts his head. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears and a tentative, hopeful smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Hongjoong's heart skips a beat. 

“Brunch sounds good.”