Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is sorted in the order that would make most sense when reading the story (I promise I can count). 

3. Aftermath of the Mall Scene
Jeongin learns about what Minho did at the mall. It’s not pretty. (Chan’s POV)

2. Bonus Scene for Chapter 4
Hyunjin and Jeongin visit Aera’s bakery in their search for Felix. (Hyunjin’s POV)

13. Requested Bonus Scene: Drop
Request: The pack’s reaction to Felix being in so much pain during his drop. Set mid-chapter 5.
Changbin and the others have not slept in days, and Felix’s agony has pushed them all to their limits. (Changbin’s POV)

16. Requested Bonus Scene: Reprimand
Request: Chan scolds Hyunjin after learning about him handing Felix his scent in Chapter 7. (Hyunjin’s POV)
After scenting Felix to sleep, Hyunjin makes a phone call to his pack alpha to confess his sins.

4. Bonus Scene for Chapter 9
The pack keeps Felix from dropping (amid a whole lot of panic) and afterwards, they talk. (Seungmin’s POV)

5. Bonus Scene for Chapter 12
The pack wakes up to find Felix gone and finds him and Minho together in the living room. (Jeongin’s POV)

6. Bonus Scene for Chapter 13 (1): a little coda
By request: a little aftermath of Felix’s devastating backstory reveal. (Hyunjin’s POV)

7. Bonus Scene for Chapter 13 (2): Minho
Minho apologises to Seungmin, and reflects on everything that’s happened. (Minho’s POV)

18. Requested Bonus Scene: Minho & Jisung
A missing scene set three days after Minho’s return. Jisung and Minho spend a night alone. (Jisung’s POV)

8. Bonus Scene for Chapter 14 (1)
Chan and Hyunjin visit Felix’s apartment and meet his landlord. It does not go well. (Chan’s POV)

9. Bonus Scene for Chapter 14 (2)
Minho is on a mission. While working on it, he witnesses one of Felix’s muscle spasms for the first time. (Minho’s POV)

10. Bonus Scene for Chapter 15: Hyunjin (1)
Hyunjin’s story, part 1. Hyunjin hits his breaking point, and Minho and the pack are there to catch him. This chapter has Hyunjin breaking down at Minho’s studio, Minho taking him home, and their and 3RACHA’s fumbling way to courtship. (Hyunjin’s POV)

11. Bonus Scene for Chapter 15: Hyunjin (2)
Hyunjin’s story, part 2. A date, and a house. Hyunjin learns what it’s like to be cared for. This chapter has a Hyunjin/Minho date, and Hyunjin finally showing everyone their new house (which was a lot more emotional than Hyunjin made it seem when he told Felix the story). (Hyunjin’s POV)

12. Bonus Scene for Chapter 16
Chan and Seungmin talk after the soccer incident. (Seungmin’s POV)

14. Bonus Scene for Chapter 17
Felix walks in on Chan spacing Jeongin. Felix panics. (Felix’s POV, tiny bit of Changbin’s POV at the end)

15. Bonus Scene for Chapter 18
Minho talks to Chan. (Minho’s POV)

17. Bonus Scene for Chapter 20
Jeongin calls Hyunjin during his night out. (Hyunjin’s POV)

19. Pack Prequel: Jeongin (1)
Four snippets of Jeongin’s childhood growing up in a traditional family. (Jeongin’s POV)

20. Pack Prequel: Jeongin (2)
Jeongin starts his first term at SNU, gives Hyunjin a black eye, and Definitely Does Not Fall for him or any of his packmates over the next few months, at all. (Jeongin’s POV)

21. Pack Prequel: Jeongin (3)
Jeongin has coffee with Hyunjin, decides he and the pack can be good friends, and visits Busan for a week. (Jeongin’s POV)

22. Pack Prequel: Jeongin (4)
Jeongin returns to Seoul, talks to Beomgyu, and meets up with the pack. He absolutely does not panic throughout any of this. (Jeongin’s POV)

23. Bonus Scene for Chapter 21 (1)
Seungmin observes with great amusement as Felix inadvertently turns his packmates' brains to mush. (Seungmin’s POV)

24. Bonus Scene for Chapter 21 (2)
Jeongin spends a night with Chan. (Jeongin’s POV)

25. Requested Bonus Scene: Jeongin’s First Spacing
Just what it says on the tin. (Jeongin’s POV)

26. Requested Bonus Scene: Group Chat
The pack's group chat over the course of Felix's stay with them.

27. Bonus Scene for Chapter 22 (1)
Changbin visits Aera's bakery.

28. Bonus Scene for Chapter 22 (2)
Chan and Changbin talk courtship. Set the morning after Felix’s first therapy session.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin hears Jeongin’s frustrated sigh as they leave the eighteenth bakery of the day. The omega smells worried and dejected, but the determined glint hasn’t left his eyes since they set off that morning. “Where to next?” Hyunjin asks him.

“Two streets over,” Jeongin says, not even stopping to check the list on his phone. It’s like he’s memorised the whole area. Honestly, Hyunjin wouldn’t be surprised if he has.

He has never seen Jeongin this worried. The omega had been so excited to meet up with Felix again that day in the mall, but he’d returned smelling of nothing but anger and fear, lashing out at Minho the moment they came home. The other three had been less angry, but no less concerned. Seungmin had spent all night doing research on extended drops, and the parts Hyunjin had been able to read weren’t pretty.

And then when Seungmin tried to send Felix more information and they realised he’d blocked them… Even Hyunjin had grown concerned then, and Chan had nearly pulled his hair out. And Minho…

“Here,” Jeongin says, gesturing to a bakery with a bright green door.

Hyunjin squeezes his shoulder and they step inside, a cheerful chime above their hands announcing their entrance. There’s no one in the front part of the shop, but after a minute a woman bustles in from a doorway that must lead to the kitchen. She’s probably in her seventies, and there’s a streak of soot on her cheek.

“Good afternoon,” she says. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello. My name is Jeongin, this is Hyunjin. We’re looking for someone,” Jeongin says, too worked up by the day they’ve had to be as polite as he should be.

She frowns. “At my bakery?”

“Please,” Jeongin says. “We’re just… We’re really concerned. Have you seen a young blond omega lately?”

She just watches him for a long moment, and doesn’t respond.

“We really want to find him,” Hyunjin says. “He said he frequently visited a bakery in Heukseok-dong, so we’ve been walking around and trying to find the right one.” When the woman keeps staring at them, he adds, “His name is Felix.”

Slowly, she blinks. “Pilix?”

“Felix,” Jeongin corrects.

She waves a hand, chuckling. “I do not know a Pilix. What an odd name.”

“Felix.”

The woman just keeps smiling, and Hyunjin honestly isn’t sure she’s even really seeing them.

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin says to Jeongin, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think she knows him.” If she had, she would have responded at “young, blond omega”. It’s not like there are too many of those.

Jeongin’s hands clench at his sides, his frustration seeping out into his scent. The woman notices, because her eyes widen in fear. “I’m really sorry, gentlemen.”

“No, it’s not—” Jeongin sighs, trying to collect himself and reel his scent back in. “Not your fault.”

“I-I…” She looks over her shoulder to the kitchen and then back at them, nervously wringing her hands. “Perhaps I could entice you to some pastries? Because the scones I just made are excellent, and rent is so high these days, and… oh, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” Her hands tremble. “They’re… They’re really good, I promise.”

She looks like she could burst into tears at any moment, and Jeongin pales when he sees what he did. Horrified, he says, “Oh, no, it’s not- We’re sorry, we just—of course we’ll take some pastries.”

Hyunjin nods emphatically. Jesus. Yes, they’re desperate to find Felix, but they didn’t mean to be assholes about it. “We’ll take all of them.”

She smiles gratefully, though still a little shakily, and heads back to the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” Jeongin mumbles as soon as she’s gone, shoulders slumping, “I made her cry.”

“Almost,” Hyunjin corrects, “And we’ll tip her, okay?” He wraps an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, Innie. We’ll find him. There’s three more bakeries on your list, yeah?”

That was the wrong thing to say, because Jeongin’s scent spikes again. “Only three,” he hisses. “And nobody’s seen him, and what if—”

He cuts himself off when the woman shuffles back in with a tray. She sets it down on the counter and looks at them with that same absent look in her eyes as before. “Let me bag these up for you.”

Hyunjin stares at the black lumps on the tray. “Um.”

She smiles brightly, looking a little past his shoulder. “Don’t they look perfect?”

“What the—” Hyunjin starts, but Jeongin elbows him.

“Yes,” the omega says quickly. “They look amazing. Thank you so much.”

She beams, and starts putting them in a brown paper bag. When she’s done, she hands it over and then frowns. To herself, she mumbles, “How much was it again? One scone for three thousand won. So twelve scones would be times ten, would be…” Her frown deepens, and then she looks back up. “Eight thousand won.”

“Thirty-six thousand,” Hyunjin corrects quietly. Good god. Does she own this place? How is it still running? This woman should be in a nursing home. He grabs his wallet and takes out the money, not even hesitating before adding an extra one hundred thousand. He slides it across the counter as he accepts the bag. “Plus a little extra. Please take care of yourself, ma’am.”

She titters and waves a vague hand again, but takes the money. “Thank you, gentlemen. I hope you have a nice day.”

“You too,” Jeongin says with a bow. Hyunjin does the same and they both turn to leave.

“Enjoy the scones!” she calls after them, and they both bow again and exit the shop.

Once outside, Hyunjin sends the bakery an unsettled glance over his shoulder. This place really shouldn’t be open. He can only hope she won’t burn it down with her next bake. Then he notices that Jeongin has already stalked off to the next location on his list, clearly focused on one thing and one thing only. Quickly, Hyunjin rushes after him. He hopes they’ll find him. For Jeongin’s sake, if not Felix’s own.

As the two boys walk away, they don’t notice two shrewd eyes following them through the shop’s window, any trace of senility gone. “Find him?” She scoffs. “I don’t think so. Enjoy the scones indeed.” She snatches the bills from the counter and snorts, her scent sharp and satisfied. “Thanks for the tip.”

Chapter Text

When Jeongin comes back to himself, they’re all in the den. He had woken up a few hours ago, but he’d still been pretty out of it. The drop had made way for subspace, and he had clung to Chan, fisting his hands in the alpha’s shirt and whining any time Chan so much as shifted.

Not that Chan minded. He wanted to keep Jeongin glued to his body forever after the night they’d had.

God, when Minho called them to tell them Jeongin was gone and all he could smell was his fear… they’d all jumped in a car before he’d even finished speaking.

They’d searched for hours, the entire mall and the parking lot and surrounding streets. They’d been on the phone with the police (which had been more frustrating than anything else, considering the woman they’d talked to had been more focused on trying to get them to fill out useless forms than actually doing something to help).

And then finally, finally Seungmin had called to tell them that Minho had found him, and they’d all rushed over to the east side atrium. When Chan had spotted Jeongin in Minho’s arms, the first thing he’d felt was overwhelming relief. The second thing, when he noticed Minho glaring down at someone on the floor, was rage. Someone had hurt Jeongin, and Minho had caught them.

But then he’d looked over, and Seungmin had been on his knees next to the boy, trying to hold him up.

Because Minho had used his Voice.

It had been such a jumble of confusion. Seungmin thought the boy was innocent. But he didn’t know for certain, and neither did Chan. Because Chan knew that Minho would never have used his Voice like that unless Jeongin had truly been in danger, and yet there had been something horribly vacant about the look in Minho’s eyes. So he’d ordered Minho to release him, because whatever had happened, the boy seemed ready to collapse and they needed him up and talking if they wanted to get the story out.

The boy had slumped forwards immediately, panting and smelling like nausea and fear, and Chan had felt his stomach twist. Something wasn’t right.

And then the boy’s first word had been a gasp of Jeongin’s name, his eyes frantic and searching, checking with them over and over to try and make sure Jeongin was okay. And Chan had known, then, that he was innocent.

And Minho had used his Voice on him.

He’d been about to ask the boy what happened, but he had surprised all of them by shooting to his feet and catapulting himself out the door, quicker than any of them had thought someone could be after being held down like that. He and Seungmin had tried to rush after him, but they hadn’t gone farther than the parking lot. The kid had smelled terrified and they didn’t want to make it worse, and also, everything in Chan was screaming at him to get to Jeongin.

Once they got back, Minho had pushed Jeongin into his arms without a word, and Chan had been a little too busy with a desperate scenting to notice how Minho had shut down.

They had driven home, and they’d all huddled up in the nest, staying close to Jeongin and to each other. They were all here.

But Minho hadn’t said a word since they found him in the mall.

Chan had tried to get him to talk. They all had. They were worried, because they knew Minho would never do something like that, and so something must have been very wrong. But Minho had kept silent, ignoring their voices, and their scents, and their touch. He’d kept his eyes fixed on Jeongin and his hands folded in his lap. Waiting for him to wake.

Eventually, they’d all trailed off into silence, and waited with him.

So when Jeongin’s scent shifts from that spacy undertone into something more collected and aware, they’re all watching. Jeongin blinks, and clarity returns to his eyes. He stares up at Chan and then slowly untangles his hands from Chan’s shirt, worming his way out of his lap.

Chan’s grip tightens instinctively, and Jeongin sighs. “Let me go, hyung.”

Chan swallows, ignores his screaming instincts, and lets go.

Jeongin moves off his lap, though he does stay close. He hugs his knees to his chest and rests his chin on them. “What happened?”

“We lost you,” Seungmin says quietly. “We don’t know what happened. When Minho-hyung found you, you had already dropped.”

Jeongin doesn’t speak for a moment, staring blankly at the sheets in front of him. It’s clear he’s trying to piece things together. His eyes drift up to Minho. “You found me?”

Minho nods. His face is still expressionless.

“Do you remember what happened?” Chan asks gently.

“I…” Jeongin frowns. “I was…” He looks back at Minho. “We were at the mall. And there was…” He stiffens, and Hyunjin wraps an arm around his waist. Jeongin doesn’t protest. “There was an alpha,” he mumbles.

They all tense. “What did he do?” Chan manages.

Jeongin’s hand clenches in the sheets. “Nothing. I… God, it was so—he didn’t even do anything? I just… panicked.”

Jisung stares at him. “He did nothing, and you panicked?”

“Yeah, there’s no way,” Changbin says. “Please tell us what he did.”

“No, I… I mean it.” A hint of shame is starting to creep into Jeongin’s scent. “He just felt… off. I don’t know. I didn’t even really see his face. But he was walking towards me, and I just… snapped. Like, everything in me rebelled. I just ran.” Hyunjin’s arm tightens around him. “It’s so stupid. I’m not… I’m not like that.”

“Fear doesn’t have to be rational,” Seungmin says. “It just happens.”

Jeongin lets out a tired huff of annoyance. “Yeah. Apparently. I ran all the way to like, god knows where. Miles away, for sure. And then I curled up behind a dumpster and had a panic attack and thought I was going to die. Maybe I would have if it hadn’t been for Felix.”

More than one of their scents spikes at the thought of Jeongin dying, but eventually Chan manages, “Felix?” 

Jeongin looks up. “Yeah. He was so sweet.” For the first time, a tiny smile drifts across his face. “He talked to me until I was no longer drowning, and then he gave me donuts. They were really good.”

Chan swallows. Fuck. He sees everyone dart brief glances at Minho, whose face is still expressionless.

“And then I fucking dropped,” Jeongin groans, “And my stupid legs gave out, so he stayed with me. I think he called us a taxi? But I’m not… I’m not too sure about anything that happened after that.” He looks up at Minho. “Did he find you? He promised he wouldn’t leave me alone, he was really... he made me feel so safe. I want to thank him. I owe him a lot.”

For a moment, it’s completely silent. They’re all watching Minho, and Chan knows, just knows that this is about to go very, very poorly.

Minho’s eyes are still blank when he opens his mouth. Flatly, he says, “He found me.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jeongin says. “Did he—”

“And I used my Voice, and pinned him to the ground.”

All the colour drains from Jeongin’s face. “What?”

“He brought you back,” Minho says, still emotionless, “And I made him kneel, and held him down until hyung made me stop.”

“Hyung,” Jisung whispers, clutching Minho’s arm. Hyunjin looks worried, too, and if his arm wasn’t still around Jeongin Chan knows he would have shifted closer to Minho as well.

“Why?” Jeongin asks, mouth gaping. “What, did you think he was the one who took me?”

Minho shakes his head. “No.”

Chan frowns. But before he can ask about it, Jeongin says, “Then what the fuck? You used your Voice?” Minho nods. “Why?” When Minho merely shrugs, Jeongin rips himself away from Hyunjin to sit up on his knees. “Are you insane?”

“Jeongin-ah,” Chan says, but Jeongin ignores him.

“Where is he?” he demands. When Minho doesn’t answer, he looks at Chan. “Tell me he’s okay.”

Chan takes a breath. “He… He ran off. We didn’t even know his name until you told us. We’re sorry, Innie.”

Jeongin stares at him for one horrified second, and then he explodes, whipping his head back to Minho. “You made him panic? What the fuck, hyung?! What the fuck kind of power trip were you on? That’s- that’s—” His eyes search Minho’s face, trying to find a hint of remorse. But Minho’s face is too blank to show it, and Jeongin is too upset to look deeper. “You don’t even regret it, do you? God, you arrogant, entitled dick—” He scoffs and slides down the bed. “Don’t,” he growls at Seungmin when he reaches for him. “I can’t fucking be in the same room as him right now.”

“Jeongin,” Chan says again.

Jeongin steps out of the nest and whirls back around. “What? You want me to apologise?” He lets out a sharp laugh, and it’s not a nice sound. “Felix saved me, he was the nicest person I’ve met in ages, and he just—” Jeongin’s face twists, and for a split second, Chan thinks Jeongin will spit in Minho’s face. But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at Minho, and his hands clench into tight fists. He breathes heavily through his nose, his vanilla scent spiking the air, sharp and burnt. When he speaks again, his words are harsh. “You hurt him. You fucking violated him, like some sort of animal. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you. You’re- you— you disgust me, you—”

“Jeongin!” Chan snaps loudly.

Jeongin’s mouth clicks shut and he stops his tirade. But he doesn’t take the words back. Instead, he merely gives Minho one more look and then stalks out of the den. The door to his own room slams shut a few seconds later.

And in that last look, underneath the anger, the hurt on his face was clear.

And Chan understands. He really does. He gets why Jeongin would react the way he did. With his family, with how hard he’s fought for what he has, with what they all promised him when they started courting him, he gets why this would hit Jeongin hard. The way Minho put it does make it sound like that’s all there was to it.

But Chan knows it isn’t. And as he looks around the room, he can see that the other four know it too. Something went wrong tonight, and it has nothing to do with Minho having a superiority complex, because he doesn’t.

Something is wrong, and Minho is refusing to tell them what.

Before he can do anything, Minho steps out of the nest too.

“Hyung,” Jisung whispers, sounding close to tears, but Minho ignores him. He lets his eyes trail over them, his face as unreadable and closed-off as the day Chan first met him, and then leaves the room.

Jisung begins to cry, and even as Chan pulls him in for a hug, he meets Changbin’s eyes over his shoulder. Changbin wordlessly shakes his head. No. He doesn’t know what’s going on either.

Chan tugs Jisung onto his lap and lets him bury his face in his neck, but the gears in his mind are turning, powered by worry and alarm. Yes, something is wrong. But so long as he doesn’t know what it is, he can’t fix it.

That night, there are only five of them in the den. As much as they’d all like to hold Jeongin close after tonight, and throw themselves on top of Minho until he spills, they know better than to force them. They can only hope Minho and Jeongin will talk it out soon.

And yet, Chan hasn’t seen Minho this blank-faced since he started letting them in. So as much as he hopes for a quick resolution, he doubts they’re going to get it. This is going to be a rough month.

Chapter Text

Seungmin knows things are about to go wrong when Felix tears himself away from him and runs.

“Felix!” he yells, but Felix is already off, dashing out of the kitchen and into the hallway. “Fuck,” he curses, taking off after him. “Felix!”

“MINNIE!” Changbin yells from around the corner, and Seungmin nearly crashes into the wall with how fast he’s going, socked feet sliding on the floorboards. When he reaches them, Changbin is already lowering Felix to the ground, one of his hands digging into his left thigh.

Damn it.

Seungmin drops down next to them and starts kneading Felix’s other spasming leg, scanning Felix’s face and inhaling deeply to try and get a read on what’s going on. Felix’s face is twisted in pain, but beyond that, he’s still panicking. His scent is sour with guilt.

“This is our fault,” Seungmin tells him, trying to steer Felix’s mind away from that guilty panic. “I’m sorry, Felix.”

It doesn’t seem to be working. Felix’s scent spikes further, and he’s gritting his teeth to hold back a scream. “Roll him over,” Seungmin tells Changbin.

“Stretch?”

“Yes.”

Together they roll Felix onto his side in one smooth movement and bend his legs to stretch out his thighs.

“Oh my god,” Hyunjin breathes from the doorway, sounding horrified.

They’re all there now, and Jisung worms his way past Chan to crash down next to Felix and pull his head into his lap. He leans over him, murmuring soothing words and pushing pheromones so hard that cinnamon breaks right through the cloud of neutraliser. His cheeks are still wet, but he’s fully focused now, recognising that this muscle spasm is different.

And it really is; Felix still gets muscle spasms regularly, but he normally doesn’t panic during, and his panic is clearly making it worse. He’s fighting them, Seungmin realises when Felix tries to twist his head away from Jisung. He’s fighting them out of guilt.

Jeongin is there too now, joining Jisung in pushing out as much soothing vanilla as he can manage, but it’s not enough. Felix is fighting hard, struggling against their grip on him and trying to get away.

“Oh god,” Chan says, sinking down next to them, “Oh god. What can I do?”

Felix lets out a choked-off scream and his scent cracks open into the first hints of acrid drop.

No.

A part of Seungmin wants to scream in panic, but the rest of him, the part that has always been instinctive but has been honed further by his three months at the Golden Hour Clinic, takes over and completely clears his head of anything except medical care. He’s zeroed in on Felix, focused on every signal his body is giving off. “He’s going to drop. Hyung, scent him.”

Unfortunately, his packmates are not doctors, and they do not react the way he needs them to.

Hyunjin panics, falling down next to them. “He’s dropping?”

“No!” Jisung cries out, fresh tears spilling. “No, no, Lixie—”

Chan has frozen, one hand still on Felix’s arm.

Felix’s scent grows even more acrid, and Seungmin knows that if they don’t act now, he’ll slip down into that drop, and his body is still too vulnerable. His natural defences are gone, and if he drops now, he’ll tumble right down to the deepest levels of drop that none of them will be able to pull him out of. If he drops now, he will die.

Seungmin shakes Chan roughly by the shoulder. “Now. Hyung, do it now, before—”

Chan’s scent steamrolls over them, heavy and all-consuming. It’s a lot. Seungmin always forgets how strong it is. He catches Jisung and Jeongin swaying slightly, even if Chan is directing most of his pheromones at Felix. The alpha leans forward to better control the flow, pushing Jisung’s hands aside to press both of his wrists against the scent glands on Felix’s neck, sending a warm flood of coffee straight into his system.

Felix goes limp. His legs stop seizing. Everything stops, and then he doesn’t move at all.

Hyunjin screams.

Chan snatches his arms away like he’s been burned, face white with shock. “Fuck. Fuck, what did I—”

“Felix,” Jeongin gasps, leaning over him. “Felix, Felix, please—”

“Move,” Seungmin growls, shoving Jeongin to the side. He presses two fingers to the pulse point in Felix’s neck. For a second, he doesn’t feel anything, and his lungs tighten. But then it’s there, Felix’s heartbeat, strong and slow. He’s passed out. Not dead. For lack of equipment, he follows his instincts and presses his nose to Felix’s scent gland, taking a deep breath. He gets nothing but hazy sleep, floaty and vast and expansive.

“He’s fine,” he tells the others. “He’s okay. He’s okay.” His hand clenches in the soft cotton of Felix’s hoodie.

Jisung’s scent breaks with relief, and he buries his head in Jeongin’s neck. “Oh thank god.”

Jeongin brings his arms up to wrap around him, looking and smelling equally stricken. Hyunjin wipes away tears and places a hand on Felix’s knee in the lightest of touches, like Felix might disintegrate if he presses too hard. Chan is still staring at him, white as a sheet. He smells nauseous. “I hurt him.”

“You didn’t,” Seungmin says. His voice sounds thin. “You sent him into subspace. You kept him from dropping.”

Chan looks uncertain, hands still tucked against his chest. “Are you sure?”

“Mostly.” Seungmin’s heart is pounding. “I’ll have to check with the—”

Changbin appears behind him, wordlessly handing Seungmin the pheromone analyser. Seungmin hadn’t even noticed him leaving. He takes it and only realises then that his hands are shaking. Changbin kneels and presses a long kiss into his hair. “He’s okay. You did well.”

He pulls Seungmin into his chest, and Seungmin weakly tries to pull away. “No, I need- I need to…”

“It’s okay,” Changbin murmurs, holding him tightly. It’s grounding. “Breathe, Minnie. You did well.”

Seungmin releases a shuddering breath, feeling dizzy. “Fuck.”

Changbin squeezes harder. “It’s alright. He’s alright, we’re all okay.”

Seungmin drops his head and buries his face in Changbin’s bicep. Changbin sways him gently, light woodsmoke drifting around him. Seungmin breathes.

Jeongin quietly takes the analyser from Seungmin’s lax grip and presses it against Felix’s neck, starting the reading. Nobody speaks.

When the device beeps, Jeongin holds it out to Seungmin, who lifts his head from Changbin’s arm and checks the screen. Sig-C 12. Sig-K 34. Mod-A 7. He lets his eyes scan over the rest. All acceptable values.

Felix is fine.

“He’s okay,” he manages. His eyes stay dry, but he buries his face in Changbin’s bicep again regardless. “He’s fine.”

Chan slumps forward, exhaling in relief. “Oh, thank god. Jesus Christ, I thought I’d killed him.”

Jisung bends to press a kiss to Felix’s forehead. A tear drips from his own face onto Felix’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This was m-my fault.”

“We shouldn’t have discussed it in the kitchen,” Jeongin mumbles, still watching Felix. “We know Minho-hyung scares him.”

Changbin hums, still plastered to Seungmin’s back. “Honestly? He didn’t smell scared. Only guilty. I think he just felt really guilty over the situation, and he panicked. When he wakes up, we’ll talk to him about it. It’s alright, Jisungie. It’s going to be okay.”

Jisung lets out a sob. “I was just so w-worried about h-hyung and- and—”

“Ssh,” Chan murmurs, straightening and pulling Jisung into his side. “It’s alright. Of course you were worried.”

“H-he must be hurting so b-badly and he d-didn’t even t-talk to us,” Jisung cries into Chan’s shoulder, “And now I nearly k-killed Lixie—”

Chan hushes him, rocking him side to side and making gentle shushing sounds. “You didn’t. Lixie is fine. And I know, love. I’m worried too.”

“What if- what if hyung gets sick too—”

“He won’t,” Chan says firmly. “I won’t let that happen.” When Jisung starts to protest, Chan squeezes his shoulder, pushing him back enough to look him in the eyes. “Listen to me. I have been in contact with his colleagues every day for weeks. Minho is not ready to talk to us, and I am letting him have his space. I’m not happy about it, but if that’s what he feels he needs, I’m willing to give him that. His colleagues are bringing him food and checking up on him. They’re telling me that he’s no longer teaching classes and he’s not doing well, but he isn’t at risk of truly endangering himself. If he were, I would have broken his door down a long time ago.”

Jisung looks at him, eyes wet and shiny. “He w-won’t drop?”

“No,” Chan vows. “I would never let that happen.”

“It’s rare for alphas to drop anyway,” Seungmin adds. He’s managed to recover himself and straightens out of Changbin’s arms. This time Changbin lets him. “Hyung is right, you don’t have to worry about that.” He didn’t know Chan had been doing all of that. But he should have. Chan has always kept tabs on all of them, and he would never have let Minho stray away from them without a way to check in.

“We’re going to keep visiting,” Chan tells Jisung, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone to brush away tears. “And we’ll keep reminding him that we love him, and that we’re here. But for now, that’s all we’ll do. We won’t force him. You know that won’t work.” He smiles. “You remember why, right?”

After a few seconds, Jisung exhales and lets out a watery chuckle. When Jeongin tilts his head in curiosity, Changbin huffs and shakes his head. “When we first started courting him, he’d have these days where he didn’t wanna talk to us, and we used to try and make him.”

“And one day Binnie pushed too far and Minho-hyung emptied his water bottle over his head,” Jisung says, smiling through his tears.

Chan’s lips twitch. “We were at a restaurant. He didn’t even use his glass—he took his water bottle out of his bag and used that, and Binnie was just dripping for the rest of the meal.”

That makes the others laugh too. Hyunjin looks like he already knows this story, but it’s new to both Jeongin and Seungmin.

“So let’s spare me this time and not push him, yeah?” Changbin says, reaching out to Jisung to give his hand a squeeze. “Channie-hyung’s keeping an eye out. It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” Jisung agrees with a little sniff. He wipes his eyes, but the hint of a smile is still there, and his scent is no longer panicked.

Felix makes a tiny sound from Jisung’s lap and turns his head to bury his nose into Jisung’s thigh.

Everyone looks down at him. Jeongin brushes a hand through his hair. “Can we move him?”

Seungmin grabs the analyser and takes another glance at Felix’s readings, just to reassure himself that he is okay. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Yes, let’s move him to the nest. But stay close. Especially you, hyung.” He looks at Chan.

Chan nods in understanding. “Because I spaced him.”

“Yes. We’ll just wait for him to drift out of it and back into a normal sleep, but until then he needs you.” Then he bites his lip. “Also… When he wakes, don’t mention that it happened. Many of the omegas in the clinic drifted through subspace as they were brought back up, and Hongjoong-hyung said they generally don’t mention it to them. Especially when they suspect trauma. Subspace is abused so often, it’s a risky topic. And I might be wrong, maybe that didn’t happen to him, but if it did, I’d like to avoid him panicking about it. He won’t remember it, and it won’t affect him. There’s no point in telling him.”

He looks around at the others, who all nod back at him.

“Okay,” Seungmin says. “Then let’s go.”

“I’ll carry him,” Chan says, shifting away from Jisung. He wraps his arms around Felix and rises, lifting him effortlessly up against his chest. Felix immediately curls into him, fingers grasping loosely at the fabric of Chan’s shirt.

“God, he’s light,” Chan says worriedly. “I can barely feel him.”

Hyunjin stands too, very gently brushing a finger over Felix’s cheekbone. “He said he hadn’t eaten a full meal since January.”

Jeongin hisses, but although everyone looks pained, nobody looks entirely surprised.

“With the drop, he wouldn’t have been able to keep food down,” Seungmin says, even if he knows it was not just that.

Changbin’s mouth twists and he shakes his head. He clearly knows it too. “He was already too thin when we saw him that night he brought Innie back. And his place was... He clearly had no money. I think he didn’t have the means to pay for food even before the drop.”

Hyunjin opens his mouth and looks at Chan. But before he can speak, Felix gives a little shiver, burrowing his head further into Chan’s neck, and Chan presses an automatic kiss into his hair. He doesn’t even seem to realise he did it. “We’ll fix it,” he vows. “But right now, he needs to be warm. Let’s get him to his nest.”

He sets off down the hall, and Seungmin watches him go. They’re right. Felix is still far too thin. And because of this, he will be skipping another meal. Maybe Seungmin shouldn’t have removed the NG tube that fast. Maybe he should have waited longer, until Felix didn’t sleep as much. Hell, maybe he shouldn’t even have let Felix out of the bedroom this soon. Seonghwa had said it was okay, but Seonghwa hadn’t seen Felix. He only had Seungmin’s notes to go on, and what if Seungmin had made a mistake?

What if he’d made a mistake just now, and Felix wasn’t fine at all? What if he’d missed something, and Felix would drop after all? They might all go to sleep tonight and Felix might be dead when they wake up.

Nausea grips him hard, and he doesn’t realise he’s standing alone in the hallway until Hyunjin sticks his head around the doorway. “Seungminnie?”

“I…” He swallows. “I’m fine.” He is. There is nothing wrong with him. “I’m going to the bathroom, I’ll be right there.”

He walks away before Hyunjin can say anything, slipping into the room and locking the door behind him. He steadies himself with his hands on the sink, the analyser still gripped awkwardly in his left hand. Felix had almost dropped. This would never have happened if he’d been in the clinic, where he was supposed to be, where he would have been if Seungmin had been thinking clearly when Jeongin had called him and hadn’t told them to take him to their place. He’d wanted to honour Felix’s wishes, but he hadn’t realised how bad the drop was until it was too late and Felix was already here.

He’d tried to do what he’d seen Seonghwa and Hongjoong and the others do, but he’d already made so many mistakes, and tonight…

With shaking hands, he draws his phone from his pocket and checks the Kim pack’s work schedules. Seonghwa is not working. He dials.

Seonghwa picks up on the first ring. “Seungmin-ah?”

“Hyung,” Seungmin says, and his voice cracks.

“What’s wrong?” Seonghwa’s voice is alert but calm, and Seungmin clings to it.

“I… We made him panic. By accident. And he nearly dropped. And Channie-hyung used his scent to space him and knock him out, but I’m still- I don’t know if—”

“Take a breath, Seungmin-ah.” There are other voices and there’s a clang of cutlery. Seungmin belatedly realises it’s dinner time. “What were his readings?”

“I- they were okay, I think, but—”

“Seungmin. His Sig-C?”

“Twelve,” Seungmin answers automatically.

“Sig-K?”

“Thirty-four,” Seungmin says, checking the screen.

“Mod-A?”

“Seven.”

Seonghwa takes him through more readings, including ones that don’t even really matter, and Seungmin vaguely realises he is doing it more for Seungmin than for Felix. Those first three were the most important. Seonghwa would likely already have drawn conclusions from those.

“And your alpha spaced him?”

“Yeah, he- he accepted Chan-hyung’s scent this morning. It hit him pretty heavily then too, but that was just scent sensitivity, and he was comfortable then. So I… maybe he’ll be okay? But I just… he’s missed another meal, and I was supposed to get his weight up, and—”

“Meals can wait,” Seonghwa says, still sounding completely calm. “I know he’s underweight, but skipping one won’t kill him. Dropping would have. You did the right thing.”

Seungmin’s hand clenches around his phone and he exhales shakily. “What if I missed something. Hyung-nim, he looked—”

“Do you want me to stop by?” Seonghwa asks, not for the first time.

“I- no, he said…”

“Seungmin. Do you want me to stop by?”

“Yes,” Seungmin breathes. Then he swallows. “But not without his consent.”

He can hear the smile in Seonghwa’s voice when he answers, “Then you wait until he wakes and ask him tomorrow. I’ll be driving around town all day anyway, there’s three other home visits I’ll be making. If he says yes, call me and I’ll pencil you in.”

Seungmin feels his shoulders loosen slightly. “Okay. You’re sure he’ll be okay tonight?”

“What’s your judgement?”

Seungmin blinks and takes a breath, getting his head back together. This is a familiar question. He’s been asked this a hundred times during their rounds at the clinic.

Felix’s readings were good. He was relaxed. He’d turned his face into Jisung’s scent, and clung to Chan. He wasn’t in pain. He’d smelled like sleep.

“He’ll be okay,” he answers, voice firmer now.

“Exactly,” Seonghwa says, still audibly smiling. “You did well, Seungmin. Good job.”

Slowly, Seungmin relaxes. “Thank you. Sorry for calling.”

“Always call, Seungmin-ah. Never apologise for that.” There’s a yell and a crash in the background followed by a round of laughter, and Seonghwa sighs and mutters, “That’s the third plate this week.”

Seungmin breathes out a laugh.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Seungmin says, feeling a lot lighter.

“Good. Ask him tomorrow and let me know, yeah?”

“I will,” Seungmin promises. “Thank you, hyung-nim.”

“Anytime, Seungmin-ah. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, the call ends, and Seungmin releases a breath. It’s steady this time, no longer shaky. Felix is alright. They kept him from dropping. He’ll be fine until morning, and then Seungmin will convince him to let Seonghwa check him over. It’s going to be okay.

His shoulders relax, and he unlocks the door to go back to the guestroom.

Chapter Text

When Jeongin wakes up, everyone else is still asleep. That’s not strange; he’s often the first one up, although Seungmin usually isn’t far behind. Neither was Felix a few weeks ago, but his post-drop symptoms have devolved into an extreme level of exhaustion, and by now it is hard to get him to wake up for breakfast at all. They probably wouldn’t, if he weren’t still so underweight.

Jeongin breathes in, enjoying the scents of pack-and-Felix that are layered carefully throughout the nest. They’re missing one though. Jeongin’s face twists. They’d all expected Minho to cave by now. But somehow, he’s been lasting far, far longer than they thought he would. Chan had called Minho’s colleagues three times yesterday just to check if they were absolutely sure he wasn’t lying comatose in a corner somewhere. But he wasn’t. Leave it to Minho to be stubborn enough to stretch out scent starvation.

Beside him, Hyunjin mumbles something in his sleep and rolls over, burying his nose in Jeongin’s scent gland. Jeongin lets him, and after a second, turns his head to nuzzle against Hyunjin’s temple. He always feels a little more free when the others are asleep.

When Hyunjin begins to sleepily mouth at his neck though, Jeongin smacks him before Hyunjin’s scent can spike. There are things that should be left for the den, and sleepy morning sex is one of them.

“Guh,” Hyunjin gurgles as he startles awake. He spits out the lock of Jeongin’s hair that had apparently been between his mouth and Jeongin’s skin (to Jeongin’s absolute disgust), and blinks blearily. “Wha—”

“Hush,” Jeongin says. “Stop sucking on me.”

Hyunjin gives one more slow blink, and then Jeongin can quite literally see the spark of interest appear in his eyes. Goddamnit. “Oh, but baby,” Hyunjin purrs, “You like it when I—” Jeongin jabs his elbow into his ribs, and Hyunjin coughs, all air leaving him in a rush. “—behave like a proper church-going boy and don’t touch you in our shared nest with Lix,” he wheezes.

“Better,” Jeongin says, before lifting his head to check if they woke anyone up.

They didn’t, though. All other four occupants of the nest are still asleep. He lies back down.

Then he shoots up. Four.

“Where’s Felix?”

Hyunjin, still breathless, waves a hand. “Bathroom?”

“No,” Jeongin says, because the door to the bathroom is slightly ajar and the lights are off. His eyes shoot back to the spot where Felix had fallen asleep last night, in between Changbin and Chan. It’s empty. He rolls to his knees in a scramble of sheets, leaning over to press a hand down in the spot between them.

Cold.

“What’re you doin’,” Seungmin mumbles, eyes small and sleepy. He has at least three tufts of hair standing up in a way that Jeongin definitely does not find cute.

And certainly not now. “Felix is gone.”

Seungmin is up before Felix’s name has even left Jeongin’s lips. “What?” Alarm spikes his scent as he registers that Felix isn’t in the room. “Hyung.” He smacks Chan awake.

Chan jumps and shoots up, his own hair sticking out just as wildly. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Felix?”

Jeongin has always admired the way Chan can snap to alertness in the blink of an eye. He scans the nest, the dark bathroom and their alarmed faces, before saying soothingly, “Okay. Alright, calm down. He might just be in the kitchen.”

Seungmin is already out of bed and halfway down the hall. “Felix!”

Changbin and Jisung groan at the shout, but their weeks of round-the-clock care for Felix have even them up and awake like nothing else had ever managed before. Changbin curses and slides out of bed.

“Okay, time for a house search,” Chan says when there’s clearly no reply to Seungmin’s shout for Felix. “Sung, Bin, upstairs. I’ll go to the basement.”

“I’ll go after Seungmin,” Hyunjin says, a little pale. Jeongin follows him out of the room. In the kitchen, they run into a frantic Seungmin.

“He isn’t here.”

“Did you check the living room?”

“Yes. It’s empty, he isn’t there.”

Hyunjin tries to put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him, but Seungmin has already rushed out the door and back into the hall.

Hyunjin bites his lip, and then wanders to the living room anyway. Jeongin checks the dining room, and then peers out the kitchen door. If Felix went outside—if he ran away…

Shit. Had it been their stories about Minho? A few weeks ago, Changbin had told them that Felix had asked about him, that he wanted to know how they met. They’d all taken that as a cautious sign that maybe, Felix wouldn’t mind hearing more. That maybe, he was no longer quite as scared as he had been. None of them expected Felix to forgive Minho; he had every right to hate him for what he’d done. But they all knew that Minho wasn’t a bad person, that there would be a reason for his actions, and they were hoping that perhaps, if Felix was ever ready for it, he would be willing to hear Minho out. If the stubborn idiot ever gave in and came back to them, that was.

But maybe they’d pushed too far. Maybe Felix hadn’t been comfortable with their stories at all, and he’d decided to slip out and leave. Maybe—

“Innie?” Hyunjin’s voice comes from behind him. It sounds strangled.

Jeongin turns and glances through the archway. Hyunjin is standing by the couch, and his eyes are fixed on something on the floor. “I need you to come tell me if I’ve lost my mind.”

Normally, Jeongin would deadpan an immediate “yes” to that question, no need to think twice. But Hyunjin looks genuinely rattled, and Jeongin frowns. “What?”

“Come over here,” Hyunjin says, “And tell me what you see.”

Jeongin steps closer. There’s a container of tteokbokki on the coffee table, but that’s not what Hyunjin is staring at. “What do you mean, what I—” He freezes. “What the fuck.”

“Oh, good,” Hyunjin says faintly, “It’s real.”

Is it? Is it real? Jeongin genuinely isn’t sure.

They both stare down, at a complete loss for words.

“Hey,” Chan says breathlessly, jogging through the archway. “Please tell me you’ve had more—” His eyes catch what they’re staring at, and he trips over his feet. He tries to catch himself, but bashes his shin into the coffee table with a loud thunk. “Oh my god.” He doesn’t even seem to register the pain though, eyes wide and shocked as he stares down at the two people on the rug. “What on earth?”

Chan sees them too. If they’re all seeing them, they must be real.

Felix. And Minho.

Their missing packmate and the omega he sent into a two-week-long drop, curled up so tightly that Jeongin can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. They don’t even twitch a muscle at the commotion. They just continue to lie there, hands fisted in each other’s clothes, noses buried in each other’s necks. They’re not even moving. They’re just… still.

Dread fills Jeongin’s stomach.

Chan recovers first, and drops down next to them. He checks Felix’s pulse and takes a whiff of his scent. Jeongin holds his breath, but then Chan says, “He’s sleeping. I smell no drop. No subspace.”

Jeongin exhales.

Then Chan turns to Minho. His face looks incredibly fragile for a second, and then Chan leans forward, placing a reverent hand on Minho’s cheek. His thumb strokes Minho’s cheekbone, and then slides down his neck to his pulse point. He leans in closer and takes a deep breath. “He smells sick,” he whispers, hand clenching. “But he’s sleeping too.”

Now that Jeongin is paying more attention, he can smell it. Minho’s scent, weak and thin but there.

It’s at that moment that Seungmin bursts back into the room, his medical kit in his hand. “What are you all standing around fo—” He looks down and freezes. “Oh, hell no.”

“They’re asleep,” Chan says reassuringly. “I think they’re fine.”

Seungmin ignores him. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He drops down next to Chan and gives them the same check-over with hurried yet efficient movements. His face is tense and he doesn’t speak, just continues his initial examination with a second check with the analyser, both on Felix and on Minho. When it beeps for the second time, he scans the readings and sits back on his heels. He takes a deep breath. “They’re stable. Somehow.”

They all slump in relief. “Oh, thank god,” Hyunjin says.

Seungmin throws his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “I’m going to murder him.” Jeongin doesn’t even know if he’s talking about Minho or Felix. Seungmin looks at them. “What the hell happened?”

“We don’t know,” Chan says softly, placing a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder. “We found them here.”

“I hate them,” Seungmin says, but he sounds overwhelmingly relieved. “I hate both of them and this entire pack.”

Chan chuckles, giving him a little squeeze. “Of course, pup. Should we wake them up?”

“No,” Seungmin says immediately. “They’re stable now, but I have no idea what’s going on. No one wakes up anyone until I’ve talked to the Kim pack.”

Before anyone can say anything, Jisung storms into the room, Changbin on his heels. “He’s not upstairs, we even checked the den and he’s just—” He lets out a shocked gasp and his eyes grow wide. “Hyung. Hyung.” He launches himself forwards to get to Minho, and it’s only Chan’s quick reflexes that allow him to catch Jisung around the waist before he can jump on top of him.

“Minho,” Jisung sobs, fighting Chan’s grip. “No, let me go, lemme—”

“Sssh,” Chan whispers in his ear, holding him tight. “We can’t wake him. We can’t wake him, Sungie, it’s really important.” He keeps saying it, repeating it until Jisung slumps in his arms and he knows the words have registered. “Good,” Chan says, with a kiss to Jisung’s hair. “Deep breaths. Good job. You’re okay.”

“I wanna touch,” Jisung says, sounding small. “Please, I want—”

Chan looks at Seungmin, who nods. “You can scent him, Sungie. All of us should. Just don’t wake them.”

Jisung nods frantically, and Chan lets him go. Jisung immediately shoots forward again, burying his face in Minho’s hair. He takes a few long breaths, swallows audibly, and then whispers, voice thick, “Hi.”

Jeongin swallows too. They’ve all missed Minho. They’ve all missed him terribly, but he knows it’s been hardest on Jisung.

“He smells sick.” Jisung is still close to Minho’s ear, but he’s murmuring so quietly that none of them have the heart to pull him back.

“He is scent-starved,” Seungmin says softly.

“Not dropping?”

“No, love,” Chan says. “He’s going to be fine.”

Minho and Felix don’t respond to the conversation, still knocked out cold. Jisung sits up and looks for a place to scent Minho. With Felix practically fused to Minho’s neck gland, that one is out, so instead Jisung flips one corner of the blanket back so he can get access to Minho’s wrist. He bends over and lifts Minho’s wrist to rub it across his neck, and Jeongin can tell the moment his pheromones enter Minho’s system. Minho’s face relaxes, and he lets out a little sigh against Felix’s neck.

Jisung presses a very, very soft kiss to Minho’s scent gland, and then pulls back to let the others have their turn. His eyes are still shiny, but he’s no longer crying.

One by one, they scent both of them. Minho needs more than just wrist scenting, but so long as they can’t wake them up, this is all they can do. For now, it even appears to be enough, since even this causes Minho’s scent to grow a little stronger. After Chan finishes scenting him, the last of them to do so, Minho’s death grip on Felix’s hoodie loosens as he relaxes further. But instead of rolling away, Felix merely lets out a sleepy sound and tucks himself impossibly closer against Minho’s front. Minho lets him, wraps his now-free hand back around Felix’s waist to hold him close, and rubs his cheek against Felix’s scent gland once before sinking back into sleep.

They all stare. What the fuck.

Then there’s the click of a camera shutter, and everyone looks back at Hyunjin, who shrugs. “If you think I’m not taking pictures of this, you’re all crazy.”

Changbin’s mouth twitches. He looks back at Minho and Felix, and then at Seungmin. “So… what, we just wait for them to wake up?”

“I’m going to call the Kim pack,” Seungmin says, getting to his feet. “I don’t care what the rest of you do, as long as you’re quiet.” He turns and exits the room in search of his phone.

Chan looks around their little circle and sighs. “I’ll be right back.”

None of them even react when he leaves the room, too busy staring at Minho and Felix. Jeongin knows they’re all wondering what on earth could have happened to bring them here, to bring them together like this. It’s bizarre. He can’t wrap his head around it, and if it weren’t for the fact that he can smell the others’ confusion, he’d have thought he was still dreaming.

They all jump when Chan tosses a box onto the coffee table, narrowly missing the tteokbokki. “Go play.”

“Hyung, what the hell,” Changbin says, staring at the box of Monopoly Chan’s family pack had gifted them a few years ago.

“There’s no use in sitting around speculating,” Chan shrugs. He has his laptop under his arm and sinks down on the couch, even as he gestures at the box. “Go play a game. We’ll all be right here when they wake up.”

Hyunjin lets out a laugh. “Anyone else feel like they’re in a fever dream, or is that just me?”

Jeongin can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him in return. “No, me too.”

There’s a chorus of quiet, bewildered chuckles, only ever so slightly tinged with hysteria.

Jisung is still stroking Minho’s hair, and Changbin pokes him. “Come on, Hannie. Let’s play.” When Jisung hesitates, Changbin adds, “Unless you’re scared of losing. I know you’ve never won against me before, but—”

“Have too!” Jisung protests. He seems to deliberate for a second, and then bends down to press one more kiss to Minho’s cheek before straightening. “Fine. I’ll prove it. I’m a business genius.”

“Oh yes,” Changbin says dryly. “You’re a true entrepreneur, who definitely didn’t empty his bank account by ordering seventeen pairs of headphones two months ago.”

“I made a typo! I sent them back!” Jisung glowers at Changbin. “Watch me. I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Jeongin sees Changbin’s face flicker with satisfied amusement as Jisung shuffles over to the coffee table and joins Hyunjin in setting up the game. From the couch, Chan nudges Changbin’s thigh with his foot in fond gratitude. Changbin pats his ankle, and goes to select his token.

Jeongin darts one more glance at Felix and Minho, and then sighs and turns to the others. He has so many questions, and he desperately needs answers. But he’s waited this long. He can wait a little bit longer. He accepts the stack of paper cash Hyunjin hands him, and settles in to play.

Chapter Text

The moment Felix breaks down, whatever was left of Hyunjin’s heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

Felix’s scent rolls across the room in a sickly cloud of grief and pain; nothing like the acrid scent of drop they’d smelled from him three weeks ago, but horrible in an entirely different way.

He’s leaning heavily into Jeongin’s side, shoulders shaking as he sobs. The sobs are hoarse and ragged and terrible, and Hyunjin doesn’t think Felix even manages to draw in enough air in between the heartbreaking keens he’s letting out.

Hyunjin sniffs, dragging his hand over his eyes to try and clear his vision so he can stand and make his way over.

“Oh, Lixie,” Jisung whispers, pressing his cheek to Felix’s. Changbin is rubbing soothing circles across Felix’s shoulder, and Seungmin has already crouched by Felix’s chair to check his pulse and scent and make sure it truly isn’t a drop, even if the Kim pack had said that it was very unlikely that Felix would slip back into one at this point.

Hyunjin takes Felix’s hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before rubbing Felix’s wrist gland along his neck.

The combination of scenting and grief is clearly too much for Felix’s muscles, because he sags further into Jeongin’s hold and nearly slips out of his chair.

Changbin’s arms are around him before he can fall, lifting him up against his chest. Felix only cries harder, and that has Chan at his side in less than a second. “Oh, Felix. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’ve got you.”

Chan sounds heartbroken, and Hyunjin doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t think he will be able to piece his own heart back together after that. What the fuck was that? They’d all known Felix had gone through trauma, had all suspected something bad based on the way he responded to certain things they said, but that? That was horrific. And it baffled Hyunjin, because what kind of person could go through hell like that and come out the way Felix had, with that level of kindness and compassion?

“It’s alright,” Changbin says, clutching Felix a little tighter. “Let it out, Lix-ah.”

Felix lets out loud, broken sobs against Changbin’s chest, and Hyunjin stops bothering to wipe away tears. He’s just going to cry for the rest of his life. He can accept that.

“We should go to the nest,” Seungmin says as he straightens. He’s still pale.

Changbin nods, and they all head for the bedroom. Chan pauses only long enough to drag Minho out of his seat and along with them. When they get there, Changbin doesn’t bother putting Felix down. He just crawls into the nest with Felix in his arms and lies down, Jeongin and Jisung curling up on Felix’s other side. Seungmin sits down cross-legged by his head, releasing a soothing cloud of sage. The ease with which they do it shows the practice of the weeks they cared for him when he was unconscious, although the way Chan leans over Changbin to rub his wrists over Felix’s skin indicates he’s catching up quickly. Hyunjin takes Felix’s hand again, and then tugs at Minho’s sleeve until the alpha hesitantly takes a seat in the nest beside him.

“Lixie,” Jeongin says, his forehead pressed against Felix shoulder. “God, I’m so sorry.”

Felix is clearly no longer registering their words, lost to grief and tears. Hyunjin doubts he’s ever really got to cry about it before. Not like this.

“That’s horrible,” Jisung sniffs, “Who would- Who would—”

“A psychopath,” Minho says, voice quiet. There’s a tension in his words and he doesn’t touch Felix, but he does send a stream of fresh sea salt in the omega’s direction.

Felix curls in on himself as a particularly harsh sob racks his frame, and Chan and Hyunjin shoot forwards to hold him tighter.

“We’ve got you,” Chan says again. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

There’s a resoluteness to his voice, a resolve. They all hear it. No one even blinks an eye. Hyunjin is sure they all feel it too. They’ve got him now. He’s safe.

Chapter Text

Minho takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door.

“Yes?”

The urge to turn around and walk back to his room is great. He shoves it down hard, and opens the door.

Seungmin is sitting at his desk, surrounded by books, notebooks, and his laptop. A flicker of surprise crosses his face when he sees Minho, but it is gone within seconds. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Minho says, stepping into the room. He pushes the door closed, mentally curses the way Seungmin’s eyebrows shoot up, and walks over. “What are you doing?”

Minho is expecting a sarcastic response, but Seungmin merely tilts his head and watches him. “Studying,” he says eventually, voice calm.

Damn it. This would have been a lot easier if Seungmin would have just snarked at him as usual. But of course he didn’t. Kim Seungmin is observant, and also, Kim Seungmin has never done what Minho wants him to.

Minho lets his eyes slide to Seungmin’s laptop, which is open on an academic article that involves phrases like “signaller and modulator pheromones” and “neuro-psychological approaches to scent deprivation”.

Scent depriv-

He stares at the screen. Seungmin isn’t studying. Or he is, but not for school. He’s in gynaecology right now, and there is no reason for him to be researching scent starvation. No reason, except for Minho.

Minho, who had isolated himself from his pack for weeks until he’d felt so sick and fuzzy that he’d barely been able to think straight.

He exhales, remembering.

He’d started pulling away as soon as he realised what he’d done that night in the mall. It hadn’t been immediate. He’d snapped back into his body at the piercing command in Chan’s words, but for a moment, he had no idea what had happened. Nothing had felt real, and everything had been so loud and bright and overwhelming. But slowly, as his eyes took in the packed mall, the crowd of spectators that surrounded them, the shocked and scared and confused faces of his packmates, and finally the shaking, crying omega on the floor, his actions had sunk in. That… he had done that. He had… He had…

The omega had run, leaving behind nothing but a terrified cloud of citrus, and Minho had wanted to throw up. But he’d been holding Jeongin, and Jeongin was dropping, and he needed him. He’d wanted to flee right there and then, but he’d come back home with the others because at least Jeongin in his arms was real, and if he came with them then he could make sure that Jeongin was okay. And then Jeongin had woken up, and he had been furious. As he should be. Out of everyone, Jeongin was the only one who’d reacted the way he was supposed to. Minho deserved anger. He’d hurt an innocent person, someone who had saved Jeongin’s life, and in return Minho had nearly taken his.

The others had been worried about him that night. Like Minho hadn’t just nearly murdered someone, again. He didn’t deserve their worry. Didn’t deserve the concern in Changbin’s eyes, or Chan’s careful attempts to get him to talk, or Jisung’s hugs.

“I know you didn’t mean to do it,” Chan had told him. “Please talk to us. I know you would never willingly use your Voice like that.” And that was true, but that’s what made it worse.

Because he had used his Voice like that. He hadn’t meant to do it, and it had happened anyway. Clearly, he couldn’t trust anything he did, because apparently he was a walking time bomb. The next time it happened, it might be at home, it might be one of them.

So he had pulled away. He’d still come home every day, but he’d withdrawn as much as he could, sleeping in his room instead of the den and not answering anyone’s questions. The only thing he’d done was press his credit card into Seungmin’s hands the day he and Jeongin were set to meet up with Felix. He knew money couldn’t make up for what he’d done, but it was the only thing he’d been able to offer at the time. And then Jeongin had returned and snarled at him that Felix had dropped and nearly died, and he’d left to stay at the studio after that. That drop had been his doing. He couldn’t be trusted.

And then Felix had dropped again, resulting in a series of frantic messages across the group chat as they went to pick him up and got the house ready, and Minho had stopped responding to calls and texts after that too. His actions had caused that, and he needed to stay far, far away from them before he did it again.

The others hadn’t given up on trying to contact him. Chan and Hyunjin had stopped by daily, even though Minho never opened the door and had Jung-shin from security escort them out when he could no longer stand their pleading voices. Changbin, Seungmin and Jisung kept calling him, texting him, but Minho had long since turned off the notifications on his phone.

Jeongin hadn’t texted. He’d called once though, and when the phone clicked through to voicemail, he hadn’t hung up immediately. There had been ten seconds of silence before he said, voice tight, “Hyung.” The word had been followed by an audible swallow, and then a rough exhale before he’d ended the call. It’s the only voicemail Minho had listened to. Word, swallow, exhale. Word, swallow, exhale, played on repeat until he’d grown sick of himself and deleted it.

Days had passed. Things had gotten… worse.

Vaguely, he had known people couldn’t stray from their bondmates for too long without it getting uncomfortable, but he hadn’t known it would be that bad. He hadn’t known his mind would get that hazy, or that the pain beneath his skin would grow that all-consuming.

Chan and Hyunjin had kept stopping by, had kept trying to convince him to let them in, and every day it got a little harder to stay firm. But he had to. His pain didn’t matter. He deserved it and he would bear it, if it meant that they’d stay safe.

And then one afternoon, after Minho had long since lost count of the days, there had been a gentle knock on his office door. Minho had expected Chan’s voice to follow, since Hyunjin usually simply flung himself against it with a sigh before sliding down to the floor. But it hadn’t been Chan.

“Hyung?” Jisung had asked, quietly. Hesitantly. “Hyung, it’s me. And Innie.”

Minho had frozen.

Jisung. Jeongin.

“Will you let us in?”

They were here. They were right outside that door.

“Please. Minho-hyung, I miss you so much. We miss you so much. I’m so worried about you. Please let us in.”

Minho swallowed hard, and clenched his hands around the armrests of his chair.

And then a quiet sob had echoed from the other side of the door, and Minho had wanted to rip his ears off. He had learned to brace himself against Chan’s soft coaxing, and against Hyunjin’s emotional outbursts and the flowers he left behind. But not this. Not Jisung’s tears.

“Hyung.” And that had been Jeongin. “I- I didn’t mean what I said that night. I don’t understand, but I… I’m sorry. Please open the door.”

Minho had let out a shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut, as if their voices would disappear if he could no longer see the room.

They hadn’t disappeared. They’d stayed, they’d kept talking, for the next three hours. And as terrible as those past five weeks had been, those hours might have been the worst of them all. Listening to Jisung’s begging, to the way Jeongin’s voice slowly grew hoarse with emotion, both trying to get through to him.

They already had though. They didn’t need to try, because every word they spoke pierced Minho’s chest like a dagger, leaving him raw and bleeding. It had been all he could do to retreat into himself as far as possible so the knife wouldn’t cut as deeply. He couldn’t give in. He couldn’t let them in, because he would hurt them, and he didn’t deserve their comfort.

Finally, after hours of agonised listening, he’d been unable to bear it for a second longer and he’d called Jung-shin to make them leave. The crying had grown louder, Jisung had gone nearly hysterical on the other side of the door, but eventually, they had left.

And Minho had been alone again.

Like he wanted.

Like he deserved.

But the next day, he had been visited by Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung, who somehow had been much calmer than the day before. They’d brought lunch, and had a takeout picnic right in front of his door. They’d chatted to him, voices bright and casual, and Minho had listened to their tone, letting it lull him into a daze. Their words barely registered. Something about pancakes, and a camera.

But there had been one thing they’d said that had stayed with him, that night when he lay tossing and turning on his office sofa, unable to find any relief from the needy itch under his skin. They’d told him that Felix was letting Chan and Hyunjin sleep with him in the nest. The haze in his mind had been so thick that he’d barely heard anything else, but he had been able to focus on that one thing, and what it would mean: the house would be empty.

If Hyunjin and Chan were with the others at night, the house would be empty, and it would smell like them. He could just… He could just go. Just for a minute. Just long enough to smell them, so he wouldn’t feel so hazy. Surely that wasn’t breaking his rules? Not feeling so foggy would be a good thing, because it would mean he would be able to think clearly again and hold firm against their daily visits.

A sharp spike of longing had coursed through him, and he had been off the sofa before he’d even consciously made the choice. Yes. He would go, just for a minute. Just… Just a minute.

He had driven home, parked a little down the street so no one would hear, and slipped into the house unnoticed, patches of scent blockers attached firmly to his scent glands. It had been mostly Chan and Hyunjin he had been able to smell. The others hadn’t been out of their quarantine for long enough to fully suffuse the room with their scents. But they had been there, layered underneath the coffee and cocoa. Hints of cinnamon, sage, woodsmoke and vanilla, as well as a subtle, fresh whiff of citrus that must belong to Felix.

Felix.

Felix, who, only ten minutes after Minho had arrived, had suddenly shown up behind him like some kind of spectre, completely silent and pale enough to pass for one. He had looked terrible. Scarily thin, the features in his face so sharp that he looked eerie and unearthly in the moonlit living room.

That was Minho’s fault.

He couldn’t remember what Felix had looked like that night in the mall, but surely this was his doing. Surely the boy had been healthy, and this ghost of a kid in front of him was what Minho had done to him.

Nausea had swirled in his stomach, and he’d swallowed hard. But when the boy had apologised to him and offered to leave, Minho had left before he could throw up, shame and self-loathing coursing in sickening pulses through his system.

He didn’t deserve to be there. He had done that. And Chan had mentioned earlier that week that Felix looked better now, which meant that he had looked worse than that. Minho hadn’t even made it back to his car before he did throw up in a bush on the side of the road, that same ache and need for pack returning tenfold and layering on top of the nausea.

But he didn’t deserve his pack. And his pack would be fine without him. He knew they loved him, but they would be alright. Felix was there, and it was good if they focused on him. Felix would never hurt them the way Minho might. The way Minho had. Minho couldn’t be near them.

And he had truly intended to stay away. He really had.

But the next night, the pain had grown worse, and he’d been so dizzy, and he had found himself back at the house before he even knew it. He didn’t even remember the drive.

He’d moved back into the living room and this time, the scents were a little stronger. He’d lowered himself onto the couch, fighting the urge to lay down, because if he did, he would never be able to bring himself to leave. But it had felt like he was drowning, and the scents that swirled around the couch were his sole source of oxygen.

And then someone had said, “Hey,” and he’d jumped so violently he’d nearly vaulted over the back of the couch.

And there he’d been again. And he’d offered Minho his hoodie. Jisung’s hoodie. And when Minho hadn’t taken it, he’d tossed it in his direction, and Jisung’s scent had hit Minho like a slap in the face. It had been exactly what he had been trying to avoid with the couch, and he’d broken so quickly it scared him. But it had been inescapable, because Jisung’s scent on the hoodie was strong and familiar and warm and everything Minho had been missing for weeks.

He’d buried his face in it and gasped for air, desperate to soothe the throbbing ache in his bones. But then, after what might have been minutes or hours or years, there had been a flicker of pale skin out of the corner of his eye, and he realised that Felix had left the room. Jisung’s scent had brought him just enough clarity to know that he had to go. He couldn’t be here as long as Felix was—he couldn’t be here as long as he was a threat to the people around him, which meant he couldn’t ever be here again.

I won’t come back, he’d vowed to himself as he pressed his face into Jisung’s hoodie in the car. This was the last time. I won’t come back.

But he had. He had, because he was weak, and exhausted, and starving for anything that might bring relief from the hazy, needy despair in his mind. So every night, he’d returned, like a moth to a flame. And every night, there were clothes. Scented and worn clothes, from all of his packmates. There were clothes, and food, and often, there was Felix. Minho never let himself be seen. With his scent blockers, it was hard for Felix to tell he was there in the dead of night, so if he arrived early and Felix was still there, he would hide in the kitchen until Felix gave up the wait and went back to bed.

Minho didn’t understand. Felix hadn’t told Chan what was happening. Hadn’t told any of his packmates. If he had, it would have been them lying in wait for him, not Felix. But Felix had kept quiet, and his actions were his own. For some reason, he was helping Minho.

And for the life of him, Minho couldn’t understand why.

He had harmed Felix. He had nearly killed Felix, would have killed him if his pack hadn’t been so careful in checking up on the omega. Minho didn’t deserve this type of care from anyone after what he had done, but especially not from Felix.

And yet despite the help, it hadn’t been enough. The clothes hadn’t been nearly enough, and he’d felt like he was already half dead by the time Felix threw that blanket over him.

If smelling his packmates one by one on worn clothing had been overwhelming, it was nothing compared to the scent of that blanket, coated by all six of them in deliberate, strong, soothing pheromones. Minho had shattered before he’d even finished taking in his first breath.

He’d broken completely. He had never cried like that. Not even when Jaewoo died. He’d never sobbed like that, choking on every wet breath of scented air. He’d curled in to the warm body behind him purely on instinct, and it was only when his sobs had tapered off into hitching breaths that he realised it was Felix.

And he hadn’t been able to stand it. He’d still been shaking and his mind had been spinning and Felix’s kindness had been too much, and everything had just… spilled out. Minho had never told anyone that much. Hell, he doesn’t think he ever talked that much in one go, period. But he had that night, too raw and cracked to keep it inside where it belonged.

And Felix had listened. He’d listened, and held Minho with small, bony arms, and then when Minho was done, he’d told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he forgave him. And he hadn’t smelled scared, or angry, or disgusted. Just sad. And honest.

And Minho knew Felix was wrong. Knew that whatever the omega said, he didn’t deserve forgiveness, that it was his fault, both Felix’s drop and Jaewoo’s death. Even Jaewoo’s parents had said so. His mother had screamed it in his face the day of the funeral. He knew it was his fault. But in that moment… He had been too overwhelmed to argue. Just for that moment, he’d given in, because Felix was warm, and he smelled genuine, and Minho was weak and he’d been cold for so long. So he’d turned around, and buried his face in Felix’s neck and hugged him close, anything to keep that warmth with him a little longer. If Felix had smelled in any way uncomfortable, Minho would have let him go. But he hadn’t. He’d simply wrapped himself around Minho in return and hooked his chin over his shoulder.

Minho could feel it the moment his scent blockers stopped working, his scent slowly making its way past the patches. It smelled off, too thin and unbalanced, but Felix had gasped into his neck and gone limp. For a split second, Minho had felt a screeching stab of panic, but then Felix’s own scent had crashed over him, heavy and strong with sleep, and that had been that. With how exhausted and hazy Minho himself had been, there had been nothing at all he could do to withstand it, and Felix had knocked him out within the next two seconds.

And that’s how the pack had found them the next morning, still tangled up in each other and apparently, so deeply asleep that some of his loudest packmates could get halfway through a game of Monopoly without either of them stirring.

All through the night before, Minho had been determined to slip away again. Even when he’d allowed Felix to comfort him, he’d told himself it would be just for that moment, and after that he would leave. But then… they had all been there. Their scents had all been there. And Jisung had cried, and Chan had looked fragile, and Jeongin—Jeongin—had touched his ankle and looked relieved to see him.

And Minho had still been so, so tired.

So when Chan had asked him if he would stay, he had caved. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving again, of going back to his studio and being all alone. Yes. Yes, he would stay. But he’d vowed to himself that he would never, ever let something like that night in the mall happen again. Because Felix may have forgiven him, but he was wrong. It had been Minho’s fault, Minho’s lack of control, and he would do better. He would lock it down harder, and make sure it could never escape again.

He didn’t remember much of the rest of that day, but he’d woken up with that same fierce resolution. He would control himself. It would never happen again.

It’s that resolution which had let him apologise to Hyunjin for missing his birthday. He’d done some calculating and he’d figured out that it had been the day he’d first come back to the house. That afternoon when Hyunjin had visited him with Changbin and Jisung, that had been his birthday. Minho wanted to kick himself when he first realised. But that wouldn’t help, that wouldn’t fix it, and Hyunjin deserved better. So instead, he’d spent that morning on the phone with his coworker’s aunt’s neighbour’s cousin, to convince her to sell her ticket to the painting workshop. He’d paid… a truly exorbitant amount of money for it. It’s a good thing Seungmin still had the credit card the others could see the expenses of and he’d had to use his private one. But it had been worth it for the expression on Hyunjin’s face. He would have paid far, far more if he had to. Hyunjin had been flippant about it, but he knows how much the young alpha fears them leaving. Minho has a lot to make up for, but this is a start.

It’s that same resolution which had let him apologise to Felix that night. If he was going to stay, this was something he needed to do, officially and formally and in front of his pack, the way Felix deserved. Minho had harmed him unforgivably, and he needed Felix to know that he knew that and that he didn’t expect forgiveness, even if Felix had offered it that night he broke down. But Felix had merely offered it again, easily, openly. He’d driven Minho into a corner by telling him it was his choice, and smiled in satisfaction when Minho had relented. And then he’d asked if he could scent him, and it had taken everything Minho had for his jaw not to drop. Not just because of the intimacy. It was the baffling thought that Felix would even want to, that even after everything Minho had done to him, he cared so much that he wanted to scent him just so he wouldn’t smell like shame. Felix had every right to despise him, to want to see him hurt in return, and instead, all he’d asked was to be allowed to help Minho one more time.

And even if Minho didn’t understand how anyone could be that kind, that forgiving, he’d said yes. Because Felix had meant it. He could tell by the utter honesty in his scent. Felix had smelled nervous, but it had been nerves about what the others would think, not from the idea of scenting Minho. He genuinely wanted to. So Minho had let him. Had allowed Felix’s kind, fresh lemon scent to trickle through his system, washing away the sulphury shame. He didn’t deserve it, but it was what Felix wanted, and despite himself it had felt so, so good.

And then Felix had told them his story, and Minho’s heart had plummeted right back down to his stomach. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t known any of that. Hearing everything that Felix had been through, realising what kind of things Minho must have made him relive with his fucked-up actions in the mall… It had caused fresh shame to swell inside of him. But—that wouldn’t help either. His shame was not what Felix needed, especially not when the omega had burst into tears afterwards.

His pack had jumped into action the moment Felix broke down. They’d looked and smelled as horrified as Minho felt, so they must not have known the full extent of it either. They’d all crowded around him and then, when Felix’s sobs had turned into loud cries of anguish, Changbin had swept him up and carried him off to the nest. Everyone had followed. Minho wouldn’t have, but Chan had clamped a firm hand on his arm and ushered him along. “Your scent is part of his nest,” Chan had said. “He wants you there.”

Yes. Minho’s scent was part of Felix’s nest. He’d nearly had a heart attack that morning when he’d woken up in the omega’s room; he didn’t remember being carried there, didn’t remember anything aside from the fact that he’d slept better than he had in months. But he knew for a fact that he hadn’t asked for permission, and he’d nearly bolted from the room before Changbin, exiting the bathroom, had told him Felix had asked for Minho’s presence there. That he’d assured everyone many times that he wanted him there.

Minho didn’t think he deserved to be there that morning, and he definitely didn’t think he deserved to be there that night, after Felix had told them every horrific thing that had happened to him, but Chan was right. If Felix had asked for him, then Minho owed it to him to honour that request. So he’d followed Chan and the others to the bedroom, and watched as they curled themselves around Felix and let him cry himself to sleep. They’d brushed away his tears and released a continuous stream of pheromones that had relaxed the omega a little bit further with every hitching breath he took.

Minho had watched, wondering how on earth Felix could have been nervous about his request to scent Minho earlier. Just in those two days, he’d seen the way his packmates interacted with him. The way they looked at him when Felix wasn’t watching, how they held him close and scented him without even a second’s thought, far more intimately than anything that was necessary for Felix’s recovery. Minho hadn’t seen that fond look on Chan’s face since Changbin and Jisung had introduced them all to Seungmin, and he had never seen Jeongin that affectionate with anyone. Despite his sense of shame that it had been him who caused Felix’s current state, everyone’s behaviour had made him smile. Silently, he had vowed to work hard to be deserving of the forgiveness Felix had granted him, so that when his packmates inevitably reached the point where they wanted to court him, Minho would not be a limiting factor.

And well… Minho didn’t know Felix. Had barely interacted with him at all aside from disastrous extremes. Somehow, Minho had gotten Felix’s life story before they’d even had one normal conversation. He really didn’t know Felix at all yet. But he knew that Felix was kind, and brave, and he smelled fresh and made his packmates happy. If Felix would let him get to know him, Minho would not say no.

And honestly, bafflingly, it seemed like Felix would let him. He’d invited Minho into his nest. And then that night, even after sharing his story and reliving his worst memories, Felix had curled into Minho when Chan had excused himself from the nest for a minute so he could go to the bathroom. Felix had already been asleep, and Chan had disentangled Felix’s small hand from his shirt and gestured for Hyunjin to step in for him. But before Hyunjin could move, Felix had rolled right over into a tiny ball and stuck his nose into Minho’s neck. Minho had frozen for one stunned second, and then, very hesitantly, placed a hand on Felix’s arm. Felix had let out a shuddery little breath, still wet with his earlier tears, and melted into him.

Minho didn’t deserve that trust. Had done nothing whatsoever to deserve that trust, but suddenly, he wanted to. He’d vowed again that he would control himself the way Felix and his packmates deserved. He would never harm them again. He’d make sure of it.

“Minho,” Chan had said quietly once he’d returned and settled back in the nest.

Minho had looked up from Felix’s face, already knowing what was coming. The others knew it too. They’d all fallen silent.

“What happened?”

Yeah. He’d known this was something he would be asked. The mood had been light yesterday, and today, but he had known they would want to have this conversation. He’d cooked them the most elaborate dinner he could and he knew they would all be able to recognise it for the apology it was, but he also knew that wasn’t enough. They deserved more. Unfortunately, even the thought of answering openly, truthfully, had made his throat lock up. He still couldn’t believe he’d told Felix. There was no way he was going to be able to do it again, even if they deserved to know what he really was. He’d swallowed hard, looking away. “I lost control.”

“What do you mea—”

“I’m sorry,” Minho had continued before Chan could finish. He’d looked back up at Chan and then around to everyone else. “I am sorry. For what I did that night. For leaving and making you worry. It won’t happen again.”

Chan’s expression had done something complicated. “But—”

“It won’t,” Minho had vowed. “I swear it.”

Chan had looked at him for a long time. Their eyes had locked for minutes, in total and complete silence. Nobody had spoken. Aside from Felix, nobody had hardly breathed.

“You’re staying.” Chan’s eyes had been fixed on his, his words almost a command.

Minho nodded.

And Chan exhaled. “Alright.” He leaned over to press their foreheads together. “Fucking hell, Min. I was so worried.” Before Minho could respond, he whispered, for Minho’s ears only, “Please just talk to me, love. Whatever it is, don’t carry it on your own.”

Minho’s throat had tightened, but he hadn’t replied. Thankfully, Chan hadn’t seemed to expect an answer, because he merely squeezed the back of Minho’s neck and pulled back.

Minho had looked at the others. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

He wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d been angry with him. But of course they hadn’t been. They had all merely leaned in to scent him and give him a kiss, just grateful to have him back even if they still didn’t entirely understand what had happened.

Even Jeongin had let him back in. He’d stunned Minho that morning, when he’d asked him to collar him. Submission was rare from Jeongin on the best of days, and this kind of submission, an open claiming when they weren’t even alone, is something he’d never done before. It had been an apology, clear as day even if Minho hadn’t been able to smell the hint of regret in his scent. And despite the fact that Jeongin didn’t need to, that the omega had nothing to apologise for, Minho had accepted, because what else could he do?

Even so, Minho knew Jeongin would not forget what Minho had done. Minho’s actions had hurt him deeply. Minho had done what he’d sworn to Jeongin he’d never do, and the omega had every right to be angry and distrust him.

And yet, in the nest that night Jeongin had apologised again, verbally this time, for the things he’d said that night after the mall. And once again, his apology had been genuine, and it was clear that he meant it when he said he was glad Minho was back. Somehow, he still loved him.

They all did. They had all been kind and gentle, smelling of nothing but love and relief. They had all accepted his apology.

But Seungmin…

He knows he owes Seungmin more.

“Glad we agree,” Seungmin says, and Minho blinks.

Hiding his flicker of alarm, he says, “Huh?”

Seungmin nods at the article on the screen. “That it’s a shit research paper. Judging by how hard you were glaring at it, I assumed you too saw how biased the sample was.”

Minho lets out an annoyed huff of air, but his shoulders relax. A part of him wants to kiss Seungmin for lightening the mood, but the rest of him knows that the beta is only doing it because he knows full well that something is up, and Minho is not getting out of this room without Seungmin prying it out of him. For someone so young, Seungmin knows more torture methods than is in any way rational. Minho blames Seungmin’s books. And himself.

“Yes,” he says with an eyeroll as he drops onto the edge of Seungmin’s bed. “Criticising medical papers was a big part of my dance performance and choreography courses.”

“As I thought.” Seungmin turns in his desk chair so he’s facing him. “Any further comments on the methodology, or can we get to why you’re really here?”

Minho tosses a plushie at him. “You could at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

Seungmin catches the plushie before it can hit his face and he doesn’t smile, but Minho can see the corner of his mouth twitch. It’s a near thing. “What’s going on, hyung?”

Minho rubs his hands over his thighs and looks up to the ceiling. “I’m only going to say this once. So I expect you to keep quiet until I’m done.”

Seungmin’s expression remains calm. “Alright.”

Minho takes a breath and looks at him. “I am sorry.”

Seungmin stays quiet as requested, but his raised eyebrow says, You already told me that.

“Not just for leaving. Not just for what I did to Felix. I’m sorry for putting his drop on you.” Seungmin’s perceptive gaze burns holes into his skin, and Minho very purposely doesn’t move. “You should never have had to do everything you did. To take on the responsibility that you did. It was my fault, and yet after Felix, it was you who bore the consequences. I am very, very sorry for that, Seungmin.”

There. He got the words out. Thank god. He nearly sighs in relief, but keeps his face blank and impassive. With anyone else it might look rude, but this is Seungmin. Seungmin will know. He has always been able to see right through him.

After a moment, Seungmin sighs. “They told you I cried, didn’t they.”

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. “They did not.” When Seungmin pulls a face and curses, Minho’s mouth curves. “But I knew you would have. You would have studied and researched for every possible thing that might happen during Felix’s drop. You would have sacrificed hours of sleep, and would have forgotten to eat if the others didn’t make you. Of course the stress of it would have made you cry.”

Seungmin shifts, uncomfortable.

This is more familiar ground. Minho relaxes. “I know you, pup. I know you don’t like it, but you’re an open book to me.”

“I was handling it. I would never have cried if Hyunjin hadn’t been an idiot and nearly killed him,” Seungmin grumbles.

Minho snorts. “You would have. Just in silence, and not in front of your pack.” When Seungmin pulls another face, Minho adds, a little more quietly, “You’re a lot like me, puppy. I’ve always understood you well.”

At that, Seungmin’s shoulders slump. He remains still for a few long seconds and then stands and moves to the bed, giving Minho’s chest a shove so he falls back onto the blankets.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Minho says mildly as Seungmin climbs on top of him, “But is this really the time?”

“Shut up,” Seungmin mumbles, and drops forward to lie fully on top of him and bury his face in Minho’s neck. “I hate you.”

Minho’s mouth twitches upwards and he wraps an arm around Seungmin’s back. “I know.”

He lies back and settles in, bringing his other hand up to play with the hair at the base of Seungmin’s neck. He releases a subtle stream of pheromones and feels Seungmin slump further into his body. As he relaxes, Seungmin releases the hold he has on his own pheromones, and a cloud of sage drifts around them. Minho breathes him in.

They lie in silence for a while, Seungmin’s body a warm weight on his. Heavy, but in a comforting way. Just when Seungmin lets out a first snuffle that hints at sleepiness, Minho asks, “Hey, pup?”

Seungmin hums.

“What’s this I heard about a drug deal?”

Seungmin lets out an ugly snort of laughter against his neck, and Minho should not be as endeared by it as he is. He won’t tell him that, of course. He’d die before admitting anything that sappy. But Seungmin’s body shakes on top of his, and well. Seungmin can’t see him.

He smiles, and lets the fondness show on his face.

Chapter Text

When Changbin calls, Chan picks up on the first ring. “How is he?”

“It’s bad, hyung. Fuck, it’s really, really bad.”

Hyunjin makes an impatient motion from across the kitchen island, and Chan puts the phone on speaker. “Bad how?”

“Seungmin says it’s Stage 6. If we’d been thirty minutes later, he would have died.”

Hyunjin gasps, and Chan’s heart drops. Hyunjin stutters, “But he’s… he’s going to be okay now, right? We can… You’ve got—”

“Seungmin says we’ll get him through it. And he’s stable now. Honestly, he looks pretty peaceful at the moment. He’s like, glued to Hannie’s neck right now. But Minnie says it’s gonna get a lot worse before it gets better.”

“Fuck,” Chan sighs. They had really, seriously fucked up. It’s their fault that Felix dropped, and it’s their fault that he’s over in the next room right now, apparently on the verge of death.

He’d been worried since the moment the boy ran away from them in January. His momentary relief that Felix had gotten his letter and texted him had disappeared the moment he didn’t respond to Chan’s questions into his wellbeing. He’d been so glad when Felix had agreed to meet up with Jeongin, but then Jeongin and the others had gotten home with the news that not only had Felix dropped after that night, but he’d been suffering from an extended drop ever since, and all his relief had vanished.

Jeongin had snarled it in Minho’s face the moment they got home, and Chan knew from the way Minho’s face had gone completely blank that it had been the wrong move. They’d barely heard from him in the two weeks that followed, and considering that Jeongin had been texting the group chat while they made their way back with Felix this afternoon, Chan doesn’t think they’re going to see Minho anytime soon.

If Minho would only talk to him—but of course he hasn’t. Minho hasn’t talked to anyone. Aside from him pressing his credit card into Seungmin’s hand that morning a few weeks ago, Chan can count the words Minho has spoken to them on one hand.

He’s worried. About Minho, and now about Felix, for whom they’ve just holed themselves away in the kitchen so Felix wouldn’t crash upon getting a whiff of their scents as the others moved him through the hallway. God, everything about this is fucked up.

“He went non-verbal before we even got to his place,” Changbin goes on, dragging Chan out of his thoughts. “And then when we got there, he was so out of it he couldn’t open the door. He couldn’t even tell it was us on the other side, he kept screaming. I had to break down the door, hyung, and he looked terrible.”

“You broke down the door?” Chan asks, incredulous.

“That building was a shithole. It took like, barely two kicks and it flew clean off its hinges. I had to, hyung. We had to get to him.”

“I know,” Chan says, because that hadn’t been a reproach. “You did good.”

“And he was all covered in sauce and we thought it was blood—god, if he hadn’t been screaming I would have thought he was dead.”

Next to him, Hyunjin has gone white, the knuckles of one hand pressed hard against his mouth. Chan wordlessly lays a hand on his arm.

“He was so pale, and so fucking thin. Hannie could lift him without effort. Hannie. And we just—” Changbin is interrupted by a voice in the background. “Yes, of course,” he tells whoever asked him something. “Hyung, I have to go. Minnie needs my help.”

“Alright,” Chan says, throat thick. “Can we do anything?”

Changbin relays the question to Seungmin, who takes over the phone to say, “We’re going to need some stuff to keep us alive over the next few weeks. Food, water, clothes, some necessities. You’re going to have to de-scent them before you leave them in front of the door. But other than that, we need you to stay as far away from here as possible. I’m really sorry, hyung, but currently our scents are his life support, and I can’t risk him getting a whiff of yours.”

Seungmin has never been afraid to lay down the facts to any of them. But Chan has never quite heard him sound as tense as he does now. The ball of worry inside his stomach grows another layer. “I promise we’ll stay away,” he says. “I’m really proud of you, Seungmin-ah.”

“It’s a little early for that,” Seungmin says tightly. “Tell me again when he’s made it through.” There’s a panicked voice in the background, and Seungmin says, “No, no, it’s fine if he’s shivering. It’s going to take a while for his body to warm up. Just keep him close.” To Chan, he adds, distractedly, “I’ve got to go. We’ll call you later.”

“I love you,” Chan says, but the line has already gone dead. He slowly puts the phone down and drops his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he says eloquently.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin agrees. His voice is a little shaky. “Hyung.”

“I know.”

“He could have died.”

Chan feels faint. “I know.”

Hyunjin takes a shaky breath in. “I’m scared. What if he- what if—”

That snaps Chan out of his daze. “Oh, Jinnie. Come here.” Within seconds, he’s out of his seat and pulling Hyunjin into a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

“We can’t even help them,” Hyunjin whispers. “We’re stuck out here.”

“Actually,” Chan says slowly, the gears in his mind turning. “They’re stuck in there. From the outside, there’s a whole lot we can do.”

Hyunjin exhales against his neck. “Like what.”

Chan smiles. “Come on. Let’s get them some food and clothes, and then we’re going for a drive.”

***

When they pull up at the address Felix had slurred out to Jeongin earlier (and god, his tiny broken voice would forever be committed to Chan’s worst memories), it’s clear that Changbin was right. It’s an old building, and it looks like it should have been demolished years ago.

“I don’t like this place,” Hyunjin says as they walk in, eyeing the trash scattered about the hallways and the way a pipe leaks a puddle of water near the elevator.

“I don’t think Felix chose it for its feng shui,” Chan mutters absently as he makes a beeline for the stairs. He doubts the elevator works, and even if it does, he doesn’t fancy being electrocuted tonight. They head up, keeping well away from the sticky, sour-smelling railing. Chan steps over a red stain on the first landing that he’s pretty sure isn’t sauce, and they keep climbing.

On the seventh floor, they leave the stairwell and enter the hallway, trailing their eyes across the faded door numbers as they walk. Both of them have fallen silent, too unsettled by the state of this building to speak. A man shuffles past, looking like he’s a thousand worlds away. Chan can’t even tell his subgender past the acidic smell of heroin that hangs around him.

He feels Hyunjin grab his hand, and he holds back tightly. God, these poor people.

They’re still counting rooms, but it’s clear which one is Felix’s. There’s a lingering scent of acrid citrus, the same scent they’d smelled in the hallway at home when they left the kitchen, and besides that, this is the only room that is lacking a door. Chan rubs a finger over the rusty hinges. Honestly, seeing this, he’s surprised it even took Changbin more than one kick.

“Um,” he hears Hyunjin say, and he turns around to see what Hyunjin noticed.

There’s a man in the apartment, bent over to rummage through a cardboard box near the wall. Is he stealing from Felix?

“Excuse me,” Chan says pointedly. “I do not believe that is yours.”

The man whirls around, loses his balance and stumbles against the wall. His scent immediately spikes with embarrassment that he tries to hide with anger. “Excuse me,” he echoes with an angry sneer of his mouth, “I do not believe I know you.”

“This isn’t your apartment,” Hyunjin says, jaw clenched.

The man raises an eyebrow. “This is my fucking building. Everything in it is mine.”

He owns this place? He’s responsible for the conditions these people are living in?

The man lets his eyes trail over both of them, their jewellery, the way they’re dressed. “Now, if you’re looking for some company, you’re at the wrong apartment. Yongbok’s always been adamant on keeping his day job, although I can’t fault you for your taste. He’s pretty, isn’t he?” Hyunjin’s nails dig into Chan’s wrist, even as a small part of Chan wonders, Yongbok?

But the man isn’t done. “Don’t know where he’s gone though, little piece of shit. You’re going to have to try Soyeonnie in 87 instead. Cute little omega. Petite, very good with her mouth. Or if you’re more into boys, Dohyunnie at 43 comes highly recommended.” He grins. “Tried and tested, as they say. Can take two, if you’re into that.”

Chan wants to knock the sleazy grin right off his smug fucking face. This… this bastard clearly thinks that “everything in it” includes the people. He can feel his scent flare outwards, but he reels it in tight. He has more control than that. “We are not here for company,” he says tightly. This is Felix’s apartment. Apparently, this is Felix’s landlord. He cannot antagonise this man and ruin Felix’s life even further, even if everything in him screams at the thought of the omega returning to this place. “We are here to explain the broken door.”

At that, the man frowns, stepping forward. He’s still holding one of the shirts that was in the box. “That was you?”

“One of my packmates, yes,” Chan clarifies. “There was an incident this afternoon, and we had to get in here. But we’re sorry, and we’ll pay for the expense.”

The man rolls his eyes. “Not surprised Yongbok finally pissed off the wrong people. Kid’s certainly been a pain in my ass for years.”

“He didn’t piss off anyone,” Chan growls. “It was a medical emergency. We came to help.” Can’t the man fucking smell that?

If he can, he clearly doesn’t care, because he merely nods. “So he’s with you? Great. You can tell him I’ve had enough. He’s out.” The man holds out a hand. “I’ll take the money for the door though.”

“He’s…” Hyunjin’s mouth drops open. “He’s out? You’re kicking him out because he dropped?”

“I’m kicking him out because he destroyed half the apartment.”

“That was us!” Chan spits. “And I just told you we’d—” He cuts himself off, breathing heavily. Why is he even arguing on this? It’s not like he wants Felix to live here. Hell, he doesn’t want anyone to live here. “You know what, fine. He won’t be back.” He stalks forward, snatching the shirt from the man’s hand. “But we are taking his things with us.”

The man growls at him, puffing his chest out in a gross cloud of heavy aniseed. “These things are mine. Yongbok owes me money. I’m claiming them.”

And Chan snaps. His scent rolls across the room like thunder, wild and furious. He grabs the man by the collar of his shirt and shoves him against the wall. “Listen up, you fucking asshole. Yongbok owes you jack shit, because you just kicked him out without even a semblance of a legal reason. You have no fucking leg to stand on. I should fucking sue you, you miserable cunt. And if you even think—” He shoves the man further up the wall, hard enough that his head cracks against the plaster, and the alpha lets out a panicked little grunt that sends a hot flash of satisfaction through his veins. “—about touching anything in this apartment before it’s empty, I’ll make sure you won’t have hands to touch anything again for as long as your worthless little life lasts.” With that, he gives the man a final shake and shoves him away, disgusted.

The man lands in a heap on the ground, panting and looking up at Chan with wide eyes.

Chan snaps his teeth at him, and he actually flinches. “Now fuck off.”

Behind him, Hyunjin’s scent darkens, and it’s only because Chan knows him so well that he can smell the delight in it. Hyunjin studies his nails, looking utterly disinterested, but to the alpha, he says idly, “I’d do as he said, if I were you. You seem to enjoy talking.” He turns his head to face the man, and the smile that spreads across his face is all alpha Hwang heir. “The last person he threatened has gone tragically mute.” He tilts his head and adds, like he’s commenting on the weather, “Losing your tongue will do that.”

If Chan wasn’t so angry, he would have rolled his eyes at the ridiculous tale. But right now, all Hyunjin’s words do is send more satisfaction pulsing through his blood, and he licks his lips.

The man starts to get to his feet. His face twists, clearly trying to express anger, but his scent reeks of nervous apprehension. “You can’t just—”

Chan lunges forward, all patience gone, and the man scrambles back so quickly he falls flat on his ass again. “Get the fuck out,” Chan growls, with an underlying rumble that sends vibrations through the room. His scent thickens into something sharp and dangerous, filling every corner of the room. “Or I’ll kick you out the goddamn window.”

There’s no lie in his scent.

As much as the man tries to keep up the pretence of anger, he’s practically cowering in front of Chan now, and Chan only needs to take one more step forward for him to scuttle out of the room. Hyunjin sends him a pleasant little wave of his fingers.

Once they hear the doors at the end of the corridor slam shut, Hyunjin whirls on him. “Hyung.”

Chan had still been glowering at the doorway, but now he blinks. “Right. Yeah. I may have gotten a little carried away there.”

“Are you kidding me? He fucking deserved it.”

“Oh, good. Because I don’t regret it.”

Hyunjin grins. “I need to make you angry more often. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He bites his lip. “Like, I really, really want to see you—”

“Alright,” Chan huffs, “We’re not here for that.”

Hyunjin smirks. “At least shove me up a wall later?”

“Yah,” Chan says. “We’re here for Felix.” Another rush of guilt shoots through him. God, what if he actually—

Hyunjin doesn’t back down, although his face sobers. “Yes. And I know how you work, hyung. You need an outlet. So we’re going to pack up his things, and check in with the others to see if they need anything, and then you’ll take me to the den. You’re not holing yourself up in your studio tonight.”

Chan sighs. That was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I need you too,” Hyunjin adds, a little more quietly. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

At that, Chan’s shoulders slump. No. If he is completely honest, neither does he.

Hyunjin leans in to press a soft kiss against his neck, and this time it’s not heated at all, just soothing. “It’s going to be okay. Seungminnie is a genius.”

“I know,” Chan agrees, because Seungmin really is.

Hyunjin squeezes his hand. “Then let’s get Felixie’s things and get out of here.” He glances over Chan’s shoulder and pulls a face. “Except for that mattress. It’s literally so gross, hyung, I wouldn’t let my mother sleep on it and that’s saying something because I’d make her sleep on Legos if I could.”

Chan merely sends him a look, and Hyunjin whines. “Hyung, come on, not the—”

“Even the mattress,” Chan says firmly. “These are his things. You might not like them but they’re his, and he’s clearly fought for everything he has. We’ve taken more than enough from him already. We’re not leaving anything behind, no matter how distasteful you find them.”

Hyunjin’s face falls. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Chan softens. “Let’s bring his things with us, and you can work on convincing him to let you buy him a new one, yeah?”

At that, Hyunjin brightens again. “I’m going to buy him so many things. A mattress but also like, a full wardrobe, and so many skincare products. And shoes, and—”

Chan smiles as he starts packing Felix’s sauce-stained sheets into the cardboard box. Yeah. This entire mess was their fault. But they’re going to make it right. They’re going to get him through his drop, and apologise, and do everything they can to make it up to him.

And he is never returning to this shithole again. Chan will make sure of it.

Chapter Text

“Felix, do you want gyeran-jjim or yukjeon with dinner tonight?” Minho is crouched in front of the fridge and looks over his shoulder to see Felix’s reaction.

Felix looks up from where he’s helping Seungmin unload the dishwasher. “Um. Gyeran-jjim? Seungmin likes eggs.”

Minho rolls his eyes. “I’m not asking what Seungmin likes. I’m asking what you like.”

He has been on this frustrating little mission for the past four days. He’s not even been back for a week, but it took only a day to catch on to how quickly Felix will defer to other people’s wishes rather than express his own. Minho is going to change that if it’s the last thing he does, and it’s going to start with Felix’s food preferences. Like hell is he going to act any more like that psychopath than he already has. Felix will get food he likes, and only food he likes.

Felix blinks. “I like eggs?”

“Is that a question?”

“I like eggs.” Felix smiles. “I like yukjeon too. I like anything you make, hyung. You’re an amazing cook.”

So goddamn earnest. And also giving Minho absolutely no answer at all. Minho ignores the way Seungmin is quietly laughing at him over Felix’s shoulder, and sighs. “If you had to choose. Just tell me your favourite.” When Felix opens his mouth, he says, “Be honest.”

Felix closes his mouth, glancing at Seungmin and shifting awkwardly.

“Yukjeon it is,” Minho concludes.

“No,” Felix protests. “I like gyeran-jjim, I do!”

“Felix,” Seungmin says before he can work himself up, “It’s fine. I like yukjeon too.”

If Minho had asked anyone other than Felix, Seungmin would have whined about not getting eggs. But he knows as well as Minho does that this is not about food. It’s about choice.

“If you absolutely had to choose, you like yukjeon better?” Minho checks, eyes sharp. He wants Felix to say it.

Felix wrings his hands for a minute, and then finally gives a tiny nod. “But I swear I like both. I don’t care which one you make.”

And yeah, alright. Minho supposes a nod is as good as he’s going to get. He grabs ingredients from the fridge and rises. “I care. Tonight, I’m making yukjeon. Tomorrow, I’ll make gyeran-jjim.” He tosses the ingredients onto the counter and starts prepping, noting the way Felix slowly turns back to Seungmin from the corner of his eye.

“Stop worrying,” Seungmin tells Felix, crouching down in front of a cupboard to store away a sauce pan. “No one will be disappointed.”

After a few seconds, Felix sighs. “Okay.”

“Good. Now hand me that lid?”

Felix relaxes, and continues handing Seungmin stuff from the dishwasher. Minho starts seasoning beef, and listens to them talk. Something about pheromone levels. Felix is asking a lot more in-depth questions than he would have expected, and Seungmin looks incredibly pleased to answer them, a happy flush to his cheeks.

“And Sig-T?” Seungmin asks, turning the tables on Felix.

Felix frowns as he grabs a handful of spoons. “For… metabolism?”

“Yeah. But in what way?”

Felix turns to the drawer, eyebrows still crinkled in a frown of concentration. But before he can come up with an answer, he suddenly gasps and drops the spoons into the drawer with a clatter. “Ah- shit,” he grits out, clutching his leg. “Seungmin—”

Seungmin is already there, having jumped over the open dishwasher door to get to him. “It’s alright, let’s get you down.”

Minho whirled around as soon as Felix gasped, and now looks on as Seungmin lowers Felix to the ground. Felix’s scent spikes in pain, and he sucks in shallow little breaths of air.

“Hyung,” Seungmin tells him, steady and calm even as he manoeuvres Felix into a specific position. “Can you come help?”

Minho swallows and then kneels down next to them. “What’s going on?”

“Muscle spasm. Help me massage it out.”

Felix has bitten down hard on the fabric of his sweater, but can’t quite help the pained little whine that escapes him as his leg twitches hard.

Minho stares. He knew Felix still gets muscle spasms; technically, Seungmin had even briefed him on what to do if it happened while Felix was alone with him. But this is the first time he’s seen one, and his stomach curls at the way Felix’s eyes well up with involuntary tears. He did this.

“Deep breaths,” Seungmin tells Felix, sending a cloud of sage in his direction. “Hyung, scent him. Your scent is more effective than mine.”

Minho puts a hesitant hand on Felix’s left thigh, flooded with guilt and shame. But then he feels Felix’s muscles contract in a way that can’t be anything but agonising, and the guilt makes way for gritty determination. He already knew he fucked up. Wallowing in guilt won’t make it better; if he’s going to stay, it’s time to prove that he can do better. He leans forward, sends a strong burst of pheromones directly at Felix, and digs his hands into the omega’s thigh, sliding up and down in a way that generally helps when he gets a cramp after teaching too many classes in a row.

The moment Minho’s scent hits him, Felix sways into him so fast he almost knocks him over. Minho manages to steady himself and wraps an arm around Felix’s shoulders to keep him upright. He releases all hold he has on his pheromones, and Felix immediately buries his face in Minho’s neck, gasping.

“You’re doing well,” Seungmin says, rubbing Felix’s other thigh. “Keep breathing, Felix.”

Minho feels Felix’s tears drip down his neck, can smell the salt of them past his own pheromones, and he draws Felix closer so he can drag his wrist over his neck gland. Felix’s breath hitches and his hand shoots up to hold it there, clearly acting purely on instinct.

“Almost over. Count to ten, Felix.”

Minho has no idea if Felix is counting or not, but it is clear that this is a well-established routine between them. Throughout all of it Seungmin hasn’t even batted an eye, his scent completely steady, and Minho briefly wonders if the others are just as calm when this happens. Somehow he doubts it. Oh, if this happens often they probably won’t be panicking over it any longer, but this specific level of quiet confident care is something he thinks only Seungmin can give.

Felix slumps against him at the same time Minho feels the muscles in Felix’s thigh give way, and he shifts his grip to keep Felix from sliding sideways.

“Good, there you go,” Seungmin tells Felix, rubbing his arm. “Stay close to hyung for a second while we massage it out, okay?”

Felix lets out a shaky exhale against Minho’s neck, and only then seems to realise who he’s clinging too. “Sorry,” he gasps, immediately letting go and leaning back.

“Yah,” Seungmin grumbles. “What did I just say.”

Embarrassment floods Felix’s scent. “I didn’t mean to just—” He gestures to Minho’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

Minho is pretty sure Felix wouldn’t have apologised to any of the others. He’s comfortable with them; Minho has never seen him shy away from any of their touches. And while a snide, dark part of him whispers that of course Felix wouldn’t be comfortable with him, it’s Felix’s scent that silences it. Because Felix doesn’t smell scared or uncomfortable; he smells embarrassed. Like he merely doesn’t think Minho would want to be touched by him.

And yeah, sure, Minho hasn’t touched Felix other than brief, clinical scentings now that his scent has become part of Felix’s pheromone regulation, but that’s because he’d wanted to leave that decision to Felix. He was not going to come closer unless Felix asked.

Now, he nearly sighs. Of course Felix wasn’t going to ask. Felix doesn’t ask for anything. Clearly, all Minho’s actions have done is make him think that Minho hates him, or whatever other self-deprecating theory his brain had come up with.

So instead of listening to that cutting voice inside him that tells him to stay away, Minho leans closer, tsking at Felix and drawing him back in. Because for some reason, for some godforsaken reason, Felix wants to. This close, he can smell the slight hint of bafflement in Felix’s scent, and he hopes Felix won’t be able to pick up on his.

If he does, he doesn’t mention it, and merely relaxes back into Minho when Minho releases more pheromones. Minho shifts so he can settle Felix against him and still have both hands free, and then sets about helping Seungmin give Felix a deeper massage to relax his muscles.

“Ugh,” Felix groans after a minute, after he’s wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry.” He’s still leaning against Minho, but the pain has made way for fresh embarrassment. At the situation in general this time, probably.

“Stop apologising,” Seungmin says, so tonelessly that he must have said it a hundred times before.

Minho huffs. “If there’s anyone who should be apologising, it’s me.”

“I don’t want you to,” Felix mumbles into his neck.

“Then stop saying it and I’ll keep quiet.”

Felix huffs too, but doesn’t apologise again. He only says, after a few seconds, “I’m good now.”

Seungmin eyes him suspiciously. “Are you really, or is this one of those times where you say you’re fine and I find you rubbing your leg in pain later?”

“That was one time,” Felix grumbles. “And I didn’t know it was gonna hurt later.”

“Exactly,” Seungmin says. “So you’ll stay here until I say you’re good.”

Felix sighs, but when Minho lets out a snort of laughter, Felix’s mouth twitches upwards too. Thankfully for the omega, it’s only a minute or two later that Seungmin declares Felix well enough to be moved to a chair by the kitchen island, under strict orders not to move. “Keep an eye on him,” Seungmin tells Minho before leaving to get his analyser.

“I really am fine,” Felix says to Minho, still looking a little embarrassed by all the fuss. “You can continue cooking, I won’t collapse.”

Minho shakes his head. “I’m sure you won’t.” It probably sounds like sarcasm to Felix, but he means it. He might not be a doctor, but he’s fairly sure that by this point, Seungmin is merely being overcautious. He understands why though, and in this, he’ll follow Seungmin’s directions. He keeps watch.

When the beta returns, Felix bares his neck so Seungmin can press the analyser against his scent gland, and Minho turns back to the counter to continue cutting vegetables. From the corner of his eye he watches the kitchen island, and is surprised when the analyser beeps and Seungmin passes it to Felix. “Tell me, are you okay?”

“I already know I am,” Felix sighs, but his eyes light up with interest as he studies the screen. “Sig-K should be under 45, right?”

Seungmin nods. “And above 25.”

“Then yes, I’m fine. Like I told you.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes and takes the analyser to check Felix’s conclusion. “Yes, well, give me exact data next time instead of a vague ‘I’m good’ and we’ll forego the analyser. Until then, we’re sticking to this.”

Felix doesn’t look like he minds much, merely smiling and pointing at something on the screen. “What does this mean? You never told me.”

Seungmin launches into an explanation, and Minho lets their conversation become background noise as he continues cooking. After a moment though, he eyes Felix and turns to grab something from the fridge. Eventually, Seungmin moves back to the dishwasher as they talk, but he tells Felix to stay seated. Felix doesn’t look very happy about that, and when he looks ready to protest, Minho slides a bowl of mango slices in front of him. “Eat.”

Felix looks down in surprise.

“Save Seungmin the headache and stay here. Eat.” Felix likes mango. Minho knows Felix likes mango, and there is no way he’ll turn it down.

Felix looks at the bowl for another second and then beams up at him. “Thank you!” The smile is so radiant that Minho blinks.

“Eat,” he repeats after a beat too long, and turns back to his cutting board.

Seungmin pokes him in the ribs in that irritating way of his. “Thanks, hyung.” His mouth twitches. “That was very sweet of you.”

“Get back to unloading,” Minho grumbles, and that is that.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin has been sitting in his car in the parking lot for the past two hours. Dance class isn’t until eight on Thursdays, but there’s no way he was joining his parents’ dinner party. He’d left the house before his mom came back from her manicure and could rope him into it.

He looks through the window at the run-down building that had looked so perfect to him the first time he saw it. He’d been skipping his business administration class to go for a walk to admire some of the graffiti that adorned walls and alleys in this neighbourhood. Most of it consisted of scribbled signatures or simple blockbusters, but there were always a few that played with colour and blending in a way that made his own hands itch to grab a canvas. He’d stopped to admire a pretty rendering of a dog, and that’s when he’d spotted the flyer stuck to the door.

Dance classes. For hardly any money at all, in a building as shitty as this? He’d been on board before he’d even finished reading. There was nothing that pissed off his parents more than Hyunjin doing things that were beneath him, which is why Hyunjin loved doing them.

He’d expected shitty classes in a stinky building led by an inexperienced teacher.

He’d not expected Minho. The alpha might have been new to teaching, but he knew his stuff, and knew it well. And he had thighs that looked like they could crush him whole, and that face. Hyunjin had wanted him immediately.

And then Minho had danced in an empty studio, and Hyunjin had wanted him in an entirely different way. He’d told him so, and Minho thought he was fucking with him, Hyunjin could tell, but he’d meant it. He’d even told his grandfather about it. The dancing, that is, not the thighs. (Though he might have mentioned the thighs, by accident, but his lament had really been about Minho’s dance, for at least ninety-nine percent. Ninety-three, for sure.)

He’d not expected Changbin, Chan and Jisung either. Changbin with his arms and the dopey look he’d sent Minho after the alpha had kissed him, and Chan with that warm smile and those kind eyes, and Jisung, who’d hidden adorably behind Chan’s shoulder until at the end of their little chat Hyunjin had snatched the carnation back from Changbin’s lax grip, ignored Changbin’s squawk of indignation, and tucked it into Jisung’s sleeve with a pat, and Jisung had blushed and then beamed at him. “For this week, share it,” Hyunjin had told them. “I’ll bring one for each of you next time.”

He’d kept the grin firmly painted on his face, expecting an eye roll or a sigh or a “fuck off”, but instead they’d laughed, and it felt like they’d been laughing with him. “And will I actually get to keep that one?” Changbin had asked. “Or will you snatch that one back from me too, the moment you lay eyes on someone cuter?”

Hyunjin had nearly vibrated with shocked glee, but he’d kept his calm and tilted his head. “Oh, I don’t know, hyung,” he said, boldly dropping all formal honorifics, “If you wanna be cuter than Jisungie here, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

Changbin’s eyes had sparkled. “Oh, it’s on. I’m the king of aegyo.”

“Oh, please don’t.” Jisung had scrunched up his face. “He can have my title. Just don’t make him do aegyo.”

And they’d laughed again, all four of them, and Hyunjin had walked away with a spring in his step.

He’d known, of course, that it was just harmless flirtation. They were courting Minho and from the looks of it, they were serious about it. They wouldn’t risk that for whatever meaningless little tryst they thought Hyunjin was offering. But well. He liked flirting. And they’d laughed with him. And it couldn’t hurt, right? To see what could come of it?

And so he’d continued. He’d delighted in cutting flowers out of his mother’s carefully tended (though never by her) flower garden and bringing them with him every week. Four flowers, every week. And then four flowers, twice a week, when he realised that he was falling for them faster than even he had thought possible and signed up for a second dance class.

He still had no idea where they stood. But none of them had ever told him to stop, not even Minho. So he’d just ignored that and kept going, figuring—hoping—that everything would work itself out eventually.

He’d been excited to see them, each and every time he came. Things had been good. They really had been.

He swallows.

Things are not good now. Things haven’t been good in three weeks. Things have been awful, and a part of him just wants to curl up in the backseat and go back to sleep.

He grits his teeth. He can do plenty more sleeping later. But not now. This is the one distraction he gets, and he’s going to damn well make use of it.

He gets out of the car and enters the building, heading straight down the musty hall to the mustier dressing room. He doesn’t bother to stop by the recording studio. He’s not carrying flowers. He hasn’t brought flowers in weeks, hasn’t even talked to 3RACHA aside from short greetings when they spotted him in the hallway. He couldn’t be happy and cheerful and flirty the way they expected from him, so he’d stepped back. Maybe one day he’ll be able to again. But deep down, he knows he won’t. Even if he finds that spark again, what would be the point in continuing? They’re not going to court him anyway.

Before, he’d enjoyed pestering Minho, watching the alpha glower at him. It had felt playful, because as much as Minho glared, he’d never told him no. Hyunjin had deluded himself into thinking there was a chance. But now, he can see that he was stupid, just like his parents always said he was. Just because Minho didn’t say it doesn’t mean he didn’t think it. He should have stopped a long time ago. The others seem to tolerate him, but they are courting Minho. Minho comes first, as he should, and Minho hates him. Hyunjin needs to step back. They’re good together, and he is only buzzing around them, weaving through their dynamic like an annoying little bee.

He swallows, and walks through the old wooden door into the dance studio. Minho is there, his eyes finding him immediately as usual, in the same way he spots all movement. Like a bee, his mind echoes solemnly, and Hyunjin slumps further. Yeah. That tracks. Most of the class is already there, and Hyunjin drops his bag near the bench and makes his way to a corner in the back of the room to stretch. No longer up front, where he could grin at Minho in the mirror as they danced. Where he had been annoying him in the way that he annoyed everyone around him.

Class starts, and Hyunjin keeps his eyes down aside from occasional glances in the mirror to make sure he is at least somewhat following the instructions. He doesn’t really care; doesn’t really have the energy to care. He is tired, even though he’s been asleep more than he’s been awake ever since his father got the phone call. “Yes,” was all the man had said to the person on the other end of the line. “Right. I see. Yes. Thank you, goodbye.” Like it was any other meaningless business call, and not a doctor telling him his father had passed away unexpectedly of heart failure.

Hyunjin doesn’t even know why he’d expected his parents to grieve. They’d been waiting for the man to kick the bucket for years, claiming he was irresponsible and unpredictable and would drive the company into the ground.

And he was unpredictable, but that’s why Hyunjin had adored him so. Because his grandfather could intimidate a room full of cocky businessmen with a single look, but then he would come home to where Hyunjin was painting in the middle of the man’s living room and he would tell him how he’d told his secretary to put salt in the sugar pot and how Kim Minjoon had coughed coffee all over his important papers before he got a hold of himself, and Hyunjin would laugh until he cried.

He’d loved his grandfather. He’d loved him so much, because he was the only person who’d ever seen Hyunjin as Hyunjin and not looked down on him for it. And now he is gone. Now he is gone, and Hyunjin is all alone, and when he cried at the funeral his mother had hissed at one of the servants to either take Hyunjin out of there before he embarrassed them further or to slip him a Xanax, and Hyunjin had bitten his tongue so hard he tasted blood and walked out of the church. He hasn’t cried since, not even when he’s alone. He hasn’t been able to. He’s just been numb, and tired, and achy. Like there’s a shell in his chest that’s keeping all of it in, slowly growing, slowly pressing outwards. He wonders if it will just keep growing until his chest bursts. It feels like it.

The music stops, and Hyunjin blinks. The class is over, and he’s folded over his bent leg in a stretch that Minho must have been leading them through. Around him, people are getting to their feet, gathering their things and leaving the room to go home.

Home. Hyunjin almost wants to laugh.

Instead he sighs, and rolls to his feet. Class is over. He should go back. Back to the manor, large and cold and empty, back to bed, another day d—

A hand clamps around his arm.

He snaps his head up, startled.

“Come with me,” Minho says flatly, lips pressed into a thin line.

Stunned, Hyunjin stumbles after him, Minho’s hand on his arm a shock of warmth. He doesn’t even say anything. Just lets Minho drag him off through a side door that leads into an office that should smell musty but smells like ocean instead. Minho lets him go and whirls on him. “What the fuck is up with you?”

Hyunjin stares at him.

“You come here wooing the four of us like you’re in some goddamn Shakespeare play for months, and then you stop, without a fucking word?”

Hyunjin stares.

“What the fuck is wrong, Hyunjin?”

Minho’s voice sounds hard, gruff, but he said his name. Hyunjin wasn’t sure Minho even knew his name. He’d certainly never used it.

Hyunjin stares, and Minho doesn’t move. Just raises an eyebrow and settles in to wait. Like… like he’d wait all night if he had to. Like Hyunjin could stare at him for hours and he’d just stay here, watching him and waiting for an answer. Like he wouldn’t leave.

The thought sends hairline fractures rippling across the shell in Hyunjin’s chest. His breath hitches.

Minho waits. Hyunjin stares, expecting to be proven wrong, expecting Minho to go, but… Minho really is not moving. Minho really is not leaving. And the moment that sinks in, the shell cracks. Hyunjin can feel it, can almost hear it, sharp and painful right between his ribs. And then it splinters, and Hyunjin breaks along with the shell. He sinks to the floor, letting out sobs as he folds over his thighs and buries his face in his arms.

The ocean smell spikes with alarm, and then Minho is on the ground next to him, pulling at his arm. “What’s wrong? What hurts?”

Hyunjin wails, feeling the last remains of the shell crumble and be washed away as the tidal wave of grief that’s been building inside him comes flooding out. He’s loud, and gross, and hysterical, but Minho’s hand on his arm is so hot it burns and yet he wants more, wants—

Minho gives him a hard tug, and Hyunjin is jerked upwards and then sideways over into his lap, and then it’s no longer just a hand but Minho, folding himself around him like- like a hug.

And Hyunjin wails harder, entire body shaking with the sobs that rack through his frame.

“Okay, alright,” Minho murmurs, letting out a panicked burst of ocean air. “Ssh, it’s alright.”

Hyunjin no longer registers anything aside from deep, aching grief, and the fact that he’s held. He doesn’t register Minho reaching for his phone, or when the door opens a few minutes later. He does register three more scents joining the mix, three more pairs of hands on him, rubbing his arms, his shoulders, his back—but he’s too far gone to react in any way other than crying harder.

He has no idea how much time passes before the torrent slows down to quiet, silent tears, leaking out of that broken hollow inside of him where the shell used to be. His cheek is resting against something soft, and he breathes in and out through his mouth, his nose too stuffy and blocked to draw in air. His chest feels raw.

“What happened?” Chan whispers over Hyunjin’s head.

“I don’t know,” Minho says. “I asked him what was wrong and he just…”

“He’s been sad for weeks,” Changbin says, wiping tears off Hyunjin’s face.

“I thought he was angry with us,” Jisung mumbles, sounding regretful. “I know you said he wasn’t, but I just… I didn’t know it was this.”

Someone is holding his hand, he realises. It’s warm. He’s exhausted, but he feels warm for the first time in weeks. He blinks, very slowly. Two tears fall from his lashes. They’re wiped away before they can roll down his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Chan says soothingly. “You’re alright, Hyunjin-ah.”

His name again. Spoken softly, with care. Not like his parents say it, on the rare occasions they talk to him.

Hyunjin spreads his fingers and intertwines them with whoever’s holding them. They let him, and squeeze his hand. “Hey,” Jisung says softly.

“Hi.” His voice sounds terrible. He’s still staring at the wall.

“Are you okay?”

He snorts at the same time Jisung winces at his question. “I’m fantastic.” The words are drained of all emotion, hoarse and thick.

“Who died?” Changbin asks.

Chan elbows him, but Changbin just watches Hyunjin.

“My grandfather.”

“I’m sorry,” Changbin says.

And out of everyone who’s said those words to him over the past few weeks, he is the first one to sound like he means them.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin whispers, closing his eyes. They’re dry though. He thought he’d cry some more at this, but it seems like he’s finally run out of tears.

Minho shifts beneath him, reaching for something. A water bottle appears in front of Hyunjin’s face. “Drink.”

It’s probably a good idea. He’s not sure how much water his body has left, but it can’t be a lot. But he doesn’t want to reach up and grab the bottle. Doesn’t care enough to move.

Minho huffs and twists open the bottle himself, tipping it against Hyunjin’s lips. Hyunjin is forced to either swallow or let water trickle down his face.

He swallows.

It... helps. Even the first sip feels good, and he drinks faster, gulping down half the bottle before he slows as Minho lowers the angle. It’s odd. This close to Minho’s scent gland, it smells like he’s drinking straight from the ocean, but the water is cool and fresh. Minho makes him drink the whole thing before he removes the bottle, and Hyunjin doesn’t protest. Just drinks.

When he’s done, Chan rubs his arm. “Please don’t shut us out. We’re here for you.”

They are?

Jisung nods emphatically, despite Hyunjin not having asked it out loud. “It must be hard at home. Are your parents very sad too?”

Hyunjin lets out a laugh, too loud and over-the-top. “My parents,” he says with a wave of his hand, “are delighted.”

Jisung stares at him.

Hyunjin gestures. “Thank god he’s dead and can no longer ruin the company! Can’t have anyone showing basic human decency, right? And god forbid I cry, because I’m just being dramatic and that’s ridiculous, right, because it’s not like, I don’t know, someone died!”

For a moment, there’s a shocked silence, and then all of their faces twist. They don’t tell Hyunjin he’s being dramatic. They look angry, with his parents, and there is something oddly vindicating about that.

“Jesus,” Changbin mutters. “They sound like assholes.”

Hyunjin snorts. “They are. I’m not going back.” He didn’t know he would say the words before they roll off his tongue, but the moment they do, he knows it’s the truth.

Chan looks concerned. “You... Hyunjin. Have you been out of a home all this time?”

“No. I’m deciding now. I’m not going back.” His voice is flat, determined. He can’t. He can’t go back. The thought of returning, of thrusting himself back into that fake life of lies and deceit, of letting them crush him with their venom and indifference, sends icy cold creeping through his veins. He won’t do it.

Nobody argues. Nobody tries to convince him otherwise. They just look concerned. “Do you have a place to go?” Jisung asks, fingers still intertwined with his. He looks to Chan. “Because if not, he can come with us, right?”

Chan exchanges a look with Changbin to check and then nods. “Yes. Of course you can.”

“No,” Hyunjin says, because he might not know everything about them, but he knows their apartment is the size of a matchbox. “I’ve got money. I’ll get a hotel.”

“No.”

Hyunjin frowns, turning his head to look at Minho for the first time. He’s still in the alpha’s lap, but it’s comfy and it’s warm. Minho can shove him off his lap if he wants, but Hyunjin isn’t moving until he does.

Minho doesn’t shove him off. “You’re not booking a hotel.”

“I’m not going home,” Hyunjin says, stating a fact.

“No,” Minho agrees. “You’re staying with me.” And somehow that, too, is a fact.

Hyunjin isn’t the only one who stares at him after that. Chan and Changbin do the same, and so does Jisung, although he’s smiling. “What?”

“You think I’m letting you stay on your own after you break down like this?” Minho gestures at Hyunjin in a way that hints at disgust, and Hyunjin would be offended by that if it weren’t for the fact that one, he really did cry about a litre’s worth of snot into Minho’s hoodie, and two, Minho’s scent is… protective. He breathes in again to make sure he isn’t hallucinating, but it really is. Fierce, and sharp, and protective. “You’re coming with me. Stop arguing.”

Minho sets his jaw like he expects Hyunjin to protest, but that’s the last thing on his mind. He’s still staring, bewildered. “Why?”

Minho merely stares back, almost glaring. “Do you want to be alone tonight?”

Hyunjin swallows. “No.”

“Then get up. You can crash on my couch.”

And that’s that. Clearly, that’s all Minho is going to say on it. He’s going to take Hyunjin home, just like that. Hyunjin briefly thinks about pressing, about asking more questions, about asking if Minho is sure. But... Minho is sure. He can smell it. He can see it. Minho is resolute, jaw set and eyes blazing, daring anyone to challenge him on his decision. Minho is taking charge, is taking... taking care of him in a way that he can’t remember anyone other than his grandfather ever bothering to do in years, not since his parents dismissed Hyunjin’s nanny when he turned nine.

It’s baffling, and confusing, and... such a relief. Strong, overwhelming relief floods through him at the thought of letting Minho handle things tonight, of not needing to decide where to go or how to go forward.

“When’s the last time you even ate?” Minho grumbles. “Your bones are digging into my ribs. You’re eating tonight.”

It’s an order, not a question, and Hyunjin lets out a slow breath as he caves completely. Minho means it. He’ll take Hyunjin home with him, and he’ll feed him, and Hyunjin gets to not be alone tonight.

He tips his head against Minho’s shoulder, a tear trailing down his face. Looks like he had one left after all. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, alright. Get up. If I’m cooking, we need to stop by the store.”

Changbin lets out a quiet laugh, and Jisung is still smiling, and Chan reaches out a hand to help Hyunjin up.

Hyunjin takes it.

He has no idea what tomorrow will bring, and where he will go from here. But for tonight, he won’t be alone. And right now, that is enough.

***

Minho does take him home, and makes him home-cooked ramen and then gets him settled on the couch. For a second Hyunjin has the bizarre mental image of Minho tucking him in like a child, but Minho does not do that. He does stay in the room until Hyunjin falls asleep though, and Hyunjin’s dreams are filled with the scent of tears and the ocean.

For the first four days, Hyunjin cries. When Minho is home he feeds him, and hands him glasses of water and tissues, and lets him cry. So do Chan, Changbin and Jisung, each afternoon when they stop by before going to the studio. It is the first time Hyunjin has been able to grieve with other people, and even if they aren’t mourning themselves, their presence makes it a little easier to bear. They never tell him to stop, or that he is being ridiculous, or look at him with annoyance. They merely give him hugs, and make him tea, and let him cry on their shoulder.

On day five, that first wave of long-overdue grief subsides and turns into lethargic moping. Hyunjin has his face buried in a couch cushion when Minho comes home, and the alpha takes one whiff of his scent and kicks him unceremoniously off his couch. Literally. “Get up,” he says to Hyunjin on the floor. “Go take a walk.”

“I don’t wanna take a walk,” Hyunjin mumbles, even as the look in Minho’s eyes makes him clamber to his feet.

“That’s great. I don’t care. Go.”

Minho’s voice is so authoritative that once the words sink in, Hyunjin hesitates. “Just a walk?”

Minho rolls his eyes and presses a key into his hand. “Yes, you can come back after. But you’re moulding to my couch, and I paid money for this thing.”

And Hyunjin relaxes. Minho isn’t kicking him out. He can come back. He really doesn’t want to go for a walk, but then the moment he actually heads outside, the sun is shining and there are ducklings in the park, and he has to admit that when he returns, he feels better. Minho glances at him when he comes back in and nods, and that is that.

Hyunjin starts leaving the house more after that. At first because Minho prompts him (or once, on a bad day, shoves Hyunjin out the door without a key so he can’t come back in until Minho lets him, like a disobedient cat) but then, once he realises that really, this is something his grandfather would have done himself if he’d still been around, it becomes easier. The man was many things, but lazy wasn’t one of them, and he would have kicked Hyunjin’s ass for letting this get him down.

So Hyunjin puts in more effort. He and Minho fall into an odd sort of routine, where Minho works a lot and Hyunjin stays home. Hyunjin, in an attempt to make himself useful, takes on chores like cleaning and grocery shopping. The shopping is easy—Minho is refusing to let him pay for staying on his couch, and this is an easy way to fix that. The cleaning, however, is a different story. It is not like Hyunjin has never touched cleaning supplies in his life, but he has, admittedly, not touched them often. But he can learn, and they find a way to make it work. It only takes one laundry mishap for Minho to tape a list with instructions to the washing machine, and Hyunjin learns very quickly that cleaner needs to be diluted with water before using it or his hands will itch for the rest of the day. But he’s learning, and Minho is surprisingly patient.

The grief is still there. It comes and goes in odd waves that mean that sometimes Hyunjin can go for a day without crying, and sometimes he bursts into tears four times an hour. But aside from that, things are… okay. Weird as all hell though, because they are not talking. He and Minho don’t exchange more than a handful of words a day. Minho seems perfectly content to say nothing at all for the rest of their lives, and Hyunjin simply doesn’t know what to say. He is hesitant to start a conversation in case they end up discussing the future, because he has no idea what he should be doing about the future. He’s still not going to school, and he is scared Minho will kick him out if he realises that Hyunjin has no perspective and no goals. And he wants to stay, so very, very badly. So he keeps quiet, because then Minho won’t know.

But it appears that Minho knows anyway, because one morning, he breaks their usual silence to ask him pointedly if he doesn’t have classes to get to. For a moment, Hyunjin considers lying. But he is sick of lies, and the thought of lying to Minho makes his stomach roll with how wrong it feels, so in the end he looks at his lap and confesses that the thought of going back to business school makes him want to claw his skin off. And instead of the sigh and argument he was expecting, Minho merely shrugs and says, “Then don’t. Find a course you are interested in.”

Hyunjin stares at him. “But I only like painting.”

“What, there are no painting courses?”

And Hyunjin’s eyes widen, and Minho sends him a vague nod-and-wave and leaves for work.

After that, Hyunjin stares blankly at the wall for a good half hour. Because… because that used to be his dream. To paint for real, to paint and garner clients who would want to buy his art to hang in their homes, to make people happy with the things he makes. It used to be his biggest dream, before his parents had made it clear that he’d be out of a home and cut off from their money if he didn’t go to business school. And back then, that had been enough to sway him, because he hadn’t known just how boring and awful business school would be and because the thought of being thrown out had been scary, no matter how much he hated their stuck-up life.

But now… What is stopping him now? He has already left home. His parents are already angry with him, are already threatening to cut him off. He’d had one hissed discussion with them when he’d stopped by to pick up clothes, and they’d made themselves clear. He doesn’t doubt that if he doesn’t come back to play the game they want him to play, it won’t be long before they go through with it and disown him anyway, no matter what he studies. So… he could just do it. He could just switch majors. In his mind, he can hear his grandfather laughing, and a smile creeps onto his face. Yes. He’ll go look for a painting course.

And so he sets up a meeting with the study advisor at SNU to see if he’s eligible for the arts track, and then a meeting with the admissions counsellor for the College of Fine Arts. Apparently, he is eligible, since his tuition has already been paid for. He just needs a portfolio that showcases his talents, because ironically, the entry requirements for the arts track are stricter than those for business school could ever hope to be.

So he drives back to his parents’ place at a time when he knows they will be out to grab his best work from his room (and maybe also pack another suitcase of necessities, including things that Minho needs, because the alpha’s shampoo is atrocious and he doesn’t even own conditioner, and Hyunjin has no idea how his hair has survived all these years). And then he drives back to Minho’s apartment and spends the next three days painstakingly compiling his portfolio and alternating between cautious hope and fierce, heavy grief as he remembers how many of these pieces he’d drawn and painted in his grandfather’s living room.

Things are weird. He feels stuck in limbo; he feels freer than he has in years, and yet at the same time he feels shackled, partly by grief, but mostly... mostly by his own stubborn feelings that won’t disappear no matter how hard he tries to suppress them. Because he is living right here in Minho’s space, Minho’s scent, and every day, he sees both him as well as Changbin, Chan and Jisung as they bounce in and out of the door. He’s tried to stop wanting them, but he can’t, because it’s them.

And he knows he is being stupid. He knows by now that he’s not welcome to their relationship. It’s not like that night he broke down; he no longer thinks they hate him. That voice in his head that told him he was only annoying Minho has mostly been silenced now, that had been the grief and sadness and his parents talking. And sometimes it even feels like there’s something there, between him and the four of them. But none of them have said anything, and he’s come to accept that he should give up hope. If they were going to court him, they would have said something way earlier.

And yet, they’re the reason he’s staying. He knows it’s stupid, and yet he can’t bring himself to leave, because they’re still kind to him and they still laugh with him and they’re still pretty, and he can’t help but ache for them, all four of them.

This continues for nearly four weeks before Chan snaps.

Hyunjin is coming back after his meeting with a professor from the painting track, the meeting, where he had to show his portfolio and talk about his style and things he would like to learn. And he had never been so nervous in his life, but in the end he thinks it went well. Because the woman had flipped through it, hummed at several of his paintings and complimented them. And then she’d said that he would hear from her within a week, and thanked him for his application, and smiled at him again. Surely that was a good thing? Surely that meant good news?

The elevator dings, and he practically bounces out and down the hall, a copy of his portfolio clutched under his arm. Fuck not talking. He is going to crow to Minho over it, because this is the first thing he’s been excited about in ages, and he’d never have done this if it weren’t for him. He sticks his key into the lock and opens the door. The alpha should still be home; his classes don’t start until two on Wednesdays.

He slips back into the apartment and toes his shoes off. He can hear clattering from Minho’s kitchen, and rushes to the open doorway. “Hyung! Hyung, I—oh.”

Chan jumps back from where he was pressing Minho up against the fridge. “Hyunjin. Shit.”

Hyunjin stares. They’re both dishevelled, hair mussed and lips swollen and slick. At the counter, Jisung is making coffee, and Changbin is sitting at Minho’s tiny kitchen table, watching Chan and Minho with dark eyes. Hyunjin’s gaze drifts back to Chan, and then to Minho. They look… they look flushed and dazed, and this close, Hyunjin can smell them, the sharp undertone of arousal in their scents, and it’s…

It’s everything that Hyunjin has been aching for for months. Not sex, but them. It’s the starkest, cruellest reminder of everything that he’s tried to stop himself from wanting, but hasn’t been able to, because they’re just so stupidly perfect. But he can’t have them, and he should stop being so blatantly obvious about his feelings, because Minho has been kind enough to let him stay here and he can’t just force himself into their midst.

So he swallows, and takes a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here.”

“It’s okay,” Chan says, taking a step forward. “You don’t have to go.”

“You live here too,” Jisung agrees.

But he doesn’t. He’s a guest on Minho’s couch, but eventually, Minho will want him to leave.

“No, sorry,” he says again, clenching his fingers hard around the portfolio. “I’ll go for a walk or something. You can…” He gestures vaguely and turns around.

Chan snatches him by the arm before he can go, but when Hyunjin looks up in surprise, Chan isn’t looking at him. “Minho.”

Minho’s face is blank. He doesn’t say anything.

Chan grinds his teeth. “Alright. I’ve had enough. Sit down.”

Minho looks at him, raising an eyebrow. “Exc-”

“Sit. Down,” Chan snaps, pointing the alpha to a chair.

Minho sits down.

Chan presses Hyunjin down in a second chair, watches as Jisung happily drops himself onto Changbin’s lap, and then stands in front of them. “We’re all being ridiculous, and we’re starting to hurt each other. This ends now; we’re talking. Are we courting Hyunjin or not?”

Hyunjin’s mouth drops open.

“I want everyone’s opinion, and I want it honestly. If someone is talking, no one interrupts.” Chan lowers himself to the floor in a cross-legged seat, and when everyone blinks at him, he gestures impatiently. “Talk. All cards on the table. No judgement, no lies.”

Nobody speaks. Chan sighs. “Fine. I’ll start. Hyunjin, I like you.”

Hyunjin drops his portfolio.

Chan laughs quietly and picks it up for him, reaching up to place it on the table. He smiles. “I’ve liked you since we met. You’re kind, you’re funny, and there’s something about the way you see the world that’s incredibly captivating. You’re amazing, and I could listen to you talk for hours. I’d love to court you, but only if the others want that too. Only if you want that too. We got the sense over the past few months that you were serious about it, but we never addressed it, so we may have read it wrong.”

He looks expectantly at Hyunjin, who can only stare. Chan… wants to court him. Chan would love to court him. Chan wants him. His thoughts circle around in his head in a useless loop until Chan clears his throat and softly prompts, “Hyunjin?”

Uncharacteristically, it takes Hyunjin four or five tries to find his tongue. “I…” He glances nervously at the others.

“Just be honest,” Chan says. “Were you serious about it? Are you still?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin whispers. “Of course I was.”

Jisung crows in victory and leans forward on Changbin’s lap to poke Minho in the side. “See.”

Minho bats his hand away, but he doesn’t look as annoyed as Hyunjin would have expected. Jisung leans back, giggling. The chair beneath him and Changbin creaks ominously. “I already knew that,” Minho grumbles to Jisung. “You already knew I knew that.”

“Could have fooled me,” Changbin notes. “With how you shut down the conversation every time we talked about it.”

Hyunjin’s head is turning from one person to the next like he’s following a tennis match. They’d talked about it?

“He is grieving,” Minho hisses. “What did you want me to do, throw myself at him?”

Hyunjin’s brain short-circuits.

“Yes! Anything other than ignoring him for a month.” Changbin rolls his eyes. “At least then he would have known.”

“It would have been wrong,” Minho insists, fists clenching, and Chan places a hand on his thigh, the highest part of Minho he can reach.

“Alright. Let’s take it easy. Minho, do you or do you not want to court Hyunjin?”

Minho sighs. “Yes. But not while he’s vulnerable.”

“I’m not vulnerable,” Hyunjin protests immediately, eyes wide. “I’m not! I’m… unvulnerable. Anti-vulnerable. I’m- I’m courtable. Very, very courtable.”

Both Jisung and Changbin burst into laughter. “Well, there you have it. He’s courtable.”

“You are dependent on me,” Minho insists. “You have nowhere to go. It would be unethical if I—”

“Hyung.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Hyung, do you think I’m staying on your shitty couch because of its lumbar support?” When Minho just looks at him, he shakes his head. “I have money. I could have booked a room in a hotel or rented an apartment of my own weeks ago. I stayed for you.”

“Because I am helping you grieve—”

“Because I like you!” Hyunjin yells. “Because I’m fucking in love with you.”

It’s Minho’s turn to stare now, shocked and incredulous before his face goes blank.

But it’s the truth. Hyunjin could have left ages ago. For now, he does have money. He’s even withdrawn enough cash that he could pay for a few months’ rent when his parents cut him off. He’s not dependent on Minho. He’s not even here because of the grief anymore. He knows by now that they’d at least be okay with staying friends, that they would all still support him through his grief even if he doesn’t live with Minho. That was not the reason he stayed.

He softens, swallowing again. “I meant it when I told you you stole my breath away. That wasn’t just a sleazy line. I admire you. The way you dance, the way you teach, the way you notice everything around you. The way you care and then pretend not to. I like the way your hair sticks up in the morning and the way your eyes gleam when you snark at me. Minho-hyung, I really, really like you. I fell in love with you long before you let me stay here, and my grandfather’s death doesn’t change that.” His voice is soft and honest. “If there’s any chance you could ever feel the same way about me, then I beg you to give me a chance.”

Minho seems frozen, and Hyunjin turns to the others. “That goes for all of you. I’m in love with all of you. I’d love to court you.”

“Me too!” Jisung beams at him, and Hyunjin grins helplessly back. The delighted disbelief must be written across his face, but he doesn’t care. Jisung wants to court him.

“Do you even need to ask?” Changbin says when Chan looks at him. He gestures at Hyunjin. “Look at him. He’s a fucking wet dream come true.”

“Bin!” Chan hisses, but Hyunjin bursts into hysterical laughter.

“Likewise,” he giggles at Changbin, who winks.

“But seriously,” Changbin continues then, “I really like you. You’re creative, and fun, and you care so deeply, and you smell amazing. I’ve wanted to court you for months.”

Hyunjin’s eyes well up. “Really?”

“Yes, you dork.” Changbin reaches over the table to another ominous creak of the chair in order to squeeze Hyunjin’s fingers. “We all do.”

Hyunjin lets out a watery chuckle and wipes away tears with his free hand. He looks at Minho, who is still watching him, face still blank with shock. “Do you?”

Minho doesn’t say anything. But after a long moment, he stands, and Hyunjin looks up at him. When Minho draws him out of his chair, he blinks, mouth going dry. Minho is… very close. He can smell him, fresh and cool like the sea. “Hyung,” he whispers, and his breath fans across Minho’s lips.

Minho’s eyes bore into him. “Are you sure?”

Hyunjin isn’t entirely sure what he’s asking. Are you sure about the courting? Sure about this? Sure about me? But no matter what the question is, his answer is the same. “Yes.”

And Minho kisses him.

Hyunjin’s eyes are wide and shocked for a moment before he melts into it, hands landing on Minho’s arms. Minho’s lips are soft and warm against his, and he tastes like coffee and Hyunjin can’t even tell if it’s because he drank a cup or because he was kissing Chan before. When Minho pulls back after a minute or an hour or a year, Hyunjin doesn’t press for more. He didn’t even think he would get this far, ever, and he’ll treasure anything they give him.

“Finally,” Changbin says, and Minho flips him off. Chan and Jisung laugh.

“Please tell me I can kiss you too now,” Jisung says, “Because we have been talking about it for ages and I need to know if your lips are as soft as they look.”

“They are,” Minho says without any emotion in his voice at all, and Hyunjin lets out another giggle that’s slightly too loud. Jisung merely grins and slides off Changbin’s lap, and lets Hyunjin pull him in.

“We’ll get you a courting ring,” Chan tells him when he and Jisung part. “I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation today so we didn’t prepare for it, but I promise you’ll get one.” Hyunjin gasps, and Chan smiles. “I should warn you that it won’t be expensive. None of us have the money for anything like that. But I hope you’ll be able to see it for the gesture it is.”

“I don’t care,” Hyunjin says immediately, eyes filled with tears. A courting ring. A courting ring, like the one Minho wears. And he means it, he really doesn’t care about the price. “You could give me a zip tie for all I care. I’d treasure it forever.”

Changbin chuckles. “Is that a challenge to see what horrors we can come up with? Because Sungie and I are very creative. Don’t test us.” And before Hyunjin can do more than laugh, he steps forward to kiss him, and Hyunjin lets himself be wrapped up in that soft smoky scent he adores so much.

The next hour is filled with soft kisses and first scentings, and then, to everyone’s dismay except for Chan’s, no more kissing or scenting and only talking. Because apparently, the way they were communicating was ‘dysfunctional’ and they need to ‘express their feelings and expectations’, and Hyunjin thinks Chan sounds like a cross between a psychologist and a teen omega magazine advice column. But by the end of it, he has to admit that Chan had a point. It really does help to hear openly, truthfully that the others want to court him, and that Minho wants him to stay with him unless he’d prefer a place of his own.

“Of course I want to stay,” Hyunjin tells him. “But don’t you want your space back?”

“Don’t you?” Minho throws back. “You’re the one who grew up in a villa.”

“A manor,” Hyunjin corrects, before realising that that is the opposite of the point he was trying to make. “But I don’t need luxury.”

“Hyunjin, you whined for fifteen minutes about the wine you found in my kitchen cupboard.”

Hyunjin screws up his face. “Because it tasted like cardboard.” At Minho’s raised eyebrow, he concedes, “Fine. I like luxury. But I don’t need it. I like staying here.” He means it. For now, he has the money to buy some of the more expensive things he’s used to, but he knows that the moment his parents disown him, that’ll be gone. He’s okay with that though. He’ll miss it. He’ll miss it a lot. But if he has to choose between money or them, there’s not even a choice to be made. He didn’t even know how lonely he was until he had people to share his life with. He’s not giving that up for anything. And who knows, maybe one day he’ll become a famous painter and earn enough money to get them a house.

He doesn’t say all of that, because that would probably be too much for now. Instead, he keeps it light, and says, “I want to stay. But I am tossing a mattress down in the corner. Because I don’t need luxury, but there’s a spring in your couch that’s been trying to launch one of my spinal disks across the room for weeks, and one more night and it might just succeed.”

Minho snorts, and Hyunjin grins. Minho wants him to stay. Not only that, but Minho wants to court him. They all do. Bright, glowing happiness bubbles through his veins, overwhelming in the very best of ways. His eyes find Chan, and the alpha’s gaze is soft and fond. His fingers find Hyunjin’s and he intertwines them before leaning forward to press a kiss against Hyunjin’s knuckles. The action is so classically romantic that Hyunjin nearly vibrates with joy. Chan laughs softly, and lowers their hands to Hyunjin’s knee, rubbing a thumb over the fabric of his jeans.

Hyunjin feels like he might explode. They’re courting. He’s courting. I’m courting! he wants to shout at the sky, where his grandfather lives. He’s still sad, and his heart aches at the thought that he’ll never get to tell him in person, but he thinks the man will be watching him from wherever he is. A beam of sunlight falls in through the kitchen window, and Hyunjin’s smile widens. I’m courting, he thinks again. And I’m going to paint. I’ll be happy, hal-abeoji. I promise.

Chapter Text

“Hyunjin,” Minho sighs, ten feet ahead of him.

“But hyung, it’s a sunflower!” Hyunjin is staring in delight at the tall flower on the side of the path.

“I can see that. We’re hiking though, not taking a tour of the botanical gardens.”

“But it’s so pretty!” Hyunjin leans in closer to look at the hundreds of tiny flowers that make up the sunflower’s brown centre, spiralling inwards and outwards in a fascinating pattern.

“Yes,” Minho says dryly. “Just like the dandelions were pretty two minutes ago, and the daisies before that.” He huffs. “You’re like a fucking bee, I swear to god.”

Hyunjin stills, his hand freezing on its way to the flower.

Like a bee.

Just an annoying, buzzing little bee.

His excited words about sunflower seeds turn to ash on his tongue, and he draws his hand back, his happiness wilting away. Minho didn’t mean it like that. He knows that. Minho was just… teasing. Like he always does. He was just teasing, he isn’t really annoyed.

Right?

Hyunjin looks over. Minho looks exasperated. That’s nothing new, Minho looks exasperated with him about twelve times any given day, and yet… Hyunjin swallows. Did he mean it? What if that is how he feels about Hyunjin? He thought he’d finally found people who didn’t mind his excitement, but maybe… maybe he was wrong. Maybe Hyunjin has been annoying him all this time.

“What, no lecture on this flower? You rambled for ten minutes about the daisies.”

“No,” Hyunjin mumbles, stepping back to Minho’s side. “We can keep going.” Minho is right. They’re on a hike. Minho was looking forward to this hike. They’re not here to watch flowers.

“Yah.” Minho frowns. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin starts walking. For a second, he thinks Minho will press, but he doesn’t. He just falls into step beside him, and they continue their hike. For the next ten minutes, they walk in silence, the only sounds around them the singing of the birds and rustling of the trees above their  heads. See, Hyunjin thinks glumly. This is peaceful. This is what Minho wants. Peace, and quiet, and not Hyunjin’s constant buzzing chatter about flowers nobody cares about but him. He resolves to shut up and let the alpha enjoy his walk. Minho is right, he needs to—

“Where were you yesterday?”

Hyunjin blinks. “What?”

“You were gone all afternoon.”

Hyunjin looks over. He didn’t think Minho would notice. The alpha had been at work, and Hyunjin had returned before Minho even got back. “How did you—”

“When you’re home, you use like half the cups we own, because any time you take one out you put it down somewhere and forget about it.” Minho rolls his eyes. “I usually spend the first ten minutes after I come home collecting cups. There weren’t any yesterday, ergo, you weren’t home. Where were you?”

Hyunjin stares at him. He didn’t know he did that. Well, he knew he did that, but he didn’t know Minho had made it a habit to pick up after him. Another annoying trait.

“Hyunjin.”

“I was… out,” he says vaguely. That’s true. He had been in court, to make sure his parents wouldn’t get the money his grandfather had given him. It hadn’t been a big deal. He hadn’t even been that worried, because his lawyer had said that there was no way his parents even stood a chance; his grandfather’s will was airtight. He’d been right. The matter had been settled within thirty minutes. They’d spent longer waiting in the hallway to be called in than in the actual courtroom.

Minho hums. “With your parents.”

Hyunjin snaps his head towards him. “What?”

“You were with your parents.” Minho had still been watching the path, but now he turns his head. “Right?”

Hyunjin stares. “I…”

“Hyunjin.” Minho stops walking, and Hyunjin comes to a stop too, bewildered. “We’ve let you keep your secret. Even Chan has let you keep your secret, because you swore to us that it wasn’t anything bad. But if—”

“It isn’t,” Hyunjin says. When Minho raises an eyebrow, he insists, “Really. It’s not. I said I’d tell you if it was.”

He had. The moment he’d come home after his grandfather’s attorney had rung him a month ago and dragged him off to visit a house, the others had known something was up. And he’d very nearly spilled everything then. But in the end he hadn’t, because while he was at the house he’d suddenly had a vision of surprising them with it, and he’d clung to that with everything he had. He’d kept quiet throughout all their questions, even if he felt like he might burst. In the end, Chan had gently nudged a bouncing, frustrated Jisung out of the way, and crouched down in front of Hyunjin. “You don’t have to tell us, love. You don’t owe us anything. But I need to know one thing.” He’d tipped Hyunjin’s chin up and asked, “Is it a good or a bad secret? Because if it’s bad, I need to know if you’re going to need some extra support from us. You still don’t have to tell us if you’re not ready, but we want to be here for you if you need us.”

And Hyunjin had stared at him for a full thirty seconds and nearly burst into tears. Because that was so sweet, so thoughtful, and he was still so unused to people caring. Chan had looked even more worried at that, but Hyunjin had managed to convince them that it was a good secret, and promised to tell them when he was ready, and they’d all dropped it, just like that.

Now, he looks at Minho, who’s eyeing him like he’s searching for the lie. “It’s not a bad secret,” he says again. “I promise. It was just yesterday that sucked.”

“Because you met with your parents.”

“Yes.”

“It was bad.”

He smiles without humour. “The fucking worst.” Because they’d been in the same hallway, him and his parents, and they had ranted at him for a good twenty minutes before his lawyer had returned from his phone call, glared at them and steered Hyunjin out of there. And he knew it was bullshit, that they were bitter, twisted people who only saw the money Hyunjin now owned and not the son they’d birthed, but Hyunjin had never been good at shielding himself from other people’s emotions, and it had hurt.

It had hurt enough to bring up insecurities that normally don’t bother him much at all, especially not with the people he is courting. But Minho’s comment about the bee…

Hesitantly, he raises his eyes back to Minho, who is still watching him. “Do you think I’m annoying?” He swallows. “Like a bee?”

“All the time,” Minho says automatically.

And any other time, Hyunjin would have laughed at that. But right now, he flinches, and looks away. “Oh.”

“Fuck,” Minho says, grabbing his arm. “Hyunjin. I don’t think that. I was joking, you idiot. You—look at me.” He’s talking quickly, and when Hyunjin looks up, there’s a hint of panic on Minho’s face. “Yes, you annoy the shit out of me on a daily basis. But you’ve always done that and I’m courting you anyway, aren’t I? I mean—fuck.” He screws up his face, looking frustrated at his inability to say the right thing. “I mean, you annoy me but you’re not annoying. You do it in a- good way. I like it, or whatever.” He huffs out a breath, frustration growing. “You’re a good bee. Bees are nice.”

Throughout Minho’s speech, a slow smile had spread back on Hyunjin’s face, and at those last words, he can’t help it. He bursts into laughter.

“Shut the fuck up,” Minho tells him, tips of his ears turning red. “I take it back. You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“No I’m not,” Hyunjin gasps through fits of giggles. “I’m a good bee.”

Minho smacks him on the arm, and Hyunjin laughs harder, not even trying to duck away. “I hate you.”

“You can’t hate me,” Hyunjin giggles, “I’m a bee, and bees are nice.”

“Shut up,” Minho says again. “Keep walking. Tell me about your fucking sunflower.”

And Hyunjin obeys, still giggling. Minho looks as exasperated with him as ever, but this time, that tight, anxious ball in Hyunjin’s chest is gone, and he feels lighter than he has since entering the courthouse yesterday. The rest of the hike is filled with chatter as Hyunjin rambles to Minho about flowers. The alpha doesn’t speak while Hyunjin talks, but his scent is content, not annoyed.

And a day later, he is reminded that even if Minho is silent during Hyunjin’s chatter, he somehow always, always listens. Because when he gets back from school the next day, there’s a bouquet of sunflowers on the table, greeting him with bright yellow petals. They’re in a pitcher because they don’t own a vase, but Hyunjin screams the moment he spots them, and then he cries.

Minho pretends he’s done nothing at all when he comes home, even when Hyunjin throws himself at him to thank him, and after ten minutes, Hyunjin relents and lets him pretend. But he knows better. Minho sees him. Minho knows him. Minho might even love him, even if he’s never said it.

Hyunjin definitely loves him though. Deeply and with all his heart. He is so glad he signed up for those dance classes. He’s so glad they met.

“I love you,” he whispers against Minho’s shoulder that night, when they’re in bed and Minho is asleep.

And in his sleep, Minho intertwines their fingers, and Hyunjin smiles.

***

“Are you ever going to tell us where, exactly, you will be taking us in this suspiciously shiny expensive car you’ve packed us into at the crack of dawn?” Minho asks with a raised eyebrow from the passenger seat.

Hyunjin grins and checks his side mirror before switching lanes. “Nope.”

“He’s signed up with the mafia,” Changbin says from behind him. “I’m sure of it. He’s been grinning like that for the past four months, and he looks mental.”

Hyunjin lets out a cackle, which probably doesn’t help dispel Changbin’s notion. “You’re gonna like this.”

Minho sighs. “If you’re driving us to some abandoned house, Hyunjin, I swear—”

Hyunjin laughs harder. He can’t wait.

“He could have at least waited until after noon to murder us, like a civilised person,” Jisung grumbles, not even opening his eyes. Chan, who is slumped half asleep against him, pats him conciliatorily on the arm.

Hyunjin would complain about their rudeness, but it is still very early, and he did wake them all up at the crack of dawn without telling any of them where they were going. Minho had already been awake, because he was crazy like that, but 3RACHA looked like they’d just fallen into bed. They probably had, after a long night in the studio. Hyunjin had felt a tiny bit guilty about that, but he just hadn’t been able to wait any longer. He’d honestly have driven everyone over last night if he wasn’t so set on showing them the house in the light of day. He had stopped on the way to buy them coffee though. He isn’t a complete asshole.

He makes a right turn and smiles. They’re getting close. “Can you all close your eyes?”

Minho snorts. “Nice try. I’ve seen way too many horror movies to fall for that.”

“Hyung,” Hyunjin pouts.

“My eyes are already closed,” Chan mumbles, and Jisung grunts, “Same.”

“See! Jisungie and Chan-hyung are doing it.”

“Jisung hasn’t opened his eyes since we picked him up, and hyung would be the first person to die in a horror movie.”

Chan opens his mouth like he’s about to protest, but Changbin says, “Yeah, because he’d throw himself in front of us like the protective idiot he is.”

Chan snaps his mouth shut. “Alright, yeah. That is something I would do.”

“Just close your eyes,” Hyunjin whines, because if they don’t do it now, they’re going to see it before he wants them to. “Please.”

Something about his tone must sound desperate enough that they sigh and oblige, and Hyunjin relaxes. He makes another right and turns into the neighbourhood. Their neighbourhood. The houses here are all big, with large gardens and trees that give the inhabitants all the privacy they could want.

He keeps an eye out for the tall pine tree and then turns left, rolling up the gravel driveway. When the attorney told him he had inherited a house, he’d expected something clean and stately like the estate he’d grown up on. He’d told the man to just sell it; he had no interest in a house like that. The only reason he’d agreed to check it out was because his grandfather had specified that Hyunjin needed to visit it at least once, or he wouldn’t get the rest of the money. He smiles. The man had known him well. Because when he’d gotten here, he’d found a garden overgrown with weeds so high he could barely see the front door, let alone the garden path, if there was one. There were thick bushy shrubs and ivy climbing up the sides the house and through cracks in the window frames. As he’d walked closer, a gust of wind had sent a loose rooftile tumbling down at Hyunjin’s feet. The house was a mess. It was in terrible condition, dilapidated, run-down and clearly hadn’t been looked at in years.

Hyunjin had adored it immediately.

The house had character. It looked like it had seen the worst parts of life, but it had lived. He’d turned back to the attorney, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I want it.” The man had laughed, and pulled out the rest of his papers. Within an hour, all his grandfather’s money had been his. And so had the house.

He’d wanted to call the others immediately. Because if it was his house, that meant that it was their house, and he wanted to jump with joy. But then he thought about what it would be like to wait until everything was done. If he could renovate it first, if he could make it all nice and pretty, he could ask them to move in with him. And he wanted that, so very fiercely.

So he’d kept quiet, and spent the past four months on secret phone calls with contractors and construction workers, making his way over as often as he could without arousing suspicion. He’d definitely failed at that; he’d known he would even before he tried. But they had all honoured his request for privacy, like they had promised. They’d only checked in every once in a while to see if the secret was still good instead of bad, and then they’d dropped it again.

By some miracle, Hyunjin hadn’t accidentally spilled the truth himself either. It had been so hard to hold back, but he’s glad for it now. The house looks amazing now that it’s finished, and he wants to see the looks on their faces when they see it for the first time.

He stops the car in his usual spot, next to where his old car is parked, and looks out the window. The house is not completely finished, of course. It’s been renovated, but it’s not furnished yet, and the garden is still overrun and wild. But he wanted to tackle the garden on his own rather than leaving it to professionals. He knew he could never restore the house on his own, but the garden he can do. He used to help his grandfather’s and his parents’ gardeners, and this is a project he can’t wait to get started on.

“So,” Changbin says dryly from behind him. “Is this the part where we get murdered?”

Hyunjin laughs. “Get out of the car? But keep your eyes closed!”

“Jinnie,” Jisung whines.

“Please.” He cups his pocket to check that the keys are still there, and then exits the car. “Eyes closed,” he reminds them as he takes Jisung by the arms and guides him around the car until he’s facing the house. He does the same with the others, checking every second to see if they’ve still got their eyes closed, but to his amazement, no one is cheating. “Okay,” he says once he’s done. He digs in his pocket. “Put your hands out? I’ve got you something.”

“What the fuck are you planning,” Minho mutters. “If you’re—”

Hyunjin loops a thin silver chain around his gesticulating hand, and Minho freezes in alarm. Hyunjin snorts and moves on to Jisung, whose hands are already out, all sleepiness gone, eager now at the thought of gifts. He gives everyone a shiny key, dangling from the chain so they won’t recognise the shape, and then steps back. He takes his phone out to start recording, and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

They do. They blink against the bright morning sunlight that’s reflected by the gridded window panes. And then they frown in confusion, looking down at their keys and up at the house in perfect bewildered synchrony. “Hyunjin, what—”

“Move in with me?” Hyunjin grins from behind his phone.

Changbin stares from the house to Hyunjin and back to the house. “What are you talking about?”

“This is the secret,” Hyunjin says, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “I inherited a house. And like a gazillion won but, a house!”

Minho blinks twice, like a confused cat.

Chan’s jaw drops. “Inherited… gazillion?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin says impatiently. The money is not the point. They need to look at the house. “But look. This is our new house.”

“I am looking,” Changbin says dazedly. “Hyunjin, what the fuck.”

“Our house?” Jisung echoes, eyes wide. He snaps his head to Hyunjin. “Are you serious?”

Finally. Hyunjin grins. “Yes.”

Jisung screams and launches himself at him, and Hyunjin laughs and drops his phone. Thankfully for him the garden is still a mess, and his phone drops harmlessly in a clump of weeds. “Jinnie!” Jisung grabs his arms and jumps excitedly up and down, happy cinnamon blooming around him.

“I know,” Hyunjin laughs, bouncing with him. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yes!” Jisung whirls back to the house. “It’s huge!”

“I know! It has so many rooms, oh my god. You’ve got to see the inside. And look it has balconies!”

“I see them!”

Both of their voices are high-pitched with excitement as Hyunjin drags Jisung to the door. “Open it. Open it, open it! I forgot my key!”

Jisung laughs. “You took us here to show us this house and forgot your key?”

“I brought four keys,” Hyunjin pouts. “Just not mine. Open it!”

Jisung vibrates with giddiness and unlocks the door, and Hyunjin drags him through. “Look!”

The house really is gorgeous. Hyunjin had arranged for its old style to be maintained as much as possible, although many of the materials are new, since the old wood had rotted away. In some of the darker corners, he’d arranged for extra windows to be placed, because he wanted a house that was bright and spacious. The end result is amazing. He’d known the morning light would show it off to its best advantage, and he was right. Beams of sunlight fall across the wooden floorboards, and the polished staircase gleams.

It’s empty of course, there’s no furniture. Their footsteps sound hollow, and Jisung’s incredulous laugh echoes off the walls as he spins around. “Oh my god!” He looks back at Hyunjin. “You’re really not joking?”

“No,” Hyunjin grins. “It’s ours.” He turns around and frowns, heading back outside. “What are you guys waiting for? Come see!”

Chan is still staring up at the house, and Minho is still blank-faced, but Changbin slowly walks up the front steps and lets Hyunjin pull him inside. “Come on!” Hyunjin calls out to Chan and Minho, and slowly, they follow Changbin in.

Changbin rakes a hand through his hair. “Hyunjin, this is crazy.”

“I know!” Hyunjin says giddily.

Changbin darts a look at Chan and opens his mouth, but then Jisung pulls him along by the wrist and dashes up the stairs. Changbin sighs and lets himself be dragged away.

Hyunjin grins after them and turns to Chan and Minho. “It’s beautiful, right?” He expects a smile and excitement, but they’re silent. Neither of them say anything, and they’re not smiling. Hyunjin falters. “Right?”

Chan clears his throat. “It is. Jinnie, of course it is.”

Hyunjin relaxes. “Oh, good. Because I’ve got the paperwork all ready so it’ll be yours too, and the same goes for the money. That car is yours by the way, Channie-hyung! I bought it for you, so you can drive to work. I know Jisungie hates public transport because it’s so crowded, so I thought this would be nice.”

They stare at him. This time, the silence stretches on for much, much longer, and Hyunjin swallows. “Do you not like it?” His voice sounds small. “We can buy a different car.” He looks at Minho. “And we can buy Binnie-hyung and you one too! It’s just that Channie-hyung is the only one who answered when I asked for your favourite cars so I wanted to wait with the rest.”

“Hyunjin,” Chan begins, sounding very soft, and Hyunjin’s face falls. That’s Chan’s “no” voice. “We cannot accept that. Any of this.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicker to the key in Chan’s hand, and his lungs grow tight. “You don’t… like the house?” He swallows again. He loves this house, but… “We can get a different house too, if- if you don’t like this one. Or- or don’t you…” He thought they were on the same page. They’d talked about moving in together, just last month. They’d talked about him and Minho joining the pack, too. They’d all agreed they’d like to bond and live together, once they had enough money to get an apartment that was big enough. Or Hyunjin had thought they’d all agreed. Because the looks on their faces are not the looks of people who are excited to move in together. Chan and Minho look serious. Concerned. Unhappy.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin whispers. His eyes burn. “I thought…” He looks at his feet.

“Jinnie, love,” Chan says, stepping forwards. “We can’t take all of that. It’s your money.”

“But I want you to,” Hyunjin breathes. “Because I’m… pack now. I thought.” The words end in a mumble, half questioning and barely audible, and he’s still staring at the floor.

Chan cups his cheeks. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Hyunjin looks up. His eyes are shiny. He’s steeling himself for the worst. The rejection, the goodbyes.

But Chan says, “Of course you’re pack. Of course we want to move in with you. But you can’t…” He bites his lip. “This is a lot, Hyunjinnie. One, you’re going to have to give us a minute to process what you’re saying, and two, just because we’re your pack doesn’t mean that you owe us anything. Non-traditional, remember? This is not like your parents’ bond. When you and Minho join, you’ll get to keep your own bank accounts, your own money and possessions. I might be pack alpha, but I don’t want your money. None of us do. You don’t have to give us anything.”

Chan’s hands on his cheeks feel like the sole thing holding him up, and Hyunjin latches on to his wrists like a lifeline. A tear rolls down his cheek. “But if I’m pack, I want you to have it. I brought all the documents. You can just sign and then the money will belong to all of us. It’ll be mine and yours.”

Chan’s face twists. “Hyunjin, we can’t. I just don’t think you—”

“Hyunjin-ah,” Minho says, just as Hyunjin’s tears spill over. Hyunjin looks over at him, vision blurry. “Why do you want to share your money with us?”

“Because,” Hyunjin sniffs, “Because I love you. And I want you to be happy. And I know that you worry sometimes, because things are expensive and you don’t get paid as much as you deserve, and then I got all this money, and this house, and I was so happy, because I could share it with you and then you would no longer need to worry, and we could move in together and then I’d finally have a- have a home that feels like home, because you’d all be there, and—” He’s fully crying now. “And I kept thinking about how happy we’d all be because we’d have enough money to do the things we wanted to do, and I just—”

Chan hugs him close, and Hyunjin buries his face into his chest, sobbing. “Oh, love.”

“You don’t feel like you have to?” Minho checks. “You’re not doing it because you’re scared you’d lose us if you don’t share your money?”

“No,” Hyunjin cries. “I know that you don’t care about money but I want you to have it anyway because I love you and I thought it was romantic if we could all share it, and I just wanted you to be happy because then I’d be happy too and everything would feel good—”

“Ssh.” Chan brushes a hand through his hair and drags his wrist over Hyunjin’s scent gland to send a burst of strong, soothing coffee through his system. Then he gently pushes Hyunjin away from his chest so he can look him in the eyes. “It would truly make you happy? To share your money with us?”

Hyunjin nods, sniffling.

“You really don’t feel pressured? Because you don’t need to pay us to secure your place in this pack, Jinnie. We love you. Not your money. If that’s why you’re doing this—”

“It’s not,” Hyunjin promises vehemently, eyes big and honest. “I just really love you and I wanted- I was just excited. I like giving you things, it makes me happy.”

Chan scans his face for a few more seconds and then sighs. He looks over his shoulder at Minho.

“I’m not comfortable taking all of your money,” Minho says as he steps closer. He strokes a thumb underneath Hyunjin’s eyes to brush away tears. “Hush. Stop crying. I’m saying that whatever papers you had drawn up, they would entail completely joint finances? Everything you own would be ours?”

Hyunjin nods.

“Yeah, I don’t want that. I’m not comfortable with that. But if you really want to, we can draw up new papers, with like…” He looks at Chan for guidance. “I don’t know. A shared bank account with part of his money? A pack account? You’re mated, you tell me. I have no idea how that shit works.”

“We can,” Chan says thoughtfully. “The three of us have a pack account. But for us it doesn’t really matter, because we didn’t have any money to start with and anything we make is split equally between us anyway. I’m not sure how it would work with something like this. I’ll ask Bin. He’s good with money.”

Minho nods, turning back to Hyunjin. “I want you to have your own money. I know you said you don’t care, but it’s important to me.”

Minho’s eyes are firm and honest, and Hyunjin feels himself calming down. They do want to move in with him. They do still want him. They just keep having all these morals that get in the way of the things he wants to give them, which is, admittedly, not new. He sighs, wiping his eyes. “Okay. Sorry.”

Minho clucks at him and pokes his side, and Hyunjin wriggles away, smiling despite himself.

“How much money are we talking anyway?” Chan asks. “Because you said a gazillion, but you also said you saw ‘like a billion spiders’ in our bathroom and there were two, so—”

“There were five, and they were huge,” Hyunjin says, pulling a face, but he turns to get his bag from the front step. He takes out the papers and hands them to Chan. “Here.”

Chan smiles at him. “Thanks.” Then he glances down, and his face freezes. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Minho says, leaning over. “What are you—oh.”

Chan has gone pale. “I need to…” He trails off and stumbles over to the stairs, sitting down with a thump. He raises his eyes to the ceiling, takes a deep breath and then glances down again. He squeezes his eyes shut immediately. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“What?” Hyunjin says, frowning. “I told you it was a lot.”

“I wasn’t expecting this kind of ‘a lot’,” Chan says faintly. “Dear god, Hyunjin.” His head snaps up. “What, and you wanted to just give this to us?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin shrugs, because he did. He still does. He tilts his head. “Did you change your mind? Because you could still just sign—”

Minho cuffs him around the back of the head, and Hyunjin yelps and laughs. “Absolutely not,” Minho says. “You’re an idiot.”

“We no longer need just Bin,” Chan says, staring down at the papers. “We need a lawyer.”

“I have a lawyer,” Hyunjin says. “He’s nice.”

Chan laughs, a little hysterical. “A financial advisor then.”

“I have one of those too. My grandfather gave me contact details for his own people, and the attorney helped me reach out. They’re very good.”

“Of course they are.”

“Is that what you’ve been up to all these months?” Minho asks him. “Meeting lawyers and financial advisors?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Mostly contractors and builders, for the house. It was in pretty bad shape when I got it and had to be completely renovated, so I visited nearly every day before or after school. I saw my lawyer only in those first few weeks, when my parents were trying to get their hands on the money.”

It’s silent for a minute. Then, very slowly, Minho says, “That day you were gone, when you met with your parents…”

“I was in court.” Both Minho and Chan stare at him, and somehow it feels like he did something wrong. He shifts. “I won, though! So it’s fine.”

“Hyunjin,” Chan says, putting the papers down. “You went through a court case against your parents? All on your own?”

Hyunjin nods.

Chan looks horrified. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because it was fine. Dong-ho-nim said we’d win, and he was right.”

Minho closes his eyes. “Hyunjin, you absolute idiot. This is the kind of thing we meant by ‘bad’.”

Hyunjin blinks. “What?”

Chan stands and draws him into a fierce hug. “You faced your parents, in court. Alone! What kind of people do you think we are? Of course we’d want to be there for you through that. We’d have come with you in a heartbeat.”

Hyunjin’s mind goes blank. Oh.

“I thought you meant they’d called you and you went for coffee,” Minho says, rubbing his face. “And now you’re telling us you were in fucking court. What the fuck, Hyunjin.”

“It wasn’t… too bad,” he says faintly, even though… they’re right. It kind of had been bad, hadn’t it. Sitting there, listening to his parents spit vitriol at him. He’d… he’d have loved to have them there. Minho would have spat vitriol right back, he’s sure. And Jisung would have hugged him, and… Suddenly, his eyes well up again. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Chan says, softening now that it’s clear their words are sinking in. He rubs Hyunjin’s back. “We love you. We care about you. We want to support you through things that are hard, Jinnie. That’s what pack is for.”

“I didn’t know,” Hyunjin sniffs. “I didn’t realise.”

“I know you’re used to doing things on your own,” Chan tells him. “But you don’t have to anymore. We wanted to give you privacy, but if I’d known you were going through court cases and house renovations on top of your studies, god, Hyunjin.” His arms tighten around him. “You’ve got to let us in, love. You’ve got to let us help.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Hyunjin cries. He had wanted the house to be a surprise, and the only way to do that was to keep everything a secret. But suddenly, that seems very unimportant. Because they’re right. It had been difficult, and it had been stressful, and it would have been so much better if they’d been there, and he is an idiot.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” Chan says softly. “It’s okay. But from now on, alright? No more taking on burdens on your own.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin manages, burrowing his face in Chan’s neck and breathing him in. Chan lets him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. He taps Hyunjin’s thighs, and Hyunjin obediently jumps up to wrap his legs around his waist. Chan carries him over to the stairs and sits down, holding him close.

Minho sits down next to them. He doesn’t touch, but Hyunjin knows he’s there from the steady stream of cool ocean that drifts around them. He breathes.

Once he’s calmed down, he looks up, though he stays in Chan’s lap. “I won’t do it again,” he promises, and means it. Chan smiles at him, and brushes a lock of hair behind his ear. Hyunjin smiles back. Then he fidgets. “But did you… Did you at least like the surprise?”

Chan lets out a startled burst of laughter, and even Minho’s mouth twitches up. “Jinnie, you gave us a fucking house.” Chan lets his eyes trail around the hall, glancing up the stairs where Changbin and Jisung had disappeared and still haven’t returned. “You got us a fucking mansion. Yes, we like the surprise.”

Hyunjin feels the last tendrils of insecurity drop away, happiness flooding back. “It’s pretty, right? I worked very hard on the designs.”

“It’s stunning,” Minho agrees. “You did a great job.”

Hyunjin preens. “Can I show you the rest? Because I added wooden panelling for the room I thought could be the den, and I think it’s gorgeous. But if you don’t like it, we can change it. I… I see now that I should have asked first. And talked more. But I promise we can make any changes you want, I didn’t mean to decide for you, and—”

Minho kisses him, and Hyunjin’s lips mumble through two more words before he falls silent and melts. Minho pulls back. “Show us the rest,” is all he says, and Hyunjin beams.

Upstairs, they find Changbin and Jisung lounging fully clothed in the enormous white bathtub Hyunjin had installed, and they grin at the three of them as soon as they enter. “Jinnie, I love you,” Jisung says. “This house is amazing.”

Changbin sends Chan a look, and Chan nods at him. Changbin smiles at Hyunjin. “It is. But you’re more amazing. I hope you know that.”

Hyunjin feels something in his chest bloom open, warm and soft. “I do,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Changbin reaches out a hand. “Now come help me up, because I knocked my shin on the edge of the tub while climbing in and I think my leg’s stopped working.”

Hyunjin laughs and steps forward to help him up. “I need your leg to work for a bit longer. If we’re going to move in here, the house needs furniture, and I need someone strong to carry it in.”

Changbin grins. “Me and my bruised leg are at your service.” He lets Hyunjin pull him up and then kisses him, slow and soft.

More warmth spreads through him. Chan and Minho are right. Apparently, they’re all ready to help with anything he needs. They want to help. He truly hadn’t realised that he could ask for it. It hadn’t even occurred to him. But the thought is reassuring, and he’ll work on asking more often. It’ll probably be tricky, because he’s done things on his own for so long that the habit is just engrained. It might take a while. But that’s okay.

He is pack now. He’s got time.

Chapter Text

The moment they’re out of sight, Seungmin shrugs off Chan’s arms and whirls on him. “Hyung.”

Chan sinks down into a crouch. “I know.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry,” Chan moans, burying his head in his hands. “Fuck, I’m so—”

He looks and smells genuinely panicked, and Seungmin sighs. “I’m pretty sure Felix is okay.”

Chan looks at him. “Is he? Because I feel like I fucking assaulted him, Seungmin.”

“What even happened?” Seungmin asks, because he genuinely doesn’t know. One moment, they’d been playing soccer, and the next, Chan and Felix had been… whatever that was.

“I—” Chan rakes a hand through his hair. “He was after the ball, he was just playing the game, but I just—he was all- sweaty, and he looked like that, and his scent—” He looks a little dazed, and Seungmin pulls an exasperated face.

He knows he experiences sex differently than his packmates do. He doesn’t mind having it sometimes, but he doesn’t think about it much outside of the bedroom. He certainly doesn’t feel attraction the way Chan does, intensely and frequently. “So what, he was sweaty and you got aroused?”

“My scent spiked,” Chan agrees, voice filled with shame. “And it dazed him. He submitted to me, Seungmin. I made him submit.”

Ah.

Chan groans, low and filled with self-castigation. “I took away his control, just like that bastard did. I’m a horrible person.”

“You’re not.”

“I left to give him space, but what if- do you think he’s scared of me?”

“He wasn’t,” Seungmin says honestly, because from what he’d been able to gather, Felix had not smelled like fear at all. “Just embarrassed, I think.”

Chan’s eyes are big and desperate. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Sure, maybe he reacted to your scent, but he didn’t smell scared. And Changbin-hyung is with him. He’ll explain you didn’t mean it.”

“I mean, I did mean it, in a way,” Chan says, finally calming down a little. “What I felt was real. But I would never have acted on it, and I certainly didn’t mean to stun him into it. I hope he knows that.”

“I think he does. And if he doesn’t, he will after hyung talks to him.”

Chan takes a deep breath and rubs a hand over his face. “God. That’s not how I wanted this to go.”

Seungmin’s mouth twitches. “Out of everyone, I wouldn’t have expected you to be the one to nearly betray our agreement. Don’t tell me Jinnie swayed you to his side.”

“No,” Chan says immediately. “It’s important to wait. At least until he’s fully recovered, and preferably until he has a job and feels secure enough to tell us no if he doesn’t want us romantically. Right now he is dependent on us in so many ways, and I’m worried he’ll say yes just because he’s scared to lose that.”

“You don’t have to convince me. I was on your side from the start.” He and Minho and Jeongin had all been on Chan’s side from the start. They’d had that conversation ages ago, only a week after Minho returned. Felix had gone to take a long bath, and Minho had pointed them all to the kitchen island with a glare and said, “Tell me you’re not complete and utter dumbasses and are at least planning to wait until he’s better before asking if you can court him.”

Chan had sputtered. “Min, we wouldn’t- we’d never just do that without you. Wait, did you- you didn’t think—” He’d looked horrified. “Did you think we were replacing you?”

“No,” Minho had said, rolling his eyes. “Not for lack of trying on my part, but no. You’re too good for that. I know you wouldn’t. I’m just saying I’m not blind. It’s a miracle he hasn’t noticed, with the heart eyes you all keep sending him every ten seconds.”

Chan had blinked at him. “I… I’m…”

“I don’t mind,” Minho said, spelling it out for him. “He deserves everything we could offer him and for some godforsaken reason he’s forgiven me. If he wants to, I’m fine with courting him.”

Jisung’s face had bloomed open into a beaming smile, toothy and bright, and Hyunjin had looked ready to throw himself at Minho with a squeal. Minho had stopped him with a pointed finger. “But you can’t do it now. You need to wait.”

“What? Why!” Hyunjin had wailed. “I was just waiting for you to fall in love with him too, and now—”

“I’m not in love with him,” Minho grumbled. (But, well. Seungmin had seen the way he’d looked at Felix when the omega had beamed at him over his bowl of mango slices, and he didn’t think that would be an issue for long.) “But you can’t tell him now, that would be a dick move.”

“He’s right,” Chan had agreed, voice firm. “We can’t tell him yet.”

Hyunjin had protested, claiming they were being ridiculous and that Felix clearly already loved them, and that they could just tell him and they’d all be so happy—

But while he had swayed a starry-eyed Jisung in a heartbeat and even Changbin had looked hopeful, Jeongin and Seungmin had been on Chan and Minho’s side. So long as Felix depended on them, it wouldn’t be right to ask him if they could court him. He had so little control over his life already, and they didn’t want to pressure him into a choice before he even felt he had the freedom to make it. Jisung and Changbin had agreed too after hearing that, and Hyunjin had heaved a sigh but begrudgingly promised to keep quiet.

Seungmin had thought Hyunjin would be the one to fuck it up, not Chan.

His phone buzzes. He takes it out.

[3:51 pm] Seo Changbin: Hyung isn’t reading my texts, so I’m assuming he’s with you and panicking. Lix is fine. I explained and he just seemed embarrassed by his reaction. He’s not scared or freaking out, and he’s gonna take a nap. Tell hyung to stop beating himself up over it

Seungmin snorts and shows the phone to Chan, who slumps in relief. “Thank god. I’m buying him something so fucking expensive for his birthday this year.”

“Now stop wallowing and go shower,” Seungmin says. “You stink.”

Chan rolls his eyes at him but rises, sending a glance over his shoulder even though he won’t be able to see Felix and Changbin from where they are. “Yeah, yeah. Let me go confess my sins to Minho and subject myself to his tirade, and then I’ll go take a shower.”

“A cold one,” Seungmin adds pointedly, barely holding back a grin when Chan lunges for him.

“Kim Seungmin.”

“Ah!” Seungmin yelps as Chan slings him over his shoulder. “Ew, you’re all wet. Let me go! You’re the horny one, I’m just giving good advice!”

“And now you’re wet too, so watch what you tell me or I’ll dump you straight under the cold spray with me,” Chan threatens, but he is smiling and no longer smells like self-loathing, so, well, Seungmin supposes he can bear a little manhandling.

The things he does for his pack.

Chapter Text

Felix screams.

“Ssh,” Jisung whispers desperately, rocking him in his arms and releasing more cinnamon into the air. He can’t keep his scent entirely soothing anymore—none of them can. Felix has been here for four days and they haven’t slept for the past three, aside from small power naps anytime Felix passes out from the pain.

Jeongin’s wrists are pressed to the scent glands on Felix’s neck, sending vanilla directly into his system.

It does nothing.

After another minute, Felix’s voice gives out, his scream breaking off into a ragged sob, tears leaking from his eyes.

Changbin can’t stand it. “Seungmin,” he says hoarsely, wiping Felix’s forehead with a cool cloth. “Seungmin, give him something.”

“I can’t,” Seungmin says calmly. “You know I—”

“I don’t care!” Changbin snaps. “He’s in agony, Seungmin! Give the kid some fucking painkillers!”

“I can’t,” Seungmin says again, in that same infuriatingly calm voice. “Not beyond what I’ve already administered. I already told you that anything else I give him will only extend the drop. The worst of his pain is mental, and heavier drugs won’t help. He needs to get through it without them.”

Felix writhes, and Changbin shoots forward to grab the IV and tug it closer before Felix can rip it out. The IV is new, but for all that Changbin had hoped that it would do something to ease the omega’s suffering, he has been sorely disappointed. They watch, helpless and defeated, as Felix lets out small, broken sobs against the pain that racks through him.

Jisung’s tears drip down onto Felix’s collarbone. Changbin doesn’t blame him. His own eyes burn.

“But it’s not getting better,” Jeongin whispers thickly. “He’s just- he’s just screaming and—” He breaks off to grit his teeth against his own tears, and Changbin places a hand on his shoulder.

Seungmin leans forward to release more pheromones. At this point, Changbin has no idea why they’re bothering. The room already smells like a perfume store, heady and cloying, and it’s not enough. Nothing they’re doing is enough. Felix just keeps screaming, and seizing, and burning up, and they’re useless.

Felix chokes on a gasp for air and then sags into Jisung’s arms, going slack.

“Seungmin—” Changbin manages, heart shooting to his throat, but Seungmin is already there, pressing steady fingers against Felix’s pulse point and nudging one of Jeongin’s wrists aside to slide the analyser against his scent gland.

They wait. Jisung strokes Felix’s hair, looking pale. The analyser beeps.

“Chart?” Seungmin says, and Jeongin reaches out his free hand to snatch Seungmin’s notebook from the nightstand. He holds it open against his thigh and Seungmin starts scribbling down readings. “Please get my—”

“Yes, yes, page 263.” Changbin is already up to get one of Seungmin’s textbooks, flipping to the dog-eared page with the table of values that mean nothing to him but that Seungmin has been clinging to. Honestly, he probably knows it by heart by now, but he still checks every time.

“He’s okay.”

“He’s not,” Jeongin spits, tears spilling.

“He’s as okay as he can be,” Seungmin sighs.

“We’re not helping. Nothing we’re doing is helping, he’s—”

“We are,” Seungmin insists. “We are helping. This is normal. I told you it would get worse first.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

A lingering tear trails down Felix’s sunken cheek, and Jeongin brings his hand up to brush it away. Felix turns his head into Jeongin’s wrist with a shudder.

“Oh,” Seungmin says. And for some godforsaken reason, he sounds happy.

“What?” Changbin grits out. He wants to shout it in Seungmin’s face, tired of the beta’s optimistic responses to what is clearly torture, but he clenches his jaw and holds back his irritation. It’s not Seungmin’s fault. Seungmin is the only one out of all of them who knows what he’s doing, and without him Felix would already be dead. Changbin is just tired. He is exhausted, and that’s not Seungmin’s fault either. He is the oldest here. He can control himself.

To his utter bafflement, Seungmin grins. Carefully, the beta reaches out to take hold of Jeongin’s wrist, moving it away from Felix’s nose and to the omega’s other side. Felix whines and follows the scent, and Seungmin laughs breathlessly. “Oh, thank god. Finally.”

“What?” Jisung asks again.

“He’s seeking us out. Our scents.”

“He did that on day one.”

“And he hasn’t done it since, has he? He’s been unresponsive aside from involuntary reactions to us scenting him. This is different.” Seungmin moves Jeongin’s wrist again, and Felix’s head rolls back to the left. “See?”

He sounds so relieved that Changbin feels a part of himself loosen slightly. Even so, he says, “Give the kid Innie’s scent then. You’re just being mean now.”

Seungmin laughs, giddy with relief, and nudges Jeongin forward so he can scent Felix.

The moment Jeongin’s scent floods through him, Felix goes boneless. That’s not new, he’s done that before when he’s not screaming. What is new though, is the way he rolls his head into Jisung’s neck afterwards, seeking more pheromones. Changbin exhales roughly, not knowing whether he wants to laugh or cry.

“He wants us,” Jisung mumbles, clearly noticing the same thing. He rubs his cheek against Felix’s neck to give the omega what he’s looking for, and Felix’s lips part as he relaxes further.

Changbin’s eyes remain dry, but he leans forward to add his own scent to the mix, watching Felix breathe him in. “He’s stopped screaming.”

“He will scream again, later,” Seungmin warns. “This is not over, not by a long shot.”

“But?” Jeongin asks, hearing that there is one.

For the first time in days, Seungmin’s lips curve into a true smile. “But what we’re doing is working. He’s on the mend. It’ll still be bad for a while, but it won’t get worse.”

“Really?” Jeongin’s voice is shaky.

Seungmin nods. “I promise.”

Jisung drops his forehead down to Felix’s hair, shoulders shaking as he cries. From relief this time, Changbin can tell by the way his scent unravels. Jeongin presses his own head close to Jisung’s, letting out a long breath that blows a blond lock across Felix’s face.

“I’ll let Seonghwa-hyung know,” Seungmin murmurs before grabbing his phone and stepping out of the nest to go to the bathroom.

Changbin barely notices him go, eyes fixed on the way Felix’s open mouth is pressed against Jisung’s scent gland, subconsciously getting as close to the source of pheromones as he can.

For the first time in days, he thinks he can smell a hint of citrus again. It had been there that first day, when they picked Felix up, but it had been acrid, stinging all of their noses with the wrongness of drop. After that though, after they’d gotten him settled, his scent had vanished entirely. Jeongin had screamed when it happened, thinking Felix had died, but Seungmin (who’d jumped out of the bathroom mid-way through the quickest shower of his life, wet and dripping and completely naked) had managed to reassure them that it was normal, that that’s what he’d meant by Felix needing their scents. His body was too weak to maintain his own right now, he was utterly reliant on theirs. They needed to scent him to keep him stable and give his body time to heal.

For the past three days, it hadn’t felt like it was working. They had scented him, had scented him constantly, and he’d still screamed and sobbed like they were torturing him. Honestly, there had been times when Changbin thought they were. That Seungmin was wrong, and they were only making it worse. Felix had looked better on the day they got him than he did on day three.

But now… He leans in closer and inhales deeply. Yeah. Yeah, there it is. Weak and thin and still too sour, but there.

“His scent is back,” Jisung mumbles into Felix’s hair, not even bothering to lift his head.

Jeongin hums, intertwining his fingers with Felix so their wrist glands touch.

Felix doesn’t stir. His cheeks are flushed with fever and he gives the occasional shudder, but for the first time in days, the constant stream of pheromones actually seems to be helping. He’s quiet. He’s sleeping.

Changbin rubs a hand over his face and then sits up. “Lie down,” he tells Jisung. “Go get some rest.”

“Can’t,” Jisung protests, though his eyes are already closing. “Have to… Have to—”

“Sleep,” Changbin insists. “Here, come on.” He pulls on Jisung’s thighs until the alpha has slid down. Jeongin lifts a tired head to help and make sure Felix isn’t jostled away from Jisung’s scent gland. Jisung is out before Changbin can even get them settled. When he does, he presses Jeongin down next to Felix’s other side.

“Hyung,” Jeongin mumbles, “I need to—”

“Sleep,” Changbin repeats, purposely dragging his wrist against Jeongin’s neck.

Jeongin blinks once, very slowly, and then just goes limp, body giving out. It’s the kind of thing that would normally never work on him, especially not Changbin’s beta scent, but they’ve all been pushed to their limits.

Changbin draws a blanket over them and watches as they curl themselves around Felix instinctively.

It’s... intimate, helping Felix through this drop. Aside from the intimacy of caring for his body (which Seungmin has been handling with a clinical efficiency that baffles Changbin), it’s the scenting that really took him by surprise. It’s a lot more… well, just a lot more than Changbin was expecting. Honestly, he didn’t even know a drop could get this bad. When they’d made Felix the offer, he thought it would be like when Jeongin had dropped. A night of scenting, of care and sweet words, maybe a few days if Felix had been suppressing it. But not this.

He doesn’t regret it. Of course he doesn’t. Felix had saved Jeongin’s life, his drop was their fault, and he’d sounded horribly, horribly small on the phone. Changbin could never regret their decision.

But as he watches the way Jeongin and Jisung curl into Felix, Jeongin’s lips finding Felix’s scent gland as if he knows even in his sleep that it’s important to keep Felix close, he wonders what this is going to do to them.

Seungmin had said it would take at least a month. It’s only been four days. For the first time, Changbin wonders what will happen after four weeks of this. He already feels protective of Felix, and he knows the others do too. He’d expected that. None of them have the ability to distance themselves the way Seungmin has been trained to. But if there’s so much longer to go, and Felix is going to start rolling into their touch and scents the way he did just now, is going to start responding to them…

Changbin sighs and draws his mind back to the present. There’s no use thinking about it now. It’s not like there’s anything they can do about it at this point. They’re going to get Felix through his drop, and they’ll figure everything else out afterwards.

When Seungmin re-enters the room, Changbin ushers him into the nest. Unlike Jeongin and Jisung, Seungmin doesn’t protest when he urges him to lie down and pulls a blanket over him. That tracks. Seungmin is smart, and he knows the value of catching some sleep while he can. The only thing he asks is, “Are you sure? You’re tired too, I can—”

“You sleep first,” Changbin says. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

“Or if anything happens,” Seungmin insists.

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Yes. Or then. Now sleep.”

Seungmin sends him a grateful little ghost of a smile and then closes his eyes, drifting off.

And yeah, Changbin is exhausted. But he is going to let Seungmin sleep as long as he can. The beta needs it, and deserves it, and they need him sharp for when Felix needs any further doctoring that Changbin and the others can’t give him. He can stay up. He’s had worse during his trainee days. He gives Felix’s ankle a little pat, and grabs his laptop.

If he’s going back to the old days, he might as well see if Chan is still up.  

Chapter Text

Felix enters the kitchen, heading for the fridge to get a refill of mango juice for Hyunjin and himself. He’s spent a good part of the afternoon in Hyunjin’s studio again, watching the alpha paint from the window nook and listening to the quiet sound of brush strokes on canvas. It’s relaxing. It’s one of his favourite spots in the house, other than Jeongin’s room and his nest.

He’s just grabbed the juice from the fridge when he hears Chan’s voice from the living room, a low murmur. He can’t tell what he’s saying, but he walks over, figuring he might as well offer Chan some juice too.

As he gets closer, Chan’s voice becomes more clear.

“—to the right, love? Yes, there you go. You still comfy? Oh, perfect. Doing so well, I.N-nie.”

He frowns in confusion, and then as he reaches the archway, he freezes. Chan is sitting in an armchair, and Jeongin is on his knees in between his spread legs. For a second, Felix thinks he’s walked in on a blowjob. But then he realises that Chan is fully clothed, and Jeongin’s eyes are glassy, and his blood turns to ice.

This isn’t sex.

This is much, much worse.

Jeongin is in subspace.

Felix’s lungs tighten, and he can’t breathe. Chan sent Jeongin into subspace, and Jeongin is vulnerable, and Chan is going to… he’s going to—

“Go on then, pet,” Alpha says, in that same soothing, steady tone he’s used all evening.

Felix blinks at him, swaying and feeling miles away. He feels untethered, and Alpha’s voice is the only anchor he can find. He clings on to it desperately.

“You can do it for me, can’t you? I know you’re stupid, but you can do as Alpha says, yeah?”

The words make Felix feel cold, but Alpha’s tone is sweet, is kind, and he wants to be good. He wants to be good so badly. He nods, and Alpha smiles at him.

“Then get in. We’re going to play a little game.”

Felix’s limbs feel heavy and sluggish. He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to play a game. He wants Alpha to just hold him. To keep him warm, and let him rest, and tell him he’s good. But maybe he hasn’t been good enough yet. Maybe after he does what Alpha wants him to do, Alpha will hold him.

With effort, he clambers into the bathtub. His right foot accidentally hooks on the edge and he tumbles into it with a loud thump. Alpha clucks behind him, and Felix presses himself to the floor in apology. He’s been bad. Alpha will be angry.

“Alpha’s brought you a gift, pet.”

Alpha doesn’t sound angry. Very slowly, Felix lifts his head. Alpha isn’t angry. Alpha is holding out Felix’s favourite nesting blanket, and his scent is kind.

“Take it,” Alpha says, crouching next to the tub and holding it out to Felix.

Felix hesitantly holds out his hands, and Alpha places the blanket into them.

“You want to build a nest, pet?”

Felix nods, fingers itching in desperation. It has been so long.

“Words, omega.”

Felix flinches. He fights for control over his tongue. “Yes, Alpha.” His words are a little slurred. He’s never been good at talking when he feels like this, and he knows Alpha hates it.

But this time, Alpha smiles. “Alright then. Go ahead.”

Felix doesn’t wait another second. He spreads the blanket out on the floor of the tub, smoothing it out. It is the softest blanket in the house, and a tiny part of him warms at finally feeling it against his skin again.

Alpha snaps his fingers next to his ear so Felix will jump and look up at him, and he finds him holding out a pillow. One of the soft pillows, the ones that don’t have any hard ridges that hurt when Felix rubs his cheek against it.

Felix reaches out with a desperate little whine, and Alpha chuckles. “There you go. Even a useless little thing like you can’t fuck this up.”

Felix ignores the flicker of cold that splashes through him at the words and focuses on the tone instead. The tone, and the feeling of the nesting materials sliding soft and smooth through his fingers as he places them around him in the tub. Alpha is giving him a lot. Alpha is giving him so many this time, and he isn’t even taking any away, so maybe Felix really has been good. Maybe Felix will finally get to sleep in his nest, a real nest, a safe nest—

“Finished, pet?”

Felix looks up, pupils dilated, and nods. He sends Alpha a hesitant smile. “Good?”

Alpha raises an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ve been good?”

Felix blinks. His mind feels too slow to answer complicated questions. Alpha had spent so long sending pheromones at him, and everything is all fuzzy now, and he doesn’t quite understand what Alpha is asking.

Something in Alpha’s expression changes. “I said,” he repeats, leaning in. “Do you think you’ve been good?”

“Yes, Alpha?” Felix tries, stomach clenching. Alpha only gives him the soft blanket when he’s been good. So that means he has been, right?

“Does a good pet brag about being good?” Alpha asks, and Felix doesn’t understand the question but he understands that tone full well. That had been the wrong answer. Alpha is mad now.

“’M sorry, Alpha,” he mumbles, clasping his hands together. “I can be good. I can be good.”

“I know you can,” Alpha croons, leaning in to brush a finger across Felix’s cheek. Felix shivers, leaning in purely on instinct. He still feels so floaty, and it is scary, and if he can just touch something real, he might not fall this time. “Which is why you will stay right here until I tell you to come out.”

He gets to stay in the nest? Felix nods immediately. “Yes, Alpha.” He chases Alpha’s hand as it withdraws, until Alpha flicks him on the chin and Felix shrinks back.

“Alright then, pet.” Alpha smiles at him, and Felix smiles back, relieved to have been given a second chance.

Felix stares dazedly at the walls of his nest, stroking one of the pillows. He feels untethered, but the nest. The nest is real. The nest is safe.

There’s the sound of water.

For a moment, Felix doesn’t even know what is happening. And then the water soaks through his trousers, and he looks down. There is water in his nest. There is water covering his favourite blanket, and Felix panics, trying to sweep it off. But it isn’t working. There is too much water, and it just keeps coming, rising until it reaches Felix’s thighs. He whines, his head spinning. This is wrong. This is wrong, the nest had been safe, and now—

He whines helplessly up at Alpha, who has risen to his feet with a smile. “Isn’t that better, pet? All nice and clean?”

Felix sobs. The water is cold, and he shivers. “No. No, Alpha, please—”

Alpha leans closer, and all at once his scent shifts, going from sweet to furious in the blink of an eye. Felix’s vision swims, and he gropes blindly for something to hold on to, but there is nothing. There is nothing but emptiness as his mind slips and he falls, tumbling down and down and down—

Woodsmoke.

Woodsmoke, soft and worried and kind, curling around him in a tantalising offer of comfort. But he can’t, right, because he is falling, because Alpha will—

“Lix-ah?” someone asks in front of him, very softly. “Can you look at me?”

Felix’s breath hitches. The voice is kind. Familiar. Alpha’s voice had been kind before, but not… not like this. Not this kind. This is different.

“Can I touch you, Lix-ah?” the voice asks.

Lix-ah.

Alpha never called him that.

This isn’t Alpha.

He blinks, and very slowly, the room comes back into focus. There’s someone in front of him. Changbin. Changbin is there, brown eyes serious and concerned and full of the same kindness that’s in his voice.

“Hyung,” Felix gasps, reaching out a shaking hand. Changbin grasps it and draws Felix closer. Felix falls into him, dropping his forehead to Changbin’s shoulder. “Hyung.” His tears soak Changbin’s sweater, and he draws in desperate breaths of the beta’s scent.

Changbin hugs him close. “I’m here,” he murmurs, releasing more soothing woodsmoke. “You’re alright.”

Felix shakes in his embrace, and Changbin tightens his arms. It helps. It’s grounding. Changbin is warm, and Changbin is real. “You’re okay,” Changbin keeps saying. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

It takes a while for Felix to come back, to ground himself enough with the aid of Changbin’s touch and scent to remember where he is and what happened. The moment he does, his head snaps back up to look over Changbin’s shoulder. “Innie.”

“Innie is right here,” Chan says softly from the armchair, one hand resting in Jeongin’s hair. “Innie is fine.”

Felix stares. Jeongin’s eyes are still glassy. He is still in subspace. He is not fine. His breath quickens.

Changbin twists them around so Felix’s back is against his chest and they can both look out into the room. He hooks his head over Felix’s shoulder. “Can you look closer, Lix-ah? How does he look? What does he smell like?”

Felix’s hands clench. “He’s- he’s in—”

“I know,” Changbin says with a gentle squeeze. “But what does he smell like?”

Felix inhales, more because he needs the oxygen than to check Jeongin’s scent, but when he does, he gets his first good whiff of Jeongin’s pheromones.

There’s the unmistakable floatiness of subspace, but beyond that…

Peace. Contentment. Relaxation.

Felix blinks.

“Can you see how relaxed he is?” Changbin asks. “Hyung’s really good at those scalp scratches, right? Look, Innie is practically melting.”

Felix watches. Jeongin is melting, leaning into Chan’s hand, eyes half-closed. He looks relaxed. He looks happy.

“He is okay,” Chan says, still quiet. “I promise I would never hurt him, Felix.”

Felix looks properly at Chan for the first time, and feels a rush of shame. No. Of course Chan wouldn’t. Chan has never hurt anyone. Of course he wouldn’t hurt Jeongin. But Jeongin is in subspace, and to Felix, subspace is synonymous with pain. Those two notions, Chan being good and Jeongin being spaced by Chan, create a screeching, confusing paradox in his brain.

“He’s okay?” Felix whispers.

“Do you want to come closer and check?” Chan asks.

When Felix nods, fingers itching to reach for Jeongin and make sure he’s safe, Chan holds up a finger. “One second, please. Innie chose to do this here so he will have been okay with you seeing it, but if I’m going to bring you in, I want to check with him first.”

Felix stares at Chan, baffled.

Chan cups Jeongin’s cheeks. “I.N-ah?”

Jeongin’s eyes, which have been staring blankly at Chan’s thigh the whole time, flick up to Chan’s face. “Yeah?”

Chan doesn’t demand a proper greeting, and instead only smiles. “Hi, sweetheart. I have a question. I’m going to count you up halfway, okay? Only to five.”

He talks slowly and waits patiently until Jeongin has registered the words and murmured an agreement before continuing. “Good. One.”

“One,” Jeongin repeats, after a pause.

“Two.”

“Two.”

Chan counts Jeongin up to five, and whatever his counting had done, Felix can smell Jeongin’s scent sharpening even from here. Not completely, it’s still floaty, but it’s clear enough that Felix can tell Jeongin is more aware. “Good job,” Chan tells him. “Question: Binnie and Lixie are here. And Lixie got a little startled when he spotted us.” That’s an understatement, but Felix is glad for it. He doesn’t want Jeongin to panic the way he did, especially not while he’s down. He is agonisingly familiar with how terrible that feels. “Can he come closer to see that you’re okay?”

“Lixie.” Jeongin tries to turn his head, but Chan gently taps his cheek.

“Eyes on me, love. Answer my question, please? You can say no if you’d rather have privacy.”

Jeongin looks back at Chan. “Lixie can come.”

Chan smiles. “Alright. Good job, Innie.” Jeongin smiles back, and Chan beckons Felix over.

Felix hesitantly steps out of Changbin’s arms to move to Jeongin. “Hey, Innie,” he says softly, lowering himself to his knees.

Jeongin beams at him, eyes wide and glassy. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” Felix asks, taking Jeongin’s hand and bringing his other hand up to brush through Jeongin’s silky black hair.

Jeongin hums, leaning into the touch.

Felix breathes him in. Jeongin smells happy. Content. Vulnerable and open, but peaceful.

“How’re you feeling, I.N-ah?” Chan asks. He’s shifted to the edge of his seat, staying as close as possible without fully getting up. “Can hyung get your colour?”

“Green,” Jeongin sighs happily, rubbing his cheek against Felix’s wrist. “Lixie smells good.”

Changbin laughs from the archway, and Felix flushes. Chan smiles. “Do you wanna come back up? Or stay like this for a bit?”

In answer, Jeongin merely curls into a ball and lets himself fall against the chair right in the spot between Felix’s body and Chan’s legs. The chair is a little farther away than Jeongin anticipated and Chan’s hand comes down to his shoulder, pulling him back against his legs to make sure he doesn’t fall. “Alright,” Chan says softly. “Let me know when you wanna come back, Jeonginnie. No rush.”

Jeongin hums, and tips his head against Felix’s arm. They sit like this for a while, long minutes passing as Felix’s heartbeat slowly calms down with every deep breath of Jeongin’s peaceful scent. Felix strokes Jeongin’s hair, some of the cold leaving his body. Jeongin is here. He’s safe. Felix won’t let him fall.

Eventually, Jeongin sighs, “Up, hyung.”

“Alright, love. Gonna count up to ten this time. Move your fingers for me.” Chan holds his hand out and starts counting, and with every count, he waits for Jeongin to tap a different finger against his palm. As they get closer to ten, Jeongin’s scent and expression change into something more aware, more present, until at “ten” he blinks and gets rid of the last of the glassiness. He takes a deep breath in, and then looks up, taking stock of himself.

“How are you doing, Innie?” Chan asks, at the same time Jeongin turns to Felix.

“Hey,” Jeongin tells him, smiling at him. Then he spots the dried tear tracks on Felix’s face, and his face twists. “Oh no, Felix.”

“Innie. I need an answer.”

“I’m fine,” Jeongin says, shrugging Chan’s hand off his shoulder. He doesn’t take his eyes away from Felix. “Felix, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Are you?” Felix asks. “That was…” That was unexpected. He’s never seen Jeongin submit, aside from that one time with Minho in the kitchen, and that had been nothing like this.

Jeongin flushes. “Yeah. I don’t… do this often. Especially not here.” His eyes flicker to Changbin, who is still leaning against the archway, and his cheeks darken further. Still, he looks at Felix and continues. “But sometimes it’s… nice. Today I just… Hyung offered, and I thought, sure.”

“Because you were stressed,” Chan says. “I know you usually don’t want this, but I thought it might help.”

“It did,” Jeongin admits quietly. “Thanks.”

Felix hesitates. “It didn’t… It didn’t hurt?”

“No,” Jeongin says, looking a little sad. “Hyung would never hurt me.”

Fresh shame fills him, and he looks up at Chan. “I know. I know that, I just—”

“It’s alright,” Chan says. “I understand. I am really, really sorry you walked in on this without warning, Felix. That is my fault. I texted Hyunjin that we’d be down here, but I should have made sure he read the message. I apologise.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” Felix says. “I was just… You’re really okay?” That last question is directed at Jeongin again, who nods. “You won’t drop?”

Jeongin shakes his head. “Hyung wouldn’t let that happen.”

As if to prove it, Chan leans in for a thorough scenting. Jeongin pulls a face, but lets him do it. When he’s done, Chan looks at Jeongin and holds out a hand. “Do you want cuddles after?”

Jeongin immediately shakes his head, arms wrapped around his knees. “I’m good. This was enough. Thank you.”

Chan sighs. “Alright. At least let me get you some juice.” When Jeongin nods, he stands to move to the kitchen, pausing only to press a long kiss into Jeongin’s hair, accompanied by a burst of loving coffee. “Thank you, love, for your trust. You did well.”

Jeongin closes his eyes, and Chan leaves the room to join Changbin in the kitchen. When he’s gone, Jeongin looks at Felix again. “I’m so sorry, Lixie.”

“It’s okay,” Felix repeats, watching him. Jeongin looks… he does look fine. He smells fine. Like himself. And yet there’s a hint of tension in his frame that Felix doesn’t like. “Can I hug you?” That’s probably a stupid question, because Chan just asked and Jeongin refused, so why would he—

Jeongin shudders. “Yeah.” He lets himself fall into Felix before Felix even has the chance to open his arms. Felix shifts back so they’re both on the soft, fluffy rug in front of the couch, and tugs Jeongin down with him until they’re lying on their sides and Felix can fully wrap himself around him. Jeongin releases a long breath and slumps into him, scent flowing out again. Not subspace this time. Just ease. Felix breathes him in. Jeongin is okay. He shouldn’t have doubted that, but all he’d been able to see was Jeongin’s vulnerability, and the thought of what could happen had terrified him.

But Jeongin is fine. He’s relaxed and peaceful in Felix’s arms. Felix presses a barely-there kiss into his hair and clings a little tighter. Jeongin is safe.

*

Changbin and Chan watch from the archway as the two omegas curl into each other, cuddling up close on the rug.

“He’d never have let you do that,” Changbin says quietly.

“No,” Chan agrees. “He never has. Whenever I space him, he always locks himself in his room for the next few hours. He’ll let me check him over enough to make sure he’s okay, but then he wants to be alone.”

“And yet.”

They watch as Felix murmurs something into Jeongin’s ear and Jeongin relaxes further into him. “And yet,” Chan echoes, a soft smile on his lips.

“You fucked up, hyung,” Changbin says after a minute, because it needs to be said.

Chan’s smile vanishes. “I know.”

“He had… That was definitely not a normal panic attack. He wasn’t here. He was seeing something else.”

Chan swallows. “I know. I could see it. It’s just, you were already there and I thought me saying something might make it worse. I didn’t want Innie to panic either.”

Yeah. Changbin had walked into the kitchen just as Felix’s scent began to spike, and he and Chan had looked over at Felix at the exact same time. And he gets why Chan wouldn’t have wanted to risk alerting Jeongin to Felix’s distress in his spaced state. But Chan’s reaction to what happened is not what he meant. “No,” he says. “I didn’t mean during. I mean, you can’t do this, hyung. Not out in the open when he’s around and you haven’t made sure he won’t walk in. Not with something like this.” Because the look on Felix’s face… God. Changbin never wants to see him look like that again.

“I know,” Chan says. “I should have checked. I feel terrible, I’m really sorry.”

“Why on earth did you do it here?” Why now, of all times. Chan and Minho have never spaced Jeongin where the others could see. This is the first time Changbin has seen Jeongin in subspace, ever.

“I didn’t mean to. It’s just… Innie was so stressed, Bin. Enough that he agreed to be spaced the very first time I offered. I asked if he wanted to go to his room and he just dropped right at my feet.”

Changbin exhales. “Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s been stressed all term.”

“He missed some classes, with Felix’s drop. He said he was a little behind still.”

Changbin sighs, thinking back to that day in the garden, to the alpha who’d sent pheromones at Jeongin. Jeongin had promised him afterwards that it was only that one time, but… “He doesn’t have great classmates either, I don’t think.”

Chan scoffs. “He’s never had those, except for Beomgyu.” His eyes drift back to the two omegas on the rug. “He does seem more relaxed now, as disastrous a turn as it took at the end.” He grimaces. “I’ll talk to Lixie later, make sure he’s okay. God, he looked… To panic like that at the mere sight of subspace… I don’t even want to know what that bastard did to him.”

“I want to kill him,” Changbin says quietly.

Chan doesn’t speak, but Changbin knows he agrees.

“We know where he lives,” Changbin continues. “We could just go and do it. He’d be free.”

Chan sighs. “We’ve had that conversation before, Bin. I’ve had this conversation with all of you, multiple times. But the answer stands. Sure, we could kill him. But we have no right over Felix. According to the law, Park Kwang-ho never wronged us, and we have no right to dispense our own justice. If we killed him, it would be murder, we would be convicted, and Felix would lose us anyway. I’m not risking that. I’m not risking any of you, including Felix. If we do something and it fails, and that bastard learns where he is? I’d never forgive myself.”

Changbin remains tense for another ten seconds, and then he slumps. “Yeah. I know.”

Chan squeezes his shoulder. “He is safe here. We’ll keep him safe.”

“He’s ours now.”

Chan watches Felix for a long minute and then says, “We’re his. If he wants to be ours, it would be an honour. But we’re definitely his.”

Chapter Text

It’s the middle of the night by the time Minho finally manages to make his way down to Chan’s studio. He walks in without knocking, making Chan jump. When he sees who it is, he waves a hand and turns back to frown at something on his screen. “Hey. Sorry, I’m really busy. Last-minute edit. I would love for you to keep me company, but tonight I’m afraid I’m gonna have to—”

“Do you still want me to talk to you?” Minho interrupts without preamble. He can’t fault Chan for coming to that conclusion, not when he’s spent plenty of nights in this studio helping Chan relax and unwind in various ways, but he has no time for chitchat. He has spent all night talking himself in and out of doing this. If he allows Chan to brush him off now, he’s going to change his mind and never bring it up again. He needs to push through.

It takes a moment for his words to land, and then Chan freezes. He puts down his headphones and turns around. “You know I do.”

Minho nods tightly, and sits down on the edge of the couch. “Then I need you to listen and not interrupt me, or I’m going to walk right back out.” The words come out clipped and they sound angry, but he can’t help it. It’s not even meant to be a threat; it’s just a fact. He either tells Chan now, or he won’t tell him ever. He’s far too tense for politeness, and Chan is just going to have to deal with it.

Fortunately, Chan used to live in a dorm full of hormonal teenagers, and he’s seen and heard a lot worse. He merely nods, keeping quiet even now.

“When I was thirteen, I killed my friend,” Minho starts bluntly, jaw clenched.

Chan’s eyes widen in shock, but he says nothing.

“His name was Jaewoo.” Minho averts his gaze, staring at a coffee stain on the carpet. He tells the story. He tells it the way he told Felix, but this time mechanically, and without the tears. He just needs to get the words out. He just needs Chan to know who he is at his core, and let him decide if he still wants Minho to be pack or not. This is not about his feelings.

Felix said that Chan wouldn’t blame him. But Felix had forgiven Minho even after Minho nearly killed him, so Minho isn’t convinced his judgement counts for much in this case. And yet, the omega had still been right about something else; how sure can Minho really be that what happened in the mall won’t happen again? He thought he’d locked it away hard enough last time, and yet he clearly hadn’t. Felix is right. Minho has been deluding himself. It could happen again, and Chan needs to know.

“It was my fault,” Minho finishes flatly. “And that night in the mall, when Felix brought Jeongin back, I lost it. I was back in that alley, and I thought Felix was him. I lost control completely. That’s why I left. I’m dangerous, Chan. And I know I should have told you sooner. I shouldn’t have come back without telling you, and I understand if you think I shouldn’t be around any longer.”

He falls silent, still looking at the stain. There. Those were all the words he had prepared. It’s out of his hands now.

The silence stretches. Chan doesn’t say anything. He’d stayed quiet throughout everything Minho told him, the only signs of life Minho had gotten from him the spikes of shock and horror in his scent. Finally, after at least three minutes, Chan clears his throat.

“I’m going to hug you now,” he says, voice thick. “If you don’t want me to, tell me now.”

Minho slowly drags his eyes back up, confused. Chan isn’t crying, but he doesn’t look far off. He stands. His eyes don’t leave Minho’s face, but when Minho doesn’t say anything, he steps forward and pulls Minho to his feet. He scans Minho’s face one last time and then wraps his arms around him, crushing him to his chest. “I am so, so sorry.”

Minho stands there, arms dangling by his sides, feeling numb.

“I’m so sorry,” Chan repeats, swallowing. He’s clearly fighting back tears. “I’m so sorry you went through that, and I’m so sorry that clearly no one helped you the way they should have. I’m sorry you carried this on your own for all these years, and I’m sorry I didn’t see how bad it was.” He squeezes Minho so tightly that at any other time, Minho would complain about not being able to breathe. But if he’s completely honest, he’s not entirely sure what his body would do right now without Chan’s hold.

Chan doesn’t loosen his grip, but pulls his head back just enough to look Minho in the eye. His eyes are wet now, but fierce. “But if you think that I, that any of us, would kick you out over something that was in no way your fault, then you’re crazy. I would gut myself with a knife before I ever kicked you out, let alone over this. I love you. I am so, so sorry, Minho.”

“Don’t be,” Minho mumbles. “I just needed you to know. What I am.”

Chan’s hands clench tighter around him. “And what would that be?”

“A murde—”

“You’re not,” Chan growls before Minho can even get the word out. “You were a child, and this was done to you.”

“I did nothing,” Minho hisses. “I was right there, and I let Jaewoo be taken, and I did nothing. It’s my fault. His blood is on my hands.”

“It’s not,” Chan insists, fingers clenching in Minho’s sweater like he wants to shake him. “You—”

“And that doesn’t even matter,” Minho continues, taking a step back out of Chan’s arms. Cold immediately settles in his bones, and he suppresses a shiver. “Because whatever the fuck it did to my brain nearly made me kill Felix, and I could hurt any one of you next. I’m still dangerous. I shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet you are,” Chan throws back. “You came back. You swore you’d stay.”

“Yeah, and that was a mistake!” Minho spits, breathing hard. “Felix said it could happen again, and he’s right.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Chan says, softer this time. “So let me ask you a question. Why?”

Minho stares at him, still panting.

“Why did you come back? Why are you still here?”

What the fuck kind of question is that. He’d been in pain and he’d caved, is why. He’d been weak, and too cowardly to make the decision to snap the bond.

“You came back because you want to be here. Right?” Chan’s eyes are boring into him, sharp and piercing. “Because you love us, and you want to be part of this pack.”

“Hyung,” Minho growls.

Chan’s eyes flash. “Answer my question, Minho. Do you want to be part of this pack?”

Anger rushes up Minho’s spine, and he clenches his jaw. That’s a useless question. This is not about what he wants. “That’s not the fucking point.”

Chan glares harder. “That was not an answer.”

“My answer doesn’t fucking matter, Chan!”

“It does to me!” Chan snaps, scent lashing out. “Answer the fucking question, Minho! Do you want to be part of this pack, yes or no?”

Minho explodes. “Of course I do! This pack is the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me! But I don’t deserve it! I don’t deserve any of you, and none of you know what I really am, and—” He chokes on something wet, and only realises then that he’s crying. Goddammit. Furious, he swipes a hand over his eyes. “I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, and I’m only going to ruin you, because I’m- I’m—”

He can’t even see Chan anymore through the blurriness of his vision, and therefore doesn’t see Chan moving until the alpha’s arms are around him again, crushingly tight. “You’re ours,” Chan says, low and gravelly like he’s carving the words into stone. “You’re mine. And I love you. You’re mine to care for, mine to protect, and mine to love, and I want you here. I wanted you four years ago, and I want you now. I will always want you. You being part of this pack could never ruin us. We’d be ruined if you left.”

Minho breaks, too overwhelmed to speak, unable to do anything but sob into Chan’s shoulder. Chan’s arms are strong around him, and his scent is fierce and completely honest.

“You’re a good person,” Chan murmurs into his ear. “You’re a caring, loving, good person, and you deserve all our love and more. I love you. Let me help you.”

And Minho cries. He cries the way he swore he wouldn’t when he walked in here. The way he never had before Felix, and the way he never thought he would cry again; and yet here he is.

Chan holds him close, and gently pulls him over to the couch so he can tug Minho into his lap. “I love you,” he keeps saying. “You’re a good person. I love you.”

It takes a long time for Minho to calm down. Every time he thinks he’s done, Chan says it again, and more tears fall. He has no idea how much time passes before his body finally runs out of water. He doesn’t move away, just remains slumped against Chan’s chest, exhausted.

“I love you,” Chan whispers. “You deserve to be happy.”

Minho closes his eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

“I know,” Chan says softly. “And that’s okay. Let me help you.”

Minho doesn’t know if he can be helped. Doesn’t know if he even deserves to be helped. But he’s so, so tired of feeling this heavy. And Chan knows who he is now and still refuses to kick him out. Chan only held him closer. So eventually, he breathes, “Okay.”

Chan presses a long kiss into his hair and holds him closer still, and they sit in silence for several minutes.

Eventually, Minho opens his mouth. “I…” The sound cuts off, and he swallows.

Chan hums inquisitively, but doesn’t speak.

“If I’m going to stay,” Minho mumbles after half a minute, eyes still closed. “Then…” His throat closes.

Chan’s thumb brushes over his wrist.

“Then I think I need therapy.” The words are barely audible, but Chan merely rests his chin on Minho’s head.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m scared.” Minho would never have admitted this at any other time. But he feels liquefied, and like this, he can’t see Chan’s face, and Chan can’t see his.

“I get that. It’s scary.”

Minho swallows again. “But I’m more scared of it happening again. If I hurt you—”

“You won’t,” Chan says immediately.

“I hurt Felix.”

At that, Chan remains silent. He can’t argue against that. Minho had hurt Felix, and there’s no denying it.

Finally, Chan says, “Not actively. But I get what you mean. It must have been scary, losing yourself like that.”

Minho doesn’t say anything. Yeah. It had been. Not while it was happening, because he didn’t even know then. But after, looking down at Felix crying and shaking on the tiled floor of the mall and realising that he had done that... Yeah. That had terrified him. The thought of it happening again multiplies that fear by a thousand.

“I’m so proud of you,” Chan says.

Minho lets out a scoff.

“I am,” Chan insists simply. “For talking to me. I always knew there was something you weren’t ready to share. We all did.” He’s quiet for a while and then adds, softly, “I understand now, why it was so difficult to tell me. I’m so, so glad you did.”

Minho doesn’t reply; he has no idea what to say to that. But Chan doesn’t seem to expect an answer. Instead, he asks, “Do you want me to find you a therapist? Or do you want to do it yourself?”

“You,” Minho says. If he has to do it himself, he’ll end up never going.

“Alright.”

Minho remembers something. “Get Felix one too.”

A beat of confused silence. “Felix?”

“He said he wanted to go, but he has no money.”

“Aish.” Chan grimaces. “Yeah, no. We’ll get him one, if I can convince him to let us pay for it.”

Minho snorts. He still feels drained, but a little more at ease with the current topic of conversation. “Tell him it’s my prerequisite. I’m only going if he is. He’ll let you pay then.”

He can smell the faint amusement in Chan’s scent. “Devious.”

“Thanks.”

Chan smiles into his hair, and a new quiet settles over them. This one is lighter.

Minho waves a hand at Chan’s computer. “You had work.”

“Fuck work,” Chan says. “I was just trying to be polite, but Bin and Hannie loathe this client anyway. They’ll love the opportunity to send her an email to explain why her ridiculous list of edits couldn’t be finished a day before the deadline.”

That makes Minho smile a little too.

“I’m not leaving you alone tonight, Min. I’m gonna draw you a bath, and then I’ll take you to bed. We’ll stay in your room tonight.”

“I don’t want a bath,” Minho lies.

Chan isn’t fooled, but plays along. “Too bad. You’re getting one. It’s mandatory after crying.”

“I knew there was a reason I never cry,” Minho grumbles.

Chan smiles. “Come on, love.” Instead of setting Minho down, Chan simply stands with him in his arms, and Minho groans.

“At least put me down.”

Chan’s lips twitch, but he acquiesces. He slides his hand down to Minho’s though, and Minho lets him intertwine their fingers. Chan gives them a squeeze. “Let’s go.”

Minho hesitates.

“It’s two a.m. Everyone else is asleep. No one will see you.”

Minho sighs. Clearly he needs to work on his poker face, if Chan can read him that easily. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Chan squeezes his hand again, and then pulls him out the door and up the stairs.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin stares down in awe at the way Felix is clinging to him, nose buried in Hyunjin’s scent gland. No one has ever reacted to his scent this way. He knows the others love his scent, they’ve told him often enough, but this… this is something else. Felix’s thin fingers are tightly fisted in the cardigan Hyunjin had shrugged back on, like he would cry if Hyunjin pulled away.

The way he nearly does cry when Hyunjin tries to pull away.

Because they hadn’t discussed Hyunjin entering Felix’s nest, and that means he can’t stay the night. But the moment he had scented Felix, just wrist to wrist, Felix had swayed and drooped right over against his shoulder, and Hyunjin had panicked for a second before Seungmin mumbled, “Oh for the love of—” and shoved the omega into Hyunjin’s lap. And that’s where he’d stayed, for the past two hours, while they waited for him to wake up so they could ask what he wants to do. Because they can’t just invite Hyunjin into Felix’s nest for him, that would be terrible. They have to wait for him to wake.

Except Felix doesn’t wake up. Felix only slides deeper and deeper into sleep, until eventually Changbin sighs and says, “Let me carry him to the nest. Han-ah, stay close, I’ll shift him to your neck.”

But the second they try to move him, Felix whines in distress, scent spiking in panic, and Changbin lets him go immediately. “Oh god, I’m sorry. Felix, I’m sorry.”

Felix shivers and curls up closer in Hyunjin’s lap, and Hyunjin feels his world tilt on its axis. Because Felix trusts him. Felix barely even knows him, and yet—

“I hate you,” Jeongin tells him, rolling his eyes. And then, “Get in the nest.”

Hyunjin’s jaw drops. “Really?”

Jeongin sighs. “It’s not my nest. I hate being the one to make this decision. But Seungmin said he can’t be out of the nest for too long, and he’s clearly not gonna wake up anytime soon.” He looks to Seungmin for confirmation, who nods.

“He needs the nest. And for some unfathomable reason, he’s decided he needs you. So unfortunately for us, we’re stuck with you.”

Hyunjin beams at him. “This is the best day of my life.”

“And the worst day of mine. Get in the fucking nest.”

And so Hyunjin settles into the middle of Felix’s nest, which smells like Felix’s lovely fresh citrus but also like his packmates, and Hyunjin feels a part of himself knit itself back together. God, he’s missed them so much. The past two and a half weeks had been horrible. He has no idea how he ever lived without them.

He breathes in deeply, tipping his head back against a stack of pillows that were clearly freshly scented by all of them, and he wants to bury his face in it.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Changbin says, slapping something into his hand.

Hyunjin blinks his eyes open and stares down at his phone. “Huh?”

“You wanna waltz in here like an idiot? You get to tell hyung.”

All of the fuzzy softness drains out of Hyunjin’s body along with the colour in his face. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Seungmin says, looking far too pleased about this. “I’d say put it on speaker, but if you wake Felix, it’s no longer hyung you need to fear. I’ll murder you first.”

Hyunjin swallows and takes the phone. He unlocks it and scrolls to Chan’s contact. There he pauses. “Do I really—”

“Yes,” four voices echo at once. Even Jisung is grinning, and Hyunjin glares at him in betrayal.

Jeongin leans over and presses the button for him, and Hyunjin closes his eyes as he raises the phone to his ear.

“Hyunjin-ah!” Chan says as he picks up. “Did you go out? I thought you were in your studio, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Hyunjin tries to sound cheerful but also not talk too loudly in case he disturbs Felix. “Hi hyung! I’m… not in my studio.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I’m not whispering,” Hyunjin whispers.

Chan sounds baffled. “Where on earth are you?” Then his voice changes, and it flips to concern in the blink of an eye. “Are you okay? Can you talk? Are you safe?”

Oh, hell. “I’m safe. I’m home, I’m fine.”

“You swear?”

“I’m completely fine, I promise.” Not for long, probably, but for now that’s the truth.

Chan relaxes, and the bewilderment returns. “Then where are you, if you’re home?”

“Heh. So. Funny story.”

He falls silent, and after a few seconds, Chan says, “Are you going to tell me this story, or?”

Hyunjin really, really does not want to tell Chan the story. Like, he would rather leave his favourite brushes sitting in a cup of water overnight. He’d rather eat a hundred eggplants. He’d rather—

“Hyunjin,” Chan says, voice slowing into something flat and suspicious. “Where are you.”

Hyunjin gulps. “In- in the guestroom.”

It’s silent for a long minute. When Chan finally speaks, his voice is dangerously quiet. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that, because I thought you said you were in the guestroom.”

“I- I am. In the guestroom.”

“The guestroom we were both told to stay as far away from as we could get? The guestroom that’s currently housing a critically ill omega who could die from even the faintest whiff of our scents? That guestroom?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin breathes.

“I’m going to ask you one thing and the answer to this had better be ‘yes’. You’re in the guestroom because Seungmin asked you to come?”

Hyunjin takes a breath. “No.” And then he rushes, “But Felix texted me from Innie’s phone to meet him at the bathroom window and I didn’t know it was him until I went, but then I got there and he asked for my scent because he wanted to prove that he’d be fine so that we could all be together for my birthday, and so I gave him my cardigan to try it—but he’s okay, I promise, he’s fine, he liked my scent and he’s sleeping—”

“Hwang Hyunjin,” Chan interrupts, voice a low growl, “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

His voice rises enough that the others can hear him too now, and a corner of Seungmin’s mouth quirks up.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin says. “I was stupid.”

“Do you have a single braincell in your goddamn head?” And yeah. Chan is really mad. Hyunjin had known he would be. This would always have made Chan mad, but now, after nearly three weeks without the others and with whatever’s going on with Minho, Hyunjin knows Chan is hanging on by a thread. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hyunjin winces. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Two rules. Two fucking rules, Hyunjin. What were they?”

“Keep our scents away from Felix,” Hyunjin whispers.

“Right,” Chan snaps. “And the next?”

“Not enter the guestroom.”

“And what the fuck did you do?”

“Both,” Hyunjin confesses, shame-faced. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“It’s not fucking me you should be apologising to, is it? You risked his life, Hyunjin, do you even realise that or is there no room in that empty fucking—” Chan cuts himself off, breathing heavily, and Hyunjin doesn’t need to see him to know how he looks. “How is he?”

“He’s fine,” Seungmin answers before Hyunjin can say anything. “I need you to keep your voice down a bit because he’s sleeping and while I appreciate your anger more than I could ever put into words, I can’t risk Felix hearing it, not after what he thought last time.”

“No,” Chan agrees, sounding strangled. His voice grows quieter, and Hyunjin puts him on speaker. “No, of course not. I’m sorry, Minnie. Shit, I’m—”

“He’s okay, hyung,” Seungmin says softly. “Hyunjin scared us half to death, but Felix’s body accepted his scent seamlessly. He’s completely fine, and he’s sleeping. This is, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this is turning out to be a good thing. It means he’s recovering a lot quicker than I was expecting.”

Chan lets out a long breath. “Jesus Christ. This could have—”

“I know,” Seungmin says. “Believe me. I know.”

“Are you okay? The four of you?”

“We are,” Changbin answers, squeezing Seungmin’s shoulder. Hyunjin thinks of the way Seungmin broke down a few hours ago and wants to wilt in shame. He just really, really hadn’t been thinking, because Felix had sounded so healthy through the window. Hyunjin had heard him laugh, a quiet huff of air, and he’d just sounded so normal, like he was fine. And he’d mentioned celebrating Hyunjin’s birthday, and at that moment all Hyunjin had been able to think about was how nice that would be, if they could all celebrate it together, including Felix, and then surely even Minho would be there, because once he learned that Felix was fine he would surely come back—

And he’d given Felix his cardigan without thinking twice about it, and he’d been a little nervous but Felix had been right, because he turned out to be fine, and Hyunjin had been so giddy. It was only after he’d rushed into the guestroom and Changbin had nearly tackled him to the ground to get him out of there that he realised that he should have told them, and it still hadn’t fully sunk in how dangerous his actions had been until Seungmin broke down in tears.

He feels terrible about that. He never wants to see Seungmin like that again.

Felix stirs against him, scrunching his face up at the change in Hyunjin’s scent, and Hyunjin quickly makes sure his scent is calm. If he wants to make it up to Seungmin, the last thing he needs to be doing is waking Felix up.

“Hyunjin,” Chan says, making Hyunjin startle. “I’m going to need you to come back here. Clearly, we need to have a talk.”

Hyunjin winces. “Um.”

Changbin sighs. “He can’t, hyung. He scented Felix, and we need him here tonight.”

It’s quiet for a second, and somehow that silence is louder than all of Chan’s cursing. Hyunjin swallows hard, because he knows exactly how Chan must be feeling. Because the thought of it being the other way around, of Chan being the one to get to spend the night with their pack and Hyunjin being all alone in the house, makes him want to cry.

“Right,” Chan says eventually, very quietly. “Of course.”

“Hyung,” Hyunjin says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

It’s not. It’s not fine, and they all know it. Jisung sends a concerned glance at Changbin, and Changbin gestures. “Pass me the phone.”

Hyunjin hands Changbin his phone. Changbin turns it off speaker and brings it to his ear. “It’s just me. You’re off speaker. Yes. I know.” He steps out of the nest. “With Seungmin’s permission, we’ll send Jinnie back out tomorrow morning. Until then, here’s what you are going to do.” He laughs, heading for the bathroom. “Nice try. No. You are going to—”

His voice fades as he clicks the door shut behind him, and they all look at each other. Chan is going to be okay, Hyunjin knows. Changbin is good at wrangling him into taking care of himself. But he still feels incredibly guilty. For doing this to Chan, for scaring the others. For risking Felix. He knows he fucked up, he knows that now.

He quickly checks back in to make sure his scent is nothing but calm and soothing, and feels Felix relax further into him. It’s only once he does that Hyunjin holds him tightly and bows forward. He makes sure Felix’s head doesn’t move away from his scent gland, but he lets his own head and upper body drop into the deepest bow he can manage like this.

“Seungmin,” he says to his lap. “I am very, very, very sorry. To all of you, but mostly to you. I should never have done what I did. This is not me asking for forgiveness—this is just an apology. I was stupid, and dumb, and I fucked up. I have no excuses. I love you, and you did not deserve that. I am sorry.”

It’s quiet after he speaks. Hyunjin doesn’t move, trying hard not to cry. He’ll hold the bow for a while, to make sure Seungmin knows he means it. He won’t wait for Seungmin to respond, because this was not about getting Seungmin’s forgiveness, but he’ll hold it for long enough that—

There are hands on his shoulder, and a whiff of sage. “Get up,” Seungmin grumbles. “Jin. Get up.”

Slowly, Hyunjin rises again, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “Minnie.”

“Don’t ever, ever do something that stupid again. I am not the bad guy here—I set those rules for a reason. He was really, extremely sick, Hyunjin. Those first days...”

“I know,” Hyunjin says, fresh regret welling up in his chest. His eyes burn, and he quickly shuts them so he won’t cry. “I’m sorry.”

“Except you don’t know,” Seungmin sighs, “Because none of us shared the worst parts when we talked to you. Perhaps we should have.”

“I won’t ever not listen to you again,” Hyunjin vows. “From now on—”

Seungmin snorts. “Liar.”

Hyunjin grabs his hand, eyes wide. “No, I will listen. Anything you say. I will really, really...” He slows as he sees the keen glint in Seungmin’s eyes. “...try to follow your orders, when they’re reasonable and don’t involve terrible fashion choices.”

At that, Seungmin laughs out loud, and Hyunjin feels relief surge through him.

“I hate you,” Seungmin says, before leaning in to hug him close. Felix makes a soft contented sound as Seungmin’s scent washes over him, and Seungmin buries his nose in Hyunjin’s other neck gland.

Overwhelmed by relief, Hyunjin wraps his free arm tightly around Seungmin and breathes him in.

“Oh, good,” Changbin says as he opens the door and walks back into the room. “Jinnie is still alive. Wasn’t quite sure he would be when I left.”

Jeongin huffs out a laugh. “He had the sense to apologise.”

“I fucked up,” Hyunjin agrees softly, leaning back into the pillows as Seungmin slides down on his stomach, still half on top of him and Felix. He looks at Changbin. “Is Channie-hyung okay?”

Changbin sighs. “He will be. I’ll call him again tonight, we’re gonna watch a movie. You’re still going to have to talk to him tomorrow, Jinnie.” He looks to Seungmin. “If he can leave then, that is.”

“I think so,” Seungmin mumbles into Hyunjin neck. “I’ll call Hongjoong-hyung later. Don’t tell Channie-hyung yet, but I think we’ll get to see him soon.”

Changbin exhales in relief. “Oh, good. He misses us a lot.”

“He does,” Hyunjin says quietly. “I deserve him yelling at me, for more than just risking Felix. I owe him an apology too.”

Changbin’s eyes soften. He climbs back into the nest and brushes their wrists together. “You’re an idiot,” he says, but his voice is fond. “But you’re our idiot. I know you meant well.”

Hyunjin sends him a small, relieved smile. When Changbin lowers his wrist, he picks up Felix’s to repeat the process, and Hyunjin can smell Felix’s scent bloom open even further.

“This is not fair,” Jisung says, watching the way Felix melts into Hyunjin. “I was supposed to get to hold him tonight. It was my turn.”

Hyunjin laughs. “Clearly he likes me better.”

Jisung’s jaw drops in outrage. “He doesn’t like you better!”

Hyunjin cocks his head, grinning. “Doesn’t he? He nearly cried when you tried to take him away from me, Sungie.”

Jeongin makes an irritated sound. “He is a person.”

“A person with fantastic taste, who realised immediately that he should like me best.”

Jeongin’s eyes narrow, but before he can say anything, Seungmin pushes himself up, grabs both Jeongin’s and Jisung’s wrists, and presses them against Hyunjin’s scent glands. It takes the two of them a second to catch on, but then they release a flood of pheromones that rushes into Hyunjin’s system and steals all the air from his lungs. “Any further comments?” Seungmin asks pointedly.

“Hngh,” Hyunjin says eloquently as he sinks bonelessly into the pillows. His brain liquefies as their scents course through him, and he wants to drown in them. He doesn’t need oxygen. He needs this, only this, for the rest of his life.

“Damn, that worked fast,” Changbin comments. “He hasn’t been scent drunk in years. Maybe we need to try harder more often.”

Seungmin lets out a quiet laugh, and Hyunjin would normally protest, but his arms have gone slack and he has no idea where his tongue went. When Changbin and Seungmin add more of their own scents, Hyunjin feels like he could cry. Their scents haven’t felt this intense in years. Ever, maybe. He has missed them so much. A single tear spills over and he feels Changbin brush it away before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jisung raises Hyunjin’s wrist to his own neck to scent himself and then pillows his head on Hyunjin’s thigh, and Jeongin follows. They all curl against him, and Hyunjin closes his eyes, just taking. Just feeling, their presence and their scents and that spot in the back of his mind where their bond lives.

I love you, he thinks. He tries to say it, but he doesn’t think he succeeds. But he thinks it, very very hard. The bond does not work that way, but who knows. Maybe they’ll hear it anyway.

“Love you,” Jisung mumbles, and Hyunjin smiles. Success, he thinks vaguely, before letting all thought drift away.

Chapter Text

Hyunjin relaxes further into Minho’s side as he watches Peter Parker web Falcon and the Winter Soldier to the ground.

It’s date night, and it’s one of the rare nights when they’re all home and no one is working. More specifically; when 3RACHA isn’t working, because neither he nor Minho are crazy enough to work until six in the morning. But their music is finally taking off, and he doesn’t blame them for wanting to ride the attention wave while it’s still there. He doubts the attention will disappear anytime soon, they’re far too good for that, but the three of them aren’t sure about that, so they’ve been working day and night on their next album.

He grabs a handful of popcorn, enjoying the way their scents mingle in the room. The way they do in every room, really. Aside from Minho’s tiny apartment, he’s never lived in a house that smells like home. But their house does, and it’s wonderful.

His phone buzzes beneath him, and he digs it out from where it has slipped between his body and Minho’s. He checks the caller ID and his heart skips a beat.

Incoming call:
⁺˖ ☆ Fox Boy!! ☆˖⁺

For a moment he gets excited, and then he frowns. It’s one in the morning, and just yesterday, Jeongin had refused to even acknowledge his existence.

Without waiting another second, he leans forward to press pause on the movie. There are immediate protests from Changbin and Jisung, but he ignores them. He tries to swallow his mouthful of popcorn and answers the call. “Jeongin-ssi?”

“Alpha,” Jeongin whines in his ear, and Hyunjin promptly inhales a lingering popcorn kernel. Choking, he slides off the couch, trying to muffle his coughs in his sleeve so he can still hear Jeongin speak.

“Alpha, I’m yours, right?”

What.

“What,” Hyunjin wheezes, as Changbin unhelpfully slams him on the back.

“Alpha, please,” Jeongin whines again, words slurring, and Hyunjin’s brain short-circuits.

“What is it?” Chan asks, alarmed at whatever expression he can see on Hyunjin’s face right now. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m yours. Your omega. An’ I love you.”

Hyunjin’s jaw drops, and his fingers tighten in the rug. “You—what?”

“You’re mine, right? My alpha. You’ve claimed me.”

Hyunjin checks the screen again to make sure it’s Jeongin. Fuck. What the fuck. He’s used to Jeongin ignoring him, or tossing insults at him, but now… Jeongin sounds needy, and whiny, and wrecked.

He shakes his head to clear it. Something is wrong. “Jeongin-ssi,” he says again, ignoring the whiny ‘alphas’ Jeongin is crooning into his ear. “What’s going on? Are you in subspace? Are you dropping?”

“Dropping?” Minho straightens. “Is he safe?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin hisses. “He’s calling me alpha.”

He has everyone’s attention now, concern edging onto their faces.

“Alpha, ‘m puttin’ you on speaker. Tell her me an’ Gyu are yours.”

And with those words, Hyunjin’s brain comes to a screeching halt. Oh. This is far, far worse than dropping.

He probably only freezes for a fraction of a second, but it feels like ages, enough time for a bucket of ice water to plunge through his veins and set his system pumping with adrenaline.

“Hi, baby,” he purrs, voice low and seductive. “Alpha’s missed you.”

Chan looks horrified, and Jisung’s mouth drops open in shock. Minho looks like he wants to strangle him, but Hyunjin ignores this and puts the phone on speaker. “Record this phone call,” he hisses at Chan, covering the receiver for a second.

Chan blinks, and then his face drops and he dives for his phone.

“Where are you, baby?” he asks Jeongin. “Alpha’s looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

Changbin stares at him. “Hyunjin, what the fuck are you—”

“We’re yours, right? Me an’ Gyu?”

“You don’t have an alpha,” a girl sneers in the background, and Hyunjin’s blood runs even colder.

“Oh fuck,” Changbin breathes, paling.

“Yeah we do!” That is Jeongin’s friend. Hyunjin recognises his voice. “We have FIVE alphas!”

“Yeah!” Jeongin yells.

They’re drunk. They’re both drunk, and they’re being harassed.

“Of course you’re mine,” Hyunjin vows in a low, possessive growl.

Minho leans forward. “Is someone trying to take what’s ours?” His voice comes out dark, and Hyunjin’s eyes shoot towards him in gratitude.

“Hi alpha!” Jeongin’s friend says. Gyu. Beomgyu.

“Oh, hi pet,” Hyunjin croons. “Where are you, darling?”

“Starlight!” Beomgyu replies brightly, before whining, “Stop touching me.”

Hyunjin jumped up the moment Beomgyu mentioned a place, but at those next words he sees red. “Listen, bitch, whoever you are, get your fucking hands off our omegas.”

“You do not want to mess with this pack,” Chan agrees, voice an angry rumble.

Jisung and Changbin join in as well, alternating between sweet-talking Jeongin and Beomgyu and cursing at the alpha stranger. All the while, they hurry towards the garage, not even bothering to grab coats.

“Should we call the police?” Jisung asks nervously as he follows Hyunjin into the backseat.

“Don’t bother,” Minho growls. “Calls like these are so low-priority for them they won’t get to that club before sunrise.”

“It’s in Itaewon, right?” Chan asks, starting the car.

There’s a loud cry from the other end of the line and then it goes muffled.

“Jeongin? Jeongin!” Hyunjin calls, heart shooting to his throat. “Fuck. Fuck, he’s not answering.”

“Did he hang up?”

“No, but I can’t hear anything.”

Chan curses loudly and floors the car, pressing them all back into their seats as it shoots out of the garage.

“Jeongin!” Hyunjin calls again. “Beomgyu!”

No response. Damn it.

“We should have taken two cars,” Changbin says tightly. “If she’s taken them—”

“We’ll find them,” Minho says, and it’s a vow. He’s sitting in the passenger seat next to Chan, and he’s paler than Hyunjin has ever seen him.

“She sounded young, the alpha,” Chan says. “If she’s a student too, she probably won’t have a car to take them anywhere. They can’t have gone far. Sung, get me a map of the area.”

“You’re driving,” Jisung says, but he’s already searching.

Hyunjin ignores them in favour of trying to get Jeongin or Beomgyu to respond. The call doesn’t drop; it’s still there, and he thinks he can hear voices, or maybe music, but it’s all muffled and he can’t be sure. Jisung passes his phone to Minho and then leans into Hyunjin to join his attempts, his scent sour with worry.

Around them, Chan, Minho and Changbin are planning their course of action. Hyunjin vaguely thinks he hears the words ‘knife in the trunk’, ‘chokehold’, and ‘police doesn’t have to know’, but he isn’t paying much attention.

It takes twenty gruelling minutes for them to arrive at the club, which would normally be a world record but is currently twenty minutes too long. They don’t even bother waiting for Chan to fully stop the car before they swing the doors open and jump out, eyes searching wildly for any sign of Jeongin.

Hyunjin scans the pavement in front of Starlight, which is crowded with lots of people, but not Jeongin. His heart sinks. He’s not here.

His phone is still pressed to his ear, but with the added noise of the nightlife around him, he can’t hear anything. He spins around, calling out. “Jeongin! Beomgyu!” Somewhere behind him, he hears Minho and Changbin do the same.

People stare at him, but he doesn’t care. He rushes forward, pushing through the crowd and then darting to the other side of the street. “Jeongin!” He looks around desperately, but he really can’t see him.

“Hyung?”

He whirls around, heart pounding.

Jeongin is sitting on the curb, a bowl of tteokbokki in his hands. Next to him Beomgyu is trying to fish out one of the rice cakes with his chopsticks, giggling every time he misses.

Hyunjin’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Jeongin.” He hurries over. “Oh my god.”

Jeongin’s face lights up. “Hyung! What are you doing here?”

Hyunjin crouches in front of him. “Are you alright? Both of you?”

Beomgyu shoots him a grin and a thumbs-up and drops one of his chopsticks. “Oops.”

“Where’s the girl who was harassing you?” He looks around. He has to check.

“Left,” Beomgyu says cheerfully. “Because we have FIVE alphas!”

“Yeah!” Jeongin giggles, high-fiving him and nearly knocking the bowl over into Beomgyu’s lap.

Hyunjin rubs a hand across his face as it finally starts dawning on him that they’re fine. That what they’d said on the phone had worked, and the alpha hadn’t stuck around. They’ve been fine all this time. Relief courses through him, strong and dizzying. They’re okay.

Beomgyu giggles loudly, and Hyunjin looks back at them.

They’re also wasted.

“Hyung,” Jeongin says, turning towards him and splashing tteokbokki sauce on Hyunjin’s sweatpants. “You’ve gotta try this, it’s sooo good.”

Hyunjin isn’t even mad. He laughs, relief making his head spin. “Is it?”

“Mm-hm,” Jeongin says emphatically, bringing a rice cake up to Hyunjin’s mouth. With his fingers. Hyunjin splutters as it smears across his lips, and Jeongin laughs. “Hyung, open.”

Hyung.

Helplessly, Hyunjin parts his lips, and Jeongin smushes the rice cake into his mouth. His fingers brush Hyunjin’s cheek as he retreats, warm and sticky with sauce.

Hyunjin chews on autopilot, watching the sparkle in Jeongin’s eyes in a daze. Is he dreaming?

“’S good, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You found them!” Jisung cries as he rushes up next to them, Minho and Changbin behind him. “Oh my god, are they okay?”

“They’re fine,” Hyunjin says, recovering and wiping his cheek. He lowers himself down on the curb next to Jeongin. “Having a great time, apparently.”

“The alpha’s gone?” Minho checks, as Changbin talks into his phone, presumably to Chan.

“Yup. I think they’ve just been here eating tteokbokki all this time.”

“Yes!” Beomgyu cries victoriously, having finally succeeded in spearing a rice cake onto his sole remaining chopstick. He jams it into his mouth and grins up at them. “Hi!”

Jisung’s shoulders shake with laughter. “Hi, Beomgyu-ssi.”

Beomgyu pouts. “Not ssi. Jus’ Gyu.”

“Hi, Gyu-yah,” Jisung corrects, and Beomgyu beams at him.

Some of the tension finally leaves Minho’s frame, and he lets out a rough exhale. “Fucking hell. You can’t do that, Jeongin-ssi.”

Jeongin’s eyes grow wide, and then glossy with tears. “You’re mad.”

To Hyunjin’s delight, Minho looks alarmed. “No. No, I’m not mad. Don’t cry.”

“You’re not?” Jeongin checks. Is his lip actually trembling?

“I’m not,” Minho sighs. He crouches down in front of them. “I was just worried. We thought you were hurt.”

“We’re not,” Beomgyu tells him with a decisive little nod.

“No,” Minho huffs. “So I gathered.”

Jeongin takes another piece of tteokbokki and offers it up on his palm, eyes still big. “For you.”

Minho stares at it. “What.”

Hyunjin bursts into laughter. “Just take it, or he’ll cry again.”

Very, very slowly, like Jeongin is going to claw at him if he comes too close, Minho leans forward to nip the rice cake from his palm. Like a fucking horse. It’s the best thing Hyunjin has ever seen him do. He’s going to treasure this memory forever. He’s going to paint it and hang it in the hall. He’s going—

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Minho says to him, voice flat and dangerous, “I’d strongly advise you to reconsider.”

Hyunjin swallows. Alright. Maybe he’ll just treasure it internally, very quietly.

Chan rushes up. “Are they okay?”

Changbin gestures, mirth in his eyes. “Fine, like I said. Just drunk.”

“Only a lil drunk,” Beomgyu says, holding up his thumb and pointer finger to indicate and losing his second chopstick in the process. “Damn it.”

“’S okay,” Jeongin says, looking into the bowl. “There’s no more left anyway.”

“Aww,” Beomgyu groans, pouting again.

“God, I think this just took ten years off my life,” Chan mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ.”

“Where did you even park?” Changbin asks, looking back.

“Definitely not somewhere legal.” He is staring at the two omegas, and even if he sounds exasperated, his eyes are filled with relief.

“Here,” Jisung says, returning with a couple of wet napkins. Hyunjin hadn’t even seen him go. “Let me clean your hands, Jeongin-ssi.”

“No,” Jeongin says, frowning. “If he’s not ssi then I’m not either.”

Jisung laughs, surprised. “Give me your hands, Jeonginnie.”

Jeongin’s smile is wide as he shoves his hands at Jisung. He lets him clean them off, and even lets him wipe away the sauce around his mouth.

Hyunjin watches, feeling warm and dazed and shocked. Sure, Jeongin is drunk and Hyunjin knows better than to take anything he says or does too seriously, but there’s still the fact that Jeongin trusts them enough to do this. He hadn’t trusted that alpha earlier. But he’d beamed up at Hyunjin the moment he laid eyes on him, and called him hyung.

He knows Jeongin is drunk. And yet, it sends a spark of hope dancing through him.

“What do you want us to do, Jeongin-ah?” Chan says, crouching down. “Should we call you a taxi?”

Jeongin shakes his head and leans forward, pupils dilated. “I want to go home with you.”

Chan blinks. Then clears his throat. “Home to the dorms, in our car. Right.”

Changbin is grinning. “Want us to drive you back, Jeonginnie?”

Jeongin mirrors Changbin’s expression with a grin of his own. “Yeah!”

“Alright,” Minho sighs, standing. “Let’s drop them off.”

Hyunjin rises and holds out a hand to Jeongin, who takes it without any hesitation. It’s less sticky now, but still warm. Hyunjin pulls him to his feet and Jeongin sways into him. “Oops.”

Hyunjin smiles. “That’s okay, Innie. Can you walk on your own?”

“Dunno,” Jeongin murmurs absently, seeming perfectly content to stand there with his forehead pressed against Hyunjin’s chest.

Hyunjin gathers all his strength and pushes him away, squeezing his shoulders to make it clear he’s not mad. He offers his arm instead. “Let’s go.”

Next to him, Changbin has helped Beomgyu to his feet, who looks just as drunk but at least a little more coordinated. Together, they make their way back to the car, and now Hyunjin can see what Chan meant by not somewhere legal. It’s half on the pavement and still partially blocking the road, and he can see Minho’s lips twitching in amusement.

Their car only seats five. But their plan of squeezing the four of them onto the backseat and having Jeongin and Beomgyu share the front quickly goes out the window when Jeongin dives in immediately after Minho, curling up close.

Minho’s face goes blank with surprise.

Beomgyu crawls in next, complaining at Jeongin to make room. Jeongin doesn’t even protest, just clambers into Minho’s lap and relaxes back against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

Minho freezes.

“Oh my god,” Changbin cackles, holding the door for support. “Innie, you’re a fucking menace.”

Jeongin beams at him, and Changbin shakes his head, still laughing. He ushers Jisung into the car and then drags Hyunjin to the passenger seat, pulling him onto his lap.

“All buckled in?” Chan says, his eyes fixed on Minho and Jeongin through the rearview mirror. His words are laced with amusement, and Minho glares at him. “Alright,” he laughs. “Let’s go.”

The ride back is interesting. Minho is clearly doing his best to hold back his scent so he won’t cross any boundaries, but Jeongin merely buries his nose in Minho’s hoodie and makes a satisfied sound in the back of his throat. “You smell good.”

And honestly? Hyunjin is in awe of Minho’s self-control, because Minho merely hums and closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the seat.

Where Jeongin seems to get sleepier as they drive, Beomgyu is as wide awake as before, babbling happily at anyone who’s willing to listen.

“I had no idea you knew us so well, Gyu-yah,” Changbin comments after Beomgyu tells Jisung that he likes chocolate ice cream too.

“Innie talks about you a lot,” Beomgyu says cheerfully.

“Does he now?” Hyunjin asks, perking up.

“Mm-hm.”

“Don’t,” Chan tells him flatly from the driver’s seat. “Jeongin told him that stuff in confidence. We’re not meant to hear it.”

Hyunjin slumps. Yeah. He knows Chan is right. But god, what he wouldn’t pay to hear what Jeongin thinks about them. What he’s told Beomgyu.

But while Chan can stop them from asking questions, he is clearly helpless against Beomgyu’s drunken oversharing.

“He thinks you’re hot,” Beomgyu says, poking Hyunjin in the neck through the gap in the headrest.

Hyunjin’s head snaps around so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t break his neck. “What?”

“You’re hot,” Beomgyu repeats. “Innie said your hair is pretty.”

Oh my god. Oh my god. Hyunjin lights up, his scent spreading through the car in joy. From Minho’s lap, Jeongin stirs, turning his face just enough that he can sniff the air. He inhales and relaxes further against Minho’s chest, and Hyunjin wants to melt into a puddle on Changbin’s lap.

“Babe,” Changbin tells him, amused.

“He thinks I’m pretty,” Hyunjin whispers, awed. “He likes my scent.”

Changbin shakes with laughter beneath him. “I know.”

Hyunjin hides a squeal in Changbin’s bicep, and Changbin presses a grinning kiss to his hair. He can’t believe it. Jeongin had talked about him. And not just to curse him out.

“Which building is it?” Chan asks next to them. Hyunjin looks up. They’re nearing campus.

He pulls himself together. “3B. It’s over near the—yeah, take a left here.”

Chan pulls up on the parking lot near the omega dorms and turns off the engine. For a second, they look at each other, not quite knowing what to do.

“We’re not allowed in,” Hyunjin says.

“And he may not want us to drop them off,” Minho adds. “Not the four of us, anyway. We’re alphas.”

“I’ll do it,” Changbin says. “In the eyes of society, I’m pure and level-headed.”

“There’s nothing pure about you,” Jisung grumbles, but he slides out of the backseat so Beomgyu and Jeongin can get out. Hyunjin and Changbin exit too.

“Alright,” Minho says when Jeongin does not move. “We’re back at your dorm, Jeongin-ah.”

Jeongin whines and burrows closer into Minho’s warmth.

Minho tries to disentangle himself and frowns. “What the hell.”

Hyunjin laughs, peering into the backseat. “He’s like a koala.”

“Jeongin-ah,” Minho sighs. “Let go.”

“Warm,” Jeongin mumbles, hugging Minho closer.

Minho tries to look exasperated, but he’s not fooling anyone. He just looks fond.

In the end, Minho simply slides out of the car and lets gravity do the work. Jeongin’s drunken limbs are nowhere near strong enough to maintain his body weight, and he slumps dizzily into Changbin’s waiting arms. Changbin cheerfully slings one of Jeongin’s arms around his shoulder and drags him off. “Say goodbye to your new favourite hyungs, Innie.”

“Bye hyungs,” Jeongin mumbles, clearly already half asleep.

Beomgyu is still energetic, and pokes Jeongin’s cheek before skipping along Changbin’s side to the door.

Hyunjin watches them disappear inside. His heart feels three sizes too large.

Just yesterday, Jeongin had hated him. Had refused to say a word in response to what Hyunjin was saying, merely glaring at him or looking at his textbooks until Hyunjin left. Hyunjin had thought he tuned him out completely, like he did every time. But Beomgyu knew things he could only know if Jeongin had been listening, and had been listening closely enough to then talk about it to Beomgyu afterwards.

And tonight… some instinctive part of Jeongin trusted them. Trusted them a lot, if the way he’d fallen asleep on Minho was anything to go by.

Just yesterday, Hyunjin had thought that maybe they should give up. Jeongin hadn’t outright told them to stop, and sometimes he even seemed to enjoy snarking back at them, but they still didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

But now… that little spark of hope in Hyunjin’s chest grows a little brighter. They’re not there yet. Jeongin isn’t ready. But maybe someday, he will be.

They can wait for him.

Chapter Text

“Hyung?” Jisung asks quietly, fidgeting with the cuffs of his pyjama sleeves.

Minho turns around, toothbrush in his mouth. “Huh?”

“Can we sleep in your room tonight? Just us?”

Minho watches him, mouth foamy, and then bends and spits. “Yeah, Sung-ah. We can.” He hesitates. “Felix will be fine?”

Jisung nods, relaxing. He’d already checked with Seungmin, and then he’d asked Felix if it was okay if he and Minho didn’t sleep in the nest tonight, and Felix had immediately tripped over himself to apologise for being so clingy and to reassure Jisung that of course that was okay, he didn’t need to ask, and then Jisung had to hurriedly apologise for making Felix think that they didn’t want to sleep in his nest because they did, it’s just that Jisung had missed Minho and he wanted just one night but they would be back tomorrow because he likes sharing Felix’s nest—

And all in all, there had been a lot of back-and-forth apologies before they both came to the conclusion that neither of them was angry or hurt and they were okay. And Felix let Jisung hug him after that, and he smelled happy, so Jisung thinks they’re fine.

He just wants one night alone with Minho, to reassure himself that Minho is really back.

It’s been three days since Minho returned, and they haven’t had much time alone yet. That’s okay, because everyone has missed Minho and Jisung loves that they’ve been spending time with the entire pack, he really does. He needed that time with all of them. But now he needs a night that’s just for the two of them, and Minho seems to understand that, because he doesn’t even ask why.

“You ready?” Minho asks after finishing his bedtime routine, and Jisung nods again. He’s already dressed for bed, he’d just been waiting for Minho to come upstairs. “Alright. Come on.” Minho holds his hand out and Jisung takes it, swinging it between them as they walk around the stairs to Minho’s bedroom.

The room doesn’t smell stale anymore. Jisung came here often when Minho was away, just to try and get a whiff of his scent, but it had faded quickly and then after that it just made him sad. Chan had sat with him a few times, and Changbin had collected him once by slinging him over his shoulder and tossing him into the bath he had drawn, but Jisung kept coming back, unable to help himself.

He missed Minho so much it ached. He would have missed all of them, it’s not that he loves Minho more. But there’s something about Minho that hits a spot in his brain that none of the others quite manage to reach, and he just… missed him.

As if reading his mind, Minho turns to him. “Do you need me to—”

“No,” Jisung says hurriedly, “I’m fine. I just wanna be close, that’s all.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Minho scans his face, but nods. “Okay.” He nudges Jisung towards the bed and turns to grab his laptop.

Jisung sits down. The bed smells like Minho again, even if he hasn’t slept here yet. He must have come up here during the day to re-scent the space. Jisung lets himself fall backwards onto the sheets, giving an instinctive little wiggle to get his scent on the sheets too.

“Quit your worm impression and scoot over,” Minho says, standing next to the bed with his laptop under his arm.

Jisung smiles up at him. “But I’m your favourite worm.”

Minho snorts. “That’s a low fucking bar to pass, Jisung-ah.”

“But I am, right?” Jisung grins.

“Yes,” Minho says with an eyeroll, but his voice is fond. “If I had to choose between all of the worms I apparently like so much, I’d pick you.”

“Yesss,” Jisung says, like he’s won a great prize. He pumps his fist lazily in the air, and then yelps as Minho nearly shoves him off the bed. “Hey. I’m your worm.”

“Worms don’t belong on my bed,” Minho tells him, but one of his fingers is hooked into Jisung’s waistband to tug him close again.

Jisung pulls his legs up so Minho can draw the blanket over them, and cuddles close. He rests his cheek on Minho’s chest and breathes him in. Ocean. Fresh and clean and healthy. Not a hint of staleness or mustiness anywhere.

Minho wraps an arm around him and rests his hand on the back of his neck.

“Hyung,” Jisung mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna watch a movie.”

“Okay.”

Minho plays silently with the hair on the back of Jisung’s head, and Jisung closes his eyes. He just wants this. For Minho to be here, warm and solid and real. For Minho to stay, right here beneath him, and not ignore him and not shut him out. He sniffs.

“I know, jagi.”

And suddenly, he’s crying. Minho rolls him further onto his chest and holds him close, and lets Jisung soak his shirt with tears. “You left,” Jisung cries.

“I know.”

“And you didn’t talk to me.”

Minho sounds pained. “I know.”

“I thought—” I thought you hated me.

“I don’t. I could never.”

And rationally, Jisung knows that. Knows that it was a stupid thought, a selfish thought even, to make this about him when Minho was clearly struggling with something much bigger. But his brain doesn’t always let him be selfless, and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it.

“I missed you.” He clings a little tighter. “So much.”

“I missed you too.”

“You love me,” he sniffs.

“Yeah,” Minho breathes.

Jisung knows Minho doesn’t say the words. Isn’t sure why, but he never has. They all know he loves them, anyone who has eyes can see that. But Minho never says it. But sometimes, Minho knows Jisung needs to hear it, and so they found a way, where Jisung will ask, and Minho will agree.

And it works. It works just as well now as it always does, especially when Minho pulls him closer to press a long kiss to his neck gland, sending a burst of fierce sea salt into his system. Jisung shudders into him, pressing his face into Minho’s chest. His nose is squashed and he can’t breathe, but just for this moment, he doesn’t care.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers. I love you, Jisung hears.

“Don’t leave again,” Jisung says, lifting his face just enough to speak, “Please.”

“I—” Minho swallows. “I won’t.”

Jisung catches the hesitation and pushes himself up so he can see his face. “Hyung.”

“I won’t,” Minho says again. “I’ll make sure I won’t need to.”

That’s… vague. Jisung frowns. “Why would you need to?”

Minho stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, but then says, “I’m not a good person, Jisung-ah.”

Jisung’s frown deepens. This again. It’s not the first time Minho has told him this. He said it before they started courting him, and while they were courting him, and he said it after they mated. Jisung doesn’t know if he’s ever said it to Chan or the others. He hasn’t dared to ask. Minho always sounds so… defeated when he says it.

Jisung doesn’t think Minho says it in the same way Jisung says it when he’s having an anxious day filled with insecurities. It sounds deeper, when coming from Minho. He just doesn’t know what to do about it, because it doesn’t make sense. “You are. You’re an amazing person.”

Minho is quiet. Then he whispers, “I hurt people.”

He sounds so small that Jisung feels his eyes well up again. “You don’t. You—with Felix, that wasn’t you.” He has no idea what happened that night, but he knows that for a fact. Because Minho isn’t the kind of person who hurts people. He’s known that for years, he’s never doubted it, not even when that night happened, and his faith was only confirmed when Felix told Minho the same thing in the dining room two nights ago. But for some reason Minho believes it’s true, and Jisung hates that.

When Minho doesn’t say anything, Jisung offers, “Talk?”

But Minho shakes his head, like Jisung expected, and so he lies back down to put his cheek on Minho’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Minho’s arms are still wrapped tightly around him, and somehow Jisung gets the sense that even if Minho doesn’t want to talk, Jisung is still helping. “I love you,” he tells Minho’s collarbone. “I want you to stay, because the past two months sucked and everything is better when you’re here. But I want you to want to stay too.”

Minho exhales and blows a lock of hair across Jisung’s forehead. “I want to stay.”

That soothes a lot of Jisung’s anxiety. Because he can tell that Minho means it. That whatever made him leave, he didn’t really want to, and he’s going to do everything he can to make sure it doesn’t happen again. He knows it’s not perfect. That Minho is… troubled, that there are things he can’t talk about. But that’s okay. Jisung will be there for him when he is.

He’s pretty sure Minho managed to tell Felix something, and that is reassuring too. Because Felix is sweet, and he’ll have given Minho just as much kindness as Jisung would have, he’s sure of it. He’s seen it, when Minho gave Felix that formal apology.

And if Minho told Felix, then maybe he’ll manage again, when he’s ready.

Clearly that isn’t tonight though, and Jisung burrows himself closer into Minho’s side. “I missed you,” he says again, because it’s true.

“I’m sorry,” Minho says again, and Jisung is sure that’s also true. “How’s your head?”

Jisung sighs. “Better now.” When Minho doesn’t say anything, he admits, “Lixie’s drop was hard.” Minho winces, and Jisung squeezes him tighter, because he did not say that to blame him. “It wasn’t just you though, hyung. Seungmin said he would never have dropped as badly if he hadn’t suppressed it for so long.”

Minho is silent for a while and then only asks, “It messed with your head?”

“A little bit.” Those first days, during which Felix had done nothing but scream, had been horrible, and Changbin had to calm Jisung down from a panic attack more than once. But after that... It had still been bad. But they’d been able to see improvement, and Felix had started to respond to their scents more, and Jisung had no longer felt so useless. It had even been relaxing sometimes, because Seungmin had vowed to him that Felix would recover just fine and Jisung trusted Seungmin, so he would just cuddle Felix until Felix smelled relaxed and as close to peace as they could get him.

He’s still a little scared that the drop will return, he can’t lie. He had no idea a drop could even get that bad, and it had scared him very much. But Chan and Changbin have been checking in on him a lot, and Chan offered to call his therapist for him, but so far Jisung hasn’t needed that. Especially now that Minho is back.

“I think I was mostly scared that you would drop too,” he tells him. That had been the biggest source of his anxiety after Felix started recovering.

Minho trails a hand down his back. “I wasn’t dropping. I never felt close to dropping.”

“But you were sick.”

“Just scent-starved,” Minho mumbles. “It felt weird. Itchy. Hazy. But I’m good now.” He snorts. “If you’re still worried, ask Kim Seungmin about it. He’s got like, a dissertation’s worth of notes on it.”

Jisung laughs, surprised and yet not at all.

“I’m fine, jagi,” Minho promises.

“Okay,” Jisung murmurs, rubbing his cheek against Minho’s shirt. They lie like that for a while, and it’s comfortable and warm and everything Jisung wanted.

Until suddenly it’s not, and he shifts restlessly. Thirty seconds later, he shifts again. Minho’s scent spikes in amusement.

“You’ve changed your mind about the movie, haven’t you?”

“Oh my god, yes, I’m so bored,” Jisung says in relief, sitting up, and Minho laughs.

And as Minho leans over to get his laptop from the floor, still chuckling, Jisung watches him, relief and joy and gratitude mingling inside of him. He is so, so, so happy Minho is back. And tonight, they’ll stay here, just the two of them, but tomorrow they’ll go back to Felix’s nest. And Jisung will make sure that Minho is hugged by every one of their packmates no matter how much he protests, so that he will realise that they all love him and that he is a good person, and then he won’t ever leave again.

He stacks pillows against the headboard and waits for Minho to sink into them before curling up close again. Yes, he thinks determinedly. Minho is staying. He’ll make sure of it.

Chapter Text

(age 4 (Jihwan is 7, Mingun is 2))

“Now me, appa!” Jeongin beams, stretching his hands out for his father to lift him up over the garden gate, where Mingun and Jihwan are waiting on the other side.

Appa, who is still next to him on his side of the gate, laughs and crouches down. “Not you, Jeongin-ah. You should not be running around in the forest. It’s not proper, and you could get hurt.”

Jeongin frowns. “But Mingun is littler than me and he gets to come!”

“Mingun is an alpha, pup. It’s different. We need to be a little more careful with you.”

Jeongin scowls. “But I’m stronger! Mingun said I hit harder than Jihwan, and he cried for super long last night!”

His father looks at his mother, who bites her lip and hides a laugh. “Sorry, alpha. We tried to talk about that.”

His father shakes his head. “That’s not your fault, jagiya.” He looks at Jeongin and clicks his tongue. “Such violence, Jeongin-ah. Why are you such a rambunctious little thing?”

Jeongin doesn’t know what rambunkus means, but appa doesn’t seem angry. He merely ruffles Jeongin’s hair and stands. Maybe it means strong. He beams and reaches up again. “So I can come, right?”

“No, pup. I already told you. It’s dangerous.”

Jeongin has no idea what on earth could be so dangerous about the forest that his father is fine taking Jihwan and Mingun along for a walk—Mingun! Who is little, and who can’t even hold chopsticks yet!—but not him. What, are there Jeongin-eating monsters in the forest? He wants to scoff, because there is no such thing as monsters. Halmeoni said so herself, and halmeoni is always right. “I want to come.”

His father’s voice hardens. “I said no, Jeongin.”

Jeongin stomps his foot. “It’s not fair. I wanna see the owls too!” He and Jihwan have been talking about it all week, about how they are going to find an owl pellet and pick it apart so they can see the tiny mice bones. And Jihwan said he is going to find one first but Jeongin knows he is way quicker and he can beat him, and he wants to come.

“Yeobo,” his mother says. “Can he really not—”

“It’s cold, Hyejin-ah. He could get sick. He needs a nap. And we talked about this. He needs to learn that he’s an omega, and that there are things he can’t do.”

Jeongin bristles. He can do it. And he isn’t tired, or cold! Mingun and Jihwan’s bodies are only a little bit warmer than he is and he is wearing the coat that uncle Dongmin gave him and it’s super warm. He stomps over to the gate. Fine. If appa isn’t going to help him, he’ll do it himself. It’s too high to just jump over, but he puts a foot on one of the wooden slats and starts climbing. Mingun beams at him when Jeongin hauls his upper body over the edge, and Jihwan cheers loudly.

Unfortunately, this draws the attention of his parents, who were talking behind him.

“Yang Jeongin!”

He’s snatched by the collar of his coat and dangles in the air for a moment before his father sets him down. “What did I just tell you?”

Jeongin feels angry tears gather in his eyes. “But it’s not fair!”

“I do not care if it’s fair! I said you can’t come; you’re not coming. That’s final.”

Jeongin screams in pure fury, and eomma kneels down at his side. “Jeongin-ah, ssh.”

“No!” Jeongin screams. “I wanna come, I wanna come, it’s not fair!” He screeches, loud and high-pitched, and his father grabs him by the scruff of the neck.

“Yang Jeongin. Behave right this second, or I’ll put you over my knee right here.”

Jeongin opens his mouth to scream again, but then remembers the last time he tried to call his father’s bluff, and clenches his jaws together. The last time they were at the playground, and stupid Kim Yujun laughed at him for an entire week when appa spanked him and made him kneel next to the bench.

“That’s what I thought. What on earth has gotten into you, good god.”

“It’s not fair,” Jeongin sniffs, his father’s hand still around the back of his neck.

“It doesn’t have to be. You’re staying home and that’s that. Now behave. If I get back and hear your mother has had any more trouble with you, I’m having words with you.” He squeezes the nape of Jeongin’s neck and then lets him go.

Jeongin glares up at him through tear-filled eyes. “I hate you,” he cries, and turns to his mother.

“Jeongin,” his mother gasps, but Jeongin has already buried his face in her skirt.

With his face hidden, he doesn’t see how for a second, his father looks stricken. But then he sets his jaw, and steps over the gate. “Hyungie not coming?” Mingun asks, voice small.

His father murmurs an answer, but Jeongin has pressed his hands over his ears so he’ll no longer have to hear him. It’s not fair. A hand lands on the back of his head to stroke his hair, and he presses his face harder into his mother’s lap as he cries hot, angry tears into her dress.

“I know, baby,” his mother tells him when he finally lowers his hands. “I know you wanted to go.” There’s pain in her eyes, but Jeongin can’t see that either. He fists his hands in her skirt and cries. “Ssh.” She picks him up and stands, and he buries his face in her neck and sucks in her scent in wet little gasps. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. We’ll go back inside and we’ll make some bungeoppang together. How does that sound, hm? Just you and me?”

“I w-want an owl p-pellet,” Jeongin sobs.

“I know,” his mother says hoarsely. She swallows and looks up at the sky, blinking back tears. “Appa will try to find one for you, okay? I’ll text him.” She rocks him, and very slowly, Jeongin’s sobs taper off into exhausted sniffles. “The world isn’t fair, baby,” she whispers in his ear. “It’s better to accept that. I promise.”

Jeongin doesn’t agree, because it seems like accepting means he’d just be giving up and staying home when he could be looking for owl pellets. But eomma’s sweet vanilla scent drifts around him like a cloud, and he can’t quite muster up his previous anger. Now he’s just sad.

She presses a kiss to his hair, breathing him in. Because he has his own scent now. He knows he still smells a little milky but he also smells like vanilla! Not like Mingun, who still only smells like pup. So he doesn’t understand why Mingun gets to go and he doesn’t. It’s not fair. His mother scents him, and he droops sadly over her shoulder, staring down at the garden path as she carries him back inside.

She takes off his shoes and sets him down on the kitchen counter, wiping the tears from his face with a wet cloth. Jeongin looks at her, eyes wide and shiny and betrayed, and her face twists. “I love you, baby. Appa loves you too.”

“Appa is mean,” Jeongin mumbles, defeated.

“Appa is trying to protect you. We both are. I swear we’re not trying to hurt you.” She cups his cheeks. “Do you really hate him? Hate is a strong word, sweetheart.”

Jeongin stares at the kitchen tiles for a minute. Appa doesn’t treat him the way he treats Jihwan and Mingun. So sometimes Jeongin thinks appa simply doesn’t love him. But he also always scents Jeongin first when he gets back from work, and then last week when Jeongin fell because Jihwan pushed him, appa spanked Jihwan and then made him sit in the corner for a whole fifteen minutes, and he gave Jeongin a piggyback ride and put on his favourite movie. So he knows appa loves him. It’s just… not fair.

He decides to say that.

“I don’t hate him,” he tells his mother. “But it’s not fair.”

His mother laughs, but there is something odd and sharp about the sound. “It’s not, is it?” Then she takes a breath, and when she next speaks she sounds like eomma again. “It’s better this way, sweetheart.”

It’s not. It’s not better. Nothing about this is better, but Jeongin doesn’t know how to explain that if she can’t see herself that it’s not fair. So he sighs, very deeply, and his mother smiles and kisses his nose.

“Come on, little fox.” She sets him down. “Let’s make some pastries. Go get the fish pan.”

Jeongin grumbles, but crouches by the cupboard. “Appa doesn’t get a bungeoppang.”

Her smile widens. “No? Not even a single one?”

“No.” Jeongin hesitates. “Maybe if he gives me an owl pellet.”

She laughs. “Well then. I’d better text him before he goes hungry, hm?”

Jeongin nods, because yes, that is the least his father can do to make it up to him, and his mother ruffles his hair with another fond smile and goes to get her phone. Jeongin drags the fish pan out of the cupboard with a loud clatter of metal, and reaches up to slide it onto the counter.

It’s not fair, he thinks again. Grown-ups are stupid. When he is big, he won’t be stupid. He is going to make fair decisions only, like not stopping people when they want to look for owl pellets. He nods decisively, and goes to find the flour.

*

Jeongin blinks his eyes open as a hand brushes through his hair. “…ppa?”

“Go back to sleep, pup,” appa says, sending a heavy wave of oakwood in his direction that makes Jeongin curl up into a sleepy, satisfied little ball under his duvet. He leans into the touch and lets his eyes drift shut again.

The hand softly squeezes the base of his neck.

“Told you, alpha,” his mother says, and Jeongin sighs happily. Eomma is here too.

“I just…” His father sighs.

“Thank you,” his mother says. “For finding him that owl pellet and making Jihwan wait to dissect it here. He was so happy.”

“An owl pellet.” His father sounds exasperated. “Of all things. Hyejin—”

His mother laughs lightly. “He was quite persistent, wasn’t he?”

“We can’t keep indulging him like that. It’s not normal, Hyejin-ah.”

“He… he’ll grow out of it.”

There’s a smile in his father’s voice. “I know. You did.”

“Yes,” his mother says quietly. “I did.”

“Come on, omega,” his father says, tugging his mother down closer to Jeongin. “Kiss our stubborn pup goodnight and let me take you to bed. It’s late.”

“It’s nine.”

“Hm.” The sound of a kiss pressed against skin. “And we have a long night ahead of us.”

His mother laughs, her scent brightening. “Oh. Is that so?”

“Yes. Now say goodnight.”

Jeongin wiggles in pleasure as eomma’s soft vanilla scent wraps around him. Appa presses his wrist to the scent gland on his neck, and Jeongin goes limp as his body melts into the bed and he sinks back into sleep.

***

(age 11)

“I really do think being a firefighter sounds cool though,” Jihwan says, completely ignoring the food on his plate. Jeongin shifts impatiently, waiting for him to take his first bite so that he can start eating too. “I know it’s not all glamourous and stuff, but you get to really help people, you know?”

Their father nods slowly. “It’s an important job, Jihwan-ah.”

“Right? And it was one of my test results, so I can do it.” Jihwan finally shoves some rice into his mouth, and Jeongin turns to his own plate.

They’ve been talking about Jihwan’s test results ever since they sat down. Because Jihwan is fourteen now, and therefore he completed their school’s first official career test. The one Jeongin will be taking in three years’ time, only he will be taking the omega version. The one that includes jobs like nurse and hairdresser and daycare worker, jobs that are appropriate for omegas that want to work.

“I wanna be an astronaut!” Mingun yells around a mouthful of beef.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” his mother scolds.

Mingun doesn’t even finish chewing and just swallows with a gulp. “I wanna be an astronaut!” he says again, bright and happy.

His mother laughs. “Really? Where will you go, Mingun-ah?”

“Saturn!” Mingun, Jeongin and Jihwan say simultaneously, although Mingun is the only one who sounds enthusiastic about it. Mingun has been going on about Saturn for weeks now, and Jeongin is pretty sure his little brother could rattle off the Wikipedia page by heart.

“Saturn is so cool, it has rings of fire!” Jihwan imitates in a silly little voice.

“It does not!” Mingun protests. “They’re made of ice, and rocks, and dust—”

“Saturn has like a thousand moons!” Jeongin adds, grinning.

“It doesn’t!” Mingun yells, frustrated.

“Jeongin,” his father says, “Be respectful.”

Jeongin’s grin vanishes and he slumps in his seat. Right. Because Jihwan can tease Mingun all he wants, but when Jeongin does it, it’s disrespectful. The ball of frustration in his stomach that’s been there ever since Jihwan started talking about his test results grows, and suddenly he blurts, “I’m gonna be a lawyer.”

Everyone looks at him, and then Jihwan laughs. “You can’t be a lawyer. That was in my test.”

“I can,” Jeongin says, sticking his chin out. “And I will.”

“I thought you wanted to become a teacher?” his mother asks, looking a little pale.

“Yeah, when I was eight. Now I wanna become a lawyer.”

“Like on TV?” Mingun asks, perking up. “Like our show?”

Jeongin nods. “Yeah.” He’s sure a real life lawyer won’t be as glamorous as Kwon Soo-jin in the show either, but glamour is not his goal. He’s thought about it very hard, and he wants to become a lawyer, because then he will get to make sure that people are treated fairly.

Mingun beams. “That’s so cool, hyung!”

Jeongin grins back.

“Jeongin.” His father is frowning.

“I’m allowed,” Jeongin insists. “I looked it up.” There’s no law against omega lawyers, which he knows because there are omega lawyers. He found a few online.

“You’re not becoming a lawyer.”

“Why not?” he asks, even if he already knows what his father is going to say.

“Because it’s not proper. Omegas don’t become lawyers.”

“I’m gonna,” Jeongin says stubbornly.

“You can’t be—” Jihwan starts, but his father growls at him. “Be quiet, Jihwan-ah.”

Jihwan snaps his mouth shut with a click, surprised.

“You are not becoming a lawyer,” his father says again.

Jeongin sets his jaw. “I am. I’m—”

“Have you been talking about this at school too? Are we going to get another call from your teacher?”

Jeongin bristles. The last time wasn’t even his fault. Park Jieun had been trying to steal Joon-ho’s homework so she could copy it, and Jeongin had only stood up for him. She was mean and stupid, he’d only been telling the truth. Before he can say anything, his father says, “You’re not becoming a lawyer.”

“I—”

“That’s final, Jeongin. I will hear no more about it.”

Jeongin feels his eyes start to burn with angry tears, and stares down at his plate to keep them in. He’s not going to cry. He’s not weak.

“It’s okay to dream, little fox,” his mother says soothingly. “You will change your mind when you’re older.”

Jeongin clenches his jaw so hard it’s a miracle his teeth don’t crack, but he keeps his mouth shut. He can eat now, but he is no longer hungry. His parents never listen. They think he’s weak and stupid and can’t do it, but he can. He can, and he is going to become a lawyer and show them how strong he is, and then they won’t ever doubt him again.

***

(age 18)

“No,” Jeongin says, rage simmering under his skin.

“Jeongin,” his father sighs, exasperated. “You are not a child any longer.”

“Exactly,” Jeongin hisses. “Which is why I am adult enough to tell you that I do not need to be spaced.”

He wants to shoot to his feet, but stays kneeling on his pillow by Mingun’s chair. They’re in the living room after dinner, and because this is family time, Jeongin and his mother spend this time on the floor, because that’s tradition and definitely not demeaning whatsoever. He grits his teeth and tells himself to focus. That’s not what he’s here to argue about today.

His father leans forward. “The Ministry of Health and Welfare says that omegas need spacing three times a week starting from age eighteen to nineteen.”

“Which is bull-” Jeongin cuts himself off and tries again. “Which is ridiculous. Eomma, please tell him.”

“Jeongin-ah,” his mother says quietly from her own pillow, leaning against his father’s thigh. “Your father is trying to do what’s best for you.”

“I know what’s best for me!” Jeongin yells. “It’s my body!”

“Yang Jeongin,” his father snaps. “Yell at your mother again and I will make sure you regret it.”

Jeongin clenches his hands into fists, but still bows his head. “Sorry, eomma.”

His mother smiles at him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. But would you just listen to your father?”

“It’s not like he listens to me,” Jeongin mutters, but his mother continues, “Spacing is not a bad thing. It feels good. Do you honestly think your father would hurt you?”

“No,” Jeongin says, “But—”

“Appa is just trying to help you,” Jihwan pipes up from the couch. He’s sitting next to his father, and of course he’d agree with him. Jihwan is as bad as his father is these days, annoying and patronising and protective. He’s courting now, and his protectiveness over Jimin has apparently made his protectiveness over Jeongin surge right along with it, to Jeongin’s utter vexation. “Come on, Innie, you know—”

“You stay out of this,” Jeongin snaps at him. “This is none of your business.”

“I’m your hyung—”

Jeongin glares at him. “Yes, you are my hyung. You’re not my alpha.”

“Jeongin,” his father growls. “For once in your life, can you behave like a normal omega? It’s biology. You’re an omega, you need spacing. I’m your alpha father, and I will give you that until you’re mated.”

“It’s not biology!” Jeongin says. “You’re wrong, appa. I don’t need spacing.”

His father grinds his teeth. “Oh, for the love of—would it kill you to let me take care of you? You could get sick. Do you think I want that? That any of us want that?”

“I won’t get sick!” Jeongin says, fighting the urge to scream. “You’re not listening. There is no spacing recommendation in Iceland, and omegas are fine there.”

His father lets out an exasperated sound. “Well, fortunately for you, you’re not in Iceland, and we take proper care of omegas here. You are under my roof, in my care, and what’s best for you is up to me. You will let me space you, and we will start tomorrow.”

Cold fury rises up Jeongin’s spine. Like hell. Not for the first time, he wishes he could yank his father into his brain, so he could show him that he is not the weak omega his father thinks he is. See? he would say, gesturing around. This is who I am. This is how strong I am. This is me.

But his father has never seen him, and Jeongin is starting to think he never will. So instead of the “no” he knows he’s never going to get through his father’s head, he takes a deep breath. Around him, everyone tenses as if readying themselves for the detonation. But Jeongin says, “I’ll let you follow the Ministry’s recommendation.”

His father exhales. “Good. Thank you for seeing reason. Was that so—”

“But not now.”

His father frowns and his scent spikes with irritation. “Jeongin.”

“The recommendation says from the age of eighteen to nineteen,” Jeongin says. “Meaning that I won’t be ‘in danger’ for another year. I’ll let you space me, but only once I’ve turned nineteen.” Because with any luck, he will not be here when he turns nineteen. He’s already working on his scholarship application, and SNU Law applications are assessed anonymously. His subgender will not be mentioned. He’s going to get in if it’s the last thing he does, and he’ll be in Seoul by his nineteenth birthday, and he will not be spaced.

His father eyes him for a long time. For a moment, Jeongin thinks he will insist anyway, but then he says, “If I agree to this, you are not complaining about future spacing once you turn nineteen.”

Victory rushes through him. “Yes, appa.”

“When you’re nineteen you will sit with me three times a week, and I will not hear a single word about it.”

“Yes, appa.”

“And I’m scenting you daily. If you get sick—”

“I won’t—”

“Do not interrupt me while I’m talking,” his father says, voice lowering, and Jeongin bows his head again in apology. “We are doing daily check-ins, and if you get sick, if you start to feel unstable or woozy or faint in any way, you tell me. I do not care that you do not want to be spaced. If you even get a cold, we’re starting. You keep me informed. That’s an order.”

His father would never use his Voice on him without consent, because even in traditional households like theirs that’s considered wrong and outdated. Jeongin doesn’t quite understand how his parents can see that that is wrong but not the rest of it, but at least he knows his father would never cross that line. Instead, he’ll say “that is an order”, and they all know not to cross him.

So Jeongin bows low. “Yes, appa. Thank you.”

His father exhales. “Alright. God, I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. If you get sick, Jeongin-ah…”

“I won’t,” Jeongin promises. He’s certain that the common cold has absolutely nothing to do with spacing, but if he needs to avoid sickness to avoid spacing, he’ll bundle up and wash his hands ten times a day. He’ll do whatever it takes.

His father sighs and holds out his hand. “Come here.”

Jeongin shuffles over to kneel in front of his father, looking respectfully down at the floor. When the man leans forward to squeeze the base of Jeongin’s neck and rest his chin on top of his head, Jeongin breathes in the familiar cloud of oakwood. He lets his father scent him and then, once he’s done, lets his mother pull him in for a hug, adding vanilla to the mix.

It’s only once the topic changes to something else and his father turns on the TV that he moves back to his pillow near where Mingun is curled up in an armchair. Mingun hasn’t spoken a word throughout the entire discussion, and that is why he’s Jeongin’s favourite. Mingun never interrupts him while he’s talking. He tips his head against Mingun’s armchair, and after a few minutes, his brother pokes his ribs with a socked foot. Jeongin looks up. “I don’t think you’ll get sick,” Mingun whispers, low enough that the others won’t hear.

Jeongin smiles up at him. See. This is why he likes Mingun best.

Mingun smiles back. “One more year?”

Jeongin doesn’t answer, but lets his smile widen. He’s never even told Mingun about his plans, but Mingun figured it out anyway because he’s clever like that, and Jeongin knows he won’t ever tell. Yes, he thinks as he beams up at Mingun. One more year. One more year, and then he’s out of here. And he’s never going to let anyone space him, ever.

***

(age 18 and eleven months)

The drive to Seoul is the most awkward five hours Jeongin has ever spent with his father, and they sit in silence the entire time. He’d offered to just take the train, but that had only made the man glare harder.

His father has been furious with him all week. Jeongin put off telling his parents about his SNU acceptance until the very last minute, because he knew it wasn’t going to go well. But finally, when his father once again brought up his friend’s alpha daughter who was looking to mate, Jeongin took a deep breath and said, “I can’t meet her, appa. I’m moving to Seoul.”

The room went so quiet Jeongin could hear the rumbling of the dryer over in the bathroom.

He swallowed. “I got accepted into SNU Law. I’ve got a full scholarship, and I’m going. I’m moving next week.”

His mother went white as a sheet. “No.”

Jeongin didn’t say anything.

“No. Jeongin-ah, you can’t. You can’t, baby, please.” His mother had started crying, and things had gone downhill from there.

His mother had not stopped crying all week, begging him not to go, and his father had ranted at him and yelled at him and tried to order him, and Jihwan had come back home and tried to convince him, and Jeongin had stayed quiet throughout all of it. Every night, Mingun slept in his nest and said nothing, not even when Jeongin cried himself to sleep on his shoulder last night, which is the only reason Jeongin let himself.

Finally, this morning, Jeongin said quietly, “I’m going, appa. If you want me to stay, you’re going to have to use your Voice on me. But know that if you do, I will never forgive you.”

And his father’s face, which had been red with anger, had fallen so suddenly it took Jeongin by surprise. He’d gone very, very quiet. “Okay,” he said after several long, tense minutes, sounding far older than he was. “Get your bags, Jeongin. I’m driving you.”

“Oh,” Jeongin said, taken aback. “I can take the train, appa.”

“I’m driving you,” his father glowered. “Get your bags.”

His mother had sobbed harder, had cried until the moment they got into the car and drove away, and Jeongin feels bad about that. He feels awkward in his father’s judgemental silence too, but... they’re wrong. They think he’s weak but he isn’t, and he’ll prove it. They don’t have to worry, he’s going to be fine.

He’s going to follow his dreams and become a lawyer and be free, because he’s strong and he is not like all those omegas who want mates and pups and omegan jobs. He doesn’t want a mate at all, and he’s going to show everyone that he’s strong and independent and doesn’t need one. He can do it on his own. He doesn’t need anyone else.

Chapter Text

That first night, Jeongin sits down on his bed in a dorm room that smells weird, because he shares it with an omega boy who smells like cotton candy and his scent is so sweet it makes Jeongin slightly nauseous. Lee Haeseong is going to study Japanese and has already decorated his wall with a thousand cute little stickers and photocards, and his half of the room is an explosion of pink and glitter. Jeongin waits until Haeseong goes to sleep before he starts getting ready for bed himself, determined to shove his uncomfortable feelings deep, deep down so he will stop feeling them. But then when he opens his suitcase, he finds a gift and a note.

You can do it hyung! I wanted to give you this so you won’t forget us. We’re still your family, you know? Consider it a good luck charm. Mingun

Jeongin lowers the note and stares at the little fox puppet keychain that’s resting on top of his clothes. He picks it up. It smells like Mingun, like sweet oakwood. It’s orange and white with pointy ears, and its felty fur is soft. My little fox, his mother’s voice says in his head, and he looks up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. They escape him anyway, and he rubs a hand over his face. Fuck.

He looks at the puppet again. It’s sweet, and cute, and everything he is not. He should not carry it around with him. But somehow, he finds himself clipping it onto his keys anyway. It’s just because it’ll make it easier to dig them out of his pocket, he reasons as he places them back on his nightstand. That’s all.

If he falls asleep that night with his nose pressed into it to get a whiff of its familiar scent, then no one needs to know.

***

Term starts, and it sucks.

Jeongin had prepared himself for discrimination; he’s not an idiot, he knew he wouldn’t be accepted with open arms. But the sheer amount of patronisation and sexism somehow still manages to shock him. He’s never been in such an alpha-dominated space before, and SNU Law seems to be filled with the most pretentious ones. He gets catcalled on campus, and in class he gets stared at, scoffed at, and picked on, by students and even by professors who act like he’s either an amusing circus performance or a freak of nature.

Jeongin fights back of course; maybe not physically, but verbally he’s stronger than nearly all of his classmates. They’re harder to cow than his classmates back in high school, which makes sense considering they’re all law students who must be smart enough to have passed the SNU Law entrance exam. But none of them have had to fight back against discrimination since the moment they were born, and so Jeongin is, for once, at an advantage. Well. At an advantage against his own disadvantage, so he’s not sure if it counts for much, but he’ll take it.

It doesn’t matter what they call him though, or what they think. He’s earned his place here, and he refuses to be bullied out. With the amount of reading he’s done over the past year, he’s better prepared for his classes than most of his classmates. He is stronger and smarter than all of them, and they’re just going to have to get used to him.

Well—they’re going to have to get used to him and to Choi Beomgyu.

He runs into the other omega on his first day of class, when he’s horribly lost among the campus buildings on his way to his first lecture. Just when he angrily mutters, “Where the fuck is Public Law 1,” he hears a relieved, “Oh thank god you’re lost too?” and turns around to find a boy with sleek black hair and an equally frustrated expression on his face. They introduce themselves and then team up, and end up making it to the lecture hall together five minutes late. Of course they immediately endure a shared scolding from Professor Min on manners and punctuality, and when they finally make their way to an empty row of seats, Beomgyu mutters, “Bet you wouldn’t have gone on about manners to the fucking alphas, you bitch” and Jeongin nearly receives a second scolding from laughing so hard. He moves out of his pink cotton candy dorm room and into Beomgyu’s soft caramel-scented one the very same day.

Beomgyu is amazing, and he makes everything a little better. Jeongin hasn’t had to nest in a room with another omega present since his mother helped him build his first nest when he was sixteen, and it takes some getting used to. But Beomgyu is also an omega, and even though his nests are horribly messy and Jeongin has no idea how they can bring him any comfort at all, there are things that Beomgyu understands about Jeongin that even Mingun doesn’t. And so they set up rules and agree to give each other privacy when they need to, and together they make it work.

But it’s still hard.

Despite the fact that he swore he wouldn’t, he misses home. He misses his family, their scents and his mom’s cooking and the softness of his own bed. His mother calls him daily, and he makes sure to sound happy and confident. He has some stories ready to share, funny ones about Beomgyu or things he’s seen that don’t mention the discrimination he’s going through, but she doesn’t really ask. She only tries to convince him to come back home, convinced that he won’t make it on his own, and many of the calls end with her in tears. His father barely talks to him at all, except for every time his mother asks whether they can come pick him up. He looks up then, but when Jeongin tells them no, he looks away again. Jihwan texts him every few days to check in, and Jeongin texts back, but even though their bond has improved a little after Jihwan mated Jimin and moved out, they’re still not that close.

It’s Mingun who he misses most, and Mingun who he shares his stories with. When, two weeks into term, his little brother secretly uses his own money to ship over some more of Jeongin’s nesting pillows that hadn’t fit into his suitcase, Jeongin cries for a full ten minutes, and he feels incredibly embarrassed by it but Beomgyu only pats his arm and asks him what snack he wants from the convenience store because he’s going to leave so Jeongin can nest in peace, and then they’re gonna have a movie night.

They get invited to biweekly meetings with the other SNU Law omegas too. There’s only five of them, all upperclassmen, but they prove to be an invaluable source of advice and information when it comes to dealing with the discrimination. “Don’t show emotion,” fourth-year Hyeri says at the end of their first meeting. “Don’t back down. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re less than them, including the professors.” She looks him and Beomgyu in the eyes and cocks her head. “You seem like you’ll stick around. Text us if you need us, we’re rooting for you.”

Third-year Bogum pats Jeongin on the shoulder as he gets ready to leave Hyeri’s room. “Nice meeting you, Jeongin-ah, Beomgyu-yah. Meet me by the library tomorrow so I can show you the quiet spots on campus that the asshole alpha elite don’t bother with because they’re out of the way.”

They nod and thank him, and Bogum leaves hand in hand with his girlfriend Miran, another third-year, who waves at them. “Fighting, puppies! See you next Friday for drinks and pizza!”

So… things are hard, but not unbearable, and no matter how much his parents seem to think he’s not going to make it, Jeongin knows that he will. They’ve never believed in him, but Beomgyu and these other omegas do, and so does Mingun, and he knows he’s going to be fine. He’s got this.

That doesn’t mean that there are not days that suck.

One day three weeks into term, he spends the morning in the library to work on an essay. Unfortunately, half his year has chosen to spend the day in the library, although clearly not to work on their essays, if the way they’re jeering at Jeongin is anything to go by. Jeongin grits his teeth, because seriously? Don’t they have anything better to do than bully him?

Well, they can sure as hell try. He’s not going to be bullied out by anyone, even if he knows after five minutes that there’s no way he’s going to get any work done like this.

In the end, he stays for two hours. Two hours of mocking laughs and veiled comments and disdainful looks before part of the group leaves to check out Ha Dong-il’s Porsche in the parking garage, and Jeongin decides he’s made his point and can go back to the dorm now. Several of the remaining alphas snicker at him as he leaves, but he keeps his head high, focusing on the anger that buzzes in the back of his mind. It doesn’t matter what they think of him. He doesn’t need their approval.

He stops by the library café to get an iced americano (which is ridiculously expensive and does not help to raise his mood whatsoever) and then sets out for the omega dorm at a furious pace, the coffee in his left hand and the thick book on civil law he’s just checked out in his right. He’s still fuming when he rounds a corner, trips over a loose paving slab and yelps as he falls forward. He throws his arms out to catch his balance and somehow, miraculously, manages to regain his footing. Unfortunately, in doing so he also manages to spill his entire iced americano on the person in front of him and smack them in the face with The Civil Trial Handbook, 5th edition.

Shamefully, he has to admit that his first thought is dismay for his spilled coffee, rather than concern for the person he hit. When they cry out in pain and fall to the ground, however, basic human decency kicks back in and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Oh shit, are you okay?” He drops his empty coffee cup and crouches down. “I’m really sorry.” Mind still clouded by his bad mood and the civil law essay he should be writing, he vaguely wonders if this is the kind of thing this person could sue him for, and how he could defend himself if they do. He could barely pay for this americano. He does not have the money to go to court.

The person in front of him groans, his hands pressed to his face. His scent spikes in pain, and Jeongin registers the facts that he is an alpha and that Jeongin hit him in the face at the same time.

He grimaces, already anticipating an angry rant. “I’m so sorry,” he says anyway, hesitating but then still placing a hand on the boy’s arm. “Are you okay?”

The boy was wearing white underneath his open coat, but now he’s covered in coffee. He slowly sits back up. “Wow,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Didn’t see that coming.” He keeps one hand pressed to his left eye, but blinks dazedly at Jeongin with the other, scanning his body and taking him in. His eye lights up. “Ooh! Aren’t you just the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

Jeongin removes his hand as if he’s been burned. Oh, come on. Suddenly, he can feel the bucket of anger in his mind tip over. This day has been terrible, he’s been patronised and talked down to all morning, and enough is enough. He explodes. “Seriously? You’re going to hit on me now of all times, and that’s your line? What were you expecting me to say, ‘Oh why thank you alpha, I’ve always wanted to be a pathetic little thing to be ogled, please take me home and knot and mate me’? What the fuck is wrong with you? The answer is no, to whatever fucked-up fantasy you were dreaming up. Sorry about running into you, but you can fuck right off.”

The boy’s good eye goes wide as Jeongin rants, and his scent blooms open, first with shock, then awe. When Jeongin is done, the shock and awe are joined by amusement. He grins. “I meant the fox.”

Jeongin blinks. “What?”

The boy nods at Jeongin’s jeans. “The fox. It’s cute. I like it.”

Jeongin looks down. Mingun’s fox puppet has escaped his pocket and is now dangling on the outside of his jeans. He stares at it, then back at the boy, and his face goes bright red. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

The boy laughs, loud and bright, and his scent spikes in a burst of cocoa. “That was fierce as hell though. I like you.”

Jeongin buries his face in his hands, mortified. “I am really sorry. I thought…”

The boy merely waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. I can take a verbal hit or two.” He winces as he touches his eye again, long dark hair falling in his face. “Gotta admit that a physical beating is new though. Damn, you’ve got a mean right hook.” He doesn’t sound too angry about it, somehow still cheerful. His expression only falls when he takes sight of his clothes, and he pouts. “My cardigan.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeongin says again, feeling like a broken record. “I’ll… I’ll have it cleaned, or something. Or I’ll pay. Was it really expensive?”

The boy eyes him and then says, “Nah, not really. It’s fine…” He trails off expectantly.

“Yang Jeongin.” Jeongin should fold himself into a ninety-degree bow, maybe even a prostrate one considering what he just did, but he doesn’t move from his crouch. He is sorry, but after the past three weeks, he’s not going to do that.

“I’m Hwang Hyunjin.” He holds out his hand. Like Jeongin is not an omega. Did he just not hear him rant, or pick up on his scent? That’s never happened to Jeongin before, because his soft vanilla is pretty much as omegan as it comes.

Slowly, Jeongin shakes the boy’s—Hyunjin’s—hand. Maybe his family is less traditional. Those alphas do exist, he knows, because apparently Beomgyu’s mom is like that, but he’s never really known non-traditional alphas.

Hyunjin grins. It looks a little odd, because his left eye is starting to really swell now, and Jeongin winces. “Do you, um. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Hyunjin tries to squeeze his left eye open and fails. He tries a few more times, then shrugs. “Oh well. I’ve never tried to take in the world through one eye before, so this will be interesting, you know? A new experience!”

Jeongin stares at him, wondering if he knocked his skull on the pavement too. “At least let me give you some clothes.” The moment the words come out of his mouth, he goes red again. “To borrow. Because of the coffee.”

Hyunjin’s lips quirk up. “I’m not gonna say no to clothes that are not covered in coffee.”

Shit. Is Jeongin really going to give this alpha clothes? But the words are already out, and he does feel guilty about hurting him. And he doesn’t seem like a complete asshole, so that’s something. “Alright,” he says defeatedly, getting up. “My dorm is over there.”

There’s only one dorm on that side of campus, and it’s the omega dorm. But again Hyunjin doesn’t react, he merely gets to his feet and sends him a smile. “Lead the way.”

Jeongin takes a breath to regain his composure, makes sure the fox is tucked back into his pocket, and starts walking. They’re on campus. He is calm, and collected. He has already shown more than enough emotion.

“What are you studying?” Hyunjin asks as he skips a few steps to walk beside him. “That book is like, as thick as my thigh.”

“Law,” Jeongin says shortly. Here it comes. The disbelieving raised eyebrow, the laughter, the disapproval.

But Hyunjin only says, “Ew.”

And he sounds so genuinely grossed out that Jeongin almost smiles. He doesn’t, because he is better than that. But almost.

“I’m in fine arts, the painting track,” Hyunjin offers unprompted. “I was supposed to be in class…” He checks his phone. “Ah. Twenty minutes ago.” He grimaces. “Whoops. That was the first class. Oh well. First impressions are overrated, right? Second impressions are where it’s at. Probably a good thing you knocked me to the ground, even if you ruined my favourite cardigan.” Jeongin looks over, but Hyunjin’s good eye is still sparkling cheerfully. “Honestly though, I’d say we’re the exception to the rule, because this was an amazing first impression, if you think about it. Like, this could have been a movie scene. Oscar-worthy. We could have won one, Jeongin-ssi! We should recreate it, send it in.”

Dear god. Does this boy ever stop talking? Instead of saying that, Jeongin merely deadpans, “You could just tell me you want me to punch you in the face again.”

Hyunjin laughs, just as brightly as before. “Maybe one of those fake movie punches next time. I’d like to keep at least one eye working so I can keep painting.” He prods his swollen eye again and grins through his wince. “This is going to make me look bad-ass though. I’ve never been beaten up before.”

“I did not beat you up.”

Hyunjin waves a hand. “Details, details. Do you think I’ll get a black eye? That would be awesome. Channie-hyung would freak out.”

Jeongin has no idea who Channie-hyung is, and not much desire to find out. Unfortunately, it seems he doesn’t get a say, because Hyunjin continues, “That’s my pack alpha. He’s like, the most worriedest alpha you’ll ever meet. A few months ago I tripped and fell down the stairs, and hyung refused to let me go for like, the whole morning. My ear only bled a little bit, it was ridiculous.”

Privately, Jeongin thinks falling down the stairs and bleeding from your ear sounds like a pretty fair reason for concern, but it’s clear that Hyunjin does not, and besides, he’s not here to chit-chat with an alpha. He’ll be polite because he just punched him in the face, but giving him clothes is already bad enough.

“Wait here,” he tells Hyunjin bluntly, taking a right up the stone steps to the omega dorm. He scans his student ID to open the door and nods at the beta security guard as he passes, not looking back to check if Hyunjin did as he said. Once the alpha is out of sight, Jeongin lets out a low groan and heads for his room. This is not how today was supposed to go.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says from his desk when Jeongin enters, perking up. “You’re back! I thought you were gonna be in the library all day.”

Yeah. Because Jeongin is an idiot and he thought it’d help him focus, when he should have known what a nightmare it would be and just stayed here with Beomgyu. Jeongin kicks his shoes off, drops The Civil Trial Handbook, 5th edition to the floor, and then falls forwards onto his bed to let out a long, muffled scream into his pillow. Once that’s done, he gets up and shuffles to their closet.

“Oh yeah, I agree,” Beomgyu says. “Good talk.”

Despite himself, Jeongin’s mouth twitches. He’s only known Beomgyu for a few weeks, but it feels like much longer. Beomgyu is just as fierce, and just as determined, and sly as fuck. Jeongin likes him a lot.

“I punched someone,” he says as he opens the closet door, and Beomgyu knocks over his water bottle. It’s closed, thankfully, although Beomgyu doesn’t even look at it.

“You what?”

“I punched an alpha in the face,” Jeongin continues, rummaging through his clothes, “With my civil law book.”

Beomgyu’s eyes are wide. “Jeongin, what the fuck.”

Jeongin turns to him, an old hoodie in his hands. “The worst thing is that I didn’t mean to. I tripped and knocked him to the ground and dumped my entire coffee over him. That cost me like seven thousand won, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu looks like a part of him wants to laugh, but he still checks, “Was he angry?”

“He looked at me,” Jeongin groans, “And went ‘oh, aren’t you just the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen?’ And I lost it and spit fire at him, and it turns out he was talking to the fucking fox puppet on my keychain.”

Beomgyu cackles, no longer holding back. “Oh my god.”

“And then I had the goddamn brilliant idea to offer him my fucking clothes because he was covered in coffee and I was mortified, and then he accepted and I couldn’t take it back without sounding like an asshole.”

“Oh my god,” Beomgyu gasps again, laughing so hard he nearly falls off his chair. “Jeongin.”

“He’s outside,” Jeongin continues. “With a black eye that I gave him and soaked in my americano, and I’m going to have to give him my clothes.”

Beomgyu hiccups with laughter. “That’s amazing.”

“No,” Jeongin growls, “It’s not.”

“I’m coming with you. I need to see this.” Beomgyu jumps up and gestures for Jeongin to hurry up. “Go on. Get the clothes that you’re going to gift this alpha.”

“Lend,” Jeongin hisses. “I’m not gifting him anything!”

But Beomgyu merely grins at him, thoroughly amused, and Jeongin huffs. So much for friendship. With another frustrated little growl, he snatches a pair of sweatpants from the shelf, sniffs them to make sure his scent isn’t on them too strongly (they’re clean, but they’ve still been lying in his room, and the last thing he wants is to give Hyunjin clothes with his scent on them), and stalks out of the door. Beomgyu is right behind him.

When they walk outside, Hyunjin is still there, though he has moved to lean against the side of the building, head tipped up to enjoy the sun. It’s February and it’s freezing, but the alpha does not seem to care, coat wide open and a faint smile on his face as he lets the feeble rays make their attempt to warm his skin.

“Is that him?” Beomgyu asks gleefully.

“Shut up,” Jeongin tells him, and then walks over. “Here.”

Hyunjin opens his eyes—well. Eye. The left one seems to have swelled entirely shut now, and Jeongin feels a flicker of guilt. It must hurt. Hyunjin even smells hurt. But the alpha doesn’t mention the pain at all, instead merely beaming at Jeongin. “You’re back!” He sweeps himself into an over-the-top bow. “My nemesis and saviour.”

Jeongin stares at him. What the fuck. “Do you want the clothes or not.”

Beomgyu elbows him, but Hyunjin just straightens with a grin. “Yes, Jeongin-ssi, I’d like a change of clothes.” He holds out a hand, and Jeongin hands over the clothes.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says. “Really. This is very kind of you.”

He looks so happy about it that a part of Jeongin stiffens in alarm. “I’m lending you these,” he reminds Hyunjin. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Hyunjin laughs. “I wouldn’t dare, after the way you yelled at me earlier. How can I get them back to you?”

Jeongin watches him with narrowed eyes, and then holds up his hand. “Give me your phone.” His voice is flat, rude, and yet Hyunjin obeys without question in a way that takes Jeongin by surprise. He doesn’t let it show though, instead going to Hyunjin’s contacts and putting his number in. The alpha is mated after all, right? And it’s just a phone number. He should be fine.

Hyunjin sends him a wide smile and pockets his phone. “Thanks. I’ll text you.” He bows again and then takes a step back, ready to go find a bathroom so he can change. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Sure,” Jeongin says. Beomgyu elbows him again and he adds, begrudgingly, “Sorry about running into you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Like I said, new experiences!” Hyunjin pulls a face. “I probably should go now though, or I’ll miss my next class too. Being scolded by professor Park is a new experience I could do without. Bye, Jeongin and friend!”

“Bye,” Beomgyu says, sounding amused, waving him off.

Jeongin does not wave and merely turns to head back inside. Before he can take more than one step, Hyunjin says, “Oh, and Jeongin-ssi?”

Jeongin turns back around. Hyunjin is grinning, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. “I really was talking to the fox. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re cute.” He winks, laughs at whatever expression must show on Jeongin’s face, and waves again. “See you around!”

And then he’s gone, dashing around the corner and out of sight.

“Dude!” Beomgyu says. “You didn’t say he was hot.”

Jeongin stares at him, incredulous. “He’s mated.”

“What, he can’t be mated and hot?” When Jeongin keeps staring, Beomgyu huffs. “Oh come on. You have eyes.”

Yeah, Jeongin has eyes. He has also zero interest in being flirted and toyed with and ending up as someone’s prized possession or house slave. “Trust me,” he tells Beomgyu, “I am not interested.” He turns and stalks back into the building, determined to forget about this whole ordeal.

He lent the alpha his clothes, and Hyunjin will get them back to him, and that will be that.

***

A week passes before Jeongin gets a text. Or rather, a string of texts. His phone buzzes for such a long time that he nearly hurls it at the wall. He was mid-way through a sentence for his essay and now he’s lost it. With a frustrated growl, he snatches up his phone.

[1:12 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: hi fox boy!!!
[1:12 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: its ur victim
[1:12 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: i wanted to give u ur clothes back
[1:12 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: we could go for a coffee?
[1:12 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: tho if we do i will be wearing black this time in case u toss it in my face again

Jeongin stares at the screen in dismay. Coffee? Fox boy? Absolutely not.

[1:13 pm] Jeongin: You can just drop them off at the omega dorm, I’ll find them.

[1:13 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: damn proper capitals and full stops and all
[1:13 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: ur like minho hyung
[1:13 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: actually u really ARE like minho hyung
[1:13 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: he glares at me a lot 2
[1:13 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: tho hes never given me a black eye before so i guess thats a point in ur favour
[1:14 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: or against u possibly i dunno

Jeongin blinks at the long string of texts. He has no idea who Minho-hyung is and also no idea how to respond to this. Hyunjin is right of course, this is not how he normally texts. But he doesn’t want to give the alpha the impression that they’re anything other than strangers, so capitalisation and punctuation it is. He wants to put his phone down and not reply at all, but the mention of Hyunjin’s black eye does cause a stirring of guilt to well up inside of him, and he sighs.

[1:14 pm] Jeongin: How’s your eye?

[1:14 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: oh omg ok u have to see this
[1:14 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: [image attached]
[1:14 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: LOOK
[1:14 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: i look so cool!!

Jeongin gapes. Hyunjin’s entire left eye is black and blue and still completely swollen shut. It’s been a week. Without thinking, he types:

[1:15 pm] Jeongin: oh my god you took this now??

[1:15 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: oh no this was like the day after
[1:15 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: ur very good at the beating up thing
[1:15 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: if u ever get sick of the right side of the law u could become a hitman for sure

[1:15 pm] Jeongin: I did not beat you up.

[1:16 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: u beat me up a lil bit

[1:16 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: also quit the capitals u didnt use them earlier u cant fool me

“Who are you texting?” Beomgyu asks, making Jeongin look up with a start.

“What?”

“You’re grinning at your phone.”

Jeongin scoffs, offended. “I’m not!”

“Fine,” Beomgyu concedes, “But you were smiling.”

“I wasn’t,” Jeongin says. “I’m annoyed.” He wasn’t smiling, what the fuck.

[1:17 pm] Jeongin: Just give me my clothes back.

[1:17 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: yes yes
[1:17 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: over coffee?

[1:17 pm] Jeongin: No.

[1:17 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: :((((
[1:17 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: but jeongin ssi we need to recreate our oscar scene!!

This time, Jeongin does get annoyed. What is it with alphas who can’t take a fucking no for an answer?

[1:18 pm] Jeongin: I said no. I get that you spell like a first-grader so perhaps that’s where your brain is stuck at too, but considering even toddlers know the word ‘no’, I assumed you’d be able to manage. Clearly I shouldn’t have.

[1:18 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: oh fuck im sorry
[1:18 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: i didnt mean to make u uncomfortable i was joking
[1:18 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: im rly sorry
[1:18 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: no coffee
[1:18 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: got it
[1:18 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: ill deliver ur clothes back to ur dorm!
[1:19 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: sorry again

Jeongin blinks. He was expecting an angry rant, not an apology. Certainly not a panicked one. Despite himself, he’s starting to feel a little guilty again. Maybe he shouldn’t have been quite that harsh.

[1:20 pm] Jeongin: Apology accepted. I hope your eye feels better soon.

[1:20 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: oh dont worry i only had a headache for a few days it looked worse than it was
[1:20 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: changbin hyung says ive got a hard skull
[1:20 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: i mean considering he accidentally elbowed my forehead once and he was the one that bruised hes probably right
[1:21 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: makes it even more impressive rly that you managed it, ur very strong

Jeongin stares at his phone, bewildered. Hyunjin just seems to completely forget that Jeongin ranted at him not even two minutes ago and just moves on, once again dropping names that mean absolutely nothing to Jeongin. Before he can decide if he should text back, Hyunjin saves him the trouble.

[1:21 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: anyhow ill drop ur clothes off tomorrow!
[1:21 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: they were super comfy uve got good taste
[1:22 pm] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: see u around fox boy!!

Jeongin pulls a face. Hyunjin is… still flirting with him, isn’t he. Isn’t he?

“Okay, you look like you’re either constipated or doing quantum physics,” Beomgyu says. “Who the fuck are you texting?”

Jeongin holds his phone out. “Is he flirting with me?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen and his face lights up. “Oh my god.” He snatches Jeongin’s phone from his hand and scrolls up. After a few seconds, he cackles and says, “Yes, he’s flirting with you. Also dude, you’re fucking brutal. Look at this puppy-dog apology, he’s simping. You sure you don’t wanna grab a coffee with him?”

Jeongin screws up his face. “He’s mated, Gyu. Why the hell would I want to get coffee with him?”

Beomgyu shrugs. “He could be in a bigger pack. Polyamorous. You might have a chance.”

Jeongin stares at him, horrified.

“…Alright. Still not interested in dating then.”

Jeongin doesn’t even dignify that with an answer, just takes his phone back and puts it on silent to go back to his essay. Fuck no, he’s not interested in dating. He’s not interested in flirting either, and especially not with Hwang Hyunjin, who is probably going to give Jeongin his clothes back with his gross dark fruity spicy cocoa scent all over them, because that’s what gross alphas do. He doesn’t want anything to do with him.

The next day, Jeongin opens the cloth tote bag that the doorman handed him when he came in and takes out his clothes. They’re neatly folded and come with a little note that has a fox doodled on it and a “Thank you!!” written next to it. Jeongin ignores the note, as well as the fact that the clothes smell like fresh cotton laundry detergent, and places them back in his closet. There. He won’t ever need to talk to Hwang Hyunjin again.

***

Jeongin talks to Hwang Hyunjin again two days later, when the alpha walks past him in the library for the fifth time.

He’s been aware of him since the first time, because his scent is so strong that he just floods Jeongin’s nose the second he’s nearby, the asshole, and Jeongin has been watching him circle around the third floor of the library for the past fifteen minutes.

“Are you fucking stalking me?” Jeongin snaps at him when he walks by again.

Hyunjin jumps and looks over. His face lights up. “Fox boy!”

Jeongin ignores the fact that he looks genuinely surprised to see him and glares at him instead. “That’s not my name.”

Hyunjin grins and bows deeply, his dark hair falling in front of his face like a curtain. “My sincerest apologies, Jeongin-ssi.”

He looks better, Jeongin notes when he rises. There’s still some mild bruising around his left eye, but it’s yellow now, not black and blue like in the picture. It’s also clearly not bothering him, given the way he’s grinning at Jeongin. Jeongin only glares harder. “Why are you stalking me.”

Hyunjin blinks. “I’m not? I’m looking for a book.”

“…In the law library.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s weird right? But when I was still studying business I had to go to the education library once, and someone in my painting class said that there’s a section on Chinese painting ‘somewhere on the fourth floor’ so I’ve just been wandering around for like, the past three hours.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.”

Hyunjin beams at him. “You kept track of me? Aw, Jeongin-ssi!”

Jeongin glowers at him and snaps, “This is the third floor.”

Hyunjin looks over at the information plaque on one of the pillars. “Oh. You know, that explains a lot.”

“I bet.”

Hyunjin ignores his dismissive tone and steps closer. “Did you get the clothes?”

Jeongin hums.

“Oh good. I gave them to the doorman but he was like, super bitchy? I don’t know what was wrong with him but he actually went through the contents of the bag like three times which was so fucking rude, like who does that, and—”

Jeongin snaps his head up. “He checked my mail?”

“Well. It wasn’t mail, because I gave it to him. Maybe it’s something they do with all alphas, I don’t know. But it was rude. Like, not even for me! But for you, you know? It could have been private.”

Yeah. Yeah, that is fucking rude. He didn’t know they check his mail. Actually, he’s pretty sure they don’t usually, because nobody opened the package Mingun sent him, he’s sure of that. Maybe it was just because it was an open bag, handed over by an alpha. But that’s still an invasion of privacy, and Jeongin makes a mental note to file a formal complaint about it when he gets back to the dorm. He’ll ask the other law omegas to help him with the wording and to add their names to it.

“What are you up to?” Hyunjin asks, making him look up again.

He sighs. “I was studying in peace, but then someone couldn’t count to four.”

Hyunjin laughs, way harder than he should in a library. “But Jeongin-ssi, clearly it was fated! I would never have run into you if I’d counted properly!”

“How ever would I have survived,” Jeongin says drily, and Hyunjin laughs harder. “Shut up, people are looking.” He glances around warily. He’s been left alone since he got here, which is nice. Maybe it’s because the last time Song So-hee tried to bully Jeongin out of the library by asking how much money he’d paid the dean to pass the entrance exam, he snapped at her that at least he hadn’t needed to suck someone’s dick to get in like she had with the president of the tennis club, and she went pale and even some of their classmates let out shocked laughs at that, and she glared at all of them and stalked out of the building. Jeongin was surprised it was even true; it was just a rumour that Beomgyu had heard, but well. Clearly he hit a nerve. He’s mostly been left alone after that when he studies in this corner, and he’d like to keep it that way.

If Hyunjin just fucked that up for him, Jeongin is going to toss him down the stairs and then the alpha can crawl his own way back up to the fourth floor.

“Right,” Hyunjin whispers, “Sorry.” He drops down into the seat next to Jeongin in another cloud of cocoa, still smiling, and Jeongin drops his head down onto the table with a thump.

“Don’t you have a fucking book to find?” he mutters.

“I’ve got time,” Hyunjin says. “Since apparently, it’s only been fifteen minutes rather than the three hours I thought I’d been wandering about this place, hungry and thirsty and lost forever.”

Jeongin sighs.

“Can I study with you?” Hyunjin asks.

“You have no book. That was the whole problem, in case you’ve somehow forgotten that too.”

“But once I find it. You could teach me how to count to four.” Hyunjin bites his lip, and Jeongin’s entire body locks up.

Hell no. “No,” he snaps.

Hyunjin blinks at the sudden hostility. “Oh. Alright. That’s fine, I’ll just go somewhere else.” He stands and smiles. “Bye, Jeongin-ssi! Thanks for your help. It was nice to see you again.”

Jeongin doesn’t reply, a little taken aback by the whiplash of Hyunjin’s sudden retreat. Hyunjin merely waves at him and disappears around the corner. He doesn’t pass by again.

***

After that, they just… keep running into each other. Jeongin has no idea how, but the universe seems to conspire against him. It’s not even like Hyunjin is stalking him, because one of Jeongin’s classes has been moved to one of the art buildings due to renovations, and Hyunjin has reason to be there. And there is a section on oriental painting on the fourth floor of the law library (Jeongin checked), so they keep seeing each other there too.

Hyunjin lights up every time he spots him and always comes over to say hi, no matter what he is doing. He literally excused himself from class once when he spotted Jeongin through the window of his lecture hall. He’s still flirty, and still talks too much, and Jeongin is still annoyed with his presence every single time. He makes sure to complain to Beomgyu about it every single time too, and Beomgyu looks amused but at least proves himself to be a semi-decent friend by listening.

Jeongin learns that Hyunjin is part of a pack of five, that he lives in the Seocho district, that he likes flowers and hates eggplants, and that he has never travelled overseas but that he would love to go to Australia one day, because that’s where his pack alpha Channie-hyung is from.

Jeongin doesn’t want to learn all of this—for half of it, he doesn’t even remember Hyunjin telling him. He somehow just knows, like he’s absorbing the information through fucking osmosis, but really it’s because Hyunjin is the worst and just keeps talking to him. He mostly tries to ignore him, and he thinks he should be given a medal for his patience.

“Hello, fox boy,” Hyunjin beams at him one day as he throws himself down into the seat beside him, dumping a stack of books onto the table.

Jeongin ignores him and continues reading the third paragraph of Chapter 6 – General Business Law.

Hyunjin peers over his shoulder and pulls a face. “Business and law? That’s like, my worst nightmare. I’m so glad I switched majors.” He sends a glance over to the six books in front of him and deflates a little. “Although I have to admit that when I thought about studying art, I had no idea there would be this many books involved.”

Then what did you think the ‘study’ part entailed, Jeongin wants to say, but refrains, because he is still very focused on the third paragraph of Chapter 6 – General Business Law.

“I just thought I’d get to paint a lot and learn all kinds of new styles and techniques,” Hyunjin says as if Jeongin spoke out loud. “And there is a lot of painting, but there’s also so. much. fucking. history.” He slumps dramatically over his folded arms on the table. “I can’t remember all this history, Jeongin-ssi. I’m going to not even like art anymore, my brain wasn’t made for this. Minho-hyung said I mentioned the Six Dynasties Period in my sleep last night. In my sleep! I’m going to go insane, and then I’m going to start eating paint and then I’ll die, and in my eulogy they’ll say, ‘Here lies Hwang Hyunjin, who succumbed to something he used to love’.”

“That’s a tombstone inscription, not a eulogy,” Jeongin comments without looking up, before remembering that he was going to ignore Hyunjin and read the third paragraph of Chapter 6 – General Business Law.

“Well, they’ll both say it, and it’ll be heartbreakingly devastating because I am still so young and beautiful, and everyone will cry. And then my pack will have to sue SNU for negligence—”

“Not how that works.”

“—and they’ll lose because SNU will have you to help them with the lawsuit and Channie-hyung won’t, and then they’ll lose all of our money and our house, and they’re going to end up on the streets and go hungry and sick…” Hyunjin swallows, then blinks and frowns in confusion. “I made myself sad.”

That does not make Jeongin want to laugh. It doesn’t, at all. He keeps reading. A limited liability company is a hybrid business organisation that…

“Will you have coffee with me to cheer me up?” Hyunjin asks, a pout in his voice. “Please?”

“No.”

Hyunjin sighs miserably. “Fine. I’ll suffer through all of this sadness on my own.”

Hyunjin does that. Asking Jeongin out for coffee, that is, not suffering through sadness. Jeongin wishes Hyunjin would suffer through a little more sadness. But Hyunjin always asks him out, and even though he no longer presses when Jeongin tells him no, he keeps trying. Jeongin has no idea why. Hyunjin is mated, even seems happy to be so, if the way he doesn’t shut up about his packmates is anything to go by, and yet he’s… what? Looking for a bit of fun on the side? He’s definitely trying to get Jeongin into bed, Jeongin is sure of it. He just hasn’t asked him outright yet, because he hasn’t buttered Jeongin up enough. But Jeongin is sure that if Hyunjin thought he would say yes, Hyunjin would cheat on his packmates without a second thought.

Which Jeongin won’t do, of course. He will never say yes, so Hyunjin might as well stop trying. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even seem to care about Jeongin’s silence and just keeps smiling and blathering on at him. Which is annoying, but fine, Jeongin can handle that until Hyunjin finally understands that Jeongin won’t go to bed with him.

And then, about a month in, Jeongin meets two of Hyunjin’s packmates and has a terrible realisation.

“Jeongin-ssi!” Hyunjin calls out when Jeongin leaves his lecture one Tuesday afternoon—the one that’s held in the art building.

Beomgyu snickers and nudges him. “Your boy is calling.”

Jeongin whirls on him. “He’s not my boy.”

“He could be.” Beomgyu waggles his eyebrows, and Jeongin smacks him on the arm.

“If you think I’m ever going to—” That’s as far as he gets before Hyunjin is in front of him, two boys at his side. Beomgyu pats him on the butt and disappears, and Jeongin glares after him. Traitor. He turns back to Hyunjin and heaves a sigh. “What now.”

“Oh hello Hyunjin-hyung,” Hyunjin says brightly, “How are you on this fine day? Why I’m fantastic, Jeongin-ah, thank you for asking!”

Jeongin rolls his eyes. “You’re not my hyung and I never told you you could drop honorifics.”

“Then what am I, Jeongin-ssi?”

“You’re like a fucking spam email,” Jeongin says as he starts walking. “I have no idea where you keep coming from, but you’re always there and I can’t get rid of you.”

Hyunjin grins, skipping to keep up, and one of the boys, shorter than Jeongin but built like a tank, breaks into loud cackling laughter. “Oh my god.”

“Told you,” Hyunjin tells him, still grinning. Jeongin narrows his eyes suspiciously, and Hyunjin gestures grandly. “Jeongin-ssi, meet my packmates Changbin and Jisung.”

Jeongin snaps his head towards them. The packmates Hyunjin was planning to cheat on with him? He brought them here?

When he doesn’t say anything, the broad-shouldered beta—Changbin, apparently—bows. “Hello, Jeongin-ssi. It’s very nice to meet you. Jinnie talks about you a lot.”

What. Bewildered, Jeongin looks over at the other boy, who judging by his scent is an alpha but looks like a marshmallow, with round cheeks under a mop of fluffy brown hair. “Hi!” he says, smiling nervously and folding himself into a bow as well.

“…Hi,” Jeongin says flatly, filled with wariness. “Do I wanna know what he said about me?”

“Oh, that you’re like an angel,” Changbin says.

“An avenging angel,” Jisung adds, “Because you’re savage and merciless.”

“He generally needs a while to recover from a meeting with you,” Changbin agrees. “Lament a little, you know. We had to come see it for ourselves, but yeah, I think I get it now.”

Jeongin stares at them. What the fuck.

“I think by now the four of us are looking forward just as much to hearing about you as he is to running into you,” Jisung says. He smiles. “And he’s right, you’re super cute.”

And Jeongin freezes. Oh no. Oh no. Hyunjin wasn’t trying to cheat. That look in Jisung’s eyes, the gleam in Changbin’s… They’re flirting too. Oh, goddammit. It’s not just Hyunjin who wants to sleep with him, it’s all of them. Hyunjin was trying to seduce him for his pack to play with.

Anger flares up in him. Yeah, no, no fucking way.

“What am I to you, a toy?” he snaps. He keeps his voice quiet, because they’re in public and half his law class is still here, but he can’t just let this stand.

Changbin frowns, and Jisung’s eyes go wide. “What? Of course not!”

Jeongin cocks his head. “No? Because it sounds to me like you’re all getting a good laugh out of the cute little omega with a backbone.”

“Oh, hell,” Changbin says, even as Hyunjin grins. “That’s not what we meant, Jeongin-ssi.”

Jeongin scoffs. “Sure.”

“The stories make me laugh b-because you keep dissing Jinnie,” Jisung says, eyes still wide.

“He’s right,” Changbin says. “That’s hilarious to us, that you shut him up in thirty seconds flat every time. We’re not laughing at you. We’re laughing at him, because of you. There’s a difference. It wasn’t meant to be offensive.”

Changbin smells honest, and as much as Jeongin wants to continue to snap at him, there… is a difference.

He can, begrudgingly, recognise that. Judging by the startled look on Jisung’s face, he didn’t mean to offend him. It doesn’t change anything about how Jeongin feels about this, of course. They’re clearly still just looking for entertainment, and he won’t sleep with them, whether they flirt with him in an offensive way or not. But he can acknowledge that they’re not being complete dicks about it.

“Alright,” he says finally. “Fine. Well, this was a great chat and all, but I’ve got another seminar in five minutes.” He turns to leave.

He makes it two steps before Hyunjin bites his lip and tries, “Still a no to coffee after class then?”

Jeongin doesn’t turn back, merely says, “No. After class I need to buy a fucking spam filter.”

He hears a snort of laughter behind him, and his shoulders rise further. No. Whatever they want from him, they can stay the fuck away.

***

They don’t stay the fuck away. A week later, Hyunjin brings his other two packmates along, who are both alphas too, because of fucking course they are.

“Hello,” Hyunjin’s pack alpha says with a smile. “My name is Bang Chan. It’s very nice to meet you, Jeongin-ssi.”

Jeongin sends an exasperated look at Hyunjin, who has flopped down next to him onto the bench outside the library. “What, do you have separation anxiety now? Can’t go to class without bringing your packmates along?”

The alpha next to Chan straightens, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You were not exaggerating.”

“I never exaggerate,” Hyunjin whines, exaggeratedly. “He’s vicious, hyung.”

“And yet you keep coming back,” Jeongin deadpans.

“There’s something innately wrong with him,” the unknown alpha agrees. He bows to Jeongin. “I’m Lee Minho.”

“Hi,” Jeongin says flatly, without even bowing back. It’s rude. It would be rude even if he were an alpha, but for an omega to ignore an alpha’s greeting? His mother would be horrified, and his father would yell at him for it. But he doesn’t care. He’s waiting for Beomgyu to come back, and then they can go.

“What are you doing?” Hyunjin asks, bright as ever.

“Suffering.”

Chan smiles. “Do you want us to leave? Because we will.”

No, they won’t, because Jeongin has wanted them to leave him be for weeks and they never do. He ignores the question.

“Ugh,” someone growls from behind them, “How hard is it to return a book? The guy before me spent like ten minutes trying to choose which slot to toss his book in, like it was a fucking recycling station.” Beomgyu is coming back, wrestling with the zipper on his backpack as he goes. “Like, all the slots lead to the same bin, can you be any more fucking—oof.”

He’s walked straight into Chan, who quickly grabs his arm to keep him from bouncing to the ground. “Whoa, careful. Are you okay?” Jeongin’s eyes fly to him, narrowing on the hand he’s got on Beomgyu’s arm. Last week Beomgyu ran into Ha Dong-il, who tried to grab him by the collar before Beomgyu ducked away, so if this pack alpha tries anything weird—

“Whoops,” Beomgyu says, blinking up at Chan. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries.” Chan lets him go and steps back. “I was in your way.”

Beomgyu frowns. “I literally walked into you. That was on me.” His eyes trail across Minho, then Jeongin, then Hyunjin, and Jeongin can see the moment it clicks. “Oh.”

Jeongin sighs, and Beomgyu’s caramel scent spikes in amusement. “You want me to—”

“I want to get our coffee and then finish that stupid assignment,” he growls, getting up. He can sense Hyunjin perking up behind him and turns around, snapping, “Me and Gyu’s coffee. Not yours. You’re staying here.”

Hyunjin drops back down onto the bench, and both Minho and Chan chuckle. “Damn,” Chan says, “He really wasn’t exaggerating. You’re fierce.” He bows again. “Enjoy your coffee, Jeongin-ssi. It was nice to meet you.”

“Sure,” Jeongin mumbles, before stepping over to Beomgyu.

“Can we at least get coffee too, from somewhere else?” Hyunjin asks Minho, still pouting. “I have time before my lecture starts.”

Minho smiles sweetly. “No. I think Jeongin-ssi was onto something, and we need to walk you to class and give you time to acclimate to the idea of being without us for the next two hours.”

Chan’s scent spikes in a bright cloud of coffee. “Oh my god. Yes, come here, Hyunjinnie. Hold alpha’s hand while we cross the road!” He wiggles his fingers, and Hyunjin whines in protest.

Beomgyu nudges him and Jeongin jumps, remembering that he was going to get coffee. “Bye!” Beomgyu tells the three of them, and Jeongin drags him away.

***

They keep showing up after that, mostly Hyunjin, but sometimes he brings his packmates along, the beta or any of the three other alphas, because of course Hyunjin’s pack doesn’t have a single omega and they’ve now all set their sights on him, like the asshole fuckboys they are.

“Have you ever, you know, told them to leave you alone?” Beomgyu asks drily from Jeongin’s nest when Jeongin rants to him about it one night. They’re comfortable enough now that they have movie nights in each other’s nests these days, instead of on a pile of blankets on the floor.

Jeongin stares at him. “What?”

“You’ve never told them to leave, Innie.”

“I have,” Jeongin protests, because he has. Just yesterday he told Hyunjin to go drown himself in a well, and Hyunjin had laughed and scampered off.

“No,” Beomgyu says, rolling his eyes, “Not seriously. You’re bitchy as fuck, but you banter with them. You like bantering with them. You’ve never told them to stop talking to you, because if you had, they would no longer be here.”

“They would be,” Jeongin grumbles, “Because they’re annoying and pushy and have no sense of personal boundaries.”

Beomgyu snorts. “Jeongin, if anyone respected my boundaries as much as they do yours, I’d have agreed to court them in a heartbeat.”

Jeongin gapes at him. “Court?”

“They like you, you idiot.”

“No they don’t. They want to fuck me, and I’m not interested.”

Beomgyu sighs and grabs his laptop to pull up their most recent anime, muttering something that Jeongin can’t make out but that had better be an agreement.

They don’t want to court him. They’re playing with him, and he’s sure they laugh at him behind his back, the entertaining little omega who will definitely cave if they keep pushing long enough.

But he won’t. And the next time he sees them, he’ll tell them to fuck off permanently, and that’ll teach Beomgyu that he’s wrong and that they’re just as gross and awful as any other alpha here.

***

And yet somehow, the next time he sees them, he forgets, because Hwang Hyunjin distracts him with his stupid laugh that makes Jeongin want to toss another coffee in his face, and when he insults Minho, Minho smirks and snarks back at him, and Jeongin has to actually use his brain to come up with a comeback. And then they somehow leave him alone before he can tell them to fuck off, and all of it leaves him tense and frustrated.

Next time, he vows to himself. He’ll tell them next time.

But the next time, his conversation with Beomgyu is the last thing on his mind, because the next time turns out to be an absolutely godawful day that sends him straight to the brink of a mental breakdown.

He should not be in the library at all, but somehow that’s where he finds himself anyway.

He was late for a test this morning because professor Min held him back after her seminar to complain about his work ethic, which was code for “You’re an omega and should not be out-performing my alpha students”, and then after she finally let him go he had to argue with professor Kang’s teaching assistant for ten minutes before the girl let him in so he could get started on his test. He’d missed a whole half hour, and he had to rush through the last six questions, and now his grade probably won’t even make the top ten. And then after class his father called, because Jeongin has been nineteen for nearly two months now and today the man learned that Jeongin has not actually been going to the omega clinic to get spaced the way he claimed he was, and he was furious. And then Jeongin got mad in return, because as usual his father refused to listen to him, because it has been two months and he is fine, so surely the man could see that Jeongin already proved his point? But he didn’t, and then he ended the call midway through Jeongin’s next argument, and Jeongin knows that means he really pissed him off. He’s sure he’s going to pay for that later and can only hope that the man hasn’t decided to call SNU to unenroll him.

So far he hasn’t done that, because Jeongin made it clear that he would never, ever forgive him for it if he did. But technically, as Jeongin’s registered alpha, he has that power. It would take some effort, because Jeongin is an adult now and he does have some autonomy, but if his father was really determined, he could spin enough lies about Jeongin’s health to make that happen, and it’s Jeongin’s greatest fear that he will. It’s why he lied about the spacing, to keep his father happy. He didn’t think the man would call the clinic to look into it, but he should have.

Fuck. He knows how much his father cares about fucking spacing. He doesn’t want to believe that his father would unenroll him, but this is going to be a dealbreaker, he can already tell. What if this is the last straw? What if he really does call SNU, what if he’s on his way to Seoul right now to drag Jeongin out of the dorms kicking and screaming and take him back to Busan, back to a life of kneeling and subservience and bowing down to any of the potential mates his parents want to set him up with?

His hands feel clammy, and he drops his head down to the library table and focuses on taking deep breaths to control his scent. He won’t let them. He won’t—

“Jeongin-ssi!” a voice cries joyfully from behind him, and Jeongin wants to tear his hair out. He can’t do this today. He can’t, not today. If Hyunjin is going to do his obnoxious flirting thing, Jeongin will scream at him. He’s actually going to scream right here in the middle of the library, and he’s not even going to care.

The scent of cocoa drifts closer. “You won’t believe what happened today, I got…” And then to his surprise, Hyunjin falters. “Oh shit,” he says softly. “Are you okay?”

Jeongin doesn’t look up, just keeps his forehead firmly pressed to the table. “Go away.”

“I… Okay,” Hyunjin says hesitantly. “If that’s what you want. I just… You seem panicked. Do you want me to find someone for you?”

“Go. Away,” Jeongin growls into the wood of the table, and Hyunjin sighs.

“Okay. I will.”

There’s the sound of receding footsteps, and Jeongin’s throat feels tight. He can’t cry here. He knows he can’t, and he won’t. He needs to go back to the dorm and find Beomgyu, because maybe Beomgyu will know what to do. Beomgyu is not getting spaced either, because Beomgyu has nice, progressive parents who don’t believe in traditional omega lifestyles and who are proud of him for making it into SNU Law. Jeongin wishes so, so badly that he had that too. That his parents would look at him and see him and be proud of him, if only just once. Just a single time. That would be enough. His eyes burn. He can’t cry. He won’t.

There is a soft shuffle of footsteps behind him, accompanied by a cloud of cocoa. Before Jeongin can even decide how to react, Hyunjin whispers, “Sorry, I’m leaving, I swear. I just wanted to—here.” A soft sliding sound across the table. “Sorry, again. I’m going now, for real this time. I hope you feel better soon, Jeongin-ssi.” He retreats in quick, tip-toeing footsteps, and doesn’t return again.

Very slowly, Jeongin turns his head so he can peer from under his fringe to see what Hyunjin brought him. He stares. It’s a box of Pepero. The peanut and chocolate variant that’s sold in the café on the ground floor, the one that Jeongin buys to treat himself every now and then. He has no idea how Hyunjin even knows he likes them.

It’s probably just a ploy. Another step in their stupid game. But just for this moment, it doesn’t quite feel like one. It feels kind.

It’s because he’s emotional, he tells himself. He knows it’s not real. He can’t let them fool him, and he won’t. He knows what Hyunjin is doing, what they’re all doing.

But after a minute, he takes the box. It’s already here, and Hyunjin is not. He doesn’t have to know. He opens it and hesitates, but then pops one of the sticks into his mouth. It tastes sweet, and a little salty, but not because he’s crying. Because he’s not.

***

In the end, his father does not unenroll him from SNU, because Beomgyu’s alpha mother steps in before his father can bring it up. The moment Jeongin tells Beomgyu about it, Beomgyu calls his mom, who has a long conversation with Jeongin and then calls Jeongin’s father to set up a spacing schedule. It’s all pretend, she assured him she wouldn’t actually space him, but Jeongin’s father believes that she is spacing Jeongin the way she’s spacing her son, and that’s enough. When Jeongin next speaks to his father, the man seems appeased. Still not proud, never proud, he’s just gone back to his usual quiet disapproval. But there’s no more screaming or ranting about Jeongin’s health, and Jeongin will take it.

The semester goes on.

Hyunjin and his packmates keep seeking him out a few times a week, still clearly trying to win him over, and yet Jeongin never quite reaches the point where he tells them to leave him alone. Because they’re clever about it. They flirt, and yet they never cross the line into getting truly gross and invasive. They’re very patient, and seem perfectly content to play the long game with him. They’re just taking it slow, trying to butter Jeongin up so that he’ll cave like a lovesick little omega from a romcom and tumble into bed with them, and then they’ll have won.

“Jesus,” Beomgyu says when Jeongin informs him of this, the day before exam season starts. “Are you still on about that? Innie. They want to court you.”

“No,” Jeongin says, because he’s not stupid. “They want to fuck me, and because I keep refusing them, I’m making them want it even more.”

Beomgyu throws a marker at him, exasperated. “How can you be this thick, seriously. They want to court you, and trust me—you want to court them too.”

Jeongin sits up in his nest in outrage. “I do not!”

Beomgyu straightens and flutters his eyelashes. “Oh Beomgyu, Hyunjin-hyung left when I told him to today because he’s so respectful of my boundaries, and I sulked for three hours afterwards because I hate it when he leaves and I can’t stare at his shiny, magnificent hair—”

Jeongin hurls a pillow at Beomgyu’s face with startlingly good aim, and Beomgyu goes down in a fit of giggles.

“I do not sound like that. And I don’t think that, because they are toying with me. And also I’ve never called Hwang Hyunjin hyung.”

Beomgyu sits back up, grinning widely. “You have though, that’s what makes this so pathetic. You’ve literally called him hyung like four times when you rant to me, and also called him hot. More than four times.”

Jeongin sputters. He hasn’t. Right? No, of course he hasn’t. Beomgyu is lying, because he is sneaky and traitorous like that. He makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat and puts the whole thing from his mind. He has exams to study for, and he’s never going to forgive himself if he doesn’t beat Jeon Geon-ha out of the top five.

***

“Come on, let’s just go,” Beomgyu says the day they finish their last exam, an oral debate that was worth sixty percent of their grade. “We never go anywhere, and we made it through our first term. And the whole year is going.”

Jeongin pulls a face. “Since when do you wanna do things with our classmates?”

“Jinyoung and Minji were actually decent today, and you know it. They’re grateful, because everyone knows they’d never have passed this class without us. And they’re going to Starlight and they said we could go together, and I want to go clubbing so badly, Jeongin. Come on, just one night.”

Jeongin thinks about it. He can’t deny that the idea of enjoying music and drinks in a way that’s not just a night of soju in their dorm is appealing. Omegas aren’t supposed to go clubbing, because it’s not proper and because it would be overwhelming for their delicate senses. And while Jeongin has never cared about propriety or any delicate sensibilities he’s supposed to have, they’ve still never done it, because it’s not safe. But Beomgyu is right; Jinyoung and Minji did say that they could go together, and while Jeongin doesn’t trust them enough to be friends with them, he does trust that they wouldn’t hurt them or try anything weird.

And he wants to go clubbing. Just once, he wants to have what other people have, what all of their classmates have been doing for months. Because it sounds fun.

“Yeah,” he decides, smiling up at Beomgyu. “Let’s go.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Beomgyu grins, eyes sparkling with excitement. “This is gonna be the best night ever!”

***

[click here if you want to reread Jeongin’s night out!]

***

When Jeongin wakes up, he’s pretty sure he’s not actually alive. There’s no way life could ever hurt this much. His heartbeat pounds in his eyeballs, and he feels like the shrivelled up birthday balloon that Beomgyu pinned to the wall above his desk when it deflated.

He groans, and then stops groaning because the vibrations hurt his teeth.

He lies very still, and allows death to take him fully.

*

When he wakes again, he feels even more shrivelled up than before, but at least he also feels like he’s risen from the ninth circle of hell to the fourth, and he squints his eyes open. He’s in their dorm. What the fuck happened?

The moment he thinks it, flashes of the night before come back to him. Music. Beams of light. A drink that Beomgyu brought him that was blue and sweet and fruity.

Ah. The club.

He groans again.

Why the fuck did he want this so badly? This is horrible. He’s never felt like this after a night in with Beomgyu. He’s not going clubbing ever again.

Very, very slowly, he sits up, rubbing his face. His nest smells gross. Still like him, but also like sweat and alcohol, and it makes him screw up his nose. He’s going to wash everything and take five showers and rebuild it from scratch before he sleeps in it again. Ew. Do alphas just sleep in beds that smell like this all the time? Does Hyunjin?

He frowns. That was a weird thought. He’s still drunk, probably.

He looks over to Beomgyu’s bed. His nest is messy and rumpled as always, but empty. Just then the toilet flushes in their bathroom, and Beomgyu shuffles back into the room, looking pale.

“I don’t know what the fuck was in that blue drink,” he croaks out as he stumbles back to his nest and curls up into a ball, “But I’m never drinking it again as long as I live.”

“I don’t even remember anything,” Jeongin agrees, his head buried in his knees. “How did we even get back?”

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu mumbles into his pillow. “What time is it.”

Jeongin grabs his phone. It’s dead, of course, because he didn’t plug it in last night. He does that now, moaning at the way his head pounds when he leans over the edge of his nest. He does find a half-empty water bottle on the floor next to his nightstand though, and he chugs it the moment he spots it. God, he feels like he hasn’t drunk anything in a year.

He restarts his phone. “It’s nearly eleven,” he tells Beomgyu, just as the device starts buzzing with incoming notifications. The weather. An email from his grandmother. A text. An offer from his takeout delivery app.

He freezes. Not just a text. Fifteen texts, from four unknown numbers and Hwang Hyunjin.

[2:12 am] Hwang Hyunjin: sleep well fox boy!!
[2:12 am] Hwang Hyunjin: dream of us
[2:12 am] Hwang Hyunjin: but also like, drink some water so u dont die
[2:13 am] Hwang Hyunjin: and at risk of my own death, u were adorable

.

[2:21 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: hi Jeongin-ssi, it’s your new favourite hyung Changbin
[2:21 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: hope you got to bed okay
[2:22 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: I told you to drink water and take some painkillers but I’m not sure you managed, you were pretty much asleep when I left
[2:22 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: thanks for the hugs though you were very sweet lol
[2:22 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: see you around, take it easy today!

.

[2:21 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: hi it’s jisung!
[2:21 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: you wont read this until you wake up probably but i just wanted to say that i’m really really glad you’re okay!! (*^▽^*)
[2:21 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: hope to see you again soon if you want!! (ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ)

.

[2:47 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: Drink some water, Yang Jeongin.
[2:48 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: Glad you’re safe.

.

[9:52 am] +82-XX-XXXX-XXXX: Hello Jeongin-ssi, it’s Bang Chan. I got your number from Hyunjin, I’m sorry for not asking permission. I just heard that the others texted you so I wanted to add my own. I hope you’re okay after last night! I’m incredibly relieved that you’re safe. If you could let us know how you’re doing, I’d really appreciate it. We’d love to check on you in person, but if you’re not comfortable with that, we would understand. As always, we’ll respect any boundary you set for us. Take care of yourself!

Jeongin stares at the screen, feeling all the colour drain away from his face. What the fuck happened last night.

“Gyu,” he chokes out. “Gyu, what happened.”

“Hm?” Beomgyu’s eyes are closed again.

“Gyu.” Jeongin’s breathing picks up. “Beomgyu, what the fuck happened last night.” Panic rises in him so quickly that it makes his stomach turn.

Beomgyu must smell the emotion in the air, because he snaps his eyes open, sitting back up. “What? Innie, what’s wrong?”

Jeongin sticks his phone out at him. “This!” he hisses, panicking. “What the fuck are they talking about?”

If his phone weren’t attached to its charger, he would have tossed it at Beomgyu. But thankfully, Beomgyu recognises the urgency and rolls out of his nest. He crawls over to kneel next to Jeongin’s bed and takes the phone. He reads the messages. Blinks. Then rereads the texts and frowns, closing his eyes.

“What the fuck did we do,” Jeongin whispers, bile rising in his throat. Worse, what did they do. He frantically sniffs his wrists, his shirt, drags a hand across his neck to check the scent. Nothing but him and Beomgyu. He doesn’t smell great, but he doesn’t smell like anyone else. His stomach stops churning, and then Beomgyu says, “Did they… drive us home?”

Jeongin stares at him. “Why the fuck would they have driven us home?”

Beomgyu’s forehead is crinkled into a look of concentration. “I don’t know. But they were there. I remember that. And we got into their car, and they drove us home. I think you were in Minho-ssi’s lap?”

Jeongin’s jaw drops. “I what?”

Beomgyu’s mouth quirks up a little as more of the night before comes back to him. “Yeah, you were. And it wasn’t even him, you crawled into his lap.”

Jeongin opens his mouth to protest, and then a flash of memory comes to him, of a sleek black car and a warm hoodie and the scent of the ocean, strong and fresh and wonderful. He pales. Oh god. Oh god, he did. He crawled into Minho’s lap and he… he buried his face in his hoodie. And then he refused to let go. He doesn’t remember why, or how they got there, or what happened next. But he remembers that.

“Changbin-ssi walked us in, I think,” Beomgyu adds slowly. “Because I remember him telling us that, what he wrote in his text. That we should drink water.” He groans and rubs his forehead. “Which obviously we didn’t, dear god my head hurts.”

“And I hugged him?” Jeongin asks, horrified.

“I… think so? I mean, probably. If that’s what he said.”

Jeongin wants to die. He wants that agony from before to come back and swallow him whole. What the fuck. What the fuck.

“I think there was an alpha,” Beomgyu says. “At the club.”

That sparks something in the haze in Jeongin’s mind. A tall girl that smelled like mint, so strong it stung his nose. “She touched you,” he realises suddenly. “She tried—” He snaps his head up. “Fuck, are you okay?”

Beomgyu does a sniff check of his own and shrugs. “I smell like us. She didn’t do anything, because you called Hyunjin.”

“I called—” And then he falls silent. Because he remembers that. He remembers thinking that that was a brilliant idea, that he could just call Hyunjin and that he would scare her off. Like… like the stupid little omega they thought he was, calling his alpha the moment he was in trouble.

“You called him,” Beomgyu continues, “And they came. And I think she was already gone by then, but they came anyway. And then they drove us home.” He glances at Jeongin’s phone. “And texted you, apparently.” He lets out a long breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “Shit. That could have ended very differently.” Then his face twists. “And so much for ‘we’ll stay close’. Minji and Jinyoung fucking ditched us. Assholes.” He exhales, looking a little rattled. “Can we agree to not do that again? I love fucking with people’s ideas of what’s proper, but let’s save it for when we’re sober.”

“Agreed,” Jeongin says faintly. He’s sure that this one night of clubbing was enough to last him a lifetime. He stares at his phone again. At the texts from the pack of five that has been chasing him all semester. The people who he’d called like a damsel in distress, and who had come running. Who had driven all the way over to the club in the middle of the night, and who’d taken him and Beomgyu home. And then texted him afterwards, to remind him to drink water.

“Thank god for them,” Beomgyu says fervently. “They saved us last night.”

Jeongin’s face twists. “I didn’t need—”

“We needed saving,” Beomgyu cuts him off, glaring. “Don’t be an asshole. We fucked up last night, and they saved our asses.” When Jeongin doesn’t say anything, he makes an incredulous sound in the back of his throat. “You can’t seriously still think they’re bad people?”

Jeongin opens his mouth. Closes it again.

Beomgyu scoffs and stands up. “If they wanted to fuck you so badly, they had plenty of opportunity last night. Neither of us were in any state to fight them off. Hell, with the way you were all over them, I bet you wouldn’t even have said no.”

Jeongin snaps his head up. “Gyu.”

“What, am I wrong? And that’s not even the fucking point. The point is that they didn’t, because they’re good people. They’re good people who, for some fucking reason, worship the ground you walk on, even though you’ve been nothing but a bitch to them. I get that you have issues. But you need to get your fucking head out of your ass before you’re going to lose what could be the best thing to ever happen to you.”

And with that, Beomgyu walks away, snatching up clothes and locking himself into the bathroom. The shower turns on a few seconds later.

Jeongin stares down at his bedsheets, eyes burning. Beomgyu has never spoken to him like that. They’ve fought before, they’re two headstrong nesting omega roommates, of course they’ve fought before. But not like this.

He swallows and glances at his phone again, at Chan’s message.

I’m incredibly relieved that you’re safe.

We’d love to check on you in person, but if you’re not comfortable with that, we would understand. As always, we’ll respect any boundary you set for us.

And… they have, haven’t they. Beomgyu has been telling him for months, but Jeongin was dead set on believing that they were gross, stereotypical alphas who were only looking for some fun. Because so long as they were assholes who were only looking for a quick fuck, he could ignore them, and pretend that nothing was happening. But… they’re not assholes. They listen to him every time he tells them no. Yes, they keep asking him out, but they don’t press. Whenever he tells them to go, they get up and leave. And last night…

Fuck.

Beomgyu is right. They’re not bad people. And they do like him.

They like him, and they quite possibly want to court him. The thought slams into him like a freight train, and he locks his phone with trembling fingers. They do. They want to court him.

He stares down at his sheets for so long that he doesn’t even hear Beomgyu re-enter the room, although he does feel it when his bed dips and Beomgyu crawls into his nest beside him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, resting his head on Jeongin’s shoulder. His wet hair tickles Jeongin’s cheek.

“They want to court me,” Jeongin whispers back.

“Yes.”

“What do I do.”

“I don’t know, Innie. That’s not up to me.” Beomgyu wraps him up in a soft cloud of caramel. “You’re going to have to figure out if you like them back.”

Jeongin’s eyes keep burning. The hangover again, he thinks as his vision blurs. He is still gross and in desperate need of a shower, but Beomgyu doesn’t care, merely wiping away his tears and hugging him close.

“You don’t have to know right away,” Beomgyu tells him. “But I think it’s time to go have that coffee now.”

Chapter Text

It takes two weeks for Jeongin to work up the nerve to approach Hyunjin. Aside from the terrifying realisation that they like him, he is mortified by what happened. Some parts of that night are still gone, but more flashes of memory came back to him over the course of that first day, and they all make him want to crawl into a hole and die.

He’s seen Hyunjin on campus, but anytime the alpha beamed at him and looked like he was going to approach, Jeongin made a beeline for a random room or building that he had no business being in. He literally spent half an hour in the janitor’s closet a few days ago, and Beomgyu laughed at him for a full hour afterwards.

“Just take the coffee to him,” Beomgyu finally said when he could see Jeongin was genuinely struggling. “That way you don’t have to ask or admit anything.”

There’s nothing to admit. Jeongin is adamant that there isn’t. He’s just going to have coffee with them because he needs to thank them for their help, and because they’re apparently not assholes and he has been one.

So finally, two weeks after the night at the club, he takes a deep breath, clenches his hands around the two coffee cups he’s holding, and steps forward to where Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on the lawn, sketching. “Hey.”

Hyunjin looks up and drops both his pencil and his jaw. “Jeongin! Ssi,” he tacks on hastily, sitting up straight. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Jeongin says again, like the eloquent law student he is. He sticks out his hand. “Here.”

Hyunjin stares at the coffee for three full seconds, and then his entire face lights up. “Really?”

“It’s just coffee,” Jeongin snaps, before taking a deep breath. Fuck, he’s tense.

But Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind. He merely takes the coffee like it’s a crown jewel and looks pleadingly up at Jeongin. “Join me?”

Jeongin sits stiffly down on the grass next to him, and Hyunjin looks like he’s going to have a stroke.

“How have you been?” the alpha asks once he’s stopped vibrating. “I haven’t talked to you in a bit.”

“You haven’t bothered me in a bit,” Jeongin corrects automatically, before biting his tongue. Jesus. Has he completely lost the ability to be nice to anyone? But Hyunjin laughs, loud and bright, his scent spiking in joy, and a part of Jeongin relaxes.

“You haven’t let me,” Hyunjin retorts, taking a sip of coffee. He looks up in surprise. “How did you know I like mochas?”

“I didn’t,” Jeongin lies. “I guessed.”

“Well, you’ve got good instincts.”

Jeongin clearly has terrible instincts, if he not only remembers Hyunjin’s coffee order but actually showed up here to do this, but that’s something to stress about later.

“How have you been though, you and Beomgyu? That night shook us all a little bit, I’m not gonna lie.”

Jeongin feels heat rise up the back of his neck, and he takes a sip of his iced americano to cool down. “I was fine. So was Gyu.” He steels himself. “I want to thank you.”

“Oh. There’s no need, Jeongin-ssi.”

Jeongin takes a breath. He still feels extremely embarrassed about the way he acted that night, but Beomgyu is right. They owe them a lot. “There is. Me and Gyu fucked up. You helped. So. Thank you.”

Hyunjin’s smile is genuine. “You’re welcome.”

“And I’m sorry. For making you do all of that.”

Hyunjin waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. We’re glad you called us.” He bites his lip to hold back a grin. “Besides, I meant what I texted you. You were adorable.” Jeongin bristles, but before he can say anything, Hyunjin continues, “It’s probably a good thing I’ve at least seen you walk around campus these two weeks though. Channie-hyung was ridiculously worried.” He rolls his eyes. “Like, he saw Binnie-hyung carry you in, I have no idea what he thought could go wrong after that. You were drunk, but not die-in-your-sleep drunk.”

“Changbin-ssi carried me in?” Jeongin echoes, horrified.

“Yeah, he had to support—wait. You don’t remember?” A wide grin spreads across Hyunjin’s face. At Jeongin’s telling silence, it stretches even wider. “Oh my god. Does that mean you also don’t remember the part where you threw up on Jisungie?”

Jeongin goes pale. “I threw up?”

Hyunjin bursts into giggles. “No. No, Jeongin-ssi, you didn’t.”

Jeongin feels a rush of relief and exasperation at the same time.

“You did beg us to take you home with us though.”

“Nice try.”

“No,” Hyunjin insists, still giggling, “I swear. This one you did do. You said, ‘I wanna go home with you’, and you looked super pouty.”

To Jeongin’s dismay, Hyunjin looks like he’s telling the truth, and he pulls a face. “I’m never drinking again.”

Hyunjin laughs louder. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Maybe skip the wasted clubbing on your own though, I think Channie-hyung could do without the heart attack.”

A part of Jeongin wants to lash out at being told what to do. And yet, he knows he can’t really argue, because Hyunjin has a right to tell him this. Jeongin fucked up, and they went out of their way to fix it. And also, Hyunjin doesn’t sound preachy about it. So instead he sighs, “You can tell him me and Gyu won’t be doing it again.”

“Oh, good. I’ll text him now, he’ll be ecstatic.” Hyunjin digs his phone out from his pocket and immediately pales when he checks the screen. “Oh no.”

“What?” Jeongin says.

“I forgot to take the laundry out last night.” When Jeongin looks unimpressed, he adds, “No, you don’t understand, Jeongin-ssi. Minho-hyung is going to kill me because this is like, the third time this month. I need to run. I need to get into the witness protection programme.”

“That’s not how that works,” Jeongin says, with an odd sense of déjà vu. But Hyunjin has already gone off on a tangent about his life on the run and all the harrowing things that are for sure going to happen to him in his attempts to escape the country, and Jeongin takes another sip of his coffee as he listens. He chimes in every now and then with corrections and sarcastic comments, and Hyunjin’s narrative changes direction as he seamlessly weaves them into it, and it’s… surprisingly not awkward. Somehow this isn’t too different from all the times Hyunjin sat down next to him and blathered on about something or other while Jeongin tried to ignore him so he could study.

He doesn’t mind this, he realises. He’s not uncomfortable, and not annoyed. It’s… fun. He doesn’t know what that means and he doesn’t want to think about that either. He just drinks his coffee and makes fun of Hyunjin as he tells his stories, and it’s nice.

He doesn’t even notice that their coffees are gone until Hyunjin looks over apologetically. “I’ve got to go,” he says. “I would cancel literally anything else, but I need to pick Sungie up, and it’s important.”

“Oh,” Jeongin says, hastily getting up, “No, of course.” He checks his phone. It’s been over an hour. What the hell.

“Wait,” Hyunjin says quickly, standing too, “Can we… meet up again? For coffee? I really enjoyed this, Jeongin-ssi.”

He looks and smells incredibly earnest. And even though a part of Jeongin wants to run away screaming, he says, “Okay.” It’s just coffee, after all. It doesn’t have to mean anything more. After another second, he sighs. “Also, you can drop the honorifics.”

Hyunjin’s entire face lights up again. “Jeonginnie! Does that mean—”

“If you want me to call you hyung,” Jeongin says, “You’re going to shut up now.”

“Shutting up,” Hyunjin grins, only to immediately add, “Oh my god. You’re not going to regret this.” He hoists his bag over his shoulder and begins backing away in the direction of the parking garage, narrowly avoiding walking into a wall. “Bye, Jeonginnie! It was nice to see you!”

Jeongin doesn’t reply, but watches him leave. He can’t deny it, though. It was nice. It still doesn’t mean anything, but it was nice.

***

They do meet up again, the following week. This time Jisung and Minho are there too, because Hyunjin had texted Jeongin if that was okay, and Jeongin had agreed.

“Sorry for cutting your meet-up short last week,” Jisung says after they’ve sat down at a table. “I get anxious on public transport and Jinnie was my ride home from therapy.”

Jeongin blinks at the way he just said that, without any sense of shame or self-consciousness. Not that there is anything to be ashamed by, of course not, but Jisung is an alpha and a part of Jeongin wasn’t expecting this much openness. His father has always considered omega therapy the only useful kind of therapy, because no other subgender should need it.

“It’s okay,” he tells Jisung. “He already said that it was important.”

“Normally Minho-hyung drives me,” Jisung continues, “But he’s inheriting a dance studio so he’s super busy!”

“I’m not inheriting a dance studio,” Minho says with an eyeroll. “He’s not dead, Jisung-ah.” He looks at Jeongin. “I’m taking it over, because the owner is retiring. He used to be my mentor.”

Jeongin didn’t even know Minho danced. He realises for the first time that he has no idea what any of them do for a living. He doesn’t even know how old they are, exactly. He does know, for some reason, that Minho eats spice like it’s sugar, that Jisung sleeps curled up on his side, and that Changbin watched a documentary on missing planes in April. Jeongin blames Hyunjin for this, because Hyunjin has the prioritisation skills of a toddler.

“That’s cool,” he says eventually, when he realises he’s been quiet for too long. He means it, but it sounds lame, like he’s not interested at all.

But before it can get awkward, Jisung shyly asks, “Do you dance?”

Jeongin shakes his head. “That night at the club was pretty much the only dancing I’ve done in my life.” He takes a breath. “Which I want to apologise for, by the way. I shouldn’t have called you over.”

Jisung smiles. “It’s okay. We didn’t mind.”

Minho leans forward. “If you’re ever in a similar situation, I want you to call us, or anyone else who’ll come for you. It doesn’t have to be us, but none of us will ever mind if you do. Just stay safe.”

Jeongin might have bristled at the implication that he needs protection, but there’s something in Minho’s eyes that is suddenly very serious, instead of the typical alpha superiority Jeongin is used to. He finds his usual anger subsiding, and gives a simple nod in response.

Minho holds his gaze for a few more seconds before turning around just in time to intercept Hyunjin and take the tray of coffee and pastries from his hands. Hyunjin beams at him. “Thanks!”

“You were just going to spill it,” Minho says, ushering him into a seat.

“I’m not the one who spills coffee around here,” Hyunjin retorts, winking at Jeongin as he flops into a seat.

Jeongin raises an eyebrow. “What, is you wearing black today an invitation?”

Hyunjin bursts into laughter, and Jeongin’s mouth quirks up. Over the next hour, he finds out that Jisung makes music with Changbin and Chan, and that they are a lot better than he was expecting. He learns their ages, and coffee orders, and that Minho’s mouth crooks slightly when his smile is sarcastic. He learns that he feels a slight feeling of disappointment when the hour is over and he has to get to the summer class he signed up for, but that the feeling dissolves when Hyunjin asks if they can have coffee again a few days later.

That still doesn’t mean anything except that they’re people that he doesn’t mind hanging out with, of course. Jeongin thinks he could become friends with them.

***

They go for more coffees, two or three times a week. They generally go to the same café because it’s quiet and doesn’t trigger Jisung’s anxiety, and whenever Jisung is with them Jeongin can tell they all keep an eye on him. They really are good people, he realises, all five of them. He can’t deny it anymore, not now that he’s actually looking.

This is further proven when he’s on his way to the café with Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin one afternoon.

“Looking good, omega!” someone whistles from somewhere behind Jeongin. He stiffens and glances over his shoulder to see who called out.

It’s a female alpha a few years older than him, and she was not talking to him. She’s grinning at an omega boy who is waiting for the bus, crouched by his backpack to dig through it. When he realises she’s talking to him, he stiffens too and quickly stands back up to tug down his skirt.

Jeongin stops walking to see if he’s going to need to step in, but the bus arrives before the alpha can say anything else, and the boy gets on. The alpha leers at him through the window as the bus drives by, making a lewd gesture as she waves him off.

There’s a spike of angry woodsmoke behind him, and Jeongin turns to find Changbin glaring at her. “Hyung,” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” Chan says, not even looking at him, “Let’s go.”

To Jeongin’s surprise, they don’t turn back in the direction of the café, but start moving towards the alpha. He glances at Hyunjin, who is grinning. “They do this,” he shrugs. “We can leave if you wanna get away from her, but I think you’ll like this.”

Jeongin blinks. Lets his eyes drift back to Chan and Changbin, who are still marching towards the girl. Surprise swirls in Jeongin’s stomach. Are they seriously going to…

“Hey!” Changbin calls, and the alpha turns towards them.

Yes, apparently. They are.

“You think that’s a normal way to treat people?”

The girl rolls her eyes. “I just gave him a compliment. No harm in compliments, is there?” But the fact that she knows immediately what they’re talking about shows that she knows very well that what she did was wrong. She just doesn’t care.

Clearly, Chan sees this too. He raises an eyebrow. “Being sexually harassed is a compliment?”

“Oh, come on.” She looks annoyed now. “I was just joking around. Stop making this such a big deal.” When Changbin steps closer so he’s right up in her space, she takes a step back. “Go away.”

“Oh,” Chan smiles in fake surprise, crowding in as well. “I’m sorry. Are we harassing you?”

“Yes,” she snaps, shrinking back further. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Then quit doing it to other people,” Chan snaps back. “Show some fucking decency.”

And with that, they turn and walk back to where Hyunjin and Jeongin are waiting. “Sorry about that,” Chan says lightly when they reach them. “Let’s get that coffee now.” Like nothing happened at all.

A month ago, Jeongin would have told himself that they only did it to fool him. And that thought does occur to him today too, but it doesn’t stick. Because the way they did it, the effortless teamwork, shows practice. The way Hyunjin showed not even a hint of surprise indicates that this is not the first time they’ve done it. And now that they’re back, neither Chan nor Changbin are looking to Jeongin for compliments or awe. They just smile at him and keep walking, and Jeongin follows, feeling oddly warm.

***

Jeongin finds himself looking forward to their meet-ups. Enough to agree to go to the café with Chan and Jisung on a day when Hyunjin can’t make it. It could have been awkward, because thus far Hyunjin has always been there as the world’s most aggravating social lubricant, but in the end it’s not awkward at all.

Jisung shows Jeongin a video of a day earlier this year when Changbin tried to help Minho in their new vegetable patch only to accidentally mistake Minho’s freshly sprouting spinach for weeds and uproot them all, and the video shows Minho chasing him down with a clump of murdered greens. Jeongin can hear Hyunjin’s laugh in the background, but he’s a little too busy laughing himself at the expression on Changbin’s face as he backs away from Minho and nearly trips over a garden hoe.

Jisung’s scent next to him is bright and happy as he shakes with giggles, and Chan’s smile across the table is fond.

Over the next few hours, they talk about Jisung’s so-far-unsuccessful attempts to convince Changbin and Minho to get a dog, and about how Chan lost every single game of Uno they played at home that weekend, and Jeongin is just… having fun. Even if he doesn’t share much about himself, he feels relaxed. He likes hanging out with them, and when they part ways again later, he finds himself already looking forward to the next time.

***

As they keep meeting up, he slowly relaxes more in their presence. He still knows a lot more about them than they do about him, but they never push for information, and somehow he gradually opens up a little all by himself. He doesn’t share anything too personal, but he no longer keeps all his walls up the way he does with his classmates.

“I’m from Busan,” he tells Changbin and Hyunjin when they walk him back to campus one afternoon, in response to Hyunjin’s statement that he’s never lived outside of Seoul.

“We know,” Changbin smiles.

Jeongin frowns. “How?” He worked hard on his city accent, even before he got here, and he thinks he’s pretty good now.

Hyunjin laughs. “Innie, that first angry rant you gave me was one hundred percent Busan satoori.”

Jeongin pulls a face. “I was mad. I wasn’t exactly focused on elocution.”

“Oh, you were plenty eloquent,” Hyunjin snorts. “Just also very Busan. Are you from the city?”

“The outskirts,” Jeongin answers. “Near Daecheon Park. It’s pretty.”

“I’ve been to Busan,” Changbin says, “But we always stayed near the beach. My mom likes the sea, and my dads generally go wherever she wants.”

“How big is your family pack?” Jeongin asks curiously.

“My mom is pack alpha, and I’ve got three dads and an older sister,” Changbin answers. “You?”

“Just my mom and dad, and I have two brothers.”

“They’re all still in Busan?” When Jeongin nods, Changbin adds, “Do you miss them?”

Jeongin shrugs. “I’m going back next week.”

Hyunjin whirls around. “You’re moving back?”

He looks so horrified at the thought of Jeongin leaving that Jeongin feels his lips twitch in amusement. “Yes. I think it’s time.”

“No,” Hyunjin breathes, looking stricken.

Over Hyunjin’s shoulder, Changbin is laughing, and Jeongin bites back a grin.

“But…” Hyunjin’s eyes are shiny now, and Jeongin lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Are you crying?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin sniffs, “Because we only just started having coffee together, and I—”

“I’m going home for a week, hyung.”

“—had so many more things I- wait, what?”

“It’s summer,” Jeongin says, shoulders shaking with laughter. “I’m gonna visit my parents.”

“You’re coming back?”

“I’ve literally barely started my studies. Of course I’m coming back.” He hopes. Because technically, his father still has the power to pull him out of school, and there’s always that gnawing fear that he will. Beomgyu had already said that his mom would be willing to talk to his father again if he had any concerns, and although Jeongin hopes they won’t need that, it’s nice to have a back-up plan.

He’s not entirely sure how he feels about going home. He has missed his family. He can’t wait to see his mother again, and talk to Mingun in person, and visit Jihwan. He’s even missed his father, in a way. But at the same time he knows that now that he’s experienced life outside of their traditional bubble, there’s no way he’s going to be able to fit himself back into it. It’s why he signed up for two different summer classes after exams, so that he’d only have a one-week break to go back to Busan. He doesn’t think he could spend an entire summer there.

“Oh,” Hyunjin says with a relieved smile, stirring him out of his thoughts. He’s brightened considerably, all sadness forgotten. “I’m so glad! When will you be back?”

“He hasn’t left yet, you idiot,” Changbin says, rolling his eyes.

Jeongin smiles. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“And when you’re back, we can get coffee again?”

He huffs. “We’ll see. I’ll text you.”

Hyunjin beams, and Jeongin shakes his head. He will come back though. No matter what it takes, he will come back.

*

That night Beomgyu watches him pack his suitcase. He is quiet. Jeongin thinks Beomgyu is thinking about Jeongin’s trip home, because they were just talking about that, but then Beomgyu says, “You’ve been meeting up with them for a month.”

Jeongin shrugs and puts another shirt in his suitcase. “Yeah.”

“And you’ve been enjoying it.”

Jeongin hums. “We’re kinda friends now, I think.”

“Just friends?”

Jeongin looks up. “Yes, Gyu. Just friends.”

“They still want to court you.”

“I don’t want to court them.”

Beomgyu sighs.

“I don’t.”

“You think they’re hot.”

“Sure. They are. That doesn’t mean anything.”

Beomgyu snorts.

“You’re hot too,” Jeongin points out as he starts folding socks, “And I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“But you do want to sleep with them.” When Jeongin snaps his head up to glare at him, Beomgyu adds, “Maybe not now. But in general. You think they’re attractive, and you’d like to get to know them better, and if you did and you found you still liked them, you’d probably want to take things further, right?”

“What are you saying, Gyu.”

“I’m saying that you promised me you’d figure out your feelings, and that I think it’s time to be honest with yourself.”

“I am honest with myself,” Jeongin snaps. “I don’t want to court them. I don’t want to mate.” That’s not a lie. He really, definitely doesn’t want to mate. To become the sole omega to a pack of five, a pack that includes four alphas that will all legally be in charge of him… It makes his lungs tighten. He can’t. He won’t ever want that.

Beomgyu’s voice softens. “They’re not traditional, Innie. It wouldn’t be like your parents.”

“I said no. Drop it, Gyu.”

Beomgyu sighs. “Alright. I’m giving you a week. Go back home, go spend time with your family, and see how you feel after that. But the next time we’re having this conversation, we’re finishing it.”

Jeongin laughs mockingly. “What are you now, my therapist?”

“Not that you wouldn’t benefit from one, but no,” Beomgyu snaps. “I’m your friend. And you’re scared, and I get that. But I’m not going to let you run away from this, not when I can see how happy it makes you.” When Jeongin opens his mouth, Beomgyu holds up his hand. “Yes, fine, I’ll drop it. Go home, Innie. Think about—actually, you know what, don’t. Don’t think about it at all this week.”

“Gladly,” Jeongin says. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

A silence falls, and Jeongin packs three more shirts and two pairs of jeans.

Finally, Beomgyu says, quietly, “I hope you have a nice week though. Really. Say hi to Mingun for me. And if your dad tries to unenroll you, call me. My mom said she has some ideas, if that happens.”

Jeongin slumps, staring down at his half-packed suitcase. “Yeah. I will.” He’s startled when Beomgyu slips off his bed to give him a hug, but he drops his forehead to Beomgyu’s shoulder anyway. “Thanks, Gyu,” he whispers.

“Anytime. Now hurry up and finish packing, because we have five more episodes to watch and if we don’t get through them tonight, I am not waiting a week to finish the season.”

Jeongin lets out a laugh and shoves him away. “Traitor.”

***

When his father arrives the next day, Beomgyu has already left. He wanted to wait with Jeongin, but his family had lunch plans with his grandparents, and Jeongin had told him to go. As Jeongin’s registered alpha, his father is allowed in the omega dorm, and so that’s where Jeongin is waiting.

Just a little past noon, there’s a knock on the door, and Jeongin opens it, laying eyes on his father in person for the first time since January. The man is wearing dark trousers and a button-up shirt like always, and he smells like oakwood, strong and familiar.

The scent hits Jeongin like a truck. “Appa,” he breathes, a little overwhelmed by how much he’s missed it. He bows his head in automatic greeting.

“Jeongin-ah.” His father’s voice sounds gruff, and he taps him on the shoulder and then slides his hand to the back of Jeongin’s neck to pull him close, resting his chin on top of Jeongin’s head.

Jeongin slips his arms around his father’s middle and allows him to drag his wrist across Jeongin’s neck gland to scent him. He breathes in, and it smells like home. “I missed you,” he admits in a sudden rush of emotion. Because he did. Their relationship is complicated, but he still loves him, and he suddenly feels guilty for how much he was dreading this. This is his father. Jeongin is so glad he’s here. He hugs him tighter.

“I should have picked you up sooner,” his father mutters, with a brief squeeze of the back of his neck. “You don’t belong here, Jeongin-ah.”

And with that, all of Jeongin’s warm happiness splinters away as ice cold reality crashes over him. Right. This is why he was dreading this.

He stiffly pulls back. “I do, appa. I’m doing really well.”

“You nearly broke down the moment you saw me. You are not doing well.”

Jeongin has gone from happy to tense and locked-up within five seconds flat, and he sets his jaw. “I was merely happy to see you.” Don’t show emotion, Hyeri had said during their first omega meeting. Jeongin should have remembered that that’s something that applies to more than just school.

“I am fine,” he says tightly. “Like I told you every time over the phone.”

His father sighs. “Let’s get you home.”

“For the week,” Jeongin warns him. “My second summer class starts next Monday, so I need to be back by then.”

His father’s lips press together, but he doesn’t argue. Jeongin doesn’t relax at that exactly, but he does follow his father out of the dorm and to his car. The drive back to Busan is filled with as much silence as the drive up to Seoul six months ago.

*

“Jeongin-ah,” his mother gasps the moment he exits the car, rushing over to sweep him into her arms. “Oh, my baby.”

“Eomma,” Jeongin mumbles as he hesitantly wraps his hands around her. He wants to bury his nose in her neck and cry because of how much he’s missed her, but he won’t. He’s not going to give his father any more reason to think he’s weak and incapable.

Still, he does allow her to scent him, and Jeongin can sense his own scent sweetening as her vanilla layers on top of his.

“You’re so thin!”

“I’m not, eomma.”

She’s not listening, her face the picture of worry. “Oh, you must have been so stressed and scared.”

Jeongin pulls a face. “I’m not stressed and scared, I’m fine.” He really is fine. He weighs pretty much the same as he did when he left, and he knows he’s healthy. But it’s clear she isn’t registering a word he’s saying, because she drags him away immediately.

“Come on, I have dinner ready. Alpha!” she calls over to his father. “Come soon, please?”

His father grunts from where he’s still seated in the driver’s seat, checking his phone. He mutters something, but since his mother is already pulling Jeongin inside, they don’t hear him.

“Hello,” Mingun says, amused, as Jeongin is unceremoniously shoved into the kitchen chair next to him.

Despite himself, Jeongin grins at him. “Hi, Gunnie.”

“Nice drive back?”

Jeongin rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah. Nice and quiet and tense as fuck.”

“Yang Jeongin!” his mother calls, and Jeongin winces.

“Sorry, eomma.”

Mingun laughs. “You’re out of the city now, hyung. Time to censor yourself.”

“Clearly,” Jeongin mutters, but he accepts Mingun’s side hug. He watches his mother walk back and forth to the kitchen to place all the dishes on the table. He offers to help, but she won’t let him, merely brushing a hand through his hair every time she walks past, clearly overjoyed to have him back. His father walks in a few minutes later, and Jeongin watches as his mother bows her head respectfully. His father strokes her scent gland and tips her head back up, and she smiles at him.

Is this what the pack would want from him, if he let them mate him? Submissive bows and dinner on the stove when they come home? Jeongin was starving when he came in, but suddenly, he’s no longer all that hungry.

His mother serves his father, and then Mingun, and then Jeongin and herself. “I made all your favourites,” she assures him, squeezing his hand. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re back, sweetheart.” She turns to his father. “How was the drive?”

“It took us an hour to get out of Seoul,” he answers, rubbing his face. “It’s like the whole damn city was trying to go south. After that we were fine.” He slides a slice of pork into his mouth, and his mother shifts her attention to Mingun to wait for him to eat as well.

Jeongin watches them. It’s probably a good thing he lost most of his appetite, because he would not have remembered to wait right now, not after six months without any care for dinner hierarchy. It occurs to him that he’s never waited to eat around the pack, during their coffee meet-ups. They’ve ordered cake or pastries more than once, and he’s always just dug in. They’ve never said anything, but would they? If he were theirs?

“You can eat, hyung,” Mingun whispers with a little nudge, and Jeongin blinks.

He takes a bite of pork himself and chews. It’s good. It’s so good. His mother is a fantastic cook. Guess that happens when it’s all you’ve specialised in since you were a kid, he thinks darkly. And maybe that kind of life is enough for his mother, but it’s not enough for him. Existing as someone’s live-in servant sounds like his worst nightmare, and he never, ever wants to mate.

His father tells his mother something, and she laughs, smiling again.

And okay. It’s not like his father doesn’t love his mother. Jeongin can see that he does. But he still expects her to submit to him in everything, and the very idea of leading a life like that horrifies him.

“Hyung.”

“Huh?”

“Eat.”

“Oh.” Jeongin eats, before his father can somehow decide that thinking is a sign of ill health too, and tries to pay more attention to the conversation. They talk about his father’s work, and the astronomy club Mingun runs at school, and his mother slips more food onto Jeongin’s plate every few minutes, despite Jeongin’s protests.

“How was your first summer class?” Mingun asks eventually, grinning. “Did you beat Kim Seyoung like you wanted?”

Jeongin grins back. “She barely did any of the reading, and professor Lee got so fed up with her that he actually picked on her more than on me.”

Mingun laughs, but he’s the only one.

His mother has gone pale, and his father’s face is set in disapproval. Damn it. Jeongin momentarily forgot that the things he tells Mingun are things he doesn’t share with his parents for a reason.

“The professors pick on you?” his mother asks quietly.

“It’s not bad,” Jeongin says. “Just everyday sexism. I can handle it.”

This clearly does not reassure her, and she looks like she’s about to cry.

“Jeongin,” his father starts, “Surely you can see how stupid it is, what you’re doing?”

And somehow, even after Jeongin had drawn his walls back up after his father’s comments earlier today, this pierces him right through his chest. For a second, he can only stare at him.

“Alpha,” his mother says, placing a hand on his father’s, and then to Jeongin, “That’s not what he meant, sweetheart.”

Jeongin takes a shaky breath and puts down his chopsticks. “I am in the top five of my year,” he tells his father. “Among two hundred students, I landed a spot in the top five. You do not know this, because you never asked. But I did. I’m studying law, and I’m good at it. If you honestly still think I’m stupid—” He feels his throat close, and he swallows. Goddammit. He always gets so fucking emotional around his father, and it proves the exact opposite of what he wants to prove.

So instead of continuing, he shakes his head and stands.

“I did not excuse you,” his father says, and Jeongin whirls around and does what he always ends up doing when he’s around his father. He loses his temper.

“Oh please, high and mighty alpha of this family,” he says mockingly, folding himself in the deepest, most over-the-top bow he can manage, “May I, your stupid useless omega son, please leave this table?”

Dead silence.

His father stands. “Yang Jeongin.” His voice is dangerously quiet.

Jeongin curses himself. Too far. He took this too far, and he knows it. He wants to scream, at his father and at himself and at this entire house, but he takes a deep breath instead. “I am sorry,” he grits out, and changing his bow into one that is actually suitable for the apology he’s uttering. He holds the bow for a very, very long minute, because his father stays silent. He knows better than to rise without permission though. As angry as he is, he knows that that was not the way to go about this. He thought that after six months of studying law he’d learned better, but his father has always been good at making him snap and lose all reason.

His father’s stare is a heavy weight on the back of his head, but eventually, all he says is a tense, “Sit back down. Your mother worked hard on this dinner, and you will eat it.”

Guilt flashes through Jeongin. “I’m sorry, eomma,” he says as he looks up.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” his mother says, but she looks sad.

Jeongin sits back down and eats the rest of his meal in silence. After they’re done, he mumbles a compliment to his mother, who gives him a hug, and then follows his family to the living room, where he silently kneels on his pillow by Mingun’s chair as his father turns on the news.

It’s his own pillow, the one he’s used for years. He sits in the same spot he’s sat in for years, and Mingun is a quiet presence behind him the way he has been for years.

Jeongin feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin. He doesn’t remember it ever feeling this wrong. But it does now. The house still looks like home, still smells like home, but he knows it can never be his home again. If he is forced to live here again, it’s going to swallow him whole.

***

Jeongin spends the night in his own bed, in a bedroom that’s clean and free of dust and smells fresh. Maybe his mother cleaned it before he came, but he suspects she’s been doing it regularly ever since he left, just in case he agreed to come back. He builds a new nest before he goes to sleep, but purposely spends less time on it than he does on his nests in his dorm room back in Seoul. It’s a temporary nest. It’ll be enough for comfort, but he will not be staying here for more than a week. This nest is a promise.

The next day, Jihwan and Jimin come to visit, and Jihwan spins Jeongin around in the biggest bear hug when he walks in. “Hyung!” Jeongin protests, even if he can’t help but let out a laugh. Jihwan did become a firefighter like he wanted, and he clearly spends a lot of time working out at the station.

“Jeonginnie!” Jihwan cheers. “I’ve missed you!”

Jeongin slaps his chest, which is like a brick wall. “Ugh. Put me down.”

Jihwan puts him down and looks him over. “Are you okay? We worry about you.”

“I’m fine,” Jeongin sighs. “Like I keep telling you.”

He does, because whenever Jihwan texts or calls, that’s usually the reason why he’s checking in. Jeongin doesn’t mind it too much, because unlike when he still lived at home, Jihwan isn’t as pushy now. These days he seems to reserve the obsessive alpha concern for Jimin, as proven when he jumps into action the moment Jimin starts carrying in the food she prepared for their lunch, and he motions for her to hand him the pot she’s holding.

Jeongin watches them. Jimin laughs and lets Jihwan take the pot from her hands. She seems happy. She always seems happy to let Jihwan take care of her. Jeongin watches the way his mother embraces Jimin warmly, and the way his father smiles at her, and the way Jimin interacts with them, bright-eyed and submissive and sweet, like the picture-perfect omega she is. Jimin is the omega child their parents always wanted and never got, because they got Jeongin instead.

Jeongin shoves down the feeling that wells up inside him before he can examine it too closely. It doesn’t matter. After all, he doesn’t want to be like Jimin. If that’s the way he needs to be for his parents to approve of him, then he doesn’t want it. He turns away and leaves to set the table.

Over lunch, everyone seems to have agreed to avoid the topic of Jeongin’s studies altogether. Instead, they talk about Jimin’s book club, and the neighbours who are expecting their sixth pup, and Mingun’s college preparations. He’s planning to study astrophysics, and his father gives him approving looks every time it’s brought up. Jeongin looks away every time, shoving down more feelings, and is grateful when Mingun changes the topic. Mingun looks apologetically at him every time and he clearly feels awkward about it, but Jeongin shakes his head. It’s fine. He knows Mingun hates confrontation and isn’t the type to speak up, and Jeongin doesn’t expect that from him. Mingun is his little brother, and should not have to fight Jeongin’s battles for him. Knowing that Mingun is in his corner is enough.

That night, after Jihwan and Jimin have left, his father spaces his mother for half an hour the way he’s done three times a week for longer than Jeongin has been alive. Jeongin watches as his mother’s scent melts into something soft and spacious and open, even as she keeps her posture straight. Perfect submission, effortless and proper, in the way that Jeongin doesn’t doubt Jimin does for Jihwan.

Would the pack expect Jeongin to do this, if he let them court him? Probably. They don’t have an omega yet, so surely they’ll want this. His skin crawls, and his hands clench around the edges of his own pillow.

His father leans forward and whispers something, and his mother’s scent pulses with soft happiness. And again, sure, Jeongin can see that his mother doesn’t mind being spaced. That she enjoys it, and that his father takes good care of her when she’s under. But the very thought of giving up control like that, of losing himself and letting someone control him like that, makes him feel sick. Never. He’ll never, ever let anyone space him.

“Hyung, do you know this one?” Mingun asks, drawing Jeongin’s attention away from his parents. He’s doing a crossword puzzle, and points to a clue that says “legal right (10)”.

Jeongin looks at the puzzle and the letters Mingun’s already got, and mutters, “Due process.”

Mingun’s scent brightens, and he writes it down. “What does it mean?”

“That all laws and regulations are respected when someone is being tried,” Jeongin answers. That’s a simplification, but it works. He huffs. “It’s supposed to make sure people are treated fairly, which is a nice thought, but it only works if the law is fair, you know?”

“And it’s not,” Mingun says, with the confidence of someone who has listened to Jeongin rant a thousand times.

Jeongin smiles wryly up at him. “And it’s not.”

Mingun looks hesitant. “Do you think it’ll ever be?”

Jeongin sighs. “I don’t know. Jeon In-ho from the Progressive Party recently proposed a bill that would make it easier for omegas to start a business without their registered alpha’s approval, but the National Assembly rejected it.”

Mingun frowns. “Do you think it’ll get passed in the future?”

“I don’t know,” Jeongin says again. “I hope so. Not with this Assembly, for sure. But maybe after the next elections. Jeon In-ho got barely any support from the other parties, but there were a few demonstrations across the country that were trying to draw attention for it, so there’s at least part of the public that would support it.” He sighs. “A minority though. I think we have a long way to go before we get change like that.”

Mingun opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say anything, Jeongin’s father says, “Jeongin-ah, time for our check-in.”

Jeongin looks over to find his mother up and aware again, though she’s still kneeling next to his father. His father is looking at him expectantly, and Jeongin sighs in annoyance. “I’m fine. I already told you, and so did Mrs Choi.”

“And I’d like to make sure of that,” his father says. “Come here.”

Jeongin grits his teeth. To go from a conversation about politics and omega rights with Mingun to being treated like he’s a child who can’t determine for himself whether he’s healthy or not is enough to make his blood boil. Beomgyu’s mother had called his father a few days ago to assure him she’d spaced Jeongin for an extra long period of time before Jeongin’s trip to Busan, and promised to do the same thing afterwards, just to get him out of spacing while he was here. And his father had already agreed, so the fact that he’s still bringing it up makes Jeongin want to scream.

He rises and stalks over, because like hell is he going to shuffle forwards on his knees the way he used to. “I’m fine,” he hisses, sticking his wrist out.

His father ignores him and starts his check-in, the way he did every day during the year before Jeongin moved to Seoul. Jeongin sits through the scenting and prodding and the list of questions, and only goes along with it because he knows that his father won’t find anything wrong, and it’ll be quicker if he cooperates. When the man finally declares Jeongin fine, he wants to hiss at him that he has been fine for months without spacing, and that he’ll be fine without spacing for the rest of his life. But he doesn’t, because he still wants to go back to Seoul, and revealing the truth would ruin the whole system he’s set up. The system is a web of lies, but he refuses to feel guilty about that. If his parents leave him with no other option than to lie, they don’t get to complain about him doing it.

“Appa, I wanna show hyung my star charts,” Mingun says the moment Jeongin is released. “Can we be excused?”

Jeongin sends his brother a grateful look when his father agrees and Mingun drags Jeongin upstairs with him. Five more days, he tells himself. Five more days and he can leave again.

***

In the days after that, Jeongin finds himself falling back into old habits, into a familiar routine. And the confusing thing is—not everything about it feels bad. Because he likes singing songs with his mother while they do the dishes, laughing as he tries to harmonise with the increasingly complex melodies she throws at him. And he doesn’t mind the way his father scents him when he comes home from work, because unlike his check-ins, his greeting scentings are brief and fond. And on Wednesday, his mother bakes Jeongin’s favourite pastries, and his father says that Jeongin can pick the movie they watch that night, and Jeongin is reminded of the reasons why he loves his family.

He does love them, as much as he also misses his life in Seoul. He flickers oddly between comforting nostalgia at spending time with his family and skin-crawling wrongness every time he is reminded of his place in this household. It feels like he’s on a strange, time-travelling holiday into his past, and it’s a relief to know that at the end of the week he’ll get to go back to his present and future over in Seoul. It’s a confusing week, and it’s often aggravating. But despite that, Jeongin decides he still doesn’t regret coming back, because it’s just for these seven days and even if his parents don’t really understand him, he can at least appreciate the good moments.

And then Friday comes, and he is reminded of all the reasons he left and can never stay here again.

*

On Friday, his parents have guests over, because his father finished an important project at work. So his coworker is coming over along with her family, her omega mate and alpha son.

His mother spends nearly the entire day in the kitchen, and because of that, so does Jeongin. He doesn’t like cooking, and technically he knows he could get out of it, if he asked his mother nicely. But he doesn’t want to make her do everything on her own, and so he helps her cook jjigae and dak galbi and soup and countless side dishes, until she eventually sends him off to his room to change into more formal clothes.

He doesn’t think anything of it. Stupidly, stupidly, he doesn’t think anything is up until the Kims have arrived and they’re all sitting down for dinner and the alphas have taken their first bites and his father tells the Kims’ twenty-five-year-old alpha son Sung-hyuk, “Jeongin made the dak galbi. Isn’t it good?”

And Jeongin’s heart plummets to his feet. Surely not. Surely he’s wrong, surely—

“It is,” Sung-hyuk says, smiling at Jeongin. “You’re a very good cook, Jeongin-ssi.”

Jeongin feels like his tongue has turned to ash. He looks at his father, who nods at him encouragingly, and then at his mother, who sends him a pleading look, and then he directs his gaze down at his plate, because if he doesn’t, he might just throw up. No, he’s not wrong. This isn’t an end-of-project celebration for his father. This is a courtship dinner, and the Kims are not here for the food. They’re here for Jeongin.

Jeongin feels completely blindsided. He can’t believe this. He can’t believe his parents did this, without a single word of warning.

“Do you cook often, Jeongin-ssi?” Sung-hyuk asks. His voice is soft and rich, and yet it makes Jeongin want to rip his ears off.

Under the table, a pale-faced Mingun nudges his wrist, and Jeongin realises how hard his fingers are digging into his thighs. He relaxes them. Mingun squeezes his hand and then lets go, and Jeongin inhales. He wants to leave. But he can’t, because there is a difference between shouting at his father behind closed doors, and doing so in front of his colleague, and he knows that’s a line he can’t cross.

“No,” he answers bluntly. His father sends him a look, but he ignores it. He won’t make a scene, but he is not going to sit here and lie and pretend to be someone he’s not.

Sung-hyuk laughs. “Oh, me neither. I’m terrible at cooking.”

“You are good at it though, sweetheart,” his mother tells Jeongin, smiling at him hopefully.

Jeongin’s skin crawls. Hell no. “I’m also good at punching people,” is what comes out of his mouth unbidden, “And yet I don’t make a habit of that either.”

“Jeongin!” his father snaps, even as Mingun splutters out a laugh and tries to disguise it as a cough.

Sung-hyuk looks bewildered. “You punched someone?”

“Mm-hm.” Jeongin leans back in his chair. “An alpha. Gave him a black eye.”

Sung-hyuk’s eyes widen. “Oh my god. Why? Were you attacked?”

Jeongin is about to embellish the story further, but then he notices his mother’s wide, panicked eyes. Not because of his manners this time, but because of what Jeongin is sharing, and the idea of him being attacked. Shit. He sighs. “I wasn’t attacked. I tripped and accidentally hit him in the face with my law book.”

Sung-hyuk still looks concerned. “And he didn’t get angry?”

Jeongin narrows his eyes. “Would you have gotten angry?”

Sung-hyuk blinks, taken aback. “Um. Maybe? I mean, if it was an accident I would have understood, I’m not saying I would have hit back or anything. But I wouldn’t exactly have been happy about it.”

“Well, he was,” Jeongin snaps.

“He was… happy about being punched in the face?” Sung-hyuk asks, looking amused. His eyebrows are raised slightly, like he thinks Jeongin is lying.

“Yes,” Jeongin says tersely. He’s aware that it makes him sound petulant and childish, but it’s the truth. Hyunjin had been in pain and yet he’d looked sincerely joyful about getting punched in the face.

“Jeongin,” his father says mildly, but Jeongin can hear the warning in his voice.

“Your father said you’re studying law for now,” Sung-hyuk says, changing the topic.

Jeongin’s hands clench into fists. His father had talked to Sung-hyuk before today. He’d set up this dinner and told Sung-hyuk all about him. What else had he told him? That Jeongin needed a firm hand to set him straight? That oh, could Sung-hyuk wait just a day or two, he only needed to collect his wayward omega son from Seoul, give him a good scrub and change of clothes, and then Sung-hyuk’s new acquisition would be all set for pick-up over dinner today?

His chest feels tight, and his head is spinning. He sucks in another shallow breath.

“I think that’s impressive,” Sung-hyuk adds, smiling at him. “Do you think you’ll want to settle back in Busan after that?”

Jeongin doesn’t answer, too busy trying to keep the panic and nausea out of his scent.

“I’m only asking because I’ve got an apartment with an incredible view of the sea, and as pretty as Seoul is, I’d be loathe to give that up, you know?”

Jeongin can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, he can’t—“Excuse me,” he chokes out, shoving his chair back and rushing out of the room. He stumbles through the kitchen and out into the garden, where he sinks down in a corner by the garden shed.

He sucks in desperate breaths of the warm summer air. There’s a pot of lavender nearby and its scent drifts over and mingles with the scents of grass and dirt, and it helps clear his mind of some of the panic. He leans his back against the shed and buries his face in his knees. His eyes are burning.

He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to be back in Seoul with Beomgyu and eat ice cream while they watch stupid animes, and he wants to have coffee with the pack and laugh at Hyunjin, and… His tears spill over, and he lets out a quiet sob into his knees. Fuck. He feels so betrayed. He knew his parents disapproved of him, but that they could be so uncaring as to set this up without even telling him… This hurts. This hurts more than anything else his father has done.

“Hey,” a voice says softly a few feet in front of him, and Jeongin snaps his head up.

It’s Sung-hyuk, and he looks serious. Before Jeongin can even decide how to react, the alpha says, “I wanted to apologise. I… you didn’t know about this dinner at all, did you?”

Jeongin briefly meets the alpha’s eyes, and then looks away. “No.” His voice is hoarse. “I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Sung-hyuk says, and he sounds sincere. “I thought you did, that you’d agreed to this and were interested. I wouldn’t have come on that strong otherwise.”

Slowly, Jeongin looks at him again. “That’s what my father told you? That I was interested?”

“No. Not exactly. Just that he’d like for us to meet. I thought that meant you knew about it.”

Jeongin scoffs.

“Clearly you didn’t, and I’m sorry. That was a rough first meeting.”

Jeongin stares at him. “First meeting?”

Sung-hyuk shrugs wryly and sits down on the grass in front of him. “Look, I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t want. But I can’t lie and say I’m not interested. You’re really pretty, Jeongin-ssi, and you smell amazing, and well. Whether you like cooking or not, that dak galbi is to die for.” He laughs a little, and then sobers again. “I’d like for us to start over, if you’d give me a chance to prove myself?”

If Sung-hyuk were any of the alphas Jeongin encounters on campus, he would have bitten his head off before he’d even finished talking. But he wasn’t expecting this at all today, not in his own home, and somehow, his usual anger is replaced by a weary exhaustion. So he actually takes the time to consider Sung-hyuk’s offer. His answer is still going to be no, of course, but this night is so awful that it doesn’t feel real, and he is tired and Sung-hyuk is calm, and suddenly, Jeongin finds himself strangely curious. “How do you even see that courtship going, Sung-hyuk-ssi?”

“The technicalities?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I don’t know how long you want to study for. If you’re in it just for the student experience, or if you’d actually like the degree. But I’m patient, I can wait until you’re ready to settle. My job allows me to work from home a lot, so I could come visit you. And when you’re ready, you could come back to Busan and move in with me.”

Jeongin almost smiles at how bizarre that sounds. Why on earth would he be studying just to settle? But he still asks, “And then?”

“After we mate?” Sung-hyuk eyes him in mild confusion.

That is fair, because Jeongin had just run from the room at the mere idea of courtship, but Jeongin shrugs. “Humour me.”

“I guess that depends. Do you want pups?”

Jeongin laughs, tipping his head back against the shed at the utter absurdity of this night. “I’m nineteen.”

“That’s okay,” Sung-hyuk says quickly. “We’d have time.”

“What would I do all day, in this fantasy of yours in which I’ve decided to give up my studies and job and live with you?”

Sung-hyuk frowns. “I never said you had to give up your job.”

Jeongin smiles, still looking up at the sky. “You’d let me make twelve-hour days at a law firm while I try to gain enough experience to start my own?”

“Your own?”

“That’s the goal.” When Sung-hyuk doesn’t say anything, Jeongin looks back at him. “That makes you uncomfortable, right? Because it’s not something omegas should want?”

Sung-hyuk takes a breath. He doesn’t look angry or condescending, just confused. “I guess I’m not sure why you would want to?”

“Because I should want to stay home and wait for you to come back to me every day?”

Sung-hyuk frowns again. “I…”

“What do you do for a living, Sung-hyuk-ssi?”

“I’m an architect.”

Jeongin hums. “You like it?”

Sung-hyuk smiles. “Love it.”

“You wouldn’t give it up, right? To have pups and stay home instead?”

“No, but…”

 Jeongin raises an eyebrow. “But you’re an alpha?”

“…Yeah.”

“What makes us so different?”

“It’s just biology. It’s just how it works.”

“Except it’s not,” Jeongin says, “Because I’m an omega, and I don’t want any of that.” He sighs. “I don’t know what my father told you about me, Sung-hyuk-ssi, but I’m not looking to settle. I’m never gonna be sweet and soft. I’m not the kind of mate you’re looking for.”

Sung-hyuk is quiet for a long time. He still doesn’t get angry or upset, which is honestly kind of refreshing. Jeongin has never had this kind of conversation with an alpha before. Sung-hyuk is listening, he is just also still very, very confused. Jeongin almost pities him. After a few minutes, the alpha asks, “But isn’t that hard?”

Jeongin snorts. “Oh yeah. The world is cruel to omegas who want more than they’re supposed to.”

“But then like… wouldn’t it just be easier to stop? Wouldn’t you be so much happier if you didn’t have to fight so hard?”

“Oh, it would definitely be easier,” Jeongin agrees. “I’m sure that if I agreed to court and mate you, ninety-nine percent of all my problems would disappear.”

“Then—”

“I’d be carefree and protected and secure,” Jeongin continues, and Sung-hyuk opens his mouth. “And I would be utterly miserable. My life would lose all meaning.”

Sung-hyuk stares at him, clearly taken aback, and hesitates. “But… you would have…”

“You?” Jeongin huffs out a laugh, but he really isn’t angry. The laugh doesn’t even sound unkind. “I can’t exist just to love a person, Sung-hyuk-ssi. I wasn’t made for that. I don’t think that can ever be anyone’s sole purpose in life, but I wish you the best of luck in your search.” His voice remains soft throughout, and he adds, “When you find your dream omega, can I at least ask you to not just assume, and instead check with them about what they want from life?”

Sung-hyuk watches him for another moment, and then smiles. “I still can’t say I understand you, but yes, you may ask me that. I’ll try to remember.”

“Good.”

They sit in silence for a while after that, the air still warm with the slowly setting sun. Now that they’re not talking, Jeongin registers Sung-hyuk’s scent for the first time. He smells like coffee, which is a scent he thought he liked, after meeting up with Chan a few times a week, but he doesn’t like this one at all. Sung-hyuk smells like a weak, watered-down instant coffee, nothing like Chan’s rich, warm aroma, the kind that lingers pleasantly in his nose for a while even after he gets back to his dorm.

Suddenly, Sung-hyuk asks, “Your parents disapprove, don’t they? Of your plans?”

Jeongin huffs. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

Sung-hyuk ignores the sarcasm and says, “Would you like me to lie?”

Jeongin blinks. “What?”

“Lie, and say that we are courting, so that they’ll stop springing these kinds of dinners on you.”

Jeongin narrows his eyes. “What is this, a ploy to get me to court you after all?”

Sung-hyuk laughs. “No. I mean, well, if you ever changed your mind, I wouldn’t say no. You’re insanely pretty. But no, that’s not why I offered. I mean it. I might not understand, but I wouldn’t mind helping you out. I’m not in that much of a hurry to get mated, I can spare a few months.”

Somehow, Jeongin gets the sense that he’s actually telling the truth. If Jeongin asked him to, he would pretend to court Jeongin so Jeongin could go back to Seoul and study in peace for the traditional nine-month courtship period. He doesn’t entirely trust it, but Sung-hyuk seems to genuinely mean it.

He thinks about it. About telling his parents that he’s agreed to court Sung-hyuk. They would be happy. They would be ecstatic, and they’d leave him be. He would definitely be allowed to go back to Seoul if Sung-hyuk told them he was fine with it. It would make everything a lot easier.

And yet…

It feels wrong. He doesn’t know why, but the idea of telling people he’s courting Sung-hyuk, even if it’s fake, makes him nauseous. He can’t do it.

“No,” he says, sighing. “I appreciate the offer. But no, thank you.”

Sung-hyuk shrugs. “Alright.”

Another silence falls. It’s not awkward. A bird soars by overhead and the neighbours’ garden gate creaks as it opens and shuts.

“So,” Sung-hyuk says eventually, “Would you like us to leave, or do you think we could stay till the end of dinner? Because if this is the last time I’ll get to taste it, I’d like to make the most out of that galbi.”

Despite everything, Jeongin lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, alright. You can have the recipe.”

Sung-hyuk smiles and holds out his hand to help Jeongin up. After a brief hesitation, Jeongin takes it, because he doesn’t think Sung-hyuk will try anything, and he’s tired. He’s tired and hurt and the last thing he wants to do is go back inside and face his parents, but he knows he has to.

Sung-hyuk drops his hand once Jeongin is upright, and gestures for Jeongin to lead the way back inside. Jeongin sighs, and re-enters the house.

He can hear conversation when they enter the kitchen, but the moment they get back to the dining room, everyone falls silent. Jeongin can feel his parents’ eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at them. He merely makes sure his scent is reeled in and then walks back to his seat.

“Are you feeling better, sweetheart?” his mother asks nervously.

Jeongin ignores her and keeps his eyes on the table in front of him. He can see Sung-hyuk take his seat across from him, but he focuses on his plate.

“The two of you talked?” his father asks. He does not sound nervous, but his voice is quiet.

“We did,” Sung-hyuk answers. “And we both agree that we will not be courting.”

“Hyuk-ah,” Sung-hyuk’s mother says, “I thought you—”

“I like your son a lot,” Sung-hyuk continues to Jeongin’s father. “But I can also see that I cannot give him what he needs, and I will respect that.”

“Jeongin-ah?” his father asks.

Jeongin keeps his eyes on his plate and says nothing.

He was expecting his father to push and get angry. But he doesn’t. All he does is sigh, and say, “Alright. Thank you, Sung-hyuk-ah.”

The rest of dinner passes in a blur. Jeongin doesn’t speak, or look up, and doesn’t touch his food again. He ignores his mother’s gentle attempts to get him to eat, and the weight of his father’s eyes on him, and sits quietly until it’s over. Mingun and Sung-hyuk keep the conversation going and seem to be purposely drawing attention away from him. Jeongin should probably be grateful for that, but he’s just numb.

When his mother offers the Kims coffee after dinner, Sung-hyuk declines for his whole family, and they take their leave. The alpha doesn’t even ask about the recipe again, and instead just says, “It was nice to meet you, Jeongin-ssi. I’ll remember our talk, and I hope life treats you well.”

Jeongin’s throat feels oddly tight, and he nods at the table. Sung-hyuk doesn’t demand any further response, and the Kims leave within the next minute.

When they’re gone, a heavy silence falls.

Before anyone can break it, Jeongin stands. He looks up and lets his scent go, too tired to hold it back any longer. It smells like all the pain and hurt and betrayal he can feel churning inside of him, and his mother goes pale. “Thank you for dinner,” Jeongin says tonelessly. “I’d like to go to bed now.”

“Jeongin-ah,” his mother says, sounding on the verge of tears.

Jeongin bows his head to his father. “May I be excused?”

“Jeongin…” His father sounds like he wants to say something, but Mingun says, “Appa,” and his father falls silent. He sighs. “Yes, Jeongin, you may be excused.”

“Thank you.” Jeongin straightens and leaves the room. He walks mechanically up the stairs to his bedroom and climbs into his nest, not even bothering to undress. He curls into a ball, still feeling numb, and stares blankly ahead.

After what could be a minute or an hour, there’s a knock on the door, and it cracks open slightly.

“Jeongin-ah?” his mother whispers. “Can I come in?”

Jeongin just keeps staring at the spot on the desk where a bit of paint has chipped off, and doesn’t reply.

His mother seems to take this for an answer anyway, because she walks in, kneeling by his nest. She places his phone and a cup of tea on the nightstand and looks at him with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Jeongin says nothing.

“We should have told you.”

No reply.

“We just thought that you might not agree to see him if you knew beforehand,” she says softly.

That should have told you something, Jeongin thinks, but he keeps quiet.

“And your father could tell that Sung-hyuk was a good man, someone who would take care of you, and we thought that if you met him, you might see that too.”

Jeongin did see that. Traditional and confused though he may be, Sung-hyuk seemed like a decent person. He thinks that whoever Sung-hyuk will end up mating, they will probably be happy enough, if they don’t have big aspirations in life. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s never felt less human than tonight, when he realised that his father was talking him up like Jeongin was a piece of cattle to be sold at the market.

“We didn’t go about it right,” she continues, hesitantly smoothing his hair away from his forehead. “And I’m really sorry. Your father is sorry too.”

“You’re sorry for not telling me,” he mumbles. “Not for doing it in the first place.”

“We…” She swallows and closes her eyes. “We want you safe.”

“You should want me happy.”

“You can be,” she whispers. “I am.”

“I’m not you, eomma.”

Her hand stills in his hair, and she opens her mouth. Then closes it again, and finally says, “I worry about you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do.” A tear slips down her cheek. “I do.”

“I want to go back to Seoul.”

More tears fall. “Please. It’s dangerous, please.”

He shakes his head and stops talking, and eventually, after a long time, she stops crying. She wipes her eyes, and then cards a hand through his hair again. She does this for several minutes, maybe hoping that Jeongin will respond, but he doesn’t. In the end, she leans in to brush a wrist over his neck gland and press a long kiss to his forehead. “I love you, baby.”

He closes his eyes, and after a few more seconds, she stands and leaves the room. He knows she meant it. She does love him. So does his father. They both love him. That’s why every time, there’s a treacherous part of him that longs for the day they’ll see him, and that’s why every time, it hurts so much when they don’t.

His chest aches. He takes his phone from the nightstand and checks it.

He has a few texts.

[5:32 pm] Seo Changbin: look he’s moping [image attached]
[5:32 pm] Seo Changbin: pls text him about that coffee bc we’re going insane

The picture shows Hyunjin lying outstretched on the floor by the door. There’s a few pairs of shoes strewn across the floor and it looks like he tripped and then just decided to stay where he was, his forehead pressed to the floor. Jeongin’s lips curl up into a small smile.

[5:47 pm] Hwang Hyunjin: id like to inform u that sungie set up a shoe trap and i was his undeserving victim
[5:47 pm] Hwang Hyunjin: tho if u will come back faster if i tell u that ive been lying in wait by the door like a dog then thats what i did

[5:48 pm] Lee Minho: Ignore him, Jeongin-ah. He has zero shame and fewer brain cells.

[5:48 pm] Hwang Hyunjin: stop reading my messages over my shoulder

[5:48 pm] Lee Minho: You realise we’re texting Jeongin, not each other.

[5:48 pm] Hwang Hyunjin: jeonginnie is smart
[5:48 pm] Hwang Hyunjin: hell figure it out
[5:49 pm] Hwang Hyunjin: anyway come back soon fox boy!! we miss u

Jeongin doesn’t even realise he’s crying until the screen blurs in front of him, but then he’s sobbing. He drops his phone and hugs one of his nest pillows to his chest, burying his face into it. He misses them too. He misses their conversations and their laughter and their scents, and he wants to be back in Seoul and see them again, and laugh at more stupid videos in Jisung’s never-ending camera roll, and smell the way Hyunjin’s scent brightens when Jeongin is near, and he wants—

Them.

He wants them.

It hits him all at once.

He didn’t want to fake-court Sung-hyuk because he wants to real-court them. Because… because he’s happy when he’s around them. Beomgyu was right. Those four weeks before he got here were the happiest he’s been in years, and he didn’t even realise it until now, until on this horrible, awful night, he found himself smiling at a mere text message they sent him.

He likes them.

He can’t lie to himself any longer. He’s starting to fall for them, and he wants more than just coffee dates. Because they were dates, he realises. Not just meet-ups. They were dates to him, dates which he enjoyed, which he had fun on, and he wants more of them.

And yet at the same time, he’s terrified, because he still does not want to court or mate and be owned and be turned into a house servant. That fear is still there, just as big as the longing. He wants to court them, and he wants to never court anyone in his life, and it feels like his brain is being pulled apart by two feelings that are bigger than anything his exhausted mind can handle. It makes him want to scream.

He doesn’t scream. But he does cry, for a long time, until the pressure from crying makes a headache bloom behind his eyes and he focuses on breathing instead.

He won’t deal with this tonight, he decides finally, closing his eyes. He’ll leave it for when he sees Beomgyu again, because Beomgyu will be smug about it but will also help him sort out the mess in his brain, because he’s a good friend. For tonight, he’ll sleep, and tomorrow he’ll figure out how to get back to Seoul, and the rest can wait.

Chapter Text

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to figure out how to get back to Seoul, because Mingun does it for him.

Jeongin wakes up to him slipping into his room the next morning. “Hey,” he says quietly, gesturing to Jeongin’s nest. “Can I come in?”

Jeongin just lifts the sheets in answer and Mingun crawls in. “Your feet are cold,” Jeongin mumbles, closing his eyes again.

“Deal with it,” Mingun says, before softening. “Did you sleep?”

Jeongin hums. He did sleep, and he definitely didn’t brush his teeth or wash up before bed, and he feels gross now.

“You wanna know what happened last night?”

“Eomma cried,” Jeongin says drily, “And appa is mad at me.”

“No. Well. Sure, eomma cried. But I think… I don’t know. I think appa was disappointed at first—” Jeongin snorts, and Mingun ignores him, “—but your scent really took him aback. I don’t think they expected you to smell like that afterwards. I’m really sorry, hyung.”

“You didn’t know about it.” He knows that for a fact, because there’s no way Mingun would have kept it from him if he’d known.

“No,” Mingun agrees, “But I’m still sorry. Honestly, I think they are too.”

“They’re not,” Jeongin says, just like he did last night. “They’re sorry I reacted that way. But they’ll do it again.”

Mingun falls quiet. He knows as well as Jeongin does that their parents want Jeongin mated. “Not like this,” is what he says eventually. “They won’t do it again like this.”

Jeongin sighs.

Mingun’s hand finds Jeongin’s wrist under the blankets so he can rub their scent glands together. Mingun smells like oakwood, like their father does, but his has always been sweeter. Jeongin feels some of the tension in his body release as his little brother’s scent drifts through him. Would the pack’s scents be as relaxing as this?

Jeongin wishes he could say no. But frustratingly, now that he’s stopped lying to himself, he has to admit that he’s never met people whose scents he likes as much as theirs, and he already knows that they would smell amazing on him. If they scented him… what would they expect from him? He has never been overly sensitive to scents and he doubts he’d go weak-kneed and hazy like people expect from an omega’s first courted scenting, but they’d probably want him to, right? Because he’s an omega, would be their only omega, the missing submissive subgender to complete their pack—

He’s starting to feel nauseous and lets out a frustrated breath. No. He is not going to do this, not now.

“You wanna go back to Seoul, right?” Mingun asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Today, instead of tomorrow?”

Jeongin opens his eyes. “Yeah. Is appa gonna try to pull me out of school? Because then I need to call Beomgyu’s mom.”

“No, I really don’t think so. He was quiet all night.”

Well. That is something. He holds up his palm. “Pass me my phone? I’ll get a train ticket.”

“Oh good, I was worried you’d bought one already. You don’t need one.”

Jeongin turns his head, confused.

“I called Jihwan-hyung. He’s driving you back.”

Jeongin stares at him. “Jihwan-hyung?”

Mingun shrugs. “Yeah. It’s his day off.”

“Jihwan-hyung said he’s willing to drive his defenceless little omega brother back to the perilous streets of Seoul?”

Mingun rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. Yes, he’ll drive you back. He was honestly kinda mad at appa.”

Of all the things Jeongin was expecting, that was not it. “What the fuck.”

Mingun snorts. “You’re welcome. Also, he was at the gym when I called and he’ll be here in half an hour, so you’d better get packing.”

Jeongin shoots up. “Fuck.” He trips out of bed, accidentally kneeing Mingun in the ribs, who rolls over with a groan. Jeongin makes it halfway across the room before beelining back and dragging his wrist over Mingun’s again. “Thank you, Gunnie. You’re the best.”

Mingun only grunts again, but he’s smiling.

*

When Jeongin gets downstairs, Jihwan is already there, and he’s talking to their father. To Jeongin’s surprise, he does look angry, and he turns around with a huff just when Jeongin comes in.

“Hey,” he says, softening when he spots Jeongin. “How’re you doing?”

Jeongin shrugs. “You’re taking me back?”

“Yes,” Jihwan says, “If you want me to.”

“I do.” Jeongin ignores his mother’s tearful eyes and rolls his suitcase further into the room.

“Alright,” Jihwan says easily. He gestures for the suitcase. “Give me that. I’ll put it in the trunk. I need to call Jimin before we go, so you grab some breakfast.”

Jeongin isn’t hungry, but he lets Jihwan roll the suitcase out of the house and accepts the banana Mingun hands him.

The next few minutes are awkward.

By the time Jihwan has finished his phone call and it’s time for Jeongin to go, his mother has begged him four more times to stay, which Jeongin has ignored every time. When he rises from his chair, his father says, “Jeongin-ah.”

Jeongin turns stiffly.

His father watches him, and his gaze is heavy. He opens his mouth, and closes it again. Finally, he says, “We did not mean to cause you distress. Last night.”

“No,” Jeongin says, “You just meant to mate me off to the first conveniently single alpha you found.”

His father clenches his jaw. “We wanted you to meet him. You know we would not have forced you into anything.”

“Do I?” Jeongin asks tightly. “Because you forced me into a courtship dinner. Which apparently, I didn’t deserve to even be told about.” He begins walking to the door, once again ignoring his mother’s pleading, “Jeongin-ah.”

“I just want you to consider your future,” his father says. “Can’t you understand that?”

Jeongin slips on his shoes, keeping his eyes on his shoelaces. Once he’s done, he looks over his shoulder. “I always consider my future, appa. That is all I’ve ever done.”

And with that, he walks out of the house. He can hear Mingun say something to their parents, and then his brother follows him outside. To his surprise, when they reach Jihwan’s car, Mingun slides into the backseat, and Jeongin looks at him, eyes wide. “You’re coming too?”

Mingun grins. “Of course I’m coming.”

“He’s my wallet for the toll gates,” Jihwan says as he sets up his navigation.

Mingun rolls his eyes, because he and Jeongin both know that Jihwan will refuse to let Mingun pay for anything. Jihwan takes responsibility seriously, and Jeongin is still bewildered that he agreed to drive Jeongin back to Seoul at all.

They make it out of Busan before Jeongin risks commenting, “I thought you’d be on eomma and appa’s side.”

Jihwan switches lanes. “What, about that courtship dinner?”

Jeongin looks out the window. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know they were planning it, and if I had, I would have warned them not to.” That’s what Mingun told him that morning, and still Jeongin looks over in surprise. Jihwan shrugs. “You’re stubborn as fuck. I worry about you as much as they do and I’d love to see you safe and cared for, but that was a stupid way to go about it, and they’re idiots.”

Ah. Well, that makes a lot more sense than Jihwan suddenly having a complete change of heart. Clearly Jihwan still thinks Jeongin needs an alpha to take care of him. It’s something Jeongin would usually argue about, but today, he doesn’t feel like getting into it. Because Jihwan seems genuinely pissed at their parents, and he’s spending his day off driving Jeongin back to Seoul, and that means something.

He doesn’t reply to Jihwan, because he doesn’t really want to talk about it anymore, and his brother doesn’t say anything else. After a minute though, Jihwan tells Mingun to put on some music, but not the trot playlist again, because if he does he is going to dropkick Mingun out of the car right here on the highway.

Mingun puts on the trot playlist, and Jeongin finds himself laughing as Jihwan blindly swipes his arm behind him in an attempt to grab Mingun by the collar. The rest of the drive is loud, and filled with music, and surprisingly fun. The dinner is not brought up again.

*

That afternoon, Jeongin is standing in the middle of his dorm room, scanning the room for something to do. Jihwan took him and Mingun out for lunch before dropping Jeongin off at campus, and even if Jihwan proceeded to spend half an hour warily glaring at any alpha who even came near the building, Jeongin thinks this was probably the chillest day they’ve ever spent together.

Now, however, they’re gone, and Jeongin is left alone with his thoughts. He made sure to unpack his suitcase very slowly and spent a lot more time re-scenting his nest than was in any way necessary, considering he didn’t even take it down before he left, but after that he ran out of things to do and now the room is silent. Unfortunately, his head is not.

He keeps thinking about the pack, and then he keeps panicking and drawing himself away from his thoughts, only for the cycle to start again ten seconds later. He’s about to head into the bathroom, so desperate for a distraction that even cleaning is starting to look appealing, when his phone buzzes.

[2:11 pm] Gyu: how are things in busan? will you get back okay?

Jeongin takes a selfie and sends it.

[2:11 pm] Jeongin: [image attached] way ahead of you

[2:11 pm] Gyu: ???? i thought you were coming back tomorrow?

[2:12 pm] Jeongin: yes well when my parents arranged a courtship dinner without telling me that kinda ruined any desire i had to stay

Beomgyu doesn’t even bother texting back; he just calls. Jeongin picks up.

“What the fuck?” Beomgyu says. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Wish I were.”

“They didn’t even tell you? Did the alpha know?”

“Oh, he knew. I only realised he was there for me when my father started praising my cooking skills to him over dinner.”

Beomgyu makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and then says, “Jesus. Okay. Alright. You’re back on campus now?”

“Yeah. Jihwan-hyung drove me back.”

There’s a clatter in the background of Beomgyu’s call. “I’m coming back too.”

Jeongin huffs. “Gyu, you don’t need to do that.”

“Try and stop me. Mama, I need—no, he’s already back in Seoul. But I want to—you’re the best.” To Jeongin, he says, “Sorry, my mom was in the room and she kinda got the gist of what happened. But she’s gonna drive me back so I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Gyu—”

“Stay there, I’m on my way!” And the call ends.

*

When Beomgyu arrives, he doesn’t just bring himself, but also his suitcase, a pile of nesting blankets, and, for some reason, an entire cheesecake. Jeongin is about to ask about the cake, but Beomgyu merely drops it onto his desk and rushes over to hug him.

“I’m fine,” Jeongin says.

“No, you’re not.”

Jeongin’s eyes fill with tears. No, he’s not. His breath hitches and then he’s crying again. Beomgyu gently tugs him over to his nest and wraps him up in a blanket. “I’m so sorry, Innie.”

Jeongin thought he cried himself out last night, but clearly there is plenty more where that came from, because he only cries harder. Beomgyu strokes his arms and murmurs about how he can’t believe his parents did that, and that Jeongin didn’t deserve that, and that it’s going to be okay.

But that’s not what Jeongin is crying about.

“Gyu,” he chokes out, “I’m fucked.”

“No,” Beomgyu says, vehemently shaking his head. “No you’re not, you’re going to be fine—”

“I like them back.”

“—because you’re here now, and- what?”

“I like them,” Jeongin cries. “I was only gone for like five days and I already missed them and I like their scents even though I hated Sung-hyuk’s and they texted me and I smiled and Gyu I don’t know what to do!”

“Okay,” Beomgyu says, blinking, “Hold up. I feel like we’re having two different conversations here. I thought you were upset about the dinner.”

“I don’t care about the dinner,” Jeongin sniffs. “Well no, I do, that sucked, but I…”

“This is about Hyunjin’s pack?” Beomgyu studies him and then a faint hint of amusement creeps into his scent. “I thought you said you weren’t going to think about them?”

“I wasn’t!” Jeongin snaps, before adding miserably, “But I did anyway.”

Beomgyu grins. “And you realised you like them too.”

Jeongin swallows and admits, “Yes.”

“And this is a bad thing because…”

“Because I don’t want to court! I don’t want to be mated!”

“You don’t want to be owned. There’s a difference.”

Jeongin scoffs. “Is there?”

“On paper? Maybe not,” Beomgyu concedes. “The line is thin.”

“The line is non-existent.”

“No, it’s thin. But the line is not the point.”

Jeongin raises an eyebrow. “The nearly invisible line between slavery and mere ‘traditional’ ownership is not the point?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “Stop being a bitch and twisting my words. Listen to me.”

Jeongin deflates. Beomgyu came back a day early just to make sure Jeongin was okay. He does not deserved to be attacked. “Sorry.”

“Thanks. I’m trying to say that it’s not about the law for once. Yes, we live in a fucked up society and we need to keep fighting for our rights. But this isn’t about that. It’s about the people you’re in love with.”

“I’m not in love with them,” Jeongin says quietly. That’s not a lie.

“The people you could see yourself falling in love with then, if you keep meeting up with them. It’s about them. Forget the law for the moment. For a second, stop panicking about what they would technically be allowed to do to you, and think about whether you believe that they would.”

Jeongin looks down.

“Do you really think they’re the type of people who would take away your autonomy and make you give up the things you love?”

No. Yes. He doesn’t know. “I don’t know,” he whispers out loud.

Beomgyu’s face falls. “Oh, Innie.” He shifts closer and holds his hand. “I know my opinion doesn’t matter because you need to feel it for yourself. But I really, really don’t think they are that kind of pack. At all. I think they’re good people.”

“They are good people,” Jeongin agrees quietly, because he has seen that. “But it’s just… they don’t have an omega. And now they want me.”

“Do they want an omega or do they want you?”

“I don’t know,” Jeongin says again. And then he confesses, “I’m scared, Gyu. I can’t—the risk is too big. I can’t mate them.”

To his surprise, Beomgyu snorts. “Dude, you’ve barely started talking to them. Of course you’re not mating them, are you insane?”

Jeongin looks up. “But you said—”

“I’m talking about courting, you idiot. There’s no paperwork for courting at all, you do realise that? It’s risk-free. You can just keep going on your coffee dates, get a feel for what they’re like as partners. If you’re not enjoying it, you can break it off.”

Jeongin blinks. Breaking off a courtship hadn’t even occurred to him. It should have, probably, considering that’s what Sung-hyuk had offered him. But in his head it had seemed so permanent. If he agreed to court them, he’d eventually have to mate them, and that was such a big no in his mind that he’d wanted to scrap the idea entirely.

“That’s what courting is for. To see if you like each other.” Beomgyu sees the look on his face and adds, “These days, for non-traditional packs, that’s what courting is for. It’s how my moms did it. And Innie, even if you’re not sure about them, you can’t tell me you think they’re traditional.”

“No,” Jeongin admits, because Beomgyu is right. He can at least see that, and he mostly trusts it. “But like… things will change.”

“I should hope so. You’ll get to finally kiss them, for one.”

Jeongin glares at Beomgyu. “No, I mean courtship expectations. What if they’ll want to like, meet my parents first, or collar me, or control how I dress?”

Beomgyu screws up his face. “That’s traditional.”

Right. Yes, it is. But… “But what if they want that.”

“Then you tell them no.” Beomgyu leans forward, completely serious now. “And if they keep pressing you, you end your courtship and never talk to them again. If they don’t listen when you tell them no, then you know they’re assholes and you get the hell out.”

The vehemence in his voice takes Jeongin aback. After all Beomgyu’s pushing over the past semester to get him to go out with the pack, he wasn’t quite expecting this. But that’s on him, he realises, and that was stupid. Because Beomgyu has always been on Jeongin’s side, and he would never want him to court or mate someone who wouldn’t make Jeongin happy. The fact that he’s still so determined to get Jeongin to court the pack probably means something.

He fidgets with an edge of the blanket. After a minute, he mumbles, “I guess I’m scared that… that they don’t really like me, you know? That they like the idea of me, because they think that once I say yes, they’ll have tamed me and I’ll turn into their dream omega.”

Beomgyu looks sad, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t tell Jeongin that they do like him, or that that won’t happen. Jeongin appreciates that, because there is no way Beomgyu can know that for sure. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Jeongin rolls and unrolls the edge of the blanket between his fingers several times before Beomgyu steps out of the nest.

“What are you doing?” Jeongin asks as Beomgyu unzips his bag to get his laptop.

“We’re writing an opening statement. And also, I’m getting you cake.”

Jeongin stares at him. “What?”

“Cake. My mom baked like three and I picked one at random, so I hope you like strawberry.”

“No,” Jeongin says exasperatedly as Beomgyu drops his laptop onto Jeongin’s bed and grabs a knife to cut into the cake. “I meant the other thing.”

“We’re writing an opening statement,” Beomgyu repeats, as if that clears anything up.

Jeongin huffs. “Gyu—”

“It sounds to me,” Beomgyu starts, dumping a piece of cake onto a paper plate and shoving it against Jeongin’s chest. Jeongin yelps and raises his hands just in time to catch the plate before Beomgyu drops it right in his lap. “Eat,” he says unapologetically when Jeongin glares at him. He plops back down into Jeongin’s nest with his own cake, and shifts so he can sit cross-legged and pull his laptop into his lap. “I was saying, it sounds to me like you’re hesitant because you don’t know if they’ll expect things from you that you’re not comfortable with, things that you won’t ever want.” He looks at Jeongin expectantly, so Jeongin gives a slow nod. “Exactly. So what you need is a way to tell them exactly what your boundaries are before any of you agree to a courtship, so that they know what you are and are not looking for. Hence, an opening statement.”

Jeongin laughs, because that sounds ridiculous. “You want me to present a court case?”

Beomgyu grins. “A courtship case.” He sets his cake aside, opens a new text file and narrates as he types. “Gentlemen of the Bang Pack, I, Yang Jeongin, the defendant—wait, are you the defendant or the plaintiff?”

Jeongin smacks him. “Stop it.”

Beomgyu stops typing and heaves a sigh, although his scent is still amused. “Fine. We’ll cut the formality. But come on, this is a great idea. You need to know you’re on the same page. You’re eloquent. A speech is perfect.”

It still sounds ridiculous, and yet… at the same time it doesn’t. Because Beomgyu is right, if Jeongin tells them all the things he will never accept from them and they look annoyed or don’t agree to that, then he’ll know that courting them is a bad idea. Things will be clear.

And so he sighs. “Fine.”

Beomgyu cheers. “Yes!” His fingers hover over the keyboard and he looks up at Jeongin expectantly. “Alright, I’m ready. Make your case.”

***

Jeongin doesn’t think he’s ever been as nervous as when he makes his way to the café the next afternoon. He was nervous before the SNU entrance exam, but that depended on skill, and he knew he was going to do well. But this…

After they finished writing last night, it had taken Beomgyu another full hour to talk Jeongin into texting the pack. Eventually, Jeongin had texted Hyunjin, because that felt less scary than texting Chan, and all his text had said was if they could meet him at the café today because he wanted to talk to them. Hyunjin had texted back that of course they’d be there (insert a hundred exclamation marks) and then asked if Jeongin had fun in Busan. Jeongin hadn’t responded to that question, because there was no way he was going to be able to talk to them about anything else before having this conversation first.

And so here he is, waiting at the crossroads for the light to turn green. He nervously scrolls through his phone as he waits.

“Hey!” someone calls behind him, and he startles so badly he nearly drops his phone. He turns around to see Jisung, Minho and Hyunjin approaching him, and his chest immediately tightens. They look good. They always look good, but suddenly it’s like Jeongin is seeing them for the first time.

“Sorry,” Jisung says with a soft chuckle, “I didn’t mean to jump-scare you.”

“You’re like a hamster, you couldn’t if you tried,” Jeongin deadpans on auto-pilot, even as he tries to wrap his mind around the fact that yes, he is very much attracted to them, and also that yes, they really do smell fantastic. They’re not even standing that close to him—he doesn’t get more than a subtle surface scent, and it still makes him want to breathe in deeply.

He doesn’t, and instead looks around for Chan and Changbin.

“They’re trying to find a parking spot,” Minho tells him before he can ask.

And he doesn’t get to answer either, because Hyunjin bursts out, “Fox boy! I missed you!” He’s beaming. “I thought you wouldn’t come back until later today!”

Jeongin hums noncommittally. “Change of plans.” He sees Hyunjin open his mouth and adds, “I see you managed to scrape yourself off the floor.” He has no interest in getting into his parents’ courtship dinner right now.

Minho snorts. “With effort.”

Just then, the light turns green, and they all cross the road. They enter the café and order coffee and cake, and make small talk as they wait for their order and for Chan and Changbin to arrive. When they do (looking just as good as the other three and making Jeongin’s stomach tighten even further), they all make their way to an empty table in the back and sit down. It’s not quiet, it’s not even awkward, because Changbin just launches straight into a story about the idiot who pulled up behind them while they were still parking and nearly rear-ended them, and it’s a funny story. It’s a great story, and the mood is light, and yet Jeongin feels like he’s about to throw up. They haven’t asked him why he wanted to talk to them and Jeongin gets the sense that they won’t address it at all unless Jeongin does, but he can’t just sit here and pretend like he came here for coffee and funny stories.

He intends to wait until Changbin has finished talking, he really does. But in the end it just bursts out of him, and not at all in the way he had planned.

“Being an omega is fucked up,” is what he blurts out, cutting right through what Changbin is saying. Everyone’s head turns to him, and he feels his cheeks heat. Fuck. That was not the start of the speech he wrote with Beomgyu. That was not what he intended to say at all. But apparently, this is his opening line now, and he’s going to have to roll with it.

So he continues, mentally rewriting his statement as he goes. “There’s a lot of sexism. A lot of discrimination. A lot of people telling us what to do, how to dress, act, talk—how to live our lives.” He meets their eyes across the table. They all look confused, but they’re quiet, and Chan and Changbin are nodding. “Because omegas are weak, and need protection, and an alpha’s guiding hand to help them navigate a world that is surely far too complicated and overwhelming for them to understand.” He rolls his eyes. “I nearly didn’t make it to SNU because my parents are convinced I can’t do it and should be mated and safely stored away instead. I should be spaced three times a week or my brain will explode, and I should be quiet when an alpha is talking and fold myself in half whenever I meet one and always submit to any superior subgender, because that’s what polite, well-raised omegas do.”

He stares them down, eyes hard. “I will not do that. I will never do that. I won’t bow down to anyone who thinks they’re better than me simply because of the body they were born in. I won’t be spaced or cowed or tamed. I do not owe people anything, and certainly not respect. If people want my respect, they’ll have to earn it, the way they would with alphas and betas.”

Vaguely, he’s aware that there is noise in the front of the café, the buzz of other people’s conversation and the gurgling of the coffee machine, but their corner is dead quiet. “And I’m aware that society is against me. That the law is against me. They’re against any omega who wants more than what is considered socially acceptable. But I don’t give a fuck about what society says I can do. I know who I am, and if anyone expects me to change just because ‘it’s biology’, they can fuck right off. I’m going to finish my studies, and I’m going to become a lawyer, and I’m going to fight for my rights and the rights of any other omega who wants more from life than pups and submission. I will never, ever give that up. Ever.”

He looks each one of them in the eye, to make sure they know he’s utterly serious. But they look serious too. A little confused, or maybe surprised by how much he’s saying, but they don’t interrupt him, and they don’t laugh, or scoff, or roll their eyes. They meet his gaze, and let him speak. Jeongin takes a deep breath. “I need you all to know that that is who I am. You need to know, and you need to respect that. If you treat me or any other omega like they’re somehow beneath you, I am not being dramatic when I say that I will leave and never talk to you again.”

There is a shift in the atmosphere at their table. It grows heavier, both with the weight of his words and with the way they respond to them. Because they’re all nodding, and Chan looks to him as if to ask for permission to speak and then says, “I know I can speak for all of us when I say that we will respect all of that. Your rights are important to us, and you should be able to live the life you want to lead, without any of the discrimination you’re facing. Any omega should. And we might not be able to do much about the general discrimination within the society we live in, but I can promise you that you will not face any with us. If you discover that you do, I ask you to let us know, so that we can work to change it and not do it again. We will not treat you or any other omega differently just because of your subgender. I swear it.”

“Chan does speak for all of us,” Minho says, “But you have my word too. I would never treat any omega like they’re beneath me, and that includes you.”

“Me neither,” Changbin says, “I swear.”

“I promise too,” Jisung says, and Hyunjin adds, “I hate traditional hierarchy. I would never.”

The air feels heavier still, a palpable weight that presses heavily against Jeongin’s skin.

Jeongin exhales. His heart pounds in his chest. “Right. Okay. So.”

Fuck. He made it through the easy part. Setting boundaries and telling people he’s not going to bow down to them is something he does on the daily, and he barely even needed to think about that. Addressing his feelings is something else entirely. It would have been easier if they’d just laughed at him and told him to piss off, because then he wouldn’t have to do this next part.

But they look dead serious, and so he has no excuse but to go on. His hands are sweaty, and he wipes them on his jeans. Just get the words out. Just get the words out. He stares down at his lap and closes his eyes. Just get the words out.

“So- yeah. I guess if… if you can respect that, then- then you can court me.”

The words do come out, but they’re so rushed and mumbled that he wouldn’t be surprised if none of them understood a word.

Except they did, and Hyunjin gasps. “Really?”

He looks back up. Chan and Changbin’s eyes are wide, and Jisung’s mouth has dropped open. Jeongin can’t read Minho’s face at all.

He gives a shallow nod.

“Oh my god!” Hyunjin squeals, breaking out into a face-splitting grin. “Jeonginnie! I can’t believe it, I have been dreaming of this day—”

“Yah,” Minho says, cuffing him on the back of the head. “Tone it down.” Hyunjin begrudgingly falls quiet, and Minho eyes Jeongin seriously. “You want to court us?”

Jeongin swallows, and tries to nod again, but it’s more of a shrug.

“Jeongin-ah,” Chan says. “You do not have to. I know we’ve all been… trying to get to know you over the past few months, and sure, I would be lying if I told you that we’re not interested. You’re fierce, and smart, and passionate, and you’ve got one hell of a sense of humour. Of course we’re interested. But if you’d rather just be friends, or would like to stop seeing us at all, please tell us. I know we’ve never really explicitly addressed this, and perhaps we should have done it sooner. But while we may have hopes, we have no expectations. We don’t want anything you don’t want. If you don’t want to court us, then we will not want that either.”

Jeongin feels trapped in Chan’s eyes, which are earnest and open. Honest, just like his scent. He can’t help but compare Chan’s words to the ones Sung-hyuk told him on Friday.

Look, I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t want. But I can’t lie and say I’m not interested. You’re really pretty, Jeongin-ssi, and you smell amazing, and well. Whether you like cooking or not, that dak galbi is to die for.

The words are similar, and yet vastly different. Both speeches are polite, but Sung-hyuk… Sung-hyuk saw an omega, Jeongin realises. And Chan sees him.

“I think I do,” he breathes out. “Want to court you.” He stares down at the table, which makes it a little easier to talk. “Because I do like having coffee with you, and… yeah. It’s just…”

Changbin’s voice is kind. “Scary?”

He huffs. Terrifying, he thinks, but he can’t get the word out. It feels too weak.

“We can take it slow,” Chan says softly, clearly getting the gist anyway. “If you don’t want to label it as courting, we don’t need to do that.”

“No, I want to label it,” Jeongin says firmly, looking back up. If they’re going to do this, he needs it to be real. If he wants to find out what they’re going to be like as romantic partners, as possible mates or whatever, he needs it to be a courtship so that he’ll be able to judge accurately.

“Oh,” Chan says, surprised. He smiles. “Okay.”

“We can still take it slow,” Minho says. “Even with the label. Nothing really needs to change.”

Jeongin looks at him. “You don’t want to like, collar me?”

“Jesus,” Changbin mutters, but Minho merely shrugs, “Do you want a collar?”

“I’m asking if you want me to wear one.”

Minho cocks his head. “I thought what we wanted didn’t matter, because you know who you are and won’t bow down anyway.”

“I won’t,” Jeongin says, a little tersely, “But I need to know if you want me to, if you’re disappointed that I’m not going to wear a courting collar and are secretly going to pray for me to change my mind.”

“Innie,” Hyunjin says before anyone else can speak, “Are you asking about a collar specifically or about any kind of jewellery that would mark you as someone we’re courting?” When Jeongin blinks at him, he continues, “Because I’ll be honest, I’d love to drape you in jewellery that would show that you’re letting us court you. Not necessarily a collar, if you don’t like those. Maybe rings, or necklaces, or bracelets or earrings. And not because you’re an omega, but just because I love to show people off that way. I do the same to Sungie and Channie-hyung.” He smiles over at them and lifts Chan’s ringed hand in illustration, before gesturing to Minho and Changbin. “But Minho-hyung and Changbin-hyung don’t let me all that often, and that’s fine. Am I disappointed they don’t let me mark them up every day of the week? Sure, maybe a little bit, because I love doing it. But I don’t actually care. I don’t love them less, and in the end I just want to be with them in the way that makes them comfortable. So the same goes for you. Would I like you to wear something of ours if we’re going to be courting? Yeah, of course I would. But not if you’re not comfortable with that. It’s kind of a big thing, and I can see why you wouldn’t want to. If you’re worried that I’d somehow start resenting you for it, you shouldn’t be, because I won’t. I promise.”

Jeongin feels like he went through fifty different emotions over the course of that speech. The thought of being draped in jewellery that marks him as theirs makes him want to run far, far, far away. And yet, Hyunjin’s answer rings with honesty. He didn’t lie or try to hide the fact that he’d love for Jeongin to wear something that would link him to their pack, and Jeongin gets the sense that he’s also not lying about not minding if Jeongin doesn’t want that. It’s… a thoughtful answer, and a lot more serious than he usually hears Hyunjin speak.

“A courting collar may be traditional,” Chan says. “But we are not. This pack is not. So like Jinnie said, we don’t have to do any jewellery if you don’t want to wear any.”

“You’re not traditional,” Jeongin repeats slowly. Beomgyu also said that, and Jeongin had agreed, but he finds that the words still come out carefully, with a hint of wariness.

“Definitely not,” Changbin says. “I think Minho-hyung’s parents are the only ones who are.”

“Well, and mine,” Hyunjin says with an eyeroll, “But let’s not get into that. Minho-hyung and I are not, so that’s what matters.”

Jeongin feels a flicker of curiosity at the expression on Hyunjin’s face, but then Jisung asks him tentatively, “Your family is traditional?”

Jeongin snorts, thinking back to Friday’s dinner and the many, many fights he’s had with his father over the years. “You could say that.” Then he looks up as something occurs to him. “Which is why I don’t want to tell them about this. I don’t know what you were expecting, but I don’t want to do that.”

“We weren’t expecting anything,” Chan tells him. “And what you tell your parents is up to you. Like I said, we’re not traditional. I’m not going to sit down with your parents to arrange what this courtship is going to look like. That’s up to the six of us, no one else. They do not get a say in that, unless that’s somehow important to you. Then we can revisit that.”

“It’s not,” Jeongin says, a little stunned. “I don’t want them to know yet.”

“Then none of us will tell them.”

“We won’t tell anyone if you want to keep it secret,” Jisung adds. “If you’re just not sure yet. I think… I don’t know. I feel like taking it slow would be nice, in this case? We can just get to know each other better. I really like our coffee dates, we could just do more of those.”

Jeongin relaxes a little. “I… yeah. I like those too.”

Jisung smiles at him, and Jeongin smiles back.

“How about, um…” Hyunjin looks a little nervous, and that’s not a look Jeongin has ever seen on him before either. “How about scenting?”

Jeongin’s stomach flips with nerves.

“We don’t have to do that yet,” Minho says.

“No,” Jeongin agrees, “I… no. I can’t do that yet.”

“That’s okay,” Hyunjin says quickly. “I didn’t mean to press.”

“That’d be a first,” Jeongin mutters, and Hyunjin smiles. Jeongin takes a sip of coffee to give himself a second to process. He really isn’t ready for scenting yet. As much as he likes their scents, it feels too intimate, too much all at once.

“Can I just say,” Changbin says, leaning forward with a grin, “That this is not what I was expecting from today? We thought you were gonna tell us to fuck off.”

That makes Jeongin laugh. “I’ve done that before and you always came back.”

“No,” Chan and Hyunjin say at once, and Chan continues, “It didn’t feel permanent before. It didn’t feel like you meant forever. But if you had told us here, after inviting all of us over like this, then none of us would have approached you again.”

It’s not a lie. Jeongin can tell it isn’t, and deep down he knew that even before he came here today. But as much as he rationally knows they’re respectful, it feels entirely different now that they’re having this conversation, now that he’s letting them court him. Fresh nerves grip his stomach as soon as the thought comes to him, and perhaps they can smell it, because Changbin says, “Do you want to turn this back into a normal coffee date now? Because I still have to finish my story, and it’s a good one, Innie, you don’t wanna miss it. Hyung nearly cried.”

Jeongin huffs out a laugh, both at Changbin’s words and at the exasperated expression on Chan’s face, and feels his shoulders lower a fraction. “Yeah, continue. Sorry about cutting you off.”

“Cut me off any day for that,” Changbin says with a flash of a grin, but he launches back into his story.

Jeongin feels some more of the tension ease out of him as he listens and the light mood from earlier returns. This… is better. He would probably have kept discussing this, but maybe they’re right. Even he can recognise that they would just be going in circles if they did, so maybe there just isn’t much left to discuss at the moment. He’s already said everything he needs to say, and they’ve already made their promises. All that’s left is to see if they’re going to keep them.

For the next hour, they don’t talk about courting at all. They just talk about 3RACHA’s new album, and the preparations for Minho’s dance studio, and the time a spider dropped onto Hyunjin’s head (they talk about this three times, because Hyunjin needs to make sure that Jeongin knows exactly how traumatising it was).

It’s only when they’re getting ready to go back that Changbin looks at him and asks, “Can we walk you back to your dorm?”

Jeongin stiffens. “I don’t need you to.”

“I know,” Changbin says calmly. “And we don’t have to. We won’t, if you don’t want us to. But we like spending time with you, and we’ve walked you back before, as friends. I was just checking if it was okay with you this time, after today.”

Jeongin watches him for a long minute, trying to determine if Changbin is telling the truth or if this is the first hint at that strangling protectiveness people usually show omegas. He doesn’t mind them walking back with him, but he does mind them thinking he can’t survive the ten-minute walk back to his dorm without four alphas and a beta there to hold his hand.

“No,” he says eventually, watching them to check their reaction. To see if they’re going to push it, or look worried the way his family would.

Hyunjin droops and Jisung looks disappointed, but the others simply nod. “Alright,” Changbin shrugs. “Maybe next time.”

Jeongin blinks. That was anticlimactic.

“Can we meet up again soon?” Hyunjin asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” Jeongin says after a brief internal struggle. “Tuesday?”

“Tuesday is great! I love Tuesdays!”

Chan laughs and Minho sighs. “We’ll text you,” Chan says as they walk out of the café. None of them make a move to touch or scent or hug him, and Jeongin doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed.

He tells them goodbye and then turns to walk back to campus, feeling relatively calm. He did what he came here to do, and it went well. He did the right thing. He did. It can’t hurt, to see where this will go. Right? No, this is fine.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he begins to doubt it, and by the time he walks back into his dorm room, his mind has done a one-eighty and he is undeniably panicking.

“Hey!” Beomgyu says as he comes in, turning around with a wide grin. “How did it go?”

“I made a mistake,” Jeongin breathes out, scrambling into his nest and tugging his knees up to his chest. “Fuck, I made a mistake.”

“Hey, hey.” Beomgyu looks alarmed now. “What happened? What are you talking about?”

But Jeongin’s head is spinning. Did he seriously agree to let them court him? What was he thinking? He can’t be courting!

“Innie!” Beomgyu is on his knees in front of him now, and he looks worried.

“I’m—” The word sticks in Jeongin’s throat, and he has to swallow three times to get it loose. “I’m courting. I’m courting, I can’t be courting!”

Beomgyu’s face falls in relief. “Oh. God, don’t scare me like that.”

But Jeongin isn’t listening. How on earth could he have agreed to a courtship? He’s trying to prove his independence! He has literally been telling his parents for years that he’s never going to court or mate, he made it clear to them even last Friday that he isn’t going to do that—how can he just have forgotten all about that and done this?

“Yah!” Beomgyu says, tugging hard on a lock of Jeongin’s hair.

Jeongin jerks. “Ow!”

“Oh good, you’re listening. What are you panicking about this time?”

“I…”

“Did you give your speech?”

“Yes. But—”

“Did they promise to treat you and other omegas with respect?”

“Yes,” Jeongin says, “But—”

“Did they try to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for, or make you feel in any way uncomfortable today?”

“No,” Jeongin says, “But I’m…” He clenches his hands into his sheets. “If I do this, then I’m proving to my parents that they were right, that I’m weak and that I need an alpha. Not even one—that I need four alphas! I’ll prove to them that I can’t do anything by myself.”

“Is that what you’re proving?” Beomgyu says with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes!” Jeongin snaps. “I know them, and that’s what they’ll think, and I can’t handle that, Gyu. I can’t. I have to end this.”

Beomgyu grabs his wrist before he can reach for his phone. “Who are you living for, Innie?”

Jeongin frowns, bewildered. “What?”

“I thought you were living for you. For the freedom to make your own choices and live your own life and decide what kind of things you want it to include.”

“I am.”

“Then why the fuck are you letting your parents dictate your relationships?”

“I’m not, that’s the whole point.”

“You are, if you’re going to end a courtship that’s making you happy over the mere thought of how they will react. If you end this now, you’re not living for yourself. You’re letting them live you.”

Jeongin falters.

“I get that you’re scared. I know that your family dynamics are rough, and that you want nothing like the pack you grew up in. But won’t it be the biggest fuck you to them if you find a pack that will accept you for who you are, with whom you can be yourself? Wouldn’t that prove them wrong? Like, ‘hey, you said I was stupid for believing the things I did, but guess what, I found five people who agree with me completely and I’m happy and free.’ Wouldn’t that be the real win?”

When Jeongin doesn’t answer, Beomgyu softens. “If you really want to end this, I won’t get in your way. If you feel truly uncomfortable, or trapped, or god forbid patronised or unsafe, then please, text them and end it. But don’t act out of fear. This is your life. You get to decide what you do with it. You have never let fear stop you before, so don’t start now.”

He squeezes Jeongin’s hands and then lets go, stepping out of the nest. “Think about it. I’m gonna get us some snacks.” And then he’s gone, leaving Jeongin with free access to his phone and a head full of thoughts.

He doesn’t move for a minute. Just breathes. Beomgyu is right, he is scared. He’s terrified. He can feel the tightness in his chest, the pounding of his heart. If he ends the courtship he just agreed to, that would stop. He would be safe again, and free from the risk they pose him.

He’d be alone.

That’s what he always wanted. But the idea of never seeing them again… He’d never listen to Hyunjin’s stupid tales again, or hear Jisung’s laugh get louder as he relaxes, or see Chan nod in response to his comments on discrimination. He’d never smell their scents again, and never get close to the day that he might let them scent him directly and find out how well they blend with his.

His heart clenches.

He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to end this courtship.

But he is still terrified.

He exhales and rests his forehead on his knees. Grabs his phone. The screen lights up at his touch, and he has one text.

[4:22 pm] Bang Chan: Hey, Jeongin-ah. Today was a lot, huh? We just want to say that while we’re really, really happy that you agreed to let us court you, we will be doing this at your pace, on your terms. If you want to stick to coffee dates only for the next year, we’ll do that. If you want to stay away from touching and scenting and any kind of intimacy at all, that’s fine too. We hope we will be able to prove ourselves to you over the duration of this courtship, but if you ever decide you want to call it quits, we will respect that. You’re in charge, Innie, we need you to know that. We won’t text you again today, we’ll give you some space. But your trust means a lot to us, and we swear to you we won’t break it. Hope you have a great rest of your day ♡

Jeongin reads the text three times before lowering his phone again. His chest feels warm, and a little less tight. That’s… He wasn’t expecting that. Chan must have sent this before they even drove home. Maybe they sent it together. He imagines the others reading over Chan’s shoulder, making him change and correct things until they all agreed.

He slowly uncurls from his tight ball and shifts until he’s lying on his back. Okay, he decides, staring up at the ceiling. Okay then. He’s courting. He’s courting, and he’s going to see where this goes.

The decision still feels scary. But maybe one day, it won’t. He’ll have to wait and see.

Chapter Text

“Is this okay?” Felix asks the room at large upon leaving the bathroom, still fidgeting with the way his blouse is tucked into his trousers.

Seungmin looks up and then immediately turns to his packmates to see the mayhem Felix just caused.

Jeongin looks mostly amused, despite the gleam in his eyes, but the others… Jisung’s mouth is hanging open, and Changbin looks strangled. Minho’s face has gone blank, but his eyes are dark and Seungmin isn’t sure he’s breathing. Chan looks up from the watch he’s trying to fasten and promptly drops it, choking on thin air and immediately diving to the ground after the watch in an attempt to give himself some time to recover. Hyunjin’s mouth splits into a grin, and he doesn’t even bother to hide his interest, biting his lip and openly checking Felix out. Seungmin would smack him for it, but Felix doesn’t even notice, still tugging on his clothes.

So instead, Seungmin looks down. “You alright there, hyung?” he asks Chan, who is hiding behind the bed, curled up into a ball.

“No,” Chan manages, eyes wide. “Jesus Christ.”

Seungmin cackles and crouches in front of him. “Don’t you wish you were ace?”

“I hate you,” Chan says. “Scent me, please.”

Seungmin grins and presses his wrist to Chan’s neck to mask the first notes of arousal that have crept into his scent.

There’s a thud as Changbin drops to the floor beside Chan, sticking his wrist out to Seungmin. “Me next. Fucking hell.”

Seungmin obeys, still laughing, and lets his eyes trail across the rest of the room. Hyunjin has stepped forward to help put the final touches to Felix’s outfit, but despite the grin on his face, he seems to be in control of himself. There’s still a sharp gleam to Jeongin’s eyes, but Seungmin knows he’s fine too. Jisung on the other hand—

“Better get Jisungie next,” Chan agrees, watching the way Jisung’s mouth is still hanging open.

Seungmin’s eyes flicker to Minho, and he cocks his head. “Do you think…”

Changbin snorts. “Definitely. But he’s good with self-control.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “So are you, and yet here we are.”

Changbin shrugs, entirely unapologetic. “I have my limits. Lix dressed in silk and looking like that is one of them.”

Seungmin looks back to Felix, who is beaming up at Hyunjin. His blond hair is half up, half down, two side pieces delicately framing his face. It contrasts prettily with the black silk of his blouse. His lips are tinted pink, and the sunlight falling in through the open window highlights the freckles on his cheeks. “He does look good,” Seungmin concedes. “I can’t entirely blame you, I guess.”

“Wow,” Changbin says, raising an eyebrow.

Seungmin rolls his eyes again. “I’m ace. Not blind. I can tell he looks good.” And then, because he knows Changbin like the back of his hand and can’t resist, he adds casually, “Would be nice if he sat next to you in the car, right? Silk brushing against you every time he moved?”

Both Changbin and Chan let out strangled sounds, and Seungmin rises with a grin. “Better find a way to cool off, hyungs. We’re leaving in five.”

“Kim Seungmin,” Changbin hisses, and Seungmin walks away with a laugh.

Chapter Text

It’s just past nine when Jeongin sends the text.

True to Seungmin’s word, no one had asked Jeongin anything over dinner. Jeongin doesn’t know how Seungmin managed it, but the beta has done it for him before, and Jeongin knew he wouldn’t break his word.

Unfortunately, that means that now, it’s time for Jeongin not to break his. He’s put it off for as long as he could, but he can’t wait any longer or he won’t do it at all.

[9:13 pm] Jeongin: hyung can you come to my room if you’re free? it’s not urgent no need to rush

Chan knocks on the door in under a minute. Jeongin knows the alpha was in the studio with Changbin and Jisung, but either their project wasn’t important, or Chan dropped everything the moment Jeongin texted. Knowing Chan, it’s probably the latter.

“Hey,” Chan says when Jeongin opens the door. “I got your text.”

Jeongin nods. “Come in?”

Chan checks his face to make sure that he’s welcome, and then steps into his room. He’s always been good about that. About respecting Jeongin’s personal space. About respecting Jeongin’s boundaries, about treading carefully wherever Jeongin’s sensitive. He’s been so good about everything. Jeongin has not made it easy on him, but Chan has been endlessly patient.

“You okay, Jeonginnie?” Chan’s voice is soft.

Jeongin clenches his jaw and closes the door. He sits down on his desk chair, opens his mouth, and closes it again. Finally, he shakes his head. A single jerky movement.

“Do you want to talk, or do you need something else?”

Jeongin shrugs, and is immediately annoyed with himself. He called Chan here for a reason. He just needs to fucking ask.

Chan doesn’t press. Just lowers himself down onto a bean bag and watches him. Not Jeongin’s bed, even though that was closer. Chan has never touched Jeongin’s private nest, and Jeongin knows he never will. “How was school?”

Jeongin flinches.

Chan’s face twists in sympathy. “That bad, huh?”

Jeongin knows Felix and Seungmin would disagree, but it still feels so stupid. He was at school yesterday and everything was fine, even though he had a meeting with the dean and a class with professor Kim. He felt fine all day. And yet today, when he had completely different classes and wasn’t even in the same building, he’d spotted a guy that vaguely looked like Ilsung and his entire body had seized up.

“Nothing happened,” Jeongin grits out. “Nothing even happened, he didn’t even touch me and neither did Kim, so why am I so fucking—” He cuts himself off, hands clenching into fists.

“What he did,” Chan starts, voice low and firm, “Was assault. He violated you, took away your control, and made you act against everything you stand for. The fact that it could have ended worse does not negate that. You have a right to be scared, Innie.”

“I’m not scared, I’m just—” Furious. So fucking furious, at Ilsung and at the dean and at Kim and at himself for being too weak to fight him off. Mostly himself.

Because that’s the worst part. He knows, rationally, that Alpha Voice is impenetrable. It’s a biological fact. But it never felt like that. Minho and Chan use their Voices sometimes, when they space him. Sometimes he has a hard time letting go and giving in to spacing at all, even when he wants to, and it helps if they can give him that little nudge into letting go. It always felt nice, when they did it. Gentle. It felt like if he really wanted to, he would have been able to resist it. He always thought, for some stupid, arrogant reason, that he would be able to. That he would be strong enough. That people just underestimated omegas the way they always did, and that he would prove them wrong in that too, like he had in everything else.

And then Ilsung had commanded him, and Jeongin’s mind had locked up completely. He’d still been there, but it was like being trapped under an anvil, flattened and stretched out along the bottom of his mind while Ilsung’s command pressed down on him with the weight of a thousand suns. He’d had enough self-awareness to try and fight back, to scream at the invading mass in his head, but he’d been utterly, completely powerless to do anything to stop it. To stop himself as he walked mechanically away from Ilsung’s smirk and towards professor Kim’s office.

It had been terrifying.

Felix is right, it’s the worst thing he’s ever felt. The thought that Felix went through two years of that makes him want to throw up.

The thought of it happening again, to Felix or to himself—he shivers.

Chan is… Chan is right. He is scared.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying again until Chan is in front of him, kneeling in between Jeongin’s legs and wiping away his tears. “I am so, so sorry you had to go through that, I.N-ah. I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been.”

Jeongin closes his eyes. He’s crying in both fear and fury, because any emotion he has about this seems to go hand in hand with anger. “I thought I saw him,” he manages eventually, once he’s wrestled back control over his voice. “Today. Ilsung. Which is stupid, because he was expelled. And yet there was this instinctive part of me that wanted to flee and come back home to hide in the den, and I hate it.” He stares down at his lap at the admission.

Chan’s doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then he says, “A very primal part of me wants to rip his throat out. Violently, and preferably with my own teeth.” The words surprise Jeongin so much that his head snaps back up. Chan looks at him, but he doesn’t take it back. “That part of me wants to kill him for what he did to you. For touching what’s mine.” There’s a darkness in Chan’s voice that Jeongin hasn’t heard before except when they discuss Kwang-ho, and Chan’s fingers dig into his wrists for a second before he purposely loosens his grip and takes a deep breath. “But that is not how we work, you and I. It never has been. It’s not how this pack works, and it’s not how I want this pack to work. But sometimes, we’ve got instincts that are hard to fight. They’re often not instincts that we want. But they’re there anyway, and we have to find a way to work with them.”

Jeongin contemplates that. He knows Chan said it to prove that Jeongin’s own instincts are natural, and sure, maybe he has a point, as much as Jeongin hates it. But Chan’s first words make him think, because he’d honestly not even really stopped to consider that the pack might also feel a certain way about what happened. Oh, he knows they were angry. That had been clear the moment he woke up.

But when Jeongin said he wanted them to drop it so things would go back to normal, they had deferred to his wishes. They hadn’t liked it, Changbin had almost begged him for the chance to make Ilsung pay for what he did, but he’d dropped it when Jeongin lashed out at him. Ultimately, they’d all seemed to agree that this was Jeongin’s choice.

But... this must have hit them hard too. Jeongin has been so absorbed in his own feelings that he hadn’t even realised that they must want revenge to soothe their own instincts.

He swallows. And maybe… maybe he wants revenge too. Last weekend, he hadn’t wanted to go further than the expulsion Ilsung had received, because he just wanted everything to be over and done with. But clearly, things aren’t over and done with anyway, because it’s still affecting him even now. So maybe…

“If I wanted you to make him pay,” he says slowly, lifting his eyes back to Chan. “How would you do it?”

Chan blinks in surprise. “Um. Well. We’d file charges, for one. I feel like if we do it, we can get more out of it than Kim or SNU can, considering we’re your pack and he violated you. Maybe jail time, a restraining order, a fine, whatever we can get. You’re the lawyer. You’d know better than me.”

Jeongin smiles. “And other than that?”

Chan’s eyebrows fly up. “What, like beating him up?” When Jeongin doesn’t reply, Chan says slowly, “We could, if you want us to. I think we’re technically allowed to take revenge.”

“You are,” Jeongin says. “Not murder or anything, but a beating is well within your rights for pack revenge for Use of Voice. It just has to be within two weeks and in public.”

Chan screws up his face, muttering, “Fucking barbaric laws,” and Jeongin laughs. “Well, say the word, and we would do it. If that’s really what you want, I’m sure you’d make Binnie’s week.”

Jeongin’s smile widens. “He was very angry.”

“He still is.”

Jeongin lets himself imagine it. Lets himself imagine the pack seeking Ilsung out on his way to the convenience store and dragging him to the ground the way he’d made Jeongin kneel. Imagines the growing fear in Ilsung’s eyes as they tower over him and make him hurt. It’s a very, very satisfying image. And yet… and yet Chan is right. Mindless violence is not how he wants their pack to work either.

“I don’t want you to beat him up.”

Chan smiles. “I didn’t think you would.”

“But I do want you to press charges. I want him to pay, and I want this to end up on his criminal record. Combined with professor Kim’s charges, it’ll make it a lot harder for him to find any kind of well-paying job afterwards.” He rolls his eyes. “Not even because he did it to me, technically. But because I’m yours and therefore he touched your property, and because professor Kim is an alpha and he indirectly harassed him too.”

Instead of the anger that Chan usually shows when Jeongin reminds him of the law, Chan cocks his head and says, “He really didn’t think it through at all, did he?”

Jeongin snorts. “Definitely not. I think he just assumed professor Kim would expel me and he wouldn’t be found out.”

“He’d have made a terrible lawyer.”

And Jeongin bursts into laughter. He laughs far, far harder than the comment ever deserved, but it’s like the giggles just keep coming, and Chan grins up at him. And when the laughter subsides, he feels a little bit lighter. “He wouldn’t have won a single case.”

Chan smiles and rubs Jeongin’s calf. “I’ll press charges for you. We’ll use Hyunjinnie’s lawyer.”

Jeongin nods. He could probably help with the charges himself, but he is still a student and he knows Hyunjin’s lawyer would know best. Besides, he doesn’t really mind leaving this to someone else. In fact, he might not really mind letting the pack step in on something else either. He doesn’t want mindless violence, but… He bites his lip. “Hyung, would it make everyone feel better if they could do something? To Ilsung?”

“Innie, we won’t. We’re following your lead here.”

“But would it make you feel better,” Jeongin presses.

Chan sighs. “Probably. Yeah. But we get to press charges now. We’ll be fine, I.N-ah. It’s not about us.”

“I don’t want you to beat him up,” Jeongin says again. When Chan opens his mouth, undoubtedly to once again reassure him that they won’t, Jeongin continues, “But I do want more than charges. I want him scared. He deserves that. I want you to enact pack revenge.”

Chan stares at him. “You want us to do it for you?”

That’s a fair question, because Jeongin has never asked the pack to fight his battles for him. But this time… “I don’t wanna talk to him. But I do want him to feel the… the fear I felt. And if it would make you feel better to get to do that, then, yes. I want you to.” Because the mental image of fear in Ilsung’s eyes is a little too satisfying to pass up on, and this way it doesn’t feel entirely like weakness. If he gets to give the pack something they want in return.

Chan watches him for a few more seconds, and then his lips twitch. “Alright then. Guess we’re having a pack meeting tomorrow. Bin and Jinnie are going to lose their minds, I’m sure. Help me keep them in line, please.”

Jeongin grins, and Chan smiles up at him.

It’s quiet for a second, and then Chan’s expression softens. “I know you don’t like talking about your feelings. But this was big, Innie. If you would like some professional help to process it and work through the fear and anger, we can look into that.”

It’s an open suggestion, not an order, and Jeongin swallows back the automatic ‘no’ that forms in his mouth. Because it’s a valid question. He doesn’t want things like today to keep happening either. So he thinks about it. Contemplates it carefully, and then says, “Not right now. Maybe at some point, if I can’t get past it.”

Chan doesn’t argue. “Okay.” He squeezes Jeongin’s calf again. “Whatever you need, love. I’ll give you anything.”

And Jeongin knows he would. Chan would split the world in half if Jeongin asked for its centre. He looks down at him, still kneeling between his legs, in the way a traditional pack alpha never, ever would have done. He’s never seen his father kneel. Crouch, sure, when he played with him and his brothers when they were young. But not kneel, and certainly not at someone’s feet.

Chan doesn’t care about that. Chan kneels when it suits him to kneel, without any shame or insecurity, in a way Jeongin has never quite managed. He knows it’s different, that it’s not loaded for Chan the way it is for him. And yet…

He takes a breath and says what he called Chan in here for. “I want you to space me.”

Chan looks up at him, calm and earnest. “I can do that.”

“Because today sucked, and I’m anxious, and I want to feel safe.”

At that, Chan’s eyes widen slightly, because Jeongin has never so openly admitted to the benefits he gets out of spacing. His voice is soft when he says, “I’d be honoured to guide you down, love.”

“But it’s not because I’m weak,” Jeongin hears himself caution automatically. “I don’t need it, I—” He cuts himself off, nails digging into his palms. Fuck. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this, that he would show Chan that he trusted him.

Chan’s hands slide up his legs until he finds Jeongin’s hands, and he gently uncurls his fingers. “I know, Jeongin-ah. You’re strong, and capable, and I won’t ever doubt that. You could ask me to space you twice a day for the next five years, and I still wouldn’t doubt that. It’s about trust for us, yeah? Not power.”

Jeongin lets out a breath. He nods. That’s what they agreed on, the first time he let Chan space him. It had taken a long time. Chan had never pressed, and neither had Minho. They were the only ones who’d even brought it up on occasion; Hyunjin and Jisung hadn’t even tried. From the very start of their courtship, they had all made it clear that they would never, ever space Jeongin so long as Jeongin didn’t want them to.

And they hadn’t. They hadn’t for a long time, because Jeongin hadn’t asked. But one day, during Jeongin’s second-year finals, he was so stressed that Chan had offered again, and Jeongin had been so sleep-deprived that he’d agreed. They hadn’t even done it that day. Chan and Minho had merely scented him to sleep, and they’d only given it a go a day later, after a long, extensive conversation about Jeongin’s limits and boundaries.

And they found a way that works. Chan or Minho will space him, and Jeongin gets to call them hyung instead of alpha, and he will keep as much of his personal space as possible and doesn’t have to sit in the traditional kneeling pose. He usually doesn’t kneel at all. The way Felix found them in the living room that day was an exception, and he still feels embarrassed about the way he dropped so quickly when Chan offered. He’d just had a meeting with Ilsung and he was stressed and it felt right at the time, to sink that deeply, but still. He hadn’t planned on kneeling. The fact that he did it must have thrown Chan a little, but he rolled with it and took care of him the way he always does. He took control, but he let Jeongin lead, like always. And afterwards he left Jeongin be, because that is a rule too. He and Minho don’t get to coddle Jeongin afterwards. They get to check him over to make sure he is okay, but after that, Jeongin gets to be alone, to reassure himself that he is still strong. That he isn’t that kind of omega.

And he knows that in a way, that thought is sexist too. There is nothing wrong with people who are that kind of omega, not if they genuinely want to be. And yet, since he spent his entire childhood being moulded into a classical omega, he fought so hard against any kind of omegan softness he possessed that by the time he met the pack, it was under such a tight lock and key that he’d barely been able to let them in. He’d made himself as un-omegan as possible, because that was strength.

And most of the time, that is fine. He wasn’t lying when he told Felix that. But he also wasn’t lying when he told him that there are moments when he aches for his packmates to hold him close, and he’s simply never been able to let them.

And he didn’t even realise that that was a problem until Felix. Because with Felix, things are easy. Jeongin has never met anyone with whom it is so easy to let go and lean into that part of himself that he hasn’t touched for so long. But Felix had come to them, sick and open and vulnerable, and something in Jeongin had lit up with the need to protect, to care, to keep him close. And he’d taken charge of what Felix would need as an omega in a way he never had before. Felix had been scared to nest, and scared to express his needs, and scared to ask for touch even when he wanted it, and Jeongin had done it for him, to prove to Felix that it was okay. And suddenly he had found himself touching and cuddling and being more omegan than he had ever been in his life, and it had felt… nice. He’d felt content. It had been scary, the slow realisation that he did want those things. That he’d wanted them for a very, very long time.

He’d still been terrified to tell the others, scared that things would change. That he would change. But then Felix had helped him with that too, and they’ve talked about that now, all of them. And everyone has told him repeatedly that they want him to ask for what he needs, that they will not think any less of him or have any kind of expectations, whether he wants to be soft or not. That they’ll still see him as him.

You’re strong, and capable, and I won’t ever doubt that. You could ask me to space you twice a day for the next five years, and I still wouldn’t doubt that.

He doesn’t want to be spaced twice a day. But he does want to be spaced now, and he wants…

“I want you to be my alpha,” he says, and Chan’s head snaps up. “I want to be spaced, but I want to do it differently. I want you to be my alpha, and take charge, and make me- help me—” His throat closes, and he curses himself. He just needs to fucking ask.

Thankfully, Chan is clever. “You want me to lean into gender roles? Treat you as my omega, and make you feel safe and protected?”

Jeongin nods. His chest aches.

“Want touch? For me to hold you close?”

“Yes,” Jeongin whispers. “And- and after—”

“Stay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

Chan tilts his head. “That changes a lot of our rules. Is that okay?”

Jeongin nods again. He doesn’t want the rules. Not tonight.

Chan watches him for a moment, and then asks, “Do you think you can go down without Voice?”

That’s a valid question, and he gets why Chan would check in about this. In the past, Jeongin has needed it more often than not in order to sink into that soft headspace. But he was fighting himself back then, so very hard, trying to maintain a sliver of control so he wouldn’t appear too soft. And he thinks that tonight, now that he knows for sure they won’t judge him or want him to be soft more often, he will be able to do it.

“Yes,” he says. “But if I can’t, you can use it.”

“Innie,” Chan says, sounding concerned.

“I’m not trying to prove something,” Jeongin says, cutting straight to the heart of Chan’s argument. “I’m asking you to trust my judgement. If I can’t go down without Voice, you have my permission to use it.” Because it has never felt oppressive, when Minho or Chan do it, and he knows that if Chan uses his Voice, he’ll use it briefly, just to give him a little push, and then he’ll drop it. That doesn’t scare him.

Chan scans his face and nods. “Alright. How do you want to do this tonight?”

Normally when they do this, they each sit on one of Jeongin’s beanbags. It gives him the distance he used to want. And maybe he’ll want that distance again some other time, but tonight he wants… “My nest.”

Chan’s eyes grow wide. “Innie.”

Jeongin stands, and Chan rises with him, looking stunned. Jeongin takes a deep breath and then sinks to his knees, dropping his head into a classical posture of submission the way he was taught as a child, his eyes down and his hands carefully folded behind his back. He hasn’t done it in years, but the movements are smooth and familiar. He’s never made them so picture-perfect as he does today, though. They’ve never been for Chan.

“Alpha,” he says to the floor. “I invite you into my nest. Please take care of me?”

Chan’s scent is awed. Not in a gross ‘finally’ way—it’s more like he’s awed that Jeongin trusts him enough to do this. He is crouched in front of Jeongin in a heartbeat, gently squeezing the back of his neck and tapping his thumb against Jeongin’s jaw to get him to look him in the eyes. “It would be my honour, omega,” he says softly, and Jeongin shivers.

Chan has never, ever called him that before, not as a way of address. Jeongin would have spat in his face if he’d tried. If Chan does it again tomorrow, Jeongin would still do that. But he knows that Chan won’t. Tonight, he’s asked for this, and Chan is giving it to him, like a present, wrapped in love.

Chan offers his hand, palm up. “You’re safe with me. You can let go. I will take care of you.” He releases a strong burst of pheromones and then says, in that low timbre that always hits a spot deep in Jeongin’s brain, “Alpha’s got you.”

Jeongin’s mind fizzles, slow warmth spreading through him. And this time, he doesn’t fight it. He just places his hand in Chan’s, and looks up at him for further guidance.

“Take me to your nest, love,” Chan says. His scent drifts out around them, and Jeongin’s mind mellows out further.

He rises, and leads Chan to his nest. Chan settles against one of the walls of pillows and holds his arms out. “Come here.”

Jeongin crawls in too, and lets Chan pull him close, in between his legs.

“Perfect,” Chan whispers in his ear as Jeongin shifts sideways so he can curl up against Chan’s chest. Something breaks open in his own chest, and Chan’s arms wrap around him. “Perfect, perfect, perfect boy. So good for me.”

Jeongin exhales a shuddering breath against Chan’s shirt. His eyes are wet, but he doesn’t remember why he’s crying. His mind is warm and empty.

“Beautiful omega,” Chan whispers, holding him close and kissing the tears away. “You’re mine. I’ll always keep you safe. Let go for me, baby.”

And Jeongin lets go for his alpha, and lets himself be loved.

Chapter Text

Jeongin’s eyes burn, but he rubs them aggressively and refocuses on the screen in front of him. He needs to get this legal memo done by tonight, or he won’t have enough time to study for his Criminal Law exam or write his Legal History essay, and then he’ll lose to Jeon Geon-ha and that is unacceptable.

He absently brings his cup of coffee to his mouth before remembering that he finished it a while ago. He should probably get up and make himself a new one, but if he does he might lose track of his writing even more than he already has, and he can’t afford that.

He squints at the screen again. He thinks his second paragraph is probably too argumentative. Professor Min said it should be objective, and he thinks he accidentally slipped his opinion in there somewhere, but he can’t quite tell where. It doesn’t help that he keeps reading the wrong sentences because the letters keep dancing.

There’s a knock on the door.

Jeongin gives a vague hum.

It opens. “Hey,” Chan says from the doorway. “I figured you were still up, thought I’d check in on you.”

Jeongin hums again. Yeah, he definitely got the tone wrong. Fuck. He’s going to have to start again, goddammit.

“Can I come in?”

Jeongin waves a vague hand, and Chan comes up behind him. “How’s it going, Jeonginnie?”

Poorly. And he doesn’t even remember which of the fifty open tabs in his browser contains the article he needs, and now he’s going to have to click on them one by one to find it again. He huffs.

Chan peers over his shoulder at what he’s doing. “How long have you been up?”

“Dunno,” Jeongin mumbles, momentarily distracted by how good Chan smells. He shakes himself out of it and keeps clicking. Wrong paper. Wrong paper. Thesaurus tab. Wrong paper.

Chan places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. “So tense.”

“Long day,” Jeongin mutters. Long week, honestly. But his second-year finals are noticeably harder than last year, and he has to do well. He has to.

Chan brings his other hand to Jeongin’s other shoulder and digs his fingers in, starting a massage.

Jeongin’s vision blurs, and he moans at how good that feels. “Fuck.”

Chan smiles, rubbing his thumbs up the back of Jeongin’s neck. “It gets bad, right? When you sit all day? I don’t think you even slept last night.”

Jeongin doesn’t even bother responding, merely tips his head and lets Chan work. His eyes flutter closed. Chan’s hands are strong and warm, and they feel amazing on his aching muscles.

“Come to bed?” Chan asks. “You must be tired.”

That snaps Jeongin out of his daze. “No,” he says, raising his head and looking at the screen again. “Gotta finish this memo.”

“And then you’ll sleep?” Chan checks.

“Yeah,” Jeongin agrees, because he’s so fucking tired. He clicks on another tab and squints at the letters.

Chan studies him. “Are you seeing anything on the screen right now?”

“Some of it,” Jeongin mumbles, and Chan laughs.

“You need a break, love.”

“Can’t.”

Chan’s hands pause. He steps aside to crouch by Jeongin’s chair, keeping his left hand on Jeongin’s shoulder. His scent swirls around Jeongin with the movement, and Jeongin breathes it in. “Would you like me to space you?”

Jeongin blinks blearily at him. “What?”

“Just to give your brain a little break. Like a quick recharge.” Chan’s thumb rubs soothingly across the back of Jeongin’s neck. “No pressure at all, you can tell me no. But spacing is supposed to boost mental clarity, so if you have to finish that memo before you can sleep, I thought it might be nice if your head felt a little clearer. A little lighter.”

Jeongin glances back at the screen. It no longer has words, because they’re all jumping around in dizzying patterns. He is so tired. Chan’s hand feels good, and he leans into the touch. His entire body feels heavy. He would love to feel light. That sounds so nice. He sighs. Chan is offering, right? To make him feel… To help him feel… He loses track of his thoughts for a second. Blinks again. God, he’s tired. He wants a break, wants to rest, wants to feel light like Chan promised. Chan would. Chan would make him feel so good. And suddenly, he wants that. Wants it desperately. So he nods. “Okay.”

Chan’s thumb stills, and Jeongin nearly whines. “Okay?”

“Yes please,” Jeongin sighs. He blinks, and his eyes close for a second.

“What are you agreeing to?” Chan asks, voice soft.

“Spacin’,” Jeongin mumbles, peering up at Chan through heavy eyelids. Chan is blurry too. He slumps a little further into the warm hand on his shoulder. It would feel so good. He wants it. “Light. Please?”

Chan smiles, looking incredibly fond. “Alright, baby. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

Jeongin hums, and doesn’t even protest when Chan leans forward to click around on his laptop for a few seconds. Then he turns Jeongin’s chair and slides his hands under his knees and shoulders to lift him up. Jeongin buries his face in Chan’s chest and breathes him in. His head swims, and he lets his eyes drift shut again. Just for a second, because they’re so heavy. “T’space?” he checks as Chan carries him out of his room, because he wants that.

“No, love. Just to sleep.”

Jeongin barely hears him. His body sways slightly with Chan’s footsteps, and his nose is tucked into soothing coffee, and it’s wonderful. He already feels a bit lighter, and he shivers pleasantly at the thought of more.

There’s a quiet murmur of voices, and then he’s lowered onto a soft surface. Chan tries to untangle him from his chest, and Jeongin whines.

“Ssh, baby. I just want to get you out of these clothes. Here, hold on to Minho.”

Someone else shifts closer, and Jeongin sighs as Minho releases a light mist of ocean air. “Space,” Jeongin demands again, because Chan promised.

Chan presses a kiss into his hair and then moves Jeongin’s body so he can take his jeans off. “Not tonight, honey.”

“Is he serious?” Minho whispers.

“Who knows. I offered, but that was before I realised how tired he was. I think he barely knows what he’s saying. I’m definitely not spacing him like this.”

Minho brushes a lock of hair from Jeongin’s forehead.

“Give me your arms, Innie.” Jeongin whines pitifully, and Minho chuckles. Chan huffs. “Or don’t, I guess. Min, help me with that hoodie?”

Jeongin is jostled and pulled up a bit, and it’s all extremely unpleasant because he just wants to drift away and they’re not letting him. He whines again.

“He’s gonna wake up the others,” Minho says, sounding amused. “Just knock him out. It won’t take much. We’ll do the hoodie afterwards.”

“Yeah, alright,” Chan agrees. “Come here, Jeonginnie.”

The last thing Jeongin wants is to go anywhere at all, but at least it seems like Chan understands that, because he merely presses another soft kiss to his forehead before rubbing his wrists over Jeongin’s neck.

Coffee seeps into his veins, warm and heavy and dark, and Jeongin’s world goes black.

***

He wakes up to a hand brushing through his hair, and he groans.

A soft chuckle. “I know. I’m sorry, love. But you’d kill us if we let you sleep longer.”

Jeongin blinks his eyes open. He’s in the den. He could tell that even before opening his eyes. The nest is empty though, aside from him and Chan, who is leaning over him to shake him awake.

“Good morning.”

Jeongin slings an arm over his eyes and groans again.

“Minho made you breakfast, and there’s coffee.”

That makes Jeongin stop groaning, and he slowly sits up. The room is bright with morning sunlight. “What time is it.”

“Eleven.”

“Okay.” Jeongin rubs his eyes, and then jolts. “Eleven?”

“Your assignment is due at three, and I sent the draft you were working on to Beomgyu, who told us you would definitely manage in four hours and that you’d be fine if we woke you up by eleven. Also that you switched from chronological to thematic facts halfway through and that you need to fix that before handing it in, or professor Min will feed your paper through her shredder and deservedly so, because you know better and your current work is a mess. His words, not mine.”

Jeongin rubs his face again. “Fuck.”

“You were pretty sleep-deprived, I think.”

“Yeah.”

Chan tilts his head. “How much do you remember of last night?”

Jeongin blinks, trying to think back through the haze that was the night before. He’s pulled all-nighters before, and he’s always been fine. But apparently one all-nighter is his limit and he shouldn’t have tried to stretch it out to two, because he barely remembers anything after Minho bringing him dinner last night. “I was working,” he says slowly. “You… gave me a massage? And you took me to bed.”

Chan huffs, and then says, “I did, yes. Alright, get up. Go take a shower, eat something, and then get back to your brief.”

“Memo,” Jeongin corrects, but he lets Chan pull him out of bed. He still feels groggy, but at least better than last night, and he knows he’ll be able to finish his assignment after some food and coffee. He looks up at Chan, gratitude swirling in his chest. Because Chan went to a lot of effort to make sure Jeongin would get some sleep but wouldn’t miss an important deadline, and he checked with Beomgyu instead of making that decision himself, because he knew Beomgyu would know better than him. Chan could have just let Jeongin pass out and be done with it, and Jeongin might have missed the deadline entirely. But it’s Chan, so of course he didn’t.

“Thank you,” Jeongin tells him, and the words are sincere.

Chan smiles. “You’re welcome.” He bends to kiss Jeongin, who leans in automatically before turning his head away.

“I’m so fucking gross,” he tells Chan when the alpha pouts, because he might not remember getting to bed, but he knows for a fact he did not brush his teeth.

At that, Chan laughs. “I don’t care. Just give me my kiss.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes, but lets Chan kiss him this time, short and sweet.

“Alright,” Chan says when he pulls back, patting Jeongin’s butt. “Go shower. And brush your teeth.”

Jeongin flips him off, and Chan’s laugh is the last thing he hears before he closes the bathroom door.

*

Three hours and fifty minutes later, Jeongin hands in his revised assignment (Beomgyu was right. It was a mess, and there’s no way he’d even have passed if he hadn’t stopped to get some sleep). He’s relatively sure he’s managed to fix it this time. Mostly. Hopefully. He tries to shake off the thought, because it’s done now, he’s already handed it in, and he has enough left to worry about without thinking about the memo.

He still has to study 150 pages of notes for his Criminal Law exam and he hasn’t even started writing his Legal History essay, and he can already feel his stress levels rising again. Fuck. He drops his face onto his folded arms on his desk and groans.

His neck hurts. His head aches, and he definitely needs more sleep.

Coffee. He’ll compromise, and take a break to get coffee.

When he gets downstairs, he finds Chan and Minho in the kitchen. “Hey,” Chan says, perking up. “How did it go?”

Jeongin shrugs and shuffles over to the coffee machine. “I handed something in at least.”

“That’s great!”

Jeongin reaches for the coffee beans, and Minho nudges him aside. “Go sit. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks,” Jeongin mumbles, and drops down into a kitchen seat, resting his head on his forearms again. “Ugh. I hate finals.”

Chan rubs his shoulder. “I know. You smell stressed.”

“I am stressed,” Jeongin growls into his arms. “I have so much to do and everything hurts and my head is killing me.”

Chan hesitates and takes a deep breath. “Okay, so. I’m going to try again. Would you like me to space you?”

Jeongin snaps his head up. “What?”

“You’re stressed. It’s an easy way to relieve it. From what I know, it wouldn’t have to be for long at all and you’d feel much better afterw—”

“What the hell,” Jeongin hisses. “No!”

“I’m just saying—”

“That you think I’ve reached my limit as a poor little omega and can’t handle a little stress? Oh, fuck you. If you think—”

“You asked us for it last night,” Minho interrupts, setting a cup of coffee down in front of him. When Jeongin whirls around, Minho meets his eyes, his own face calm and unflappable. “Hyung offered to space you, and you agreed.”

All the colour drains from Jeongin’s face. He turns back to Chan. “You spaced me last night?”

“No,” Chan says soothingly. “Of course I didn’t. You were in no state to consent. I offered because you were determined to finish that memo last night and you could barely see the screen anymore, and I thought it might help. But then you slumped over and couldn’t even string two words together, so even though you agreed, I would never have spaced you. I took you to bed and put you to sleep, and that’s all.”

Some of the tightness in Jeongin’s chest dissipates. But only some, because the idea that he would have agreed to spacing—

“But you did ask for it,” Minho adds, clearly still thinking about that too. “Probably because a part of you recognised that it would help.”

“Which I think it would,” Chan agrees.

Jeongin bristles. “And what makes the two of you such fucking experts? You’ve never spaced anyone!”

“No,” Chan says, “But that’s not—”

“I have,” Minho says calmly, and Jeongin gapes at him.

He’s not the only one. “You have?” Chan asks, eyes wide.

“Yes.”

“What? When was that?”

Minho shrugs. His face is unreadable as always, and not for the first time Jeongin wonders about Minho’s past. It’s a mystery to all of them, but he knows better than to pry.

“Doesn’t matter,” Minho says. “What matters is that I know it helps. Not because you’re an omega and you need it. You could say no to this and we all know you’d be fine. It would suck though, because you are stressed and that’s not gonna go away until the end of finals. Spacing would help clear your mind a lot, and allow you to study more effectively afterwards.”

When Jeongin doesn’t immediately respond, Chan senses an opening and leans forward. “It’s an advantage,” he says. “I know you don’t see it that way. But honestly—sometimes, when we take on too many projects and everything starts heaping up, I wish there was a way for me to get rid of stress that easily. There isn’t, for me. But there is for you. You have a biological advantage over other subgenders that will allow you stress relief in a matter of minutes.”

Jeongin is left staring at both of them, Chan’s words sending him reeling. Finally he chokes out, “You think me submitting to my superiors is an advantage?”

His words are sharp, but Chan does not take the bait. “I think you having a biological stress reliever is an advantage. Hierarchy would have absolutely nothing to do with it.”

Jeongin scoffs.

“Do you seriously think we would make this about power?” Chan asks him.

“Spacing is about power,” Jeongin hisses back.

“Nothing in this pack is about power,” Chan says, “And that includes spacing, if and when it happens.”

Jeongin scoffs again, and Chan adds, “By which I mean that you will have as much control over the scene as Minho or I, or whoever you want to do this with. It’s up to you what you want it to look like. I think you’ve only seen one side of spacing that you hate, and there’s more options out there than you’ve realised.”

“It doesn’t need to be anything you don’t want,” Minho agrees. “That’s why we wanted to talk to you.”

Jeongin glances between them and then to the empty kitchen. For the first time, it occurs to him how weird it is that Chan and Minho just happened to both be in the kitchen at three o’clock on a random Thursday, and no one else. “You’re ambushing me,” he realises.

“No,” Chan protests, at the same time Minho says, “Yes. Because we needed to talk.”

“About spacing me.”

“Yes.”

Jeongin narrows his eyes at Minho. “You’re from a traditional family.”

“I am. That’s unrelated.”

Jeongin laughs, and it sounds sharp and unkind. “Oh, sure. So you haven’t seen your parents be spaced right in front of you for years because they need it and are now trying to tell me the same thing.”

“You don’t need it,” Minho says, gritting his teeth. “I just fucking said that. But it will help.”

“In this moment,” Chan adds hastily. “In this very specific circumstance, we think it will help. This is not about power, this is about us wanting to help you get through your finals without feeling like shit.”

“I can get through my fucking finals on my own,” Jeongin hisses at them, sliding out of his seat. He grabs his coffee and glares at them, fury bubbling hot and tight under his skin. “Am I allowed to go, alphas, or were you going to shove me to my knees right here in the kitchen?”

Chan’s entire face falls, and the look of hurt on his face is so open and painful that Jeongin wrenches his eyes to Minho.

Minho’s face is tight, but all he says is, “You already know the answer to that. I do not need to tell you. Go, Jeongin.”

Jeongin’s hand tightens around the mug he’s holding, but he stalks out of the kitchen, trying to ignore the fact that he’s never felt so bad after defending himself.

*

He tries to lose himself in drafting an outline for his Legal History essay. Tries being the operative word, because it’s not going well.

He keeps seeing the hurt in Chan’s eyes, and the tightness on Minho’s face. And then he feels furious again, because they want to space him, even though he said no.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to admit to himself that that’s not true. They would never space him if he doesn’t want it. He knows that. He knows that and he hurt them anyway. His comment was uncalled for. They were only trying to help, because apparently last night, he asked for spacing.

He tries to remember it. Tries to remember what on earth he could have been thinking or feeling that would have made him ask for it. His head aches, and he rubs his temples in a vain attempt to ease the pain. He felt like this last night too, he thinks absently. This same pounding headache and stiffness in his muscles and a tension so great that it felt like he might snap in half if someone nudged him.

Chan tried to massage it out. He vaguely remembers that. Chan rubbed his shoulders, and his neck, and Jeongin leaned into the touch because it felt good. He wanted more. He felt so heavy and he wanted Chan to make him feel—

He freezes.

Fuck. He did. He did ask Chan for it.

He wanted to be spaced.

He remembers it now. It’s all still hazy, still vague, because he was so tired his head felt like molasses. But he remembers Chan promising him lightness, and he remembers wanting that fiercely. Because he was tired and stressed and aching, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Chan would make him feel better.

He lets his forehead drop to his desk. It pulses with a slow, dull ache that feels like it’s squeezing in a tight band around his head.

He’s still tired and stressed and aching. And Chan and Minho offered to help, and Jeongin…

He groans.

He’s going to need to apologise.

He keeps his head pressed to his desk, eyes squeezed shut, because he needs to think first. He can’t talk to them again if he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. What he needs to say. What he… what he wants.

For the next fifteen minutes, he tries to sort out his head, and Chan and Minho’s words keep drifting through his mind.

It’s an advantage. You have a biological advantage over other subgenders.

The thought is absurd. Because spacing can’t be an advantage. Giving up all his hard-won control to let someone else hold power over him is not an advantage.

Nothing in this pack is about power.

And… no. Fine, that’s true. Chan makes pack decisions sometimes, but never ones they won’t agree with, and Jeongin knows they’re all equals here. But spacing… spacing would be about power. It has to be.

By which I mean that you will have as much control over the scene as Minho or I, or whoever you want to do this with. It’s up to you what you want it to look like. I think you’ve only seen one side of spacing that you hate, and there’s more options out there than you’ve realised.

The words hit him hard, one after the other, and Jeongin presses his hands over his ears like that will stop him from hearing them. He tries to think rationally, beyond the ingrained horror. Would it be different, with them? Everything has been different with them. So logically, it makes sense that this would be too. But still, the thought of letting them space him… Even if it’s different, why on earth would he? There’s no reason to—

What matters is that I know it helps. Not because you’re an omega and you need it. You could say no to this and we all know you’d be fine. It would suck though, because you are stressed and that’s not gonna go away until the end of finals. Spacing would help clear your mind a lot, and allow you to study more effectively afterwards.

Fuck.

For a long time, Jeongin lets those words fill his mind. Lets them bounce around and pulse alongside the headache, as he contemplates them from every angle. As he makes sure that the decision he’s making is the right one.

And then he straightens and gets up, and heads downstairs.

He moves quickly, because if he doesn’t, if he stops to slow down, he will change his mind. He goes to the kitchen first. Minho is slicing radishes at top speed, busy with dinner preparations. He knows Jeongin is there, because Minho never misses anything, but he doesn’t speak or look up, just continues chopping.

Jeongin swallows. “Hyung.”

The knife slows.

“Can we talk?”

The knife stops. Gets put down, and Minho looks over, his face unreadable. For a moment, he just studies Jeongin, and then wordlessly dries his hands.

Jeongin exhales. “Chan-hyung too. I’ll… I’ll just—” He gestures vaguely and turns, because he needs to keep moving.

Chan is in the studio with Changbin and Jisung, and they all look up at him when he knocks and enters. Jeongin opens his mouth. Closes it again.

It’s Changbin who speaks. “Oh, finally. Good. Hyung, go.”

Chan drags his eyes away from Jeongin and looks at Changbin. “What?”

“Go,” Changbin repeats, shoving him out of his chair. “Talk, or whatever.”

Chan bites his lip. “But the—”

“We can handle the track,” Jisung says.

“You’ve been useless all afternoon anyway,” Changbin adds. “Just go.”

Chan huffs, but nods and walks over to Jeongin. Jeongin’s fingers twitch nervously, but he turns back to the stairs and heads up without saying anything. Chan follows, equally silent.

Minho is waiting for them in the hallway. “Your room or mine?”

Jeongin takes a breath. “Mine.”

Minho nods, and they all walk up another floor to Jeongin’s room. Minho’s old room. It must have been an adjustment for him, to switch rooms, but Minho hasn’t once messed up and accidentally walked into the wrong room. He’s been as meticulous about the switch as he is about everything else he does. Jeongin’s throat feels tight.

They both wordlessly take seats on Jeongin’s beanbags, and Jeongin drops into his desk chair. The air feels tense. “I’m sorry,” he says, because that is step one. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

Chan looks at him. “Did you really think we would—”

“No,” Jeongin says. “I didn’t. I know you wouldn’t. You hit a nerve, and I lashed out.” He looks away.

Chan exhales, and it sounds like relief. “I’m sorry too,” he says, and Jeongin snaps his head back. “I feel like we could have handled it better, Min and I. Two on one was a little… aggressive, maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think it helped.”

Jeongin slides his eyes to Minho, who hasn’t said anything yet but who nods in response to what Chan is saying. Jeongin sighs. “Probably,” he eventually admits, because Chan is not wrong. “I am sorry though.” It’s a little easier to say this time.

“Forgiven,” Chan says. He holds out his hand, and Jeongin obligingly rolls closer to place his hand in Chan’s. Chan presses a kiss to his palm and then lets go.

Jeongin is glad for it, because he is still far too tense for cuddles or loving touches. He looks at Minho. “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“Yeah,” Minho sighs. “Fine. I’m sorry too.”

Jeongin nods, feeling a hint of relief.

An awkward silence falls.

“So should we—” Chan starts, at the same time Jeongin blurts, “Will you space me?”

They both stare at him.

“Innie, no,” Chan says, eyes wide. “You already apologised. We already accepted. If you’re doing this out of some sort of guilt—”

“No,” Jeongin says, even though that had been part of what led him to this decision. It’s not now though. He knows his apology was accepted. “Just—I need to know. Just once.”

Chan is still shocked, but Minho leans forward. “What’s your goal?”

Jeongin looks at him, not quite understanding.

“What’s your goal,” Minho repeats. “What is it you’re looking to get out of spacing?”

Jeongin’s hands clench into fists. “I don’t know,” he snaps, agitated. Minho raises an eyebrow, and Jeongin falters. Tones it down. “I… I don’t know.”

“Then we’re not doing this,” Minho tells him.

Jeongin gapes. “You spent half an hour trying to convince me earlier, and now you’re out?”

“Hyung and I spent half an hour trying to explain to you that anything we do would be completely up to you. You were not listening.”

“I’m listening now,” Jeongin growls, “And I just agreed.”

“Which is great,” Minho deadpans, “But we’re not talking about spacing a blank slate. We’re talking about spacing you. We’re not doing that before we know what it is you want and what your boundaries are. We are talking before we do anything, or we could seriously hurt you.”

Jeongin stares at him, and Chan’s eyebrows have shot up. Because Minho insisting on a talk is not something that’s ever happened before. “You really have done this before,” Chan says, blinking.

Minho doesn’t look at him, keeps his eyes fixed on Jeongin.

Jeongin takes a breath. Rubs his hands over his thighs. “I need to know what it’s like,” he says. “With you.”

“Which one of us?” Minho asks.

“I don’t care. I just need to know.” His head aches, and his neck feels stiff. His eyes briefly flicker to his laptop. “And you said it would help. With exams.”

“It will,” Minho says easily. Confidently. Not a typical cocky alpha confidence. It seems experienced, like he knows what he’s talking about. Knows what he’s doing.

“So,” Jeongin says, “That. That’s my reason.”

After a second of consideration, Minho nods. “Alright.”

“It should be you,” Chan says to Minho. “If it’s… If Innie really doesn’t have a preference. You clearly know more than me.”

Minho huffs. “You would do fine. If we talk about it, we all know where we stand. The rest is instinct. Besides, it’s…” He eyes Jeongin. “You want to do this now?”

Jeongin nods, jaw tight. If he doesn’t do it now, he doesn’t think he ever will.

Minho shrugs. “Then it’s got to be hyung, because I have a staff meeting at eight I can’t cancel.”

Jeongin’s eyes meet Chan’s, and then he looks away.

“If you want it to be Minho,” Chan says, “I don’t mind. I’d—”

“No,” Jeongin says quickly, because it has to be now. “I don’t care. It’s fine.” It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but it is true. He doesn’t care if it’s Minho or Chan. Spacing is spacing, and it won’t matter which one of them does it. It won’t make him less tense.

“Okay,” Chan says, and something shifts. Acceptance, maybe. Determination. His gaze sharpens. “Then Minho is right, and we need to talk.”

And they do.

What follows is a long, long talk about Jeongin’s limits, boundaries, and visions for what he wants this spacing to be. Jeongin does not have any visions for spacing, only tensions and dreads, but slowly, as they talk it through, things begin to take shape. Apparently, spacing doesn’t need to be classical submission. He doesn’t need to kneel, they can just… sit next to each other. Or lie down. And he doesn’t necessarily have to be quiet either.

“You might not want to talk,” Minho says, “Because some people don’t. Some people can’t. But if you want to, there’s nothing stopping you.”

Jeongin nods slowly.

“This is about trust,” Chan says, “Not power. We don’t want anything you don’t want.”

“Let’s set up rules,” Minho says, and Jeongin stiffens. But Minho continues with, “For hyung and me. What can and can’t we do?”

“For you?” Jeongin echoes, a little stunned.

“Of course,” Chan says. “Can we touch you? Do you want us to use pheromones, should we call you anything different than we normally do?”

“Rules,” Minho agrees. “Come on, hit us. I’m sure you’ve already got at least ten.”

Jeongin does have at least ten. They discuss spacing in full detail, from talking Jeongin down to bringing him back up, and they listen to everything Jeongin says no to and talk until they’ve found an alternative. By the end of it, Chan has a list of rules typed into his phone, written down in meticulous detail.

“I have one rule for you,” Minho tells Jeongin then. “And this one is non-negotiable. I know I’m not spacing you today, but I’m sure hyung will agree.”

Jeongin eyes him warily. “What?”

“Do not lie to us.”

Jeongin frowns.

Minho’s eyes narrow. “Hard limit, Jeongin-ah.”

“Yeah,” Chan says softly. “For me too. I’m not a mind-reader. I need you to be honest when I check for your colour, or I could hurt you.”

And… fine. Jeongin can see the point of this rule. “Okay,” he says.

Minho does not let up. “You’ll be honest?”

“Yes,” Jeongin sighs. He already knows he’s going to hate this, but he will be.

Minho nods. “Alright. Then I think we’ve covered everything.” He checks his phone. “I’ve got to go.”

Jeongin checks his own phone and his eyes widen. It’s past seven. They’ve been here for over two hours. “Oh shit,” he says. “You haven’t even eaten—”

“I’m fine,” Minho says, getting up and stretching his back. “I’ll grab one of Bin’s protein bars.” Then he turns back to Jeongin. “You too. I know you’re going to do this now, that you’re not going to want to wait. That’s fine. I get why. But eat something beforehand. It’ll help. Afterwards too.” When he sees Jeongin open his mouth, he adds, “Yes, without hyung, he can leave you be once he’s made sure you’re fine. But eat, Jeongin, or I’ll slice you through the cheese grater when I get back.”

That makes Jeongin laugh for the first time since they all came in here. He’s still tense, and still nervous, but he feels a little bit better. “Yes, fine. I’ll eat.”

For a moment, they just watch each other, and Jeongin feels like he should say more. Thank you. I’m sorry. But he doesn’t, and neither does Minho. Instead, Minho steps forward and gently holds Jeongin’s chin so he can kiss him, and Jeongin lets him do it. He kisses back. Then they part, and Minho’s dark eyes watch him for another moment before he turns and leaves the room.

Jeongin takes a deep breath. Then looks at Chan.

Chan rises before Jeongin can say anything. “Break time,” he says.

“Hyung.”

Chan smiles. “Nope. I’m leaving, I’m coming back in fifteen minutes. If you still want to do this then, we will. But Minho is right, you need to eat something, and so do I. Also, I need to pee.”

Jeongin snorts.

“Fifteen minutes, Innie,” Chan says with a squeeze of Jeongin’s shoulder as he walks past. “You’ll live.”

*

Fifteen minutes later, Jeongin has not changed his mind. He wanted to change his mind. He’s wound tight like a spring and would prefer to write a thousand Legal History essays over this, but he needs to know. He needs to do this just once, so that he’ll know what it’s like. How it will feel. If it… if it can really be an advantage.

He didn’t go downstairs. He just went to Seungmin, because Seungmin has finals too and Seungmin always has snacks when he’s studying. He was right. Seungmin let him sit on his bed for fifteen minutes and eat pretzel sticks and drink the bottle of water he tossed Jeongin’s way, and he didn’t ask a thing. Jeongin loves him.

When the fifteen minutes are up, Jeongin goes back to his room and finds Chan already waiting for him. Outside in the hallway, because he is respectful like that. Chan meets his gaze, and his face is a question.

“Yeah,” Jeongin says. He clears his throat. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Chan says, keeping his voice light. “Lead the way.”

And as Jeongin directs him back to the beanbag and sinks into the one next to Chan, the one that still smells slightly like Minho, he knows that they’re not empty words. Chan would let him lead the way. Is letting him lead the way, all the way up until Jeongin can’t lead anymore because he’ll be giving up all the control he’s fought so hard for. His hands curl into fists.

“We can stop at any time,” Chan says.

“I know.”

“I want you to stop me, if you’re uncomfortable.”

Jeongin is already uncomfortable, but he suspects that Chan knows that. “I know.”

Chan nods. “Okay. Get comfy?”

Jeongin shifts to the left, then to the right, and ends up in exactly the same position as before. It doesn’t matter. He’s going to be tense anyway. “I’m ready.”

Chan exhales. “Okay.” When he next speaks, his voice is lower, gaining a timbre that wasn’t there before and that Jeongin has never heard from him. Soothing coffee circles around Jeongin like steam rising from a cup. “I’m gonna count you down like we agreed on, alright?”

Jeongin’s fingers dig hard into his thighs. “Mm-hm.”

“Alright. I’m going to count from ten to one. I want you to focus on my voice, and relax your body with me.”

Jeongin hums again. There are other ways of guiding him down, but he chose this one. It sounded the most straightforward.

Chan begins, and it is straightforward. In between numbers Chan tells Jeongin to breathe. To relax his toes, his legs, his hands, his eyes. He doesn’t touch him, because that was a rule. Jeongin sits quietly and listens to the words.

“One,” Chan says, voice soft and deep. “Let go, Jeonginnie.”

Jeongin sits. Waits. Nothing happens, and he opens his eyes. “It’s not working.”

“No,” Chan agrees. “I figured. You’re way too tense.”

Jeongin rubs his hands over his knees, frustrated. “Again.”

“Innie—”

“Again.”

Chan sighs. “Alright.”

They do it again. And again, and it doesn’t work. Jeongin growls and throws himself backwards onto the beanbag. “Try again.”

“No,” Chan says. “Something needs to change, or none of this will work at all. You’re resisting.”

“I’m trying,” Jeongin snaps.

“I know,” Chan soothes, “I know you are. But you’re also resisting. You’re fighting me. There’s a pull, somewhere inside you, and you’re purposely avoiding it.”

Jeongin digs his fists into his eyes and curses. Because Chan is right. There is a pull when Chan is counting, and Jeongin is too scared of losing control to go anywhere near it.

“We don’t have to do this,” Chan says again.

“No,” Jeongin growls, “Again.” Because now he’s goddamn committed, and he’s not leaving this room before they’ve done this fucking spacing.

Chan takes a deep breath. “Listen. Can we revisit rule nine?”

“What’s rule nine,” Jeongin mumbles against his forearms.

“Touch.”

“No.”

“I don’t mean cuddles,” Chan says. “I want to scent you directly. Because it’ll help you relax, and it might make it easier.”

Jeongin contemplates this, and then removes his arms from his face. He silently holds one out to Chan.

Chan does not take it. “Can I scent you?”

“Yes,” Jeongin says.

“Okay.” Chan gently places Jeongin’s hand on his knee, palm up, and slides his own wrist over Jeongin’s. He lets it rest there, and coffee trickles into Jeongin’s system. He doesn’t do anything else for a few minutes, just releases pheromones, and Jeongin feels some of the tension within him ease.

“Okay,” he mutters after a while. “Try again?”

“Alright,” Chan says. He doesn’t break the contact between them, and neither does Jeongin. “Close your eyes. Try to let it happen.”

Jeongin closes his eyes. Chan starts his count again, goes through Jeongin’s body parts a little slower this time, and Jeongin tries to relax them the way Chan tells him to. It’s a little bit easier than last time because of the scenting, and that pull inside his mind gets stronger. He might actually do it this time, he thinks.

“Three,” Chan says. “Relax the muscles behind your eyes. Let them sink back into your head, enjoy how good it feels.”

The pull gets stronger.

“Two. Your body is heavy and free, floating, sinking downwards.”

Jeongin’s mind slips, and he yanks it back so quickly his entire body jolts.

Chan stops counting. “You okay?”

That was it. That was it, it has to be. Jeongin sets his jaw, determined. He can do it. “Try again.”

“Innie,” Chan says, a little more firmly. “I asked if you were okay.”

“Yes,” Jeongin says, “Yes, green, fine, whatever. I’m not lying. Please try again.”

Chan studies him, but relents, and goes through the count again. Jeongin’s mind slips, he yanks it back. They try again. Slip, yank back. They keep trying, with the same result every time.

“Goddammit,” Jeongin growls after he’s failed for the billionth time in a row. “Fuck!”

He can’t do it. He can’t fucking do it, he’s so close every single time and he can’t take that final step.

“We don’t have to—” Chan starts, also for the billionth time, and Jeongin shoots up.

“No, we’re fucking doing this. I’m nearly there.” He is. Because Chan’s voice is deep and tempting and it leads him somewhere, and yet it’s not working because Jeongin is fighting himself. He can’t let go.

“You can’t let go,” Chan says.

And despite the fact that Jeongin just thought the same thing, he hisses, “I can’t fucking let go on command, that’s not how it works.”

“I know,” Chan says soothingly. “That wasn’t an accusation. I’m trying to determine where you’re struggling, so that we—”

But Jeongin is no longer listening. Because… because he can let go on command. He could. He could let go, if Chan…

“Command me.”

Chan trails off. “What?”

“Command me,” Jeongin says again, looking at him. “Use your Voice, tell me to let go.” Chan’s voice is already so close to it, when he’s talking like that. It wouldn’t take much.

Chan’s eyes are wide. “What the fuck. No.”

“Just in that last second. I need… There’s an- edge, and I keep—” He presses his lips together. “Hyung, please.”

The ‘please’ clearly takes Chan aback, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times. Finally, he says, “I cannot force you into spacing, Innie. If you don’t want it, then I’m not going to—”

“But I do!” Jeongin snaps, because right now, he does. They’ve spent so much time trying, and now he needs it to work, just once. “Please.”

Chan falters. “I…” He shakes his head, then holds up his hand when he sees Jeongin open his mouth again. “No, give me a minute. I need to think about this.”

Jeongin falls silent. Chan’s eyes drift to a space underneath Jeongin’s desk, but Jeongin knows he’s not actually seeing it. His brows are furrowed, and it’s clear he’s lost in thought.

It’s a long time before he speaks. But eventually, he looks back at Jeongin and says, “I’m not holding you under Voice. Hard limit. If you can only be spaced if I hold you under Voice while we’re doing it, then we’re never doing this again.”

Jeongin lets out a breath.

Chan takes one in. “But I’m willing to… briefly, dip my voice into that register. Maybe. If… God, what am I saying.”

“No,” Jeongin says, “Continue.”

Chan bites his lip. “Like… a flash of Voice, just when you’re hovering on that edge. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

Jeongin nods. “Okay.”

Chan looks at him. “That’s what you want? I need you to be really fucking honest with me here, Jeongin.”

“I want this to work,” Jeongin says, and it’s the truth. “And I can’t do it myself. I think I can if we do this. So yes, I want you to use your Voice.”

Chan nods. Keeps nodding for a while, clearly still thinking. “Okay,” he says eventually. “Talk me through this. What do you want me to say?”

*

By the time they try again, they’ve discussed it for a good twenty minutes. Chan even texted back and forth with Minho for a bit and looked up websites that had information on the use of Voice during spacing, just to make sure he wouldn’t hurt Jeongin. A part of Jeongin just wants to get on with it, but another part is reassured by how seriously Chan is taking this. By the fact that he didn’t just agree immediately when Jeongin brought it up.

“Alright,” Chan says. “You still sure about this?”

“Yes,” Jeongin says, shifting back into a semi-relaxed position on the beanbag. One of his hands is on Chan’s leg, and Chan’s wrist is on top of his. Warm coffee circles through him.

“Okay.” Chan’s voice dips back into that low and soothing tone. “Close your eyes, love.”

Jeongin closes his eyes, and Chan begins his count.

At first, it’s no different from the last ten times they tried. The scenting has Jeongin relatively relaxed, but he knows that the moment his mind slips, he’s going to automatically jerk it back just like every time before.

Except he doesn’t.

He doesn’t, because this time, Chan is paying even closer attention to the shifts in Jeongin’s scent, and he strikes just after he’s counted down to, “Three. Relax your eyes, your mouth, your jaw. Let go for me, you’re safe and drifting.”

He hits Jeongin at just the right moment. He hits just the moment when Jeongin’s mind starts sliding towards the pull of Chan’s voice, and this time, Jeongin just keeps sliding. Chan’s Voice bursts in his mind for a split second, nothing more than a flash of light, and sweeps him gently off the edge.

Jeongin floats, overwhelmed by how quickly his mind expands, but Chan’s voice returns before he can panic. His normal voice this time, no more bursts of starlight. “Two, you’re light, and safe, and free. Relax, Innie. Everything is okay.”

He is light. He is free. He is safe, because Chan is here.

“One. You’re relaxed, and at peace. Let go.”

Jeongin is vaguely aware that he’s slumped all the way back into his beanbag, but he feels too good to wrestle himself up again.

“Good job, Innie. Can I get your colour?”

“Green,” Jeongin mumbles after a moment.

“Yeah? That’s good, love. How’s it feel?”

“Light.” Jeongin blinks slowly up at the ceiling of his room. His body feels like cotton. “Soft.”

Chan gently brushes his thumb over Jeongin’s hand, and Jeongin sighs. That feels nice. A part of him wants Chan to be closer, but he vaguely remembers that he should keep his own space. That was important to him before. And this is nice enough. He blinks again. It’s quiet. His mind is quiet too. Peaceful, and calm.

“You’re doing really well, Jeonginnie,” Chan says, and Jeongin feels warm. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Jeongin mumbles back, and Chan squeezes his hand. It’s nice, when Chan talks. He wants Chan to keep talking. Chan’s voice feels good. “Talk.”

There’s a smile in Chan’s voice. “Want me to keep talking?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Alright. This is nice, isn’t it? It’s relaxing. You smell really good right now, love.”

Chan talks, and Jeongin feels warm. Chan talks about Jeongin’s scent for a while, and then about the track he’s working on with Changbin and Jisung, and then about various other things that make his voice buzz pleasantly through Jeongin’s mind. Throughout, he intersperses it with praise and compliments and check-ins for Jeongin’s colour. “Green,” Jeongin answers, every time.

“I’m glad,” Chan tells him after one of these checks, before continuing his story. “So then Binnie yelled at me, even though he was the one who stole my bowl.”

“’Cause he doesn’ like mint choc’late ice cream,” Jeongin mumbles, and Chan smiles.

“No, he doesn’t, that’s right. He should have known better than to take mine.”

“He likes mac’damia,” Jeongin continues, his eyes trailing the contours of Chan’s body. His mouth feels soft and slow and his words tumble together in thick syllables. He’s curled up in his beanbag, and he’s never felt so light.

“Which is far grosser than mint chocolate, right?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin sighs, and Chan’s laugh is fond. He has a nice laugh. It looks pretty. It makes his cheeks dimple, and the sound feels warm, somehow.

“I love you,” Chan says again, sending more of that warmth through Jeongin. When the alpha gently turns his hand over, Jeongin’s skin lights up with tingles, and he watches curiously what Chan is going to do. “I’m going to count you back up now, Innie. One to ten, like we agreed on, remember?”

Jeongin blinks slowly. “Um.”

Chan smiles another dimpled smile. “Tap on my palm, yeah? A different finger for each count. Count with me. Start with your pinky finger.”

It takes Jeongin a second to move his eyes away from Chan’s face, but then he moves his fingers and manages to tap the correct one to Chan’s palm.

“One,” Chan says.

“One,” Jeongin repeats dutifully.

“Good job,” Chan praises. “Two. Ring finger.”

It feels like a little game. Soft and easy, but somehow challenging enough that Jeongin needs to use his brain again, and his mind grows a little clearer with each count. By the time they make it all the way to his pinky finger on his other hand, Jeongin’s movements are faster, and he’s landed back on earth.

“That’s ten,” Chan finishes.

“Ten,” Jeongin agrees, taking a deep breath.

Chan squeezes Jeongin’s hands, gentle but grounding. “How are you doing, Innie? You back with me?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin manages, trying to wrap his head around everything that just happened. He pulls his hands away from Chan and takes another breath.

“You did so well,” Chan says. “I know how much trust that took. You did such a good job.”

The words still send warmth through him, and Jeongin blinks rapidly, trying to ground himself further.

“Here,” Chan says, handing him a juice box. “Minho said sugar will help.”

Jeongin accepts the juice box. It takes him three tries to get the straw in, but he manages. Chan doesn’t offer to do it for him. His eyes are on Jeongin, sharp and focused, but he doesn’t overstep, because that was a rule.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks instead.

“Mm-hm.”

“Not dizzy?”

Jeongin shakes his head.

“Can I scent you?”

Jeongin nods, because they agreed on that beforehand. Chan rises from his own beanbag to crouch down in front of Jeongin so he’ll have better access to Jeongin’s neck. He’s quick but thorough, inhaling deeply to satisfy himself that Jeongin is okay. When he’s done, he sits back on his heels. “Would you like a hug?”

Jeongin shakes his head again. “Can I be alone?”

Chan’s face falls.

“You promised,” Jeongin tells him, eyes narrowing.

“I know,” Chan says. He sighs. “And I’m not trying to go back on that, I swear. If you want to be alone, I’ll leave you be. But I need to know two things from you, and I need you to be honest.”

Jeongin waits.

“Firstly, I need to know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

Jeongin grits his teeth against the automatic ‘I’m fine’ and thinks it through, because no matter how off-kilter he feels, Chan stuck to every single rule Jeongin gave him, and all he asked for in return was honesty. Jeongin owes him that. But in truth, he has no idea what he needs. A part of him wants to keep Chan close, wants to move to his nest and curl up to him, but everything else inside of him flinches away from that. He’s shown more than enough weakness already, and he can’t handle a second more. He needs to be alone, he needs to feel strong and in control again.

“I need to be alone,” he says decisively.

This time, Chan nods. Accepts Jeongin’s honesty, and rolls with it. “Okay. That’s okay. Thank you for being honest.”

“What’s the second thing?” Jeongin asks.

Chan looks away, as if to steel himself. And then very hesitantly, he asks, “Did I go too far? With the Voice? It’s… it’s okay if you’re angry or upset, if I did. I’d understand. I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, I promise. I just wanted to know if I should apologise, because—”

Jeongin grabs Chan’s wrist. “No. Hyung, no. You didn’t go too far.”

Chan swallows. His voice is slightly hoarse when he says, “You sure?”

“Yes,” Jeongin says firmly. “That’s not why I want you to leave. I just need to think. You did… everything was fine. You didn’t hurt me, and it- it helped.” The admission is rough, but worth it for the way Chan’s entire face drops in relief. “Could you not tell?”

“I thought you were okay,” Chan says. “And you were green every time I checked in. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything for afterwards, so yes, I was worried.”

“Don’t be,” Jeongin says. “I’m okay. It worked.”

“It did.” Chan sends him a small smile. “Okay for a first time?”

Jeongin tenses slightly. “I might not ever do it again.” If Chan expects him to suddenly start doing this three times a—

“That’s fine,” Chan shrugs. “So long as this was what you wanted from this one-time session, I’m happy.”

Jeongin watches him for another moment and then blows out a breath. Right. They… did already talk about that beforehand. But he’s never been this submissive, ever, and his skin itches. He needs to be alone. “It was,” he says, voice a little brusquer. “But hyung, can I please—”

“Yes,” Chan says, “I’m going. I’ll bring up some food and leave it in front of your door. Eat please. I’d hate for you to be grated into slices.”

Jeongin snorts despite himself, and Chan’s scent spikes with satisfaction. He rises and walks to the door. He pauses there, one hand already on the door handle. “Thank you for trusting me,” he says, with a brief bow of his head. And then he’s gone.

Jeongin watches the closed door for a long minute before moving to his nest and curling up into a ball. He hugs a pillow to his chest and closes his eyes, trying to think.

Thank you for trusting me, Chan said. And earlier, This is about trust. Not power.

And a part of Jeongin can see that. Everything they did was stuff Jeongin agreed on beforehand. Chan did nothing they hadn’t discussed. Jeongin had his safewords, and he could have pulled back anytime, and Chan would have listened. He can see that he had power, in a way.

But his behaviour wasn’t powerful. Submitting to Chan in this way is the weakest thing he’s ever done, and he doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he did it. What it means for him going forward.

It… it felt good though. His headache is gone. His neck and shoulders have stopped aching. His mind feels clear, and he knows he’ll be able to finish that outline now. That scares him. Because if it made this big of a difference, does that mean that he needs it after all, like his father and the government claim?

The very thought makes him nauseous, and his phone is in his hand before he knows it.

“Hey,” Beomgyu says when he picks up. “Tell me you fixed your memo, because dude—”

“I let hyung space me,” Jeongin blurts, tears already falling. “And it felt- and now I don’t know- now I—”

“Whoa,” Beomgyu says, alarmed. “Innie, take a breath.”

Jeongin sucks in a breath.

“You let one of your hyungs space you?” Beomgyu’s voice is calm, not judgemental. Not shocked either.

“Chan-hyung.”

Beomgyu hums. “I guess that makes sense. Are you panicking because it felt good, or because it felt bad?”

Jeongin is silent for a bit before he manages, “Good.”

Beomgyu’s breath is relieved. “Oh good. I thought that was probably it, but I had to ask.”

“It’s not good,” Jeongin says. He grits his teeth and then admits, “Gyu, I feel better than I have in the past week, just from half an hour of spacing. That- that can’t be- what the government says—”

Beomgyu snorts. “Dude, you’ve spent the past week stressing about that fucking hell debate you had with Dohoon and I’m pretty sure you pulled two and a half all-nighters, if not more. Of course you feel better after spacing, what are you talking about?”

Jeongin clutches the phone tighter and clings to the words. “So it doesn’t mean I suddenly need it, right, that I—”

“Of course not. Is that why you’re panicking?”

“It just… It felt…”

“It’s supposed to feel good. It’s supposed to clear your mind. You know I let eomma space me sometimes, and you don’t see me on my knees three times a week.”

That’s—right. Jeongin does know that. It had shocked him, the first time Beomgyu mentioned it, but Beomgyu always seemed relaxed about it.

“You felt perfectly clearheaded at the start of finals, Innie, and you’ll feel like that again whether you get spaced or not. Spacing is just… a shortcut, I guess, in moments like this.”

Jeongin exhales. “Channie-hyung called it an advantage.”

Beomgyu laughs. “Bet that went over well with you.”

Jeongin huffs out a laugh too. “No. I lashed out really badly at both him and Minho-hyung. I had to apologise and everything.”

“Tell me you did not immediately follow that up with ‘Now space me’.”

At Jeongin’s tell-tale silence, Beomgyu cackles. “Innie!”

“Well it had to be then or I would have changed my mind!” Jeongin grumbles, but he’s laughing too. He feels a lot better now.

“Oh, I’m sure they gave you plenty of opportunity to change your mind.”

“We talked about it for two hours,” Jeongin whines, and Beomgyu laughs again.

“Good. As they should.”

Jeongin rolls onto his back. “Do you think my dad ever talked to my mom like that? Before he spaced her for the first time?”

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu answers. “I hope so. You’d have to ask them.”

Jeongin huffs. He won’t, because they think Jeongin has been getting regular spacings for well over a year, and he can’t suddenly tell them about his first time. But sometimes he wishes he could talk to his mother the way Beomgyu can talk to his own omega mother. Wishes that he could ask her about her experiences. When Jeongin was younger his mother tried to talk to him about it fairly often, but he always shut the conversation down before it could go anywhere. He… regrets that now, just a little bit. Not entirely, because he never wanted to give his parents the impression that he would be okay with spacing, but… He wishes he knew what it feels like. For her. If she has rules the way Jeongin does. He wishes he’d paid more attention to all those spacing sessions in the living room, because maybe then he’d know. He never really has, because it’s always been something that just happened, for as long as Jeongin can remember. Half an hour, three times a week. Always the same.

His father doesn’t count down when he spaces his mother, Jeongin thinks. He talks to her, but he doesn’t actively count her down the way Chan did. His mother clearly doesn’t have any trouble giving in, and she just always seemed to sink effortlessly the moment she knelt down. Jeongin thinks his father mostly uses his scent to help her along. Maybe they do it that way because that’s the way his mother likes it. She’s clearly comfortable with what they do, that’s always been clear from her scent. And Jeongin knows his father loves her. He hopes that means they talked about it.

A part of him wants to call her and ask.

The rest of him doesn’t, and knows it’ll be easier to just talk to Beomgyu tonight. “Yeah,” he sighs into the phone. “I guess. Thanks, Gyu.”

“Been a while since you freaked out about something they do that’s completely healthy and normal and needed me to talk some sense into you,” Beomgyu says cheerfully, and if they’d still been sharing a dorm room, Jeongin would have tossed a pillow at him.

As it stands, he settles for growling, “I know your Blackboard password. Watch what you’re saying, or I’ll fuck up your Legal History essay.”

Beomgyu snorts. “No you won’t. And also, please for the love of god tell me you’re struggling with it as much as I am because I swear professor Jeon is a psychopath.”

Jeongin laughs. “Oh my god, yes. Twenty sources? That’s insane.”

“Right? And don’t even get me started on Wednesday’s exam, because—”

Jeongin relaxes, and talks to Beomgyu for the next few hours. They actually turn it into a study session, because now that his mind is clear and he’s no longer panicking, he figures he might as well make use of it. He only remembers his promise to eat when Minho texts him a picture of a cheese grater, and then he bursts into giggles. Sorry, he texts back as he gets up to retrieve the tray from the hallway, and then, thank you. He sends a thank you to Chan too.

Because both of them put in a lot of time and effort to get things out in the open to make sure he’d be comfortable and safe, and they deserve a thank you. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever do this again. He might not. Because even if it felt good, the idea of doing it more often and gradually changing their perceptions of him from someone who’s strong and independent to an omega who needs submission and a guiding hand in life makes his skin crawl.

He can’t risk that. He won’t.

But just for tonight, he’ll enjoy the clarity it brought him. He has finals to ace.

Chapter Text

[the day after Minho returned, 9:34 am]

Minho: Does Felix have any dietary restrictions?

Chan: No, not anymore. He can’t always eat a lot yet but he’s gaining weight!

Seungmin: Try and get him snacks in between meals, because he forgets and won’t ask for them.

Minho: No allergies?

Chan: Nope

Minho: 👍

***

[the day after Felix shares his story, 2:13 pm]

Jisung: how’s lixie?

Hyunjin: were playing snap!
Hyunjin: and we have chocolate
Hyunjin: hes fine

Jisung: you sure?

Hyunjin: very sure sungie
Hyunjin: go record

Jisung: okay

***

[a few days later, private chat between Chan and Seungmin, 1:09 pm]

Chan: I did Lix’s tests and he was so sleepy he passed out on me midway through
Chan: I don’t know what the readings mean, do I need to do anything?

Seungmin: Well I would tell you if I could see the readings.

Chan: I was getting to that you brat
Chan: [image attached]

Seungmin: No he’s fine. Also whatever you do do NOT touch my notebook. Let Felix do it when he wakes up, he knows how to chart.

Chan: Got it
Chan: Good luck at work Seungminnie!

***

[5 minutes after Felix returned from his bath, following the pack’s talk in the kitchen when Minho confronts the others about their feelings for Felix]

Hyunjin: now that we have agreed to court felixie
Hyunjin: its time to plan

Minho: What did I literally just fucking tell you.

Hyunjin: that we cant tell him
Hyunjin: which is ridiculous but fine, i wont

Jeongin: hyung

Hyunjin: i wont!
Hyunjin: but now that weve all declared our love for him

Minho: We have not.

Hyunjin: we can prepare for courtship
Hyunjin: im talking likes and dislikes
Hyunjin: courting gift ideas
Hyunjin: speech?

Jeongin: lord
Jeongin: is this what you did with me?

Seungmin: It definitely isn’t what they did for me, that’s for sure.

Jisung: we kinda did? we had a lot of talks
Jisung: for both of u

Changbin: we live with Channie hyung, we always have a lot of talks

Chan: Because communication is important
Chan: And without those talks we’d never have courted Innie or Minnie at all, so do not come for me

Hyunjin: definitely not minnie

Seungmin: Wow. Thanks.

Jisung: no not like that!!! but u were complicated

Seungmin: Not helping, Jisung.

Jisung: noooo!! your situation was complicated, with innie! minnie come on i love you pls don’t be mad (˃̩̩⌂˂̩̩)

Jeongin: he’s trolling you, sungie
Jeongin: he knows

Jisung: oh

Seungmin: ;)

Jisung: ew don’t use that again

Seungmin: ;) ;)

Hyunjin: BACK TO THE COURTING

Minho: Which will not be happening any time soon.

Hyunjin: BACK TO THE FUTURE COURTING

Changbin: like the movie?

Hyunjin: :(((((((((((((((

Minho: Ha

Hyunjin: stop bullying me :(

Jeongin: we should bully you more often you could use it

Seungmin: Agreed.

Hyunjin: channie hyung theyre bullying me

Changbin: hyung is talking to Felix
Changbin: because he’s the only one in this room who put his phone down and is not being an asshole right now

Hyunjin: oh fuck
Hyunjin: ok we will pick this up later

Minho: We will not. Tone it the fuck down, Hyunjin, I’m serious.

Changbin: I think he knows hyung
Changbin: he won’t tell, he’s just excited

Minho: Oh I know. That’s what worries me.

***

[the next day, 9:31 am]

Jisung: lixie’s favourite colour is blue

Hyunjin: jisungie!!!!!!!! ilysm

Jisung: (◠‿◠)

***

[the day Chan tries to fight off a murderer with a toothbrush, 4:16 pm]

Chan: If anyone hears death screams coming from Innie’s room, don’t go in
Chan: I have no idea what he and Lix are doing but apparently they’re fine and will only bully you out if you try to help

Changbin: lmaoooo were the omegas mean to you hyung

Minho: That’s on you for entering Innie’s room without permission.

Chan: I thought they were dying!
Chan: Trust me I won’t make the same mistake again

Changbin: lol

[private chat between Changbin and Minho, 4:17 pm]

Changbin: can you scream really loud and time how long it takes for Channie hyung to come running

Minho: Sure.

Minho: 8 seconds.

[group chat, 4:18 pm]

Chan: I hate all of you

***

[a random Monday in April, 12:13 pm]

Seungmin: I’m on my break and can finally text: apparently the toothpaste we gave Felix is too minty for his taste so whoever’s going grocery shopping, please get him a milder one.

Chan: Somehow this makes me feel like the worst person in the world

Jisung: me too we should have NOTICED
Jisung: how long has he been suffering

Seungmin: …
Seungmin: It’s toothpaste. He’s fine. Just get him a different one.

Minho: I’ll stop by the store on my way home.

Jisung: hyung!! you looooove him

Minho: I can and will replace your toothpaste with one of those ghost pepper ones do not test me Han Jisung.

Jisung: (•︵•)

***

[a random Thursday in April, 8:52 pm]

Changbin: Lix likes jazz

Hyunjin: noted!!!!!!!!!!!

Chan: To be honest I think he likes all music

Jisung: yeah he liked everything we played him

Changbin: except for that one weird electronic song hyung clicked on by accident

Hyunjin: noted!!!!!!!!!!!

Chan: That was so unimportant Jinnie you don’t have to write that down

Hyunjin: too late!!!!!

Chan: …That note in Jinnie’s phone is going to be pages of irrelevant information isn’t it

Hyunjin: everything is relevant!!!!

Chan: God help us

***

[private chat between Hyunjin and Jisung, the day Jisung braids Felix’s hair, 5:34 pm]

Hyunjin: jisungie lixie’s hair looks so good!!

Jisung: thanks!!!
Jisung: don’t tell hyungs but i called him pretty and he blushed (◠‿◠)

Hyunjin: ohmygoddddd YES

Jisung: and he said he loves that we hug him all the time

Hyunjin: !!!

Jisung: and then things got a little deep and sad for a second and i need to talk to you about that later actually
Jisung: but THEN

Hyunjin: what what

Jisung: then he told me he likes my scent
Jisung: and like i knew that bc he likes all of our scents
Jisung: but he was like, i smelled you that first time in the mall and i liked you immediately and i felt safe

Hyunjin: holy shit
Hyunjin: sungie!!!

Jisung: I KNOW
Jisung: and the braiding was so nice
Jisung: he got all relaxed and went all soft and melty like when we scent him
Jisung: and we just chatted and it was just
Jisung: so nice (ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ)   
Jisung: i am so in love with him jinnie

Hyunjin: i knowwww same
Hyunjin: god
Hyunjin: im so glad hes here <3333

***

[the day they convince Felix to stay, 10:13 am]

Hyunjin: HE WAS GOING TO LEAVE

Jeongin: you’re welcome

Hyunjin: i love u forever adlkjflsdkjfkdjf

Jisung: thank you innie <3333333

Changbin: sneakiest lawyer

Chan: You did an amazing job, Jeonginnie

Seungmin: The world is not going to be ready when you graduate.

.

[private chat between Minho and Jeongin, 10:22 am]

Minho: Clever boy.

.

[group chat, 11:12 am]

Jisung: btw did hyung really almost throw lixie’s landlord out the window?

Hyunjin: oh he did
Hyunjin: he shoved him up a wall first and then tossed him to the ground
Hyunjin: and now that im finally allowed to talk abt it can someone PLS help me convince hyung to do it to me
Hyunjin: bc its the hottest thing ive ever seen him do

Changbin: lmaooo

Chan: -.-

***

[a random Tuesday in April, 6:32 pm]

Minho: Felix doesn’t like dill.

Hyunjin: ohmygod HYUNG!!!!!!

Minho: How many degrees.

Hyunjin: shutting up

***

[after that lunch where Felix is all pretty and radiant in his new clothes]

Jisung: [image attached] rip hyung
Jisung: we’re trying to write and it’s been hours and he’s still there

Jeongin: ??? why is he on the floor?

Changbin: nobody talk to me I’m dead

Jeongin: you spend too much time with jinnie-hyung wtf

Changbin: you haven’t SEEN HIM INNIE

Jeongin: seen who??

Chan: Felix
Chan: And as much as I’d like to tease Bin, I kind of can’t blame him here

Seungmin: Is this another one of those moments where you’re all suddenly horny for no reason?

Changbin: OH THERE IS A FUCKING REASON THIS TIME

Jisung: it was so funny
Jisung: lixie got his new clothes and hyung took one look at him and inhaled half his kimbap

Chan: I really did fear for his life for a bit there

Jisung: oh like you were doing much better

Chan: I was fine!

Jisung: you spent five minutes at the sink to fill one glass of water

Changbin: yes thanks for that
Changbin: it’s not like I was dying or anything

Chan: …listen

Jeongin: lol what on earth did jinnie-hyung make him wear?

Changbin: just CLOTHES
Changbin: he’s just so fucking pretty

Jisung: he is

Chan: He is

Hyunjin: he is <333333
Hyunjin: [image attached]
Hyunjin: [image attached]
Hyunjin: [image attached]

Jeongin: oh damn

Changbin: SEE
Changbin: WHAT DID I FUCKING TELL YOU

Jisung: he fell asleep in a beam of sunlight 🥹
Jisung: like a kitten 🥹🥹🥹

Changbin: those goddamn freCKLES

Hyunjin: riighttttttttttt one day ill paint him and it wont be abstract
Hyunjin: 5 ft canvas bc i need to capture all of them

Changbin: god yes

Jeongin: i mean

Jisung: yesssssssss

Seungmin: Tell me he’s wearing sunscreen?

Hyunjin: who do u think i am
Hyunjin: of course he is
Hyunjin: it has been part of his skincare routine ever since i took over

Jeongin: you mean ever since you bullied him into using 12 different products a day

Hyunjin: :((((((( he said he likes it!

Jisung: he does like it
Jisung: he said his skin feels soft now and he likes the smell

Hyunjin: see!

Chan: You can’t just take pictures without asking, Jinnie, please delete them

Changbin: lmao that took you an awfully long time hyung

Jisung: oh yes
Jisung: a full two minutes

Chan: Please delete them, Jinnie

Hyunjin: but hyung!!!

Minho: Delete them.

Hyunjin: ugh fine

Seungmin: Ha

.

[private chat between Jisung and Hyunjin]

Jisung: [image attached]

Hyunjin: alkdjfslkdjfdsl lmaoooo I KNEW IT
Hyunjin: that was when i sent them?

Jisung: he didn’t even notice me taking this
Jisung: he was just staring
Jisung: FOR TWO MINUTES

Hyunjin: such a hypocrite
Hyunjin: u didnt delete the pictures right

Jisung: of course not
Jisung: here have them back
Jisung: [image attached]
Jisung: [image attached]
Jisung: [image attached]

Hyunjin: ily

***

[private chat between Changbin and Jeongin, a random Wednesday in April, 8:16 pm]

Changbin: you’re seeing this right

Jeongin: oh yes

Changbin: he is so whipped

Jeongin: i didn’t know minho hyung had it in him

Changbin: how long has he been playing with Lix’s fingers?

Jeongin: for like fifteen minutes??
Jeongin: it’s insane

Changbin: I don’t think he’s even realised he’s doing it

Jeongin: definitely not, he’s watching the news

Changbin: Lix looks so sleepy

Jeongin: yeah he’s going to crash in like the next ten minutes

Changbin: ….or seconds, apparently
Changbin: oh my GOD

Jeongin: holy shit

Changbin: not in love my ass

Jeongin: he just lifted him into his lap???

Changbin: don’t point it out I want to keep watching
Changbin: goddammit Kim Seungmin

Jeongin: lol well he didn’t stop now did he

Changbin: “don’t bother trying to carry him to bed I’ll do it in a minute he’d snap your spine like a twig” lmaooooo sure hyung

Jeongin: SO whipped

Changbin: life is good

***

[the day Felix dissociates, 2:34 pm]

Jisung: ok so nobody panic

Chan: ???

Jisung: but we just accidentally triggered lix and made him dissociate so nobody, NOBODY use the word ‘pet’ to address someone from now on ok?

Chan: Oh my god what

Changbin: what the fuck, is he okay?

Jisung: he’s fine, he wasn’t gone for long and jinnie and I got him to his nest and were with him the whole time
Jisung: and when he woke up we talked about it to figure out what caused it
Jisung: we’re watching a movie now

Jeongin: you called him pet??

Jisung: no jinnie called me pet bc he wanted to show me something
Jisung: lixie heard
Jisung: and next thing we knew he was blank and nonresponsive bc apparently that’s what that bastard used to call him

Changbin: ah jesus

Jisung: he felt all guilty about it but we tried to make clear that it wasn’t his fault

Chan: Of course it isn’t his fault
Chan: And yes, @everyone consider the word ‘pet’ banned
Chan: Wait, in any context?

Jisung: no just as a form of address

Chan: Okay

Jeongin: I want to kill that asshole

Changbin: same
Changbin: and we COULD

Chan: No.

Changbin: I’m just saying
Changbin: accidents happen

Chan: Stop tempting me. No.

Jeongin: alright as much as I want park kwang-ho dead so lix would be free, hyung is right, we can’t risk this
Jeongin: too much could go wrong

Changbin: fine
Changbin: but can we at least get that chicken takeout tonight that Lix likes

Chan: Oh definitely
Chan: He’s really okay now?

Jisung: he is
Jisung: just a little tired but jinnie got him chocolate and he’s smiling

Jeongin: okay
Jeongin: get him the blue blanket from my room pls it’s the softest one i have and it’s his favourite

Jisung: i can go in your room??

Jeongin: just get the damn blanket

Jisung: ∠(^‿^)

.

[private chat between Chan and Hyunjin, a little bit later]

Chan: You okay Hyunjinnie?

Hyunjin: :(

Chan: Talk to me

Hyunjin: it was my fault

Chan: It wasn’t
Chan: You had no way of knowing

Hyunjin: i still feel bad

Chan: Yeah I get that
Chan: You want a hug? Bin and I will be home in a bit

Hyunjin: [image attached]

Chan: Oh that looks cosy
Chan: Innie is right that blanket does look soft

Hyunjin: its so soft
Hyunjin: and it smells like innie but super strong, its rly nice
Hyunjin: lixie fell asleep like 2 minutes after sungie got it

Chan: You realise he doesn’t blame you, right? He’s cuddled as close to you as he could possibly get

Hyunjin: …i know

Chan: Yeah alright I’m hugging you when I get back

Hyunjin: okay <3

Chan: <33

.

[private chat between Chan and Jisung]

Chan: You okay Jisungie?

Jisung: i’m fine
Jisung: i’ve never been on the other side before
Jisung: it looks scary

Chan: Yeah, it does

Jisung: i’m sorry

Chan: I’m not checking in for me Hannie
Chan: I’m asking how you’re doing

Jisung: i am fine i promise
Jisung: i’m glad i was home bc jinnie was panicking just a little

Chan: I’m incredibly proud that you didn’t

Jisung: is it weird if i say it was nice to be able to help him through this?
Jisung: like i hope he never has to go through it again bc it sucks!
Jisung: but it was nice to know how to help

Chan: That’s not weird at all
Chan: Once Bin and I learned how to help you, we felt the same way
Chan: You’ve come a long way since then

Jisung: (ˊ•͈ ◡ •͈ˋ)

Chan: Proud of you

Jisung: ♡♡♡

***

[private chat between Jeongin and Changbin the day Minho brought home his five meticulously researched raspberry bushes, 4:11 pm]

Jeongin: before you ask, yes he’s the one who bought them and yes we’re all as amused as you are

Changbin: why does he look so angry

Jeongin: bc channie hyung went all cutesy and aegyo on him and hyung had to threaten him with a trowel before he shut up

Changbin: lmao
Changbin: he’s so serious about this though look at all those tools

Jeongin: HE IS
Jeongin: sungie offered to help and he told him to get out because he’d fuck up the soil acidity, whatever that means

Changbin: did he pull a Kim Seungmin on these fucking raspberry bushes?

Jeongin: definitely
Jeongin: 100,000 won says that when lix finds out he’ll just pretend he wasn’t the one to get them

Changbin: I’m not taking that bet babe, that’s just plain truth
Changbin: go talk Jinnie into it, he’ll bite

Jeongin: ooh great idea
Jeongin: thanks hyung

Changbin: wait bet ice cream instead and then take me with you when you win!

Jeongin: so you can get your gross macadamia ice cream again? i don’t think so

Changbin: yah :((

***

[a random Thursday in April, 3:49 pm]

Jisung: we added lixie to our spotify plan
Jisung: because he could actually quote one of the commercials word for word which was as impressive as it was horrifying

Hyunjin: it was rly creepy
Hyunjin: he did the accent and everything

Jisung: yeah he wanted to pay us for it but i’d honestly pay HIM to never hear that again

Chan: What name did you use?

Hyunjin: fake name
Hyunjin: his own anonymous email address

Jisung: give us some credit

Hyunjin: no one should be able to find him from spotify data but yes, give us some credit

Chan: Okay okay
Chan: Just checking

Jisung: we could have been spies (˘ ᵕ ˘)

Hyunjin: we would be amazing spies!!

Seungmin: It took the two of you an hour to realise I was in the room yesterday and then you screamed so loudly even Innie came to check if you were okay.

Jisung: bc you were UNDERNEATH THE COFFEE TABLE

Hyunjin: SILENT AND UNMOVING

Seungmin: I said hi when you came in and sat up to take a sip of coffee like eight times.

Hyunjin: SILENT

Jisung: UNMOVING

Seungmin: -_-

***

[the day Felix’s scent changed, 7:41 pm]

Minho: Someone get Hyunjin out of the room please.

Changbin: I mean
Changbin: can we really blame him

Minho: He is sniffing him, Changbin.

Changbin: I repeat
Changbin: can we really blame him

Jisung: lix is blushing so like
Jisung: i don’t think he really minds

Minho: For the love of-

Changbin: …oh. well alright then

Jeongin: lmao

Chan: Did he just lock him out onto the terrace?

Jisung: yup
Jisung: someone take a picture with his face squashed against the window like that

Jeongin: [image attached]

Jisung: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Seungmin: He does smell good though.

Changbin: god he does

Chan: He smelled good before too, but yeah this is something else

Jisung: it’s so sweet, I love it

Jeongin: so full

Changbin: imagine that scent in the den

Jisung: adjadflskjdflsj

Minho: I can and will throw you out of the room too, Seo Changbin.

Changbin: I’d like to see you try
Changbin: oh fuck

***

[a random Monday in May, 10:22 am]

Seungmin: Felix said he dreamed about us last night.
Seungmin: Just thought you might like to know.

Hyunjin: HE WHAT

Jisung: (◕.◕)

Hyunjin: ohmygod i need to know everything about this
Hyunjin: minnie?
Hyunjin: tell me more!!

Seungmin: Have a nice day!

Hyunjin: KIM SEUNGMIN

***

[private chat between Chan and Seungmin, the night after the soccer match, 9:53 pm]

Seungmin: Come to bed.

Chan: I’ll sleep in the den tonight, I need to finish this first and I don’t wanna wake anyone up

Seungmin: Come to bed. Lix is not scared of you.

Chan: …
Chan: I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable

Seungmin: He asked where you were, hyung. Come to bed.

Chan: Oh

Seungmin: See you in five.

***

[a random Tuesday in May, 4:12 pm]

Changbin: Jesus fucking Christ

Jisung: yeah we know

Changbin: SERIOUSLY

Hyunjin: we know

Jisung: we’re hiding in the garden

Changbin: WHO GAVE HIM THOSE

Hyunjin: he picked them out himself

Changbin: LEATHER PANTS???

Jisung: WE KNOW

Changbin: I need someone to kiss and if it’s not one of you in the next thirty seconds it’s gonna be lix so get your asses to the den

Jisung: aldkjslkjfsdjf

Hyunjin: running!!!!

***

[the day Felix was home alone and got added to the group chat – more nature documentary updates]

Felix: [image attached]
Felix: Do you think if I put seeds on the windowsill I can get those sparrows to come closer

Jeongin: are you just mournfully staring out the window all afternoon because hyung’s locked you up?
Jeongin: bc you could just go outside lixie

Felix: Lol no no I’m good
Felix: I don’t mind, I promise

Changbin: you’re not a prisoner but if you don’t mind then yes please spare us the hassle of dealing with a worried hyung for the rest of the afternoon

Felix: Lol I’m staying in don’t worry

Changbin: you’re an angel

.

Felix: [image attached] It’s so strong!

Minho: Was that on the counter.

Felix: NO no by the front door
Felix: I fed it

Minho: You fed the ant.

Felix: Just one grain of sugar!

Jisung: oh my god ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

.

Felix: [image attached]

Hyunjin: ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Felix: Cool that answers that question

Jeongin: what on earth were you testing

Felix: If Jinnie would be as grossed out by flies as he is by spiders

Hyunjin: its a super gross closeup!!!
Hyunjin: and i hate all bugs

Seungmin: Except bees.

Hyunjin: oh yes!!!!
Hyunjin: except bees bc im a good bee and minho hyung loves me

Changbin: lmao every time he thinks you’ve forgotten

Hyunjin: never <333333
Hyunjin: best bee status claimed forever

.

Felix: [image attached] Innie is back! You can stop worrying now

Changbin: your finest wildlife photograph yet

Jisung: truly a prime specimen
Jisung: also are those cookies??

Felix: Oh yeah I got bored and I may have gone a little overboard, I made so many
Felix: Sorry for using your kitchen without permission @Minho I promise I didn’t burn it down

Minho: Who @ed me.

Felix: Oh shit sorry!!!

Minho: …It’s fine.
Minho: Also I told you you could use it.

Changbin: damn
[deleted message] Changbin: so fucking whipped lmao you are so down bad

[deleted message] Minho: Delete that
[deleted message] Minho: Right the fuck now Changbin he is IN this fucking group chat

[deleted message] Changbin: oh fuck

Jisung: lol ANYWAY we have two more meetings and then we’re speeding back i don’t care about any more halmeonis with oranges i need to taste those cookies (۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶

*

[private chat between Minho and Changbin]

Minho: Do you want to die????

Changbin: I’M SORRY
Changbin: I forgot!
Changbin: did he see?

Minho: The messages weren’t read. Let’s hope for your sake he didn’t.

Changbin: sorry
Changbin: I’ll get you that pretty knife set you wanted

Minho: Perfect for stabbing a brainless dongsaeng.

Changbin: :(

.

[3RACHA chat]

Jisung: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Chan: You’re an idiot

Changbin: was I lying though

Jisung: lol nope

Chan: Definitely not

.

[Hyunjin added Chan, Changbin, Jeongin, Jisung, Minho and Seungmin to the chat “LIXIE LOVING IN THIS CHAT NOT THE OTHER ONE UNLESS WERE FINALLY CONFESSING”]

Hyunjin: do u think that name is clear enough for changbin hyung or should i change it

Changbin: yah

Chan: Do you know how often Lix plays games on Innie’s and Hannie’s phones yes you should change it

Jisung: it’s okay both me and innie mute our group chat before passing him our phones

Minho: Are you fucking kidding me Hwang Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: …does that mean i should change the name

Minho: Is water wet.

Hyunjin: :(((((

Seungmin: Actually.

Minho: Do anything other than back me up and you are dead to me Kim Seungmin.

Seungmin: Many scientists say liquids are by definition incapable of being wet.

Minho: 🔪

Jisung: bye minnie it was nice knowing you

Hyunjin: can we keep the name one day??? please????

Chan: So that you can change it to a different atrocious name tomorrow?

Changbin: hell yeah

Jisung: daily terrible chat names!!!!

Seungmin: …Okay hyung I’m sorry I’m with you now.

Minho: Too late. Dead and forgotten.

Hyunjin: sungie text me all ur name ideas were making a list!!!

Seungmin: I have many regrets.

***

[3RACHA chat, the day they hear how deep Felix’s voice is]

Jisung: !?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!????????!!!!??

Changbin: you have got to be kidding me what the FUCK was that????

Chan: He sounds really good
Chan: Like REALLY good

Changbin: yeah he does???? fuck

Jisung: i need him
Jisung: i mean i already needed him in every conceivable way but now i need him professionally too

Chan: You know
Chan: I was thinking

Changbin: fortress?

Chan: Fortress!

Jisung: !!!!!!!!!!!

Chan: Like the bridge you know

Changbin: oh my god yes

Jisung: and the prechorus
Jisung: bc that’s why we gave up on it

Changbin: none of us had the range but it would sound fucking epic with his voice

Jisung: skdlfjadlksfjdslkfjsd i cant waittttt (✧∀✧)

Chan: I mean it’s still his choice of course

Changbin: of course

Jisung: of course

Changbin: …but we want him to say yes because the song would be fire

Jisung: PLS LET HIM SAY YES

Chan: IT WOULD BE SO GOOD

Changbin: also Innie and Lix have been staring at us for a full minute perhaps we should stop texting and actually record

Chan: Fuck

***

[private chat between Hyunjin and Jeongin, the day Felix takes the ’00-liners to Aera’s bakery]

Hyunjin: u will never guess where we are

Jeongin: i’m sure you’re about to tell me

Hyunjin: [image attached]

Hyunjin: based on ur silence im going to assume ur speechless with rage

Jeongin: SHE PLAYED US?

Hyunjin: there it is

Jeongin: SHE WAS CRYING

Hyunjin: lix said she was very proud of herself

Jeongin: what the FUCK

Hyunjin: right!!!

Jeongin: you mean the same person who made those raspberry donuts gave us THOSE scones?

Hyunjin: exactly!!!

Jeongin: oh she’s good
Jeongin: i like her

Hyunjin: i dont

Jeongin: yes you do

Hyunjin: yes i do
Hyunjin: she gave us mocha buns and theyre insane

Jeongin: bring back donuts for me

Hyunjin: she doesnt have them today but she said u will get them next time!!!

Jeongin: i’d better

***

[on one of the days they took Felix out into the city to help reduce his scent sensitivity]

Chan: How’s it going?

Seungmin: A lot better than the supermarket.
Seungmin: [image attached]

Jisung: oh my god (˶◕.◕˶)   

Seungmin: We got to the end of the parking lot and then they found this cat and they’ve just been petting it for the past fifteen minutes.

Hyunjin: minho hyung is smiling!!!

Changbin: gonna be real sappy here and say that seeing this almost makes me want a cat
Changbin: like not actually because I will die
Changbin: but almost

Jisung: yeah

Hyunjin: yeah

Jeongin: yeah

Seungmin: Yeah.

Chan: We won’t
Chan: But yes me too

Seungmin: [image attached]

Jisung: i can HEAR lixie’s laugh just from looking at that

Hyunjin: me too!!!

Jeongin: he looks so happy

Jisung: I love him so much

Changbin: I want to court him SO BADLY

Jeongin: yeah me too

Chan: We need to be patient

Seungmin: He’s barely recovered any independence

Jeongin: i know and i agree we can’t yet

Jisung: doesn’t change the yearning

Hyunjin: hes so pretty

Jisung: and so sweet

Changbin: and he smells amazing and I want him to scent me back so badly

Hyunjin: god yes

Seungmin: [image attached]

Jisung: STOP

Hyunjin: dont u dare stop
Hyunjin: i need a thousand more

Changbin: the way hyung looks at him are you kidding?

Jeongin: guys this is ridiculous we’re all so gone for him

Jisung: how could we not be????

Hyunjin: channie hyung please
Hyunjin: please tell me i can start designing his courting gift
Hyunjin: please please please

Chan: …you’re not ordering anything yet

Hyunjin: YES
Hyunjin: THANK YOU THANK YOU

Chan: A design only Hyunjin!

Hyunjin: yessssss i know
Hyunjin: its gonna be so pretty just wait

Chan: This was a mistake wasn’t it

Jisung: no it wasn’t

Changbin: no it wasn’t

Jeongin: no it wasn’t

Hyunjin: innie!!!!!

Jeongin: we can’t court him YET. now is not the right time. but it’ll come, and we should be ready, so i think hyung should design it and also that he should order it when he’s done

Changbin: damn

Jisung: innieeeeeeeee!!! (*^▽^*)

Hyunjin: asdlkfjsdklfjdsfjdsfjkds i have never loved u more
Hyunjin: u will help me right? bc i need ur input

Jeongin: yeah show me later

Hyunjin: aaaah im so excited!!!!!!!

Chan: Somehow I’ve lost control over this conversation and I’m not entirely sure how it happened
Chan: I feel like we should talk about this some more

Seungmin: [image attached]

Jisung: skjafalsdkfjsdlkfjsdlkfjdslkfjsdf

Changbin: so fucking pretty

Hyunjin: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chan: Which clearly isn’t going to happen right now

Changbin: shut up and tell us what that picture is doing to you

Chan: …
Chan: A lot

Hyunjin: were gonna court him!!!!!

Chan: NOT YET

Hyunjin: were gonna court him as soon as hes finally deemed ready by annoyingly overprotective hyungs!!!!

[Chan is typing]

Changbin: oh lord here we go

Jeongin: i know you’re just waiting for conveniently bothersome moments to drip-feed us the rest of the pictures you took seungmin so please just send them all now before hyung finishes his lecture

Jisung: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Seungmin: [16 images attached]

Chapter Text

When Changbin enters the bakery, a cheerful jingle announces his arrival. It smells nice in here, like bread and sugar and spices. He looks around curiously. It’s not a large place, but it’s clean and bright and looks well-loved. It’s clearly well-loved by the neighbourhood too, judging by the fact that there are three people in line in front of him. He joins the queue and waits for his turn, quickly checking once more that his phone is set to sound. If Felix calls, he wants to make sure he hears it.

God, the omega had been so nervous earlier. Had been nervous all day, his scent souring further with every minute that passed. They are all proud of him for taking this step, but it makes sense that he is scared. Therapy is scary.

At least San seemed nice. Changbin has only ever talked to Hongjoong and Yeosang before—aside from Seonghwa and Wooyoung on the phone during Felix’s drop—but San seemed calm and patient, and Changbin thinks that Felix will be okay. He still wants to be back before the hour is over though, so he’s going to drive back the moment he’s done here. He’d only agreed to leave because Felix wanted him to, but there is no way he is going to actually run errands for an hour. This one is an exception, and after that he’ll stay close.

His phone chimes, and he takes it out again.

⋆˚࿔ ♡ operation chick in the coop ♡ ⋆˚࿔

Channie: How did it go Bin? Is he okay?

Hannie: he was so scared when you two left i felt so bad for him ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

Changbin: he was scared, but he was okay when I left him
Changbin: he almost cried when I gave him the shirt

Hannie: he cried????

Changbin: almost. and in a good way. he like, took one whiff of it and relaxed by a thousand percent
Changbin: it was a good idea Sungah

Channie: Oh good I’m glad

Hyunjinah: did u find the bakery????

Changbin: [image attached]

Hyunjinah: i can literally only see ur feet

Changbin: well there are two laundromat halmeonis in front of me and I’m not risking my life by snapping them on camera. I made it, yes

Minho-hyung: Get him something good. Something raspberry.
Minho-hyung: Also I hate today’s chat name, someone change it.

Changbin: Hannie and Jinnie are the only ones with admin rights

Hannie: this one was jinnie’s!

Hyunjinah: its a good name!!!!
Hyunjinah: hes like a lil baby chick
Hyunjinah: were his coop <3333

I.Nnie: and what, he needs to come inside us? that’s gross hyung

Hyunjinah: oh FUCK I DIDNT MEAN THAT
Hyunjinah: tho i mean if he wants to im not saying no

Channie: Hyunjin

Hyunjinah: BUT I MEANT IT LIKE WERE HIS HOME

Channie: …alright. I have to admit I like that

Seungminnie: Ugh of course you do.
Seungminnie: I do not. Minho-hyung is right, it’s a terrible name. Change it.

Changbin: figure out the chat name later, just make sure the den is ready when we come back

I.Nnie: my last class just finished, i’ll be home
I.Nnie: nobody fucking touch the nest before i’m back or i’ll kill you

[several people are typing]

“Can I help you?”

Changbin jumps and nearly drops his phone. “Ah, sorry,” he says as he quickly slips it back into his pocket. He hadn’t even noticed the other people leave. He looks up to find an older woman watching him from the other side of the counter, one eyebrow raised and looking terribly unimpressed.

Shit. That’s not the first impression he wanted to make.

He gives a quick bow. “Hello. I’m Seo Changbin. I’m part of the Bang pack, one of Felix’s friends.”

She cocks her head, her eyes pinning him down. “Right. Felix’s… friends. I am Kang Aera.”

Her eyes are very intense. Changbin suppresses the instinctive urge to shift and smiles instead. “It is an honour to meet you. Felix speaks very highly of you.”

She ignores this and only asks, “How is he?”

“Oh. He’s got his first therapy session right now.” He knows that she knows that; Felix told her about it when he visited yesterday. “It’s why I’m here, I wanted to get him something nice? For afterwards?” Why on earth is he finishing all his sentences with a question. Scratch that—why is she staring at him like that. “We were thinking something with raspberries?” Stop it with the questions, goddammit. “Because he likes them.” There. A full stop. He did it.

She snorts, still unimpressed. “I know what he likes. I will be right back.”

She turns around and leaves through a doorway that must lead into the kitchen, and Changbin takes a breath. Jesus. He never gets nervous like this. Social interactions don’t normally trip him up. But this is really like meeting Felix’s family, and well… she’s a little more intense than he was expecting. He knows she managed to play Jeongin and Hyunjin for fools that day, and Chan said she was observant, but still, with the way Felix talked about her he didn’t quite anticipate this.

When she comes back, she is carrying a rack of pastries and… a knife?

She sets the pastries down. Changbin can see golden flaky dough and a red filling covered with powdered sugar, a few raspberries poking out from the centre. “Those look very good.”

She hums. “Raspberry danishes. They’re Yongbok’s favourite, but they’ll need a minute or two to cool before I can bag one up for you.”

Right. Changbin can wait a few minutes. The Kim pack’s apartment isn’t that far, and he made it here in record time. If Felix hasn’t panicked by now, he’ll probably last the whole session. Changbin has time.

Aera takes out a pie from the display. It’s still uncut, and she picks up the knife. She doesn’t cut into it though, merely cocks her head again and watches him. “Have you ever made a blueberry pie, Changbin-ah?”

He blinks. “I can’t say I have, no.”

“It’s not difficult.” She looks down, studying the pie. “If you know the steps, all you need to do is follow them. The only thing that’s truly important is making sure your blueberries are good.” She looks up again. “You have to inspect them carefully, you see. Any berries that have got even a hint of a bad spot have got to go before they can do any damage.” Her eyes are piercing, and a ray of sunlight catches on her knife, making it gleam. “I’ve become very good at picking them out over the years.”

Her voice remains pleasant throughout, and yet for a second as she stares at him, Changbin’s instincts freeze up. His heart skips a beat.

And then the tension drops and she smiles again. “You’ve got that, right?”

“I… do,” he says slowly. What the fuck.

Her smile widens. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” She twirls her wrist and cuts into the pie with smooth, efficient movements, creating twelve perfectly even slices. Then she puts the knife down and looks at him. “We can bag up that pastry now, I think. It should have cooled down enough.”

Changbin is not entirely sure what just happened, but the message was loud and clear. Do not mess with Felix, or she will gut them like mouldy berries. He swallows the irrational urge to tell her that he is a good blueberry, and instead takes the bag she offers him.

“Um,” he says eloquently. “How much for the pastry?”

She waves a hand. “Just tell Yongbok to stop by again soon.”

Uh, yeah no. There is no way he is leaving this shop without paying her, not after whatever the hell that was. He takes out his wallet and tucks a few bills under a basket of bread on the counter. “Just a little token of goodwill.”

Aera’s lips twitch, and she gestures at the door. When she speaks, her voice is warm and suddenly very amused. “Go, child. He’s going to need you after this.”

“Right.” Changbin bows again. “Have a good day. It was nice to meet you.”

She chuckles. “Likewise, Changbin-ah. Now get out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Changbin clutches the bag to his chest and leaves the shop to go back to Felix, resolutely ignoring the fact that the pastry in the bag doesn’t even feel lukewarm.

Chapter Text

“Felix is fine,” Changbin says when Chan opens his eyes. He knows it’s going to be the first thing the alpha asks, the moment his brain comes back online.

Chan blinks three times and then focuses on where Changbin is lying on his side next to him. “Right,” he says, his voice rough with sleep. He lets his eyes drift over the rest of the nest, which is empty. “You talked to him?”

Changbin holds up his phone. “Jinnie texted. Lix is with him in the garden. He’s feeling better today.”

“Oh, good,” Chan says, and then rubs his face. “Sungie?”

“Having breakfast. He’s fine too, come on hyung. You knew that. He was just taking care of Lix yesterday, not anxious.”

“I know,” Chan mumbles. “Just wanted to make sure.”

Changbin shakes his head, but he knows nothing he can say will change this about Chan. Chan worries, it’s just what he does. He needs them all to be happy and healthy and well, and if they’re not, he will not rest until he’s fixed it. He’s always been more focused on them than on himself. That’s okay. It just means that it’s their job to care for him in return.

“You doing okay, hyung?”

He doesn’t usually ask Chan that. He doesn’t usually need to. He tends to know exactly when Chan is fine and when he isn’t, because Chan is like an open book to him after all their years together. But Chan has been a little distracted for the past few days, busy making phone calls that he wouldn’t let Changbin or Jisung overhear. When they asked, he told them not to worry about it. So this time, Changbin needs to ask.

“I’m fine,” Chan says, like he has every other time before.

“Chan.”

“I am,” Chan insists. “Just worried.”

Changbin studies him, the lines of his face, the shifts and layers in his scent. He’s good at reading Chan, and he knows the alpha is telling the truth. “Worried about what?”

Chan stares up at the ceiling for a bit. “Therapy was rougher on Lixie than on Jisung.”

“Yeah,” Changbin agrees. “We knew it would be.” Felix had been looking forward to it in the days before, but they all knew it would be hard on him. You don’t go through the things Felix went through and enjoy light and breezy therapy afterwards, if such a thing exists at all.

“But it will help him.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and yet there’s something in Chan’s voice that makes Changbin think he needs confirmation. “Yes.”

“Because San is a good therapist for him.”

Changbin watches him. “I think so, yeah. I liked San, he was very soft-spoken. I think Felix liked him too.” He pokes Chan in the stomach. “You’re like the nation’s biggest promoter of therapy, why are you suddenly doubting this?”

“I’m not. I’m just…” Chan huffs. “Never mind. Just thinking.”

“He’s not alone,” Changbin reminds him. “He’s got us.”

At that, Chan relaxes. “Yes. You’re right.” He takes a breath and then smiles at Changbin. It’s genuine this time. “We take care of each other, right?”

“We do,” Changbin agrees. “We’ll give him whatever he needs.” And then, pointedly, “Including us.”

At that, Chan sighs. “Bin…”

“We can’t go on like this, hyung. He’s in our den. This is not fair to him.”

Chan exhales. “I know. Fuck, don’t you think I know that? I knew that when I invited him up here. But what was I supposed to do, leave him crying on his own in the kitchen?”

“Of course not.” Changbin rolls his eyes. “He belongs with us. But we need to talk to him. It’s starting to get mean.”

Chan doesn’t say anything for a while. “I know,” he says finally, his voice quiet. “I’ve seen it too, the uncertainty in his eyes. It’s just…”

“He’s not helpless,” Changbin says. “He’s capable of making decisions for himself.”

“He’s horrible at saying no,” Chan argues.

“He will if he needs to. Besides, he’s in our den. He wants to be in our den. You seriously think he’s gonna say no?”

Chan bites his lip. “I just want him to feel secure. I want us to be on even footing. He’s still so vulnerable, and like Minho said, it should be a choice, not his only option. I don’t want to pressure him into anything, or for him to feel like he owes us this.”

“Then we make that clear. It won’t end with a yes or no question. You make us talk about everything else; why would we suddenly stop now? We can let him set the pace with anything we do. We’ll make sure he knows that it’s not his only option, that he could say no and we’d all still help him with anything he needs. Hell, we can help him find his own security while we’re courting. But we can’t keep going on like this, because we’re just being dicks now.”

There’s another silence, and then Chan groans. “Damnit.”

Changbin’s mouth quirks up. “Finally realised I’m right?”

“Even if I’m willing to consider this, Jeongin is not going to—”

“Jeonginnie agrees with me,” Changbin tells him. “He’s already talked to me about it. And so has Seungmin. They both think it’s time.”

Chan blinks. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“And Minho?”

Changbin thinks about this. Minho has been uncomfortable with the idea of courting Felix from the start. Not because of their history, although at first there’d been that too. But as important as it is to Chan that Felix feels secure and on equal ground with them, it seems to be a thousand times more important to Minho. But the thing is… Felix is never going to be on equal ground with them. Even if he were free and healthy, he’d be beneath them in the eyes of the law, in the same way Jeongin is. None of them give a fuck about the law, but the technical imbalance remains. Yes, it’s important for Felix to make his own choice. But Changbin gets the sense that he has been making his choice for months, by letting them in, inviting them closer, and never, ever backing away.

He thinks Minho must have seen that too. Minho forces Felix to make explicit choices as often as possible, makes him state his wants out loud no matter how much he squirms about it, and he always gives Felix the chance to pull away from any touch. Felix never does. Felix only leans in closer, smelling happy and relieved and awed, like he can’t believe he’s allowed. And that’s the real problem, the part they actually need to be working on. Felix deserves more than blurred lines and silent implications. He deserves to know that he’s wanted, deserves to know just how loved he is, how vital he is to their pack and their happiness. That he’s doing as much for them as they are for him.

The way they’re treating him right now is going to come back to bite them, and Changbin doesn’t want to wait for that ball to drop. He doesn’t want to end up hurting Felix. Minho won’t want that either. The last thing Minho wants is to hurt Felix ever again, and Changbin is certain that he’ll agree with all of them that it’s time for a courtship talk now.

“Minho-hyung will agree,” he says, the words lined with the easy confidence he always feels when he’s observed his packmates clearly. Chan has told him more than once that he envies it, the way Changbin can decide something and never stray from his conviction afterwards. It doesn’t feel like any sort of skill though. It’s just facts, and he has no reason to doubt the truth.

Chan turns his head on the pillow to watch him for a minute, and then he sighs. “Alright. I guess I’ll talk to the others today.”

Changbin snorts. “Yah. We’re talking about courting Felix, not an execution.”

Chan huffs, but the corners of his mouth tick up. “Well, I’m the one who’s gonna have to write a speech.”

“Like you didn’t start writing your speech the moment Minho-hyung said he was fine with courting him.” When Chan huffs again, Changbin grins. “You could always ask me to do it though. Me and Hannie are very—”

Chan moves and rolls on top of him in a flash, pinning him down. “Oh no,” he says firmly, though his voice is laced with amusement. “You two did Seungminnie’s. I’m not letting you do it again.”

“Seungminnie loved his speech,” Changbin laughs, hands automatically coming up to grip Chan’s sides. He licks his lips.

“Seungminnie loathed his speech,” Chan says, eyes dropping down to Changbin’s mouth.

Changbin grins wider, sliding his hand up and into Chan’s hair. “Except the end.”

“Except the end,” Chan agrees, and leans in.

Changbin yields easily, letting his mouth fall open as Chan deepens the kiss. Some of their packmates are strict about not kissing before they’ve brushed their teeth, but neither he nor Chan has ever particularly cared. Besides, underneath the morning breath Changbin can still taste that warm blend of Chan’s coffee scent, something he’ll never get enough of for all the years he’s been kissing Chan. They kiss lazily for a few minutes, and Changbin hums as Chan slowly lowers more of his weight on top of him. He loves Chan like this, soft and warm and still heavy from sleep. And then he fists his hand tighter in Chan’s hair and pulls, and grins when Chan curses and arches his neck with a shiver. He loves Chan like this too.

He hooks a leg over Chan’s calf and flips them over, chuckling at the way Chan’s scent spikes as he lands underneath him.

“Not here,” Chan says, though his eyes are dark and still fixed on Changbin’s mouth, his hand twitching against Changbin’s arm like he wants to reel him back in.

He’s right, of course. They don’t have sex in the den any longer, not since Felix moved in. A part of Changbin misses it, but it doesn’t really feel like much of a sacrifice. He’ll take Felix over den sex any day and would happily stick to other rooms in the house for the rest of his life if it means Felix will stay with them. Minho’s bedroom is popular, these days. The studio. Even Seungmin’s room on occasion, if he’s in a generous mood and they promise not to be messy.

There’s one other option though.

Changbin leans in to nip sharply at the layered mating bite on Chan’s neck and smirks when Chan lets out a low growl. “Shower,” he murmurs in Chan’s ear and slides off, purposefully dragging his hands down Chan’s body as he goes.

He doesn’t make it to the door before Chan catches up with him, and they whirl around the bathroom doorway with limbs already intertwining again, their laughter echoing off the walls.

Chapter Text

Chan presses Changbin against the wall and kicks the door shut, fumbling with one hand for the lock.

“Leave it,” Changbin mumbles in between kisses.

“Felix,” Chan protests, his voice still gravelly from sleep.

Changbin slides his hands under Chan’s tank top and drags them back up over warm, muscled flesh. “He’s with Jinnie.” He catches Chan’s lips again, and Chan’s free hand tightens on Changbin’s waist.

His other hand is still trying to lock the door, until Changbin feels an idea spark and he says, “But I think you’d like it if he walked in right now.”

Chan’s head snaps back to stare at him, and his hand freezes.

Changbin grins. “Yeah, I figured you’d like that thought.”

“We can’t,” Chan says, even as he lets Changbin pull his hand away from the door, and Changbin grins wider. That was nothing but a token protest. They both know he has him.

He nips at Chan’s bottom lip before tugging Chan’s shirt off, followed by his own. “You wouldn’t want him to see us like this?” he asks innocently. He slides a hand to the back of Chan’s neck to pull him back down for a kiss. To Chan’s lips, he mumbles, “I think we make a pretty picture.”

“Bin…” Chan groans, but his scent is spiking.

“We could make it prettier though,” Changbin mutters. “How should he find us, hyung?” He slots a leg in between Chan’s and smirks when he realises that Chan is already more than half hard. “Like this?” he asks, trailing a hand down to squeeze him through the fabric of his boxers. “You’d like him to see us kissing right now?” He continues his ministrations, enjoying the way Chan grows hard underneath his touch. More intriguingly though, Chan is growing hard underneath his words, and Changbin wonders how fast he can make him come if he continues. He presses his lips to Chan’s neck, kissing a wet trail up to Chan’s ear. “I bet that wouldn’t be enough for you though. You’d want him to walk in to something more compromising, right?”

When he pulls back a little to check Chan’s face, Chan is staring at him with dark eyes, his mouth half open. Changbin raises an eyebrow, but Chan does not tell him to stop. Changbin grins. He knew it. “What would you like him to walk in to, hyung? Me sucking you off? You eating me out on the countertop? Want him to see you fucking me against the shower wall?” He’s not sure if it’s genuinely that last mental image or just the combination of all three, but Chan lets out a strangled sound and his hips jerk up into Changbin’s touch. Changbin slips his hand inside Chan’s boxer shorts, wrapping his fingers around hot flesh. “He’d be so startled, hyung, if he walked in on us. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself, going all red and stammering, but throughout all of that, he still wouldn’t be able to look away. His eyes would be fixed on where you’re fucking into me, taking in every little movement. He’d have a perfect view, right? Frozen in the doorway, fingers still clutching the frame. His eyes would be so big, hyung. So wide and shocked.”

“Fuck,” Chan breathes, snapping his hips up, Changbin’s grip around him tight and slightly too dry in a way that Changbin knows only adds more heat to what they’re doing.

“You picturing it?”

Chan groans. “Fuck, Changbin—”

“You know you should stop. Should apologise, make sure he’s alright. But I don’t think you would. Oh, you could,” he adds lightly, revelling in the way Chan is falling apart under the scene Changbin is painting, even faster than Changbin thought he would. “But you wouldn’t. You’d want him to see. Want him to watch, to hear every moan you draw out of me. You’d want him to know exactly how well you’d fuck him if he asked you to.”

Chan lets out a helpless moan, his hands tight around Changbin’s waist and bicep, like he’s already just barely clinging on.

The heady power of reducing Chan to this spreads like wildfire under Changbin’s skin, and he picks up speed, swirling his thumb through the precum budding at Chan’s tip to ease the slide of his hand. “He’d say hyung, all thready and breathless, eyes so big, and you wouldn’t even stop moving, would you? Hell, you wouldn’t even slow down. You’d just keep going, fucking me so hard I’d feel you for days, right there in front of him.” Chan’s breaths are harsh in Changbin’s ear, and each one is stoking the fire under Changbin’s skin. “Would you talk to him, while you fuck me? I think you would. You’d tell him to watch. No, don’t talk, you’d say, just watch. And he would. He’d do whatever you told him to, shy and hesitant but oh-so eager to please. It’d drive you crazy. You can imagine it, right, the way he’d look at you, checking if he’s done good, only breaking his silence when he can’t bear it any longer, when he needs your touch so bad he can’t help but look up at you with teary eyes and whisper hyung, please—”

“Ffffff—ah,” Chan manages, and then he’s coming, shuddering his way through an orgasm that seems to take even him by surprise. “Fuck,” he groans as Changbin strokes him through it. “Oh my god, what the fuck.” Through the haze of arousal Changbin silently agrees, because he hasn’t seen Chan come this fast in years. This is a memory he’s going to savour.

Chan drops his forehead to Changbin’s shoulder, breathing hard. “Jesus Christ, I’m going to hell.”

Changbin laughs, resting his cheek against Chan’s sweaty temple. “Oh yeah, you’re a pervert. That took you what, two minutes?”

“Your fault,” Chan says, still catching his breath. After a few seconds he adds, “And what the hell are you playing innocent for, those words came out of your fucking mouth.”

Changbin wipes his hand on Chan’s ruined boxers and grins again. “Never said I was innocent.”

“You’re going straight to hell with me,” Chan mumbles, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of Changbin’s neck.

Changbin closes his eyes and tilts his head. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” Chan breathes in between kisses, his conscience kicking back in.

Changbin smacks his chest. “Chan, it’s a goddamn fantasy. I know you wouldn’t do that. You know you wouldn’t do that. If Lix doesn’t want sex, we’d never touch him.”

“We really wouldn’t,” Chan says. He pauses to look at Changbin, eyes very serious. “I would never, I’d sooner die.”

Changbin smiles and shakes his head. “I know, Channie. That’s what fantasies are for.”

“Right,” Chan says slowly.

“Come on, I know you know the difference between the two. You and Minho—”

“Oh, shut up,” Chan huffs, and Changbin grins.

“You good now?” He waits for Chan to nod and then says, “Good. Now quit guilt-spiralling and suck me off.”

Chan rolls his eyes at the order, but the guilt does ease back out of his scent, and that’s all Changbin was aiming for. Well—that and the way Chan drags him into the shower cabin and sinks to his knees, ready to return the favour.

Life is good, Changbin thinks, when you know exactly how your packmates tick.