Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s not much to do once Beomgyu finishes recording, which is a rarity these days.

He gets ready for bed uneventfully, taking longer than he needs to to wash his face just to bother whoever’s in line for the bathroom next. He needs some kind of entertainment. Sue him.

He values his sleep, he does. But there’s just this insatiable little urge to doomscroll through his timeline for a bit. Just a little. Just for a moment — it’s not something he does often. Everyone needs balance in life.

Tonight, balance for Beomgyu takes form in scrolling through twitter. He’s landed in a halfway place to what could be considered moa twitter, unconsciously and perhaps inevitably. A funny tweet he’d like about Kai here, a post praising Taehyun’s vocals there, and one (or multiple) tweets praising him and other members later, it wasn’t really much of a shock.

He scrolls past another tweet asking for a soogyu live, laughing as he thinks about sending it to Soobin and then decides against it.

It’s like Soobin can hear his thoughts, because there’s a knock at his door mere moments later. Beomgyu jumps at the sound, shutting off his phone as Soobin lets himself in, uncaring for his lack of response.

He looks sleep deprived, with the faintest trace of dark circles still visible under todays makeup. Beomgyu can tell he hasn’t taken it off because there’s still a faint pink to his lips that’s maybe one shade too vibrant to be his bare skin.

“What’s up?”

“Just wanted to check that you’d gotten home.” Soobin’s hand is still on the handle of his door, as if he only planned on being there for a quick moment. “You didn’t text me.”

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow. “Was I supposed to?”

Soobin pauses, his fingers hesitating around the metal. “No. Whatever, just- make sure you’re up on time tomorrow. We have an early schedule.”

Beomgyu nods, smiling softly at him. Soobin takes that as his cue to leave, moving to pull the door closed once more just as Beomgyu remembers something. “Oh hyung!”

“Hm?”

“Moas want a soogyu live, when we have time we should get together and make that happen.” He stops, suddenly unsure. “If you want to, of course.”

Soobin just grins at him, dimples gently showing in the dark. The sight is a little bit of a relief, and comfort fits itself over Beomgyu’s chest. “Soon, then. Goodnight, Beomgyu-yah.”

“Gnight.”

And then his door is closed. Beomgyu spends a moment longer looking at it pointlessly before he snaps out of it, turning his phone back on even though his eyes are starting to hurt from the strain.

His twitter timeline refreshes once more, and Beomgyu’s finger freezes on his screen.

What the hell was omegaverse?

He reads the tweet over again, hoping it’ll make sense the second time around, but still nothing clicks.

His finger hovers over the share button, ready to send the tweet to his encyclopedia (Taehyun) or his number one person to bother (Soobin), but he hesitates as he reads it over a third time.

It’s some sort of fanfic link, and those are definitely variations of his and the other members names on there. What if it’s something that’ll land him in an incredibly awkward situation with either of those two come morning?

Absolutely not. Beomgyu is smarter than that. Is he smart enough to close twitter and do a quick google search instead of clicking the link attached, however? No. Although that could be likened to laziness. Yes, it’s pure laziness, and not curiosity, that has him loading up this ominous looking fan fiction website at — he looks up at the time, bright white numbers reminding him he really should be getting some sleep — 12 in the morning.

The first thing that greets him when the page does load are tags and warnings and other incriminating looking bits of information, which, if Beomgyu were more patient, he would definitely be reading, he would. But he’s a bit busy scrolling quickly past whatever all that is to get to the main body of text. He just wants answers. Simple ones.

It starts off pretty normal, as any work of fiction pretty much does. But then there’s that word again. Omega. And further down, something about a heat. And—scenting? What the fuck does any of this mean?

It’s hard to disable his disbelief for a while, too busy trying to separate him and the rest of the members from the characters in this story. It’s not so bad, only Beomgyu keeps feeling that he’s missing a very basic understanding of the fanfic’s whole premise.

He’s about halfway through when it clicks, and his tired eyes shoot open for a fraction of a second. Wolves. It’s about fictional wolf hierarchy.

He probably would’ve spent less time reading this confused if he’d have just read those tags at the beginning. But then he remembers seeing the other name sitting next to his in the pairing section and he shuts down that thought. Sometimes, ignorance is best. 

There’s no real point in him continuing his curiosity-led discovery, not really. And it’s almost one in the morning now, which really is quite late.

But he’s already gotten this far, and now that he understands the basic concept of it all, he’ll only be left with more answers if he doesn’t finish what he started… right?

It’s almost questionably easy to fall into the plot of the story after that, and by the time he’s finished reading up until the last update Beomgyu’s eyes have welled up with tears and his nose has gone pink. He knows because his reflection stares back at him, watching him eye the lack of next chapter button at the end of the page.

His heart is broken, he thinks. And he is never going into something without reading those damn tags again. If those would have even stopped him.

Beomgyu’s stubborn, he knows.

He closes twitter, feeling unusually restless and bothered. The last few paragraphs keep echoing in his memory, and that dull ache in his chest is persistent. He hesitated for merely a moment before opening his message thread with Soobin without thinking, fingers moving across his keyboard with a lack of finesse.

Me

hyung, do you think.

theoretically. if we were in a pack. like werewolves. or something.

Who would be your mate?

He regrets it as soon as he hits send, but a typing bubble appears all too quick on the other side of the screen, and now it’s too late to delete it. Soobin couldn’t have been responsible and slept early for once? No, this was all Beomgyu’s fault. Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever. Curiosity killed the puppy.

Beomgyu bites his lip, waiting. His stomach feels kind of weird. It must have been something he ate.

Soobin

What?

The text bubble flickers in and out, and Beomgyu watches.

Soobin

What are you talking about Beomgyu-yah?

He doesn’t want to say anything. Definitely doesn’t want to expand on why he’s bringing up werewolves to his band mate slash best friend at three am. What the hell was wrong with him?

Soobin

Beomgyu-yah?

He stares at the texts, fingers hovering over his keyboard. Maybe he shouldn’t even reply. It had been a stupid question anyways. He’s contemplating the pros and cons of leaving Soobin on read when his phone rings, incredibly annoyingly loudly. As if to alert the whole dorm that he’s getting a call and there’s no way he could possibly Not hear it.

“Fuck.” He answers unwillingly, if only just to shut it up — not really processing that now he’ll have to deal with Soobin on the other line until the other is speaking up, voice deep yet quiet through the phone.

“What was that about?”

“It’s nothing.” Beomgyu says, quickly. Because he’d kind of like to forget this whole night ever happened. “I was just curious.” There’s silence on the other side, like Soobin either can’t really believe what he’s hearing or believe him or both. Whichever, whatever. Beomgyu doesn’t want to hear whatever it is he’s looking to say. “Don’t answer! Forget I asked.”

Soobin is quiet again. So still Beomgyu begins to suspect he’s gone to sleep, but then his voice is coming clear through the receiver, unbearably gentle and soft.

“Okay. Go to bed.”

“…I was going to.”

“Mm.” Soobin sounds like he doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press. “Goodnight.”

“…Night.”

It’s silent in his room once more, and Beomgyu resists the urge to smother himself with his pillow. So much for de-stressing and an uneventful night.

He puts his phone to charge, trying to push thoughts of the omegaverse and fated mates away. Curse whoever put that story on his timeline. Curse whoever invented fanfiction.

He goes to sleep with one thought on his mind, the only thing he’ll let float around as he sheds his last bits of consciousness.

It doesn’t matter. If he were in an abo universe, he’d be an alpha anyway.

He’s sure of it.

There’s an unusual sort of lightness about the room when Beomgyu wakes up, as if the whole room has been bathed in sunlight. He can feel the warmth of it on his eyelids, and he pulls his comforter over his head to make it go away.

“It’s time to wake up, hyung.”

A voice cuts through the quiet, Taehyun’s, Beomgyu’s foggy brain registers. His half asleep mind struggles to catch up. Didn’t he have a schedule earlier than Beomgyu did?

“Why are you still here?” He asks, voice groggy with sleep. He shuffles under the blanket, still unwilling to face the reality of the morning. Taehyun laughs, as though he finds Beomgyu’s confusion funny and disingenuous.

“Because Soobin-hyung told me to make sure you were up on time to welcome them back. Which is just his way of saying he wants me to make sure you don’t skip lunch too.”

Beomgyu pauses, confusion filling him up once more. Welcome them back?

“What?”

Taehyun sighs, clearly reaching his limit. Beomgyu doesn’t get why. He’s genuinely confused. He pulls the comforter off of his body, and his world nearly stops when he takes in his surroundings.

The room he’s in looks lived in and homey, with oak wood walls and warm, minimal lighting. The sunlight he’d felt earlier pours in from a wide window that sits adjacent to the queen sized bed Beomgyu is currently laying in. The furniture that fills the room is nothing like what he has in his dorm room, all sturdy and beautifully intricate in its designs.

He doesn’t know what this place is, but it’s not the dorm he fell asleep in.

Taehyun goes on, unperturbed by Beomgyu’s inner turmoil.

“Obviously he actually wants you to welcome them back too. The usual stuff. Don’t overthink it.” Taehyun’s got his hands on his hips now, like he expected a less than welcoming reaction from him this morning and saw this all coming. Beomgyu is trying to remember how to breathe.

Taehyun must take his silent anxiety as something else, because he merely sits down near the edge of the bed and gets that expression on his face he — or well, normal Taehyun — gets when he’s about to try to soothe him to the best of his abilities.

“It’s been a week since you presented. The world keeps spinning, hyung. It has to.” He says, like it’s consolation for something. And Beomgyu’s heart feels like it stops for the nth time, though he knows it’s still beating. Can feel it in the rapid fast of his chest.

Presented?

“I know you’d been expecting a different outcome, and not everything will be exactly the same, but most of it will be.” He gets up from the edge of the bed, pointing to Beomgyu’s most likely disheveled state. “Including you being a part of this pack. So get ready to welcome them back, hyung. They’ll be waiting.”

Taehyun leaves the room, and it isn’t until the door is fully closed behind him that Beomgyu realizes that the faint scent of pear and mint leaves that had been in the air has been taken with him.

No way. No way.

Beomgyu brings a trembling hand up to the side of his neck, feeling for what he’s starting to fear is definitely there. His fingers land on the edges of a soft, almost bandaid like material.

Scent patches. He’d read about them in that fanfiction last night. Meant to be used when you didn’t want others to smell your scent, or your scent was too strong.

There’s no way Beomgyu’s woken up in an alternate reality where omegaverse is actually real. No fucking way. He reads one fanfic and gets isekai’d into an abo universe? What kind of luck was that?

He forgoes pinching himself altogether, going straight to smacking himself on the face.

Nothing.

Nothing except a searing pain on his cheek, which is probably red and inflamed now. “Ow.”

Okay. So this isn’t a dream. And now his face fucking hurts.

There’s an unsettling feeling creeping up onto him, and something Taehyun had said earlier makes its way back into the forefront of his mind. 

“I know you’d been expecting a different outcome, and not everything will be exactly the same, but most of it will be.”

What had “he” been expecting?

Beomgyu gets up with shaky legs, throwing the comforter fully off of his body. His clothes are soft and cotton, a white shirt that’s two sizes too big and gray shorts that brush the tops of his knees. Notably absolutely not what he went to sleep in. He puts the slippers on that sit at the side of the bed, as if waiting for him, and pads over to the mirror on the other side of the room.

This universe’s Beomgyu has light brown hair, and the ends of his hair are getting a bit long. As if he doesn’t have a stylist at work telling him he needs to get a hair cut. He probably doesn’t.

The face staring back at him is definitely his own, though he looks softer, almost. As though he’s spent more hours enjoying his life than locked up in a practice room. The dark circles under his eyes look newer, too. Like they’re less of a permanent thing and more of a newfound temporary addition to his face.

His stomach turns, and he reaches for the edge of the scent patch that sits on the side of his neck, trying to regulate his breathing. His reflection moves slow, or maybe that’s his body, him, afraid at what truth lies underneath.

He’s just about to pull, like ripping off a bandaid, when there’s the unmistakable sound of the front door opening and a soft chaos erupting outside of the room he’s in.

It’s almost like back home, when all five of them were together. Beomgyu’s breath hitches at the thought, and he drops his hand in favor of making his way to the main space of whatever place this is tentatively.

The door to this room pushes open easily, as if it had been waiting for him to come out. Beomgyu doesn’t share the same sentiment, closing it behind him and standing there, unsure what he’s really meant to do.

He stands in front of the bedroom door, taking in his surroundings. There’s a large open floor space, and most notably, his members, all standing around what appears to be the entrance of what he’s now sure is a house. A house they must all live in, considering next to the open space of the living room is a staircase, and the downstairs area looks pretty big too. 

If they’re a pack, then it’s certain they all live together, and it’s relieving to know that he has them at least. They may not be his members, but they’re still his members, all looking happy and healthy and like they’re celebrating something.

A throat clears somewhere before him, and Beomgyu looks up just in time to catch Soobin looking at him.

He doesn’t know why, but looking at him fills his body with a sense of comfort. He’s so different from his Soobin and yet exactly the same. His hair is pitch black, and his eyes almost look the faintest bit of blue — mesmerizing and almost scary to look at.

He looks a bit stronger in this world, his skin just the slightest bit warmer, certainly a product of being outside in the sun. Probably hunting, or something, if this omegaverse is the traditional kind. He’s dressed for it too, and the sight of it would be kind of ridiculous if Beomgyu weren’t used to seeing Soobin in all sorts of outfits for different concepts back home.

Still, unexplainably, Beomgyu has to suppress a smile at the sight of him. “Welcome home.” He says, like it’s instinct. Perhaps it is, here. Soobin’s eyes haven’t left him, as though he’s afraid that when he looks away Beomgyu will be gone. The thought nearly makes Beomgyu laugh. He has no idea how he even got here in the first place.

“It’s good to be back.” Soobin says. And he’s so far away yet so close, and it’s all Beomgyu hears. He has so many questions and so little answers. He’s sure he’ll be found out soon enough, but for now it’s just a matter of getting by. Instinct.

“How was the hunt?” Taehyun asks from beside Kai, breaking Beomgyu out of his reverie.

“Good!” The youngest yells out, pulling off layers of outerwear. “But you know how Yeonjun-hyung gets. He wouldn’t let us go home until he brought home more than both Soobin-hyung and I.”

Beomgyu’s eyes take in everyone, noting that they all look relatively the same. Just stronger, healthier. Yeonjun’s hair is still red, here, and Kai’s is black and a little overgrown.

“You both made it too easy. So much for being alphas with stronger innate instincts.” Yeonjun cuts in, and the words make Beomgyu pause.

His scent patch. It’s still on, which means he still has no idea what his subgender is. But Taehyun had said he’d presented a week ago, which means everyone else already knew. Everyone in this room knew except him. Wasn’t that ridiculous?

Taehyun’s scent had been fresh and gentle, which meant he was most likely a beta. Kai, who was nearest to him, smelt of tobacco and vanilla, similar to a fragrance Beomgyu had used one summer back home. He had that same sturdiness the Kai back home did, and based on what Yeonjun had said, Beomgyu was almost certain he was an alpha.

Right, Yeonjun.

He observed Yeonjun until he came closer, as if he could hear his thoughts and feel the weight of his stare.

“Did you rest well Beoms?” Beomgyu bit his lip, chest aching as he felt Yeonjun’s presence settle over him. He felt just like Yeonjun did back home. A pillar of support.

“Mm.”

Yeonjun grins, dragging him forward and fully into the room. “Good, cause we were starting to get worried you’d lock yourself up in there forever.” He says, and Beomgyu pauses, trying to process all the information casually being thrown at him.

Amongst it all, a small shift in the air, something that might’ve gone unnoticed if he weren’t already on such high alert. Yeonjun stops too, like his words have finally caught up with him. Beomgyu takes the opportunity to get a good grasp on his scent, trying to put all the puzzle pieces together as best as possible when he’s factually clueless.

His scent was simultaneously warm and sharp, like amber and citrus. It was pleasant on the nose, though it’s notes faintly tickled Beomgyu’s senses. Maybe Yeonjun was anxious or something.

Beta. Beomgyu was sure of it.

And Soobin—well.

There was an uncomfortable itch building up under Beomgyu’s skin. Since he’d woken up and accepted his fate. Since Taehyun’s lecture. The room he’d woken up in, with its faint traces of sandalwood and nutmeg lingering on every surface. The clothes he’d woken up in. The bed.

His fingers twitch at his sides, and it feels like he’s on fire. The scent blocker on his neck feels as if it burns him with how intensely he suddenly feels it, and the eyes on him burn, too.

Maybe the anxiety in the air was his, not Yeonjun’s.

None of their scents match the one in the room he’d woken up in. None of them do. Which leaves his own — hidden tightly under the scent patch stuck resolutely to his neck — and Soobin’s.

It’s like there’s an invisible shift in the air, like everyone knows he’s already figured out enough to get by for a moment. Yeonjun steps out of his bubble, calling for Taehyun and Kai to help him prepare for dinner in the kitchen.

Soobin is an uncomfortable sort of quiet, calmly standing a few feet away, like he’s expecting Beomgyu to have something to say to him before he himself figures out he does. That level of self assurance is nearly enough to make Beomgyu not speak up at all, but some part of him knows, deep down, that he can’t go back in that room he came out of and act like none of this is happening.

“Hyung.” He says, quiet enough that only Soobin will hear it. He wishes he were talking to his Soobin. He wishes he were anywhere else instead.

“Hm?” Omegaverse Soobin asks, and he sounds just like his Soobin does, so cloyingly similar that it makes Beomgyu’s chest ache. No. Maybe that’s just how this Beomgyu reacts to the intonation of his best friend's voice, too.

He can’t look at him, but he has to. So his eyes catch Soobin’s, watching him trace over his face with hesitancy, like he’s the one that’s out of place and not Beomgyu. The one that doesn’t know what to do.

“What am I, hyung?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. It’s probably an odd question. A bad start if he’s trying to go by undetected. But Soobin doesn’t care, Soobin merely swallows. Like this isn’t the first time Beomgyu’s asked him. The first time he’s answered.

“An omega.”

Right, then.

Beomgyu’s luck was purely, truly, shit.

Chapter Text

“Here.”

Beomgyu takes the tea Soobin offers him with tentative hands, feeling the heat of it on his skin through the ceramic.

“Thanks.”

He could’ve sworn he’d woken up to nothing but sunlight and an all encompassing warmth. Comforter on his body softer than anything else he’d ever touched.

So why had the room gone cold?

Maybe it had been a sudden drift. Had they left a window open? Was the ac on full blast, now? Was this some sort of side effect from the heat the Beomgyu of this universe had just had?

Had it been Kai forcing Soobin to sit with him?

It’s absurd that the mug in his hands is so hot he can feel it. Absurd that any of this is real at all. Beomgyu’s still at a loss, still doesn’t really believe it.

Maybe he’ll go to bed tonight and wake up at home, back to his busy idol life and that morning schedule they had been stressing about. Safe in the company of a Soobin that’s not the one sitting in front of him right now, looking cold around the edges. And beyond that, expectant—like Beomgyu is supposed to be saying something. Fuck.

“Uhm… the.. hunt. How’d it go?”

He feels stupid the second the words leave his mouth. The others had already asked. Answered. Soobin’s still looking at him, but he’s not really smiling, not really anything— and it’s almost too much. The tea burns his throat on the way down.

“The usual. You know we’re normally gone for longer. But I wanted us to be back soon. Sooner, this time.”

Beomgyu nods, praying anyone will walk into the room and relieve him of his misery. “Right.”

Soobin says nothing else, merely observing him, and Beomgyu tries his hardest not to shrink beneath his gaze. Not even his Soobin was this quiet. He has no idea what to do with this. He can’t speak carelessly like he usually does either, because he still doesn’t know what he’s even doing here. He takes another sip of his tea, flinching when its heat touches his tongue.

“Careful Beomgyu.“ Soobin scolds him, and his hands move like it’s a reflex. Something he can’t help. “Here, let me-,”

He takes the mug from his hands, only to blow into it like Beomgyu can’t do it himself or something. It’s a stark contrast to what he’d been like just moments prior, and Beomgyu watches him, quietly.

It’s hard to get a grasp of what this Soobin is like, hard to see his Soobin in the person sitting across from him.

He’s almost frigid— feels distant in a way Beomgyu can’t explain. It’d be easy to rule out the possibility that their dynamic is the same here, just based on first impressions, but there’s an easy feeling of reassurance in his belly when he’s around him, too.

Something akin to being around Soobin back home.

Maybe here it has to do with Soobin being the pack leader.

Beomgyu probably would’ve been able to figure that one out regardless of Kai making a joke about it earlier, light and easy, as if it were any other friday.

“Soobin may be our pack’s leader, but that applies to everywhere else except the kitchen.”

It had made him smile, then. Soobin wasn’t very good at cooking back home, either. Hearing that comment had felt like a temporary flash of home. Now however, the others' lack of basic culinary skills had them sitting out from whatever cooking was going on, and Beomgyu was not enjoying it.

Still, there’s a comfort in the familiarity of it. And with the air that he has about him, it makes sense.

Their leader back home, their leader here too. Soobin would probably be happy to hear his role transcends universes.

“How are you feeling? Y’know, after..”

Soobin lets the silence permeate, like Beomgyu should be able to fill in the blanks on his own. He probably would be able to, if he were this world’s Beomgyu.

Which he isn’t.

“After..?”

There’s an undoubtedly surprised expression that flickers across Soobin’s face, but it goes away quickly. He opens his mouth only to close it again, as if he isn’t sure what to say. Beomgyu can only wait, hoping the air is only feeling an awkward sort of still to him, who is clueless.

Finally, Soobin speaks again.

“Your heat.” He says, and the words settle uncomfortably in the room, like something that really wasn’t ready to be spoken out loud. There’s an undeniable pink tinging Soobin’s face now, and Beomgyu struggles through trying to remember everything that a heat implies. It doesn’t take much effort, and by the end of it he’s sure his face is burning hot too.

Oh.

“Uhm.”

How dare this Beomgyu make a quick exit and leave him here to deal with this conversation? He hadn’t even been the one in heat. This had to be some kind of joke, some higher power pulling the most intricate of pranks on him.

No, now wasn’t the time to be cursing at deities. He needed to try to piece together the information he had to properly answer Soobin’s question, or he’d be able to tell he was lying. And quickly too.

What did he know?

First: This Beomgyu hadn’t been expecting to present as an omega. Which, in Beomgyu’s own opinion, makes sense. He’s still having trouble coming to terms with the fact himself, and he literally just got here. The faint scent of ripe, sweet fruit seeping through his scent patch still feels like a dream.

Or, well, nightmare.

Second: This Beomgyu was maybe the only omega in the house. Which was just the cherry on top, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if Beomgyu would be having a better, easier time not sticking out like a sore thumb or anything.

That was besides the point though, because the last bit of information he’d gathered was the most unnerving of all.

Third: He had woken up in Soobin’s bedroom, in Soobin’s clothes, in Soobin’s bed.

He had hoped, perhaps naively, that maybe he’d been wrong—but then earlier Soobin had side stepped him, closing the door behind him and calling out that he was getting changed. As if he owned the place.

Which he most likely did, since it was his room.

Which meant, to Beomgyu’s absolute horror—that this Beomgyu had most likely spent his heat with him.

There had to be some other explanation. Had to. But the longer he spent in this universe, surrounded by terse air and awkward silences, the quicker that hope died out.

And to top it all off, this Soobin felt so far away. Soobin and him were never like this, so hesitant and quiet around each other. Well… other than last night, but that had been a rare occurrence. This didn’t feel like that in the slightest.

Was this always what it was like between them?

Or had Beomgyu crossed some sort of line, pushing Soobin away?

Had Beomgyu really spent his heat with Soobin of all people?

He wishes he could just ask him, loud and uncaring as usual, but how could he possibly let the words escape him?

‘Hey, did I, although it wasn’t even actually me, spend my heat with you?’

Yeah, Soobin would probably think he had a screw loose. He was already kind of looking at him like that, actually. Oh. He was supposed to be answering a question.

“Fine.” He says, testing out the sound of his voice. “Mostly I just have a bit of a headache. My memory’s kind of… fuzzy.”

It’s the truth. Mostly. His head has been hurting since he accepted the reality of the situation, and his memory is out of the question. Past all of that though, he does feel mostly fine.

Soobin’s face goes from stoic to disoriented in a split second, his eyebrows furrowing. “Your memory?”

“Um. Yeah. Is that not normal?”

The alpha shakes his head, eyes squinting. It doesn’t look like suspicion, at least. Beomgyu must be a better actor than he’d previously thought.

“No, it’s not. Not from what I know at least.”

Beomgyu’s neck thrums. It’s almost like he can feel the pulse, there. The feeling is warm, almost sticky. There’s a sour taste in his mouth.

“Do you know a lot about heats?”

He doesn’t know why he asks it, something so unlike him about the question. It’s as if the words have left his mouth with no time to second think them, unwilling. Soobin goes still, but he already feels so distant, like he’s here against his own will, and Beomgyu has no mercy to offer.

This isn’t a Soobin that he knows. Not one he holds closely, not one he’s cried to. It’s becoming clearer, now. The fact that he can’t just treat them the same.

“No.” Soobin says, gently. Like he hasn’t been practically avoiding Beomgyu’s eyes this entire time. Denying him warmth. Beomgyu feels it. His pulse thrums.

“No?”

“I don’t. I did-,” Soobin breaks off, like he’s not sure he should say whatever comes next. It only makes Beomgyu lean closer, his curiosity piqued.

“Did what?”

The other's eyes flicker up, and for the first time since it became just the two of them, he’s looking directly at him. Beomgyu is used to these eyes. He knows them.

So why do they feel different?

“Research.”

Research?

Beomgyu feels his face go slack, confusion something he can’t suppress.

“Why were you–,”

“Hyungs! Foods ready.”

Kai interrupts Beomgyu’s train of thought, and Soobin looks relieved he’s gotten an out. Its as if his whole body relaxes as soon as he’s able to break eye contact with him and stand. and Beomgyu watches him get up with a hollow ache in his chest.

It’s frustrating, to say the least. Beomgyu doesn’t know what he’s doing here, and it’s obvious that any answers he wants he’ll have to find himself.

How’s he meant to do that when the person he’s meant to be closest to feels so far away?

There has to be a way to get out of here. That’s plausible right? In the odd case this goes on a second day, and Beomgyu’s really some sort of trapped, there has to be some kind of solution.

He thinks about it all throughout the short walk to their dining room.

It’s hidden away behind a big wall, a cozy looking room with an expensive looking wooden table sitting directky in the center of it. There are exactly five seats, and everyone else is already in place when Beomgyu walks in, leaving only the spot next to Soobin available.

Lucky him.

At least the food looks appetizing. It’s some kind of meat dish with a variety of sides and appetizers, something closer by definition to a feast than a lunch. Beomgyu’s never had the largest appetite, but seeing all of the food laid out on the table has him feeling famished.

It was probably that cursed heat.

He plans on waiting for everyone else to serve themselves first, but before he knows it food has been piled up high on his plate.

Multiple pairs of chopsticks make their way towards it, and in the blink of an eye he’s got enough food to last both lunch and dinner sitting in front of him.

“I don’t think I can finish all this...” He mumbles, taking in the daunting portion of food.

“Sure you can,” Yeonjun says, around a mouthful of a dinner roll. “You need to replenish your energy after your heat.”

Silence.

It’s a sharp sound, the lack of it. Beomgyu feels their awkward pauses too heavily. The clinking of metal stops, chopsticks still in the air. No one says anything either, and he can tell that even Yeonjun regrets bringing it up.

“…Thank you for the food.”

Beomgyu pushes that queasy, unsettled feeling in his stomach aside with each bite he takes, willing it to disappear by sheer will alone.

Conversation around the table is easy, although Beomgyu doesn’t have much to offer. He merely answers when spoken to, hoping his being post-heat is excuse enough for what he’s sure is his unusual behavior. For what it’s worth, everyone is startlingly similar in personality to their idol-selves back home. Taehyun’s eyes twinkle as he shares new tidbits of information, and Yeonjun’s laugh is just as bright and warm, filling the place whole.

For a split second, it feels like home.

Except the Soobin at his side is uncharacteristically quiet. And from the glances that keep getting thrown their way, Beomgyu suspects it’s odd to everyone else too.

“So… how are you adjusting?” Kai asks, tone light and airy, although the question is anything but.

Beomgyu shifts in his seat, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in attention towards him.

“Fine. I mean, it’s only been a week. I can’t really tell what the difference is yet.” Or at all. Maybe ever.

Beomgyu doesn’t know what it’s like to be someone waiting to present, and he definitely doesn’t know the difference between that feeling and this one.

Had this Beomgyu been expecting to present as a beta? Or had his hopes been even more foolish, just like Beomgyu’s own last night as he'd fallen asleep thinking it over?

An Alpha?

Yeah, right.

“Well we’re here in case you need anything. Obviously none of us really know exactly how best to help you, I mean you’re the first and only omega out of all of us–,”

Jesus.

“But Soobin-hyung had to have been decent enough, right? I mean your heat ended early and you look great! He must have really put his all into-,”

“Enough, Kai-yah.” Soobin’s voice cuts through, gravely.

The intensity of it is almost enough for Beomgyu to forget the embarrassment from moments prior, almost. But it’s just a smidge too much.

Beomgyu had had his own suspicions, of course, but it was one thing to theorize that you’ve spent your heat with the person who was supposed to be your best friend, and it was another to have it confirmed casually over lunch, as if it were flimsy, light conversation.

He’d like to believe Soobin is offended on his behalf, and maybe he is— had this been Beomgyu’s best friend, Beomgyu’s Soobin, he’d be able to give him the benefit of the doubt. But it all just seems suspiciously like the alpha simply doesn’t want to have this discussion at all. Not here, and probably not with him, either.

What kind of mess had this Beomgyu gotten himself into?

“…I think I’m full.” He mumbles, to no one in particular, already reaching forward to clear his plate in a hurry. He doesn’t even get as far as picking up his plate when Soobin’s hand stops him, light and barely there around his wrist. Still, Beomgyu flinches, an immediate, insuppressible reaction. There’s warmth in Soobin’s hands. The touch is real.

Beomgyu can’t believe it’s real.

“I’ve got it.” The alpha says, quiet, like he’s dealing with something delicate, something fragile. So different from how he’d been just moments before. “Go rest.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and he doesn’t want to stick around to see Soobin’s demeanor change again. There’s only so much he can take in one day.

He gets up from the table, feeling out of place and exhausted in every sense. His face feels hot, and his skin thrums with anxiety and discomfort.

Everyone is looking at him, and it’s not the right kind of stare. Not the kind they’d give him back home; warm and loving. Reassuring.

This is ill concealed pity, faces disoriented by the shift in the air, and in Kai’s case-regret for causing it. It’s evident that they don’t know what to do with this, and Beomgyu doesn’t either. Perhaps this was why this Beomgyu hadn’t wanted to present as an omega.

Fuck—he doesn’t even know where his room is.

The thought only strikes him after he’s left the dining room, at least. Fortunately, no one will be around to witness him standing in the foyer looking suspiciously ylost.

His anxiety feels palpable, as if it had been sitting in the room with them. His eyes dart around, taking in each closed door and unfamiliar hallway.

There’s an odd pull in his body that keeps trying to make him step towards what he knows is Soobin’s room, which he tries very hard to ignore. It’s the only room in the house who’s owner he’s completely sure of, and conveniently the only room in the house he has no desire to step foot in.

Instead, he goes down the first hallway he comes across, following its dimly lit path until he’s face to face with two tightly shut doors.

The first is a linen closet, with shelves lined with stacked folded blankets that smell faintly of lavender and something calmer, something woodsy. It's a scent that falls over him almost immediately, soothing in a way that’s borderline disorienting. Beomgyu’s eyes well up unwillingly the longer he stands there, hands running over the soft fabric of the blanket nearest to him.

After a moment of contemplation, he pulls it off of the top of the stack before closing the closet door shut, moving onto the second door hesitantly.

The door knob on this one is a little worn, silver having lost its luster at certain spots. The cold feeling of it in his hand grounds him, and he pulls the blanket in his hands closer to his chest as he twists, pushing it open.

Back home his room was a simple, functionally organized space. His turntable and lamp was as far as it went regarding decorations (if they could even be considered that) and it always felt like a warm, comfortable place to return to after a long day.

The feeling of ease that comes over him as his eyes take in this room is automatic, and it’s as if his body sighs with relief. It’s reminiscent of how it feels to step into his room. His real room, and Beomgyu knows without a doubt that this is it.

Perhaps this body had led him here on autopilot. It’s a comforting thought—feeling as if he has something to fall back on, even if it’s just muscle memory. The door closes behind him silently, and he drags his feet all the way over to the corner of the room, blanket still held close to his body.

Briefly, there’s a strange feeling in his chest that his bed looks cold and empty, but he shakes it away the minute it appears. He’s never had a problem sleeping on his own before, and he sure isn’t about to start. It’s probably all instinct talking anyways, some unusual urge caused by his new secondary-gender.

It is cold though.

The material of the quilt on his bed is a little rough against his skin, feels all wrong where it touches him. He unfolds the blanket he’d pulled from the linen closet, pausing as he moves to wrap it around himself.

The white of his cotton shorts is peeking out of the corner of his eye, just barely in his field of vision, and that awful feeling in the back of his throat is back all too quickly.

He’s still in Soobin’s clothes. They're comfortable and loose. Soft against his skin, softer than the quilt beneath him, and warmer than the blanket that’s now settled over his body.

But this room is still cold. This bed is all wrong. This place is.

He’s in Soobin’s clothes, and yet the older is an entire universe away.

The thought is what finally sends him over the edge, pushing the first trickle of tears past his eyes. There’s salt on his tongue, and it all feels too real. The cold, wet feeling on his cheeks a tangible thing, too.

He doesn’t know how long he stays that way, curled up beneath his blanket and coming to terms with the hollow feeling in his chest. Only that by the time his tears seem to have finally run out, there’s a knock at his door, hesitant at first, and then resoundingly firm.

They’re too far away for Beomgyu to pick up a scent, and his nose is too stuffy to try anyways. He doesn’t want to deal with anyone, but he can’t isolate himself forever either. He knows. Especially if he’s going to figure out how to get back home.

“Come in.” He sniffles, and the door opens gently.

It’s Taehyun, which is maybe the last person he’d been expecting.

Well, second to last.

The other stands there a little awkwardly, and Beomgyu waits for him to say whatever it is that’s clearly bothering him. It doesn’t take long, thankfully. Beomgyu really doesn’t have the energy to pry.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology is spoken curtly, with no hints of sarcasm or jest whatsoever. It’s a little disconcerting, to say the least. Beomgyu’s eyes go wide. He hadn’t been expecting this in the slightest.

“What for?”

“Well,” Taehyun starts, and then he pauses. His eyes haven’t left him, and Beomgyu is suddenly conscious of the state of his face.

God, he’s probably got snot coming from his nose.

“Earlier. When I woke you up, I said most things would be the same. I was trying to make you feel better. But everything’s kind of shit, right now.”

Oh.

“I guess I was just trying to get any doubts you could have out of the way, but everyone’s being weird. I didn’t think it’d be this bad. So… I’m sorry, hyung.”

“It’s not your fault.” Beomgyu whispers. His throat feels a little heavy again.

“I know. But it’s not yours either.”

It’s true, Beomgyu knows. It just doesn’t feel that way.

“I don’t know what to do.” He confesses, because it’s maybe the closest he can get to the truth. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to act.

I don’t know what to do.

“That’s okay. We’re all learning. There’s a first for everything, and no one’s expecting you to be perfect at this.”

No. You’re just expecting me to be someone else entirely.

Taehyun stares at him in silence for a moment, like he’s thinking over his next few words. After a minute, he seems to land on something, a serious look settling about him as his hand goes tighter around the doorknob.

“It’s Soobin’s first time too, you know?” He says, carefully. “That’s why he’s all… weird. Just- remember that, hyung. We’re not expecting you to handle this perfectly. That applies to him too.”

Okay.

Beomgyu has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.

He’d been the one to present. As the one and only omega of the pack, and late as fuck, too, according to everyone.

Did he mean it was Soobin’s first time spending a heat with someone?

That would explain why the alpha had said he’d done research. This newfound knowledge did nothing for the ache in Beomgyu’s chest, though. It feels hollow every time he thinks back to the unease between them. Feels empty when he can tell Soobin’s trying not to look at him.

Each time he talks to someone, he’s left with more questions than answers.

So he’s not normally this weird?

He can’t ask that. This Beomgyu would already know the answer to that question. So instead, he simply nods, pulling the blanket tighter around him, over the bottom half of his face.

Taehyun looks as if he’s completed whatever mission he’d set off to do, and he nearly retreats fully out of the room once more before he seems to think better of it, round eyes set on Beomgyu once more.

“Also, if you’re gonna be seeking out hyung’s scent, I think it’s okay to just.. go to him.” He points somewhere at him, and Beomgyu’s lost for a minute, but then it processes.

The faint smell of sandalwood coming from the blanket he’s curled up in.

“He’s probably expecting you anyways. That’s what the mating bond does.”

Beomgyu’s breath catches, his fingers curling tightly around the edges of the blanket.

“…The what?”

Taehyuns face scrunches up, reminiscent of this morning. Like Beomgyu is asking a nonsense question again.

“The temporary mating bond. It’s only been a few days. You guys are stuck like this for at least a couple more weeks.”

…Perhaps Beomgyu had been screwed in more ways than one.

Chapter Text

When he’d asked Soobin, naively, who he thought his mate would be in some hypothetical scenario, he’d never even thought to consider that there’d be a universe out there where the answer to that question would be him.

Taehyun had left his mind reeling last night, running on autopilot as he went through his entire night routine.

His showers had never been excessively long, and yet he’d stayed longer than necessary beneath the hot weight of the water, feeling increasingly exhausted instead of relaxed by it as he usually would be.

The new environment, his heightened senses, and the words “mating bond” floating around in his head had been enough to leave him staring at the ceiling for hours afterwards.

His sleep had been less than fruitful as a result.

To Beomgyu’s utter dismay, he’d woken up right where he’d fallen asleep, body sore and mind restless.

An omega. Who had a temporary mate. That was barely looking him in the eye.

Now; he was no expert. No. Quite the contrary. His knowledge was extremely limited, and relied primarily on a singular fanfic he’d made the mistake of reading in the wee hours of the morning—but the little that he did know, along with any new information he sought out, all said that he and Soobin should be inseparable right about now.

So why could Soobin barely look at him?

The only answer Beomgyu could come up with was a logical one, which aligned with his own behavior and feelings. All night his chest had felt hollow and empty, everything feeling wrong. His skin had itched, dull and imperceptible and then increasingly fastidious, and the only thing that had provided any semblance of relief had been the lingering traces of Soobin’s scent on the blanket he’d held tight.

Still, he hadn’t dared leave his room.

The mere thought of it was insane. No matter how much the omega in him wanted his mate or whatever, it still didn’t change that this Soobin was practically a stranger. He felt that way in every sense of the word. He was familiar merely by appearance, merely in the way he moved about this world.

Everyone else was a near perfect reflection of their counterpart back home, but he just couldn’t say the same for Soobin. So he buried the restless pull inside him, just as he was sure the alpha was doing in his own room however many meters away.

Perhaps he and Soobin just didn’t get along well in this universe. It would explain Soobin’s behavior, his distance and his quiet.

But that conclusion just led to more questions. More confusing loose ends.

How the hell had he and Soobin managed to form a temporary mating bond?

Last night he’d questioned it over and over as he’d neatly folded Soobin’s clothes and pushed them into a corner, unwilling to look at them for much longer. Even though they’d provided immense comfort, they’d also made the pull worse.

He picks up the stack of folded clothes, stepping out into the hallway in pursuit of the laundry room.

Thankfully, the one plus to sleeping poorly was that he’d woken early. The house is still in its entirety, silent as he steps across the open space.

Soobin’s door is tightly shut, and Beomgyu nearly freezes in place as it comes into view. That pull is still there, daunting and hard to keep under wraps. It’s like his body knows who lies beyond that door, like it’s questioning why he won’t simply step forward. Seek the solace of a bed he knows is full of warmth. Sandalwood and nutmeg and a body he knows, perhaps as he does no other, in another universe.

He pushes the feeling aside as he continues down the hall, past the kitchen and into a room he suspects is the right one.

It must be this body’s instincts, again, because he does manage to find the laundry room rather quickly. He washes the clothes carefully, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the feeling of cotton in his hands as he does so. Soobin’s scent dissipates slowly and then all at once, until the only thing left behind is the faint smell of lavender from the soap.

They’ll take a minute to dry, and the small window on the wall that allows the light to seep in tells him the others will be awake soon, and Beomgyu’s not feeling ready to face them in the slightest. He quietly makes his way towards the entrance, switching out his indoor slippers for a pair of shoes that look most likely to fit him.

The outside air is cool and feather-light against his skin, morning dew leaving a faint amount of humidity. It would normally bother him, but getting fresh air is merely solace here, where ‘home’ is a place of trepidation.

There aren’t any houses next to theirs, making it almost feel like they’re in the middle of nowhere. Though maybe that’s just an internal feeling Beomgyu’s dealing with, because he can see other houses; similar in size and structure to this one, just a good amount of distance away.

It’s mostly woodlands here, with dense forests and a vast range of plants surrounding their house. Flowers that Beomgyu’s never even seen before, more nature than he’s seen in a long while. A cloyingly sweet smell that he fears is coming from himself and not the land around him. The difference between their place here and back home is stark, and suddenly it all feels even more foreign.

Even if the only thing out of place here in reality is Beomgyu, it really doesn’t feel that way.

Maybe he had been a little weird, sure—that was to be expected when he’d literally woken up in some alternative universe—but Taehyun’s words last night had confirmed that everyone else was acting differently too.

Especially Soobin.

And Beomgyu had literally just gotten here. Which meant that whatever shift that had happened in his demeanor, whatever had caused everyone to go all weird; must have been caused by events that had occurred before his arrival.

Which were:

1. Beomgyu presenting

and

2. Soobin and Beomgyu temporarily bonding.

Now, did these two things most likely coincide? Probably. But Beomgyu didn’t want to think about that right now.

There were more important things to think about. Like the fact that, if Beomgyu’s suspicions were correct, this shift in everything, these changes, more than likely had something to do with his ending up here.

Maybe he just needs to set everything back to normal, like fixing a broken clock, a disruption in time.

Whatever normal may mean here—maybe he just needed to get it back.

He can’t undo presenting as an omega, and he can’t make the temporary mating bond disappear.

But it is temporary, which means maybe Beomgyu’s stay here is too.

Perhaps it’s just a matter of time and conviction. Of making things right.

The thought is good enough as far as temporary consolation goes, a comforting thing to fall back on as he makes his way back into the cold interior of the house.

He’s immediately greeted by the smell of food coming from the kitchen, sharp and distinctive even though he’d just stepped into the threshold.

Likely a product of his heightened senses, he thinks. It’ll definitely take him a while to get used to that.

His head snaps towards the kitchen, tummy growling as the thought of breakfast comes over him. Kai’s standing there, frozen as he plates whatever it is he’s made, staring right at him.

“Welcome back, hyung.” He calls out, just loud enough that the sound of it reaches Beomgyu’s ears. It’s not the worst possible person to run into first thing (Soobin), but still, the memory of last nights dinner is fresh on Beomgyu’s mind. He quietly toes off his shoes, switching to his house slippers as he nods back in greeting.

He’ll just have to come back in a little and figure out what to eat then. It’s not great pushing back his hunger, but it doesn’t really feel like he should be here either.

He’s already making his way over towards his room when Kai calls out to him again, this time just a smidge louder.

“Hyung!” The word is said a little awkwardly, like Kai had been unsure of speaking out. “Stay and eat please? I made enough for both of us.”

Beomgyu inhales, pensive.

The thought of eating with Kai is normally a no-brainer. They’d slip into their seats and dig in to their heart’s content without a worry in the world, especially when Kai’s the one that’s done the cooking.

Beomgyu enjoys the princess treatment, sue him.

But this time he hesitates. It’s not like it should be that big of a deal, but the red-hot feeling of embarrassment is still there from last night. Maybe not even entirely because Kai had brought it up—perhaps the younger had deemed it safe to—but more so from Beomgyu’s own reaction to it.

Still, turning Kai down would only make him feel guilty, especially when he’s standing there looking so expectant. So he ends up obliging, sliding into the bar stool across from Kai’s own as the younger slides him his plate. He’s hungry from having skipped dinner last night anyways.

They eat in silence mostly, with Kai occasionally making gentle conversation about little things that Beomgyu has no problem answering. Thankfully conversation veers far from the topic of his heat, since Beomgyu’s got no idea how that actually went in the slightest.

By the time they’re done and Kai has taken to washing the dishes—Beomgyu had offered help, he’d just refused it—he’s feeling marginally better and a lot less awkward around him.

He’s gentle and well meaning, Beomgyu knows. Just like his Kai back home. Which is why it’s always been so easy to forgive and forget with him.

“I’m sorry for crossing the line last night.” He says quietly, and Beomgyu watches him tentatively.

“It’s okay.” Beomgyu assures, because it really doesn’t seem like he’d been willfully obtuse in the slightest. “I might’ve overreacted.”

Kai shakes his head, drying his hands with a small little frown on his face. Beomgyu misses seeing him smile.

Misses them.

“No, I should’ve read the room better… noticed that you didn’t wanna talk about it.”

Beomgyu laughs at that, he can’t deny it.

“You’re not a mind reader, though.”

“No. But still. It didn’t even hit me until you left. Hyung seemed pretty upset too.”

Beomgyu’s breath catches, the memory of it coming back over him. Soobin’s hand on him.

Warm. Real.

“That was probably because of me, no?” He asks, but he’s unsure himself. No matter how much he observes the others, connecting the dots between this universe and his own, he just can’t seem to get a read on Soobin.

“No way hyung, I was out of line. Just because I didn’t think it was a big deal doesn’t mean you guys thought the same, I should’ve taken that into consideration.”

Beomgyu flushes at the phrasing. Now it’s really starting to feel like he was being dramatic. “It’s not that. Its just. Hard to navigate.”

Kai nods in understanding. “I know. Taehyun talked to me too last night. I hadn’t known things had gotten that weird between you and Soobin-hyung until he told me.” He stops, shooting a quick glance at Soobin’s door. Beomgyu looks too, it’s becoming a bad habit. Thankfully it’s still tightly shut. “…Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Beomgyu whines. It’s really starting to feel like he’s just talking to Kai back home. “It’s just the truth. It is weird.” He picks at a loose thread on his pants. “I feel like he's avoiding me.”

It’s a quiet little confession. He doesn’t know where the confidence to say it comes from. Maybe it’s just that Kai’s always been a good listener. He’s attentive like that. Maybe it’s the fact that Beomgyu doesn’t know when else he’ll be able to talk to the others about this; this quiet fear in the back of his mind.

Had he done something wrong?

Kai’s eyes go comically wide, as if the mere thought of it is beyond him. “Hyung is?”

Beomgyu nods, ears going pink again. This whole situation is so absurd.

“Isn’t that what Taehyun talked to you about?”

“Well yeah, but- I didn’t think it was to that extent. I mean, hyung did seem kind of off, but I just thought…”

He trails off, like he doesn’t know how to end that sentence or something. Beomgyu waits impatiently, watching him as he dries another plate, overly conscious of the morning light coming in through the windows. He doesn’t know how much longer he has before he’s once more subjected to the treatment of a stranger, even if technically that’s what he is.

He raises an eyebrow at Kai, prompting him to continue. It only seems to do the opposite, though.

“Nothing. Just… you guys are best friends right?”

Now that. That is news to Beomgyu.

It wouldn’t have been when he’d first gotten here, no. He’d have expected it twenty times over. But now? The thought that he and Soobin were best friends in this universe too didn’t feel real in the slightest.

“Are we?” He asks, slips really, genuinely bewildered. But before he can freak Kai is already replying, as though it isn’t a strange question at all, contemplating it seriously.

“Well sorta. Me and Tae are best friends, and we’re nothing like you two.”

The thought that Kai and Taehyun are just as close here is heartwarming enough that Beomgyu forgets what the matter at hand is for a second. That much is familiar and safe, and the thought that he and Soobin are best friends should be, too. But the words just make him inexplicably anxious.

Although maybe that’s the insistent itch under his skin.

Stupid temporary mating bond.

“What do you mean?”

Kai slows his movements, dish rag going still momentarily, like he’s contemplating his answer.

“Well for starters, do you remember that spring that you got so sick, you had to quarantine yourself away from us for a week and spent your birthday holed up?”

Beomgyu pauses. He shouldn’t, but something just like that had happened back home, too. He nods.

“Soobin spent that week so worried about you. I mean, we all were. But the extra care he put into making sure you were eating properly and taking your meds and stuff so you’d get better soon…” He trails off, like it’s self explanatory.

“And no one said anything, but we all knew it’d be him calling you that night on your birthday. He spent hours hogging your phone line.” Kai giggles, like the memory of it is still fresh. Hearing it all back, it feels like it’s just happened for Beomgyu too. “Everyone else had to wait until morning to wish you.”

Soobin had spent the night of his birthday facetiming him for hours. His Soobin, that is. He’d put his hair up and spent a majority of the call trying to make him laugh and succeeding. It had made Beomgyu’s birthday something to remember fondly, quarantine and all.

Was that so out of the ordinary?

“And you’re always joint at the hip, right? It wasn’t just then. It’s everywhere, all the time. It’s more surprising to see you apart than it is to see you together like that at this point.” Kai continues, unperturbed by his stunned silence. “I love Taehyun, but I don’t think we’ve ever been like that.”

The words are gentle and yet come out with certainty. Beomgyu can only listen.

“Yeonjun-hyung too. He’s really physically affectionate, you’re subject to that too- but it’s different from you and hyung. That’s something else. Something.. special. I dunno. It’s just an unspoken sort of thing, y’know? You belong at Soobin hyung’s side, and Soobin hyung belongs at yours.”

And Beomgyu…

Beomgyu just stares.

“Sorry.” Kai clams up, looking startled all of a sudden. “Did I talk too much again?”

Before Beomgyu can answer him—or even figure out how to—the comforting smell of Kai’s spiced vanilla scent fades from his senses, as if nearly completely covered by the new one filling the air.

It’s warm and too pleasant on the nose, so overwhelmingly good that Beomgyu nearly closes his eyes just to focus in on it—only a second later it registers just why he likes the scent so much.

Soobin.

“Hey,” The alpha says, looking like he slept about as much as Beomgyu did. Which is to say, not a whole lot. “Can I talk to you?”

It looks like whatever he has to say may actually be important. Well- at least to Soobin. Still, Beomgyu would quite literally prefer anything else.

“You don’t wanna eat first?”

To his utter disfortune, Soobin merely shakes his head, firm. “This’ll be quick. Please?”

“‘kay…”

He reluctantly follows him all the way to what appears to be Beomgyu’s own room. The thought of Soobin in his space should make him uncomfortable, but instead that annoying itch under his skin that’s been building since the day before feels immediately soothed. Anxiety under his skin quieting alongside it.

Beomgyu hopes it’s not obvious, and that his scent hasn’t gone any sweeter beneath the scent patches he’d hastily applied this morning. That would be incriminating evidence that he’s affected by Soobin. And while he is, Soobin does not need to know that.

The alpha opens up the door and waits for him to step in, as if it were his own room. Beomgyu kind of wants to throttle him as he walks past and feels the heat of his body, as if it were calling to Beomgyu’s sick and twisted mind. These are not normal thoughts. It must be Soobin’s fault, somehow.

Beomgyu throws himself over his bed, uncaring for the terse air between them. It’s getting very old, very fast.

And this is supposed to be his best friend, apparently.

He’ll believe it when he sees it.

“What did you wanna tell me?”

His bedroom ceiling has never interested him. Not back home and certainly not here either. But it’s more welcoming than watching eyes he knows so well struggle just to meet his own.

“I have to go meet with the Jung pack’s leader today. Remember I told you about it a while ago?”

Beomgyu does not.

“Right.”

“I’ll probably be gone the whole day. Most likely won’t be back until really late in the night. You’ll probably be asleep then.”

That onslaught of information does have Beomgyu looking up, eyeing Soobin’s nervous looking face in wonder. He’d opened up his bedroom door so casually, yet now he was standing there in his doorway like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“So…?”

Soobin’s face looks pained, like Beomgyu’s squeezing it out of him. Beomgyu doesn’t even know what it is.

“The mating bond.” He says, although it’s nearly inaudible. “It’s fresh, so it’ll probably be hard on you if I’m gone for that long. I figured you’d want my clothes or– something.”

The automatic response that comes to mind is a big fat no thank you. But his nose has been pleasantly twitching under Soobin’s warm, home-like scent. If it weren’t for the freak part inside of him that immediately goes giddy at hearing Soobin suggest it, he’d have been able to save his dignity.

“Yes.” The word leaves him almost too quickly. So much so that Beomgyu swears it didn’t even come from him. That must’ve been something else, even Soobin looks surprised at the fast acceptance.

Bye-bye dignity.

He clears his throat. “Uhm. I mean that works. Do you… want something of mine too?”

Beomgyu’s not completely certain regarding any of this yet, but it makes sense to ask. A mates’ scent had been a big thing in that fanfic, and judging by the absurd reaction his body is currently having to finally being back in Soobin’s vicinity, it doesn’t seem to have been exaggerated in the slightest.

“I’m okay I think. I still have clothes you left in my room from your heat.”

Beomgyu mindlessly nods for a second, then the words seem to register for both of them. Soobin still has his clothes? The ones from his heat? The ones he was wearing before he’d changed into Soobin’s?

His mouth opens and closes, completely at a loss. He watches Soobin go pink.

“Not- um. I mean, you left your sweater. The one you were wearing. I just hadn’t found the right time to give it back yet.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so. I’ll be fine, but I’ll bring you my hoodie or something before I leave.”

Soobin’s hoodie.

It’s almost alarming how much the thought warms something inside him. It’s an out of place feeling, a product of his environment, Beomgyu’s sure. It’d be unnatural to crave the warmth—even if only secondary—of his best friend this way.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Soobin nods, and Beomgyu waits. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Mm.” It’s gentle as the light coming in from the window. Gentle as any careful, unspoken thing is against the harsh of the world. For the first time since he got here, maybe, Soobin’s really looking at him, and Beomgyu feels safe beneath his stare.

“Be safe.”

Being around everyone is a lot easier the second time around.

Which is most likely just a result of less shock and more acceptance regarding his situation, reluctant as it may be. But, still. Little victories.

Beomgyu helps around the house with the menial tasks he’s offered, and they are severely menial. Everyone is still treating him an annoying amount of gentle, as if he’s fragile and made of glass. It’s probably meant to be helpful, but it just feels a little bothersome in reality. Still, he’d like to think it’s merely because he’s freshly post-heat.

Hopefully by the time he figures out how to get back home—if he’s right and the key is getting everything back to normal—they’ll all have learnt to treat him no differently, and this world's Beomgyu won’t have to deal with their walking on eggshells.

It’s hard enough trying to pretend like organizing drywood is a serious task when he’d normally be the one cooking meat for everyone back home, but Kai keeps sending him these nosy little glances that just about scream what did you and soobin-hyung talk about.

Unfortunately for him—and everyone else in the house that may be drama deprived—Beomgyu’s not feeling so inclined to share.

Soobin had dropped off his hoodie right before he’d left, and although the action itself had felt almost mechanical and robotic, Beomgyu had cherished the moment for what it had become in his mind; the first sliver of an olive branch.

He didn’t feel so keen on letting others see it yet, too. Not when he could be wrong, and things still had the opportunity of getting worse instead of better. Even if that was a dramatic thought, Beomgyu didn’t like to get his hopes up.

At least not outwardly.

Privately, Beomgyu had pressed his nose into the fabric that held Soobin’s scent perhaps one too many times since the other had left. It lay tucked away beneath his quilt now, balled up and hidden from anyone’s eyes that weren’t his own. His mind continuously flickered back to it as he organized the firewood, taunting him and the insufferable little itch that was back under his skin.

It wasn’t something he could control, he rationalized. This was because of the bond. Temporary and fickle as it might be, none of the feelings that had come along with it felt that way. Not really.

It feels real as anything else. Tangible and true.

It’s why he's restless well into the night. Why he waits with his bedroom door lodged open just enough, until he hears the front door creak open softly, before he’s finally able to fall asleep. When only the light of the moon has stayed up waiting with him.

Soobin’s home.

Strangely, it’s a comforting thought.

Chapter Text

You’d think a week in an alternative universe where he isn’t an idol would go by slower, but instead Beomgyu’s passes by in a flash.

He’s used to hectic schedules and a soreness in his bones. Too much to do and not enough time. Moments of respite only coming in the form of car rides back home filled with the gentle hum of songs played by Soobin, eating at the dorm in an exhausted haze, but still—the company is what makes it special.

Here it’s different, and yet it’s not so different.

Surviving this fucked up scenario would be impossible if he kept comparing everyone to their at-home counterpart, which is why Beomgyu had slowly been doing his best to stop that habit. Getting through these days is a lot easier when you’ve got the people you love at your side, even if they’re fire-flicker versions of themselves. It’s still them, mostly.

It’s this that helps his days go by faster. Adjusting is only slightly difficult after that, and most of that has to do with what he is rather than who he is. He’s not used to his secondary gender and it’s needs in the slightest, but that’s to be expected considering he wasn’t the one that grew up anticipating that change.

Soobin’s another story entirely.

He’s still leaving Beomgyu his clothes. As if he’d gotten home that night and deemed it the best possible solution for their current problem.

In all fairness, it had helped when the alpha had been away for the entire day. It helps now, too. Except with each passing day that has Beomgyu pressing his nose to the soft fabric holding Soobin’s scent at night—while during the day they spend a majority of it just barely grazing each other in common spaces—Beomgyu has begun to feel like he’s losing his mind.

It’s not even that he’s so uncomfortable around him anymore. Not really. Sure, Soobin is still distant; still has trouble looking him in the eye and saying anything to him that’s above surface level, but Beomgyu’s just about gotten used to that. On a mental level.

On a physical level, Beomgyu’s logical reasoning isn’t enough to dissuade the… omega… inside him.

God. He’ll never get used to that.

Regardless, it’s a fact of this universe he’s temporarily stuck in. And just like that, he’s temporarily stuck in this mating bond too.

This Soobin is clearly a commendable amount of considerate, making sure that every night he’ll come to Beomgyu’s room and leave him a new article of clothing. He’s started up a collection at this point, which is why it’s absurd that still it’s not enough.

Maybe it’s a combination of things.

Like the fact that he’s temporarily literally bonded to the other, sure–but also the fact that each passing day feels more monotonous than the last—even with the drastic change in environment and schedule—without his best friend at his side, properly.

Beomgyu misses Soobin more each day.

Both things combined mean these bond induced feelings he’s dealing with are becoming real insufferable, real fast. It should be easy to talk to Soobin about it, it would be easy to talk to Soobin about it, if this was happening back home. Or at least Beomgyu would like to think so.

Here, they keep dancing around the subject. It’s obvious that it’s affecting Soobin too, but he won’t say anything either. Just leaves the new shirt or sweater at his door each night and repeats.

Beomgyu’s got a lump in his throat about it all week.

He’d even asked Soobin once more if he needed anything from him, but the older had simply shaken his head and said he’d “manage”.

It doesn’t look like he’s managing very well in Beomgyu’s opinion.

Today Soobin’s helping him with his shooting skills, literal bow and arrow type of thing—which Beomgyu thinks is absurd in a universe where they still have cellphones, but whatever, he’s new here so what does he know—and he keeps just barely missing the target, when everyone had boasted about his archery skills.

“I thought you were good at this.”

Beomgyu’s got a nice clear view of Soobin’s back, can see the tension in his shoulders as he drops his hand again, fingers curled loosely around the wood of his bow.

He can also see the tips of his ears go pink from where he’s sitting—body lazily thrown into a chair that’s probably meant more for decoration than someone who’s supposed to be the one practicing.

He doesn’t mean to, but it’s hard not to tease him like he would back home.

“I am.” Soobin turns to him, and Beomgyu’s body seems to go still on instinct. “Usually.”

It’s hard being around Soobin, sure, but it’s harder not to be. There’s a constant pull inside him leading him back here, Soobin’s side, Soobin’s line of sight, Soobin.

You belong at Soobin hyung’s side, and Soobin hyung belongs at yours.

The words have echoed endlessly in Beomgyu’s mind since Kai had said them. It had been nothing but a brief moment in time for the younger, and yet it had turned into something hard to forget for Beomgyu. Hard not to think about when he was here once more, in Soobin’s orbit, and it was one of few moments where he felt most safe and relaxed since his arrival.

It had to be the mating bond. Had to be. But Beomgyu wasn’t feeling so inclined to think about how well Kai’s words aligned to his relationship with the Soobin back home, too.

“What’s different then?”

Soobin lines up another arrow. He’s not looking at Beomgyu, but that’s more normal than it’s not.

“You’re watching me.” And the arrow cuts through the wind once more, misses the target by a hair just like the last three had. “It’s distracting.”

It’s a quiet little admission, said softly into the cool breeze of the early morning. The only other sounds accompanying it are the sounds of nature. Wind in their ears and brushing up against the trees, calls of birds that are far yet feel near.

Beomgyu thinks, would like to think, that his world is close by in a similar way. That his Soobin is.

Maybe he’ll get back and mere hours will have passed, so quick in time that this all could be considered an exhaustion induced dream, or a product of his overactive imagination.

But for now, he’s here, and this is his reality. And it’s this Soobin that’s waiting for him to reply.

“Sorry. Do you want me to look away?”

Soobin’s arms come down once more, his shoulders loosening.

“No, that’d defeat the whole purpose of me teaching you. Come here instead.”

He’s nearly sure he’d heard wrong.

“Sorry?” Soobin actually wants him to come closer? Well, that should be a given. Beomgyu wants that all the time too. Doesn’t mean he acts on it. His pride is stronger than the magnetic force of this mating bond.

“Hands on practice, Gyu-yah.”

“Oh.” He hesitates, then slowly makes his way over. “Okay…”

Soobin hands him the bow, and the feel of it—heavy and smooth against the palm of Beomgyu’s hands—is what Beomgyu clings to as his nerves settle in.

This is the closest he and Soobin have been in a while. And when he says a while, he means it. Soobin’s only a footstep away, so close that Beomgyu can smell his warm, inviting scent through his scent patches. It’s a dangerous thing, really. There’s a magnetic pull inside him, always silently calling out to be in Soobin’s orbit. And then, when he’s there, closer, like nothing could ever be enough.

It scares him.

“You position your hands like this,” Soobin says, and the footstep between them is closed as he comes closer, gently correcting Beomgyu’s stance and then the placement of his hands. His touch is fleeting and yet Beomgyu’s ears burn hot, his chest pulling.

He wants Soobin closer. He wishes he were further away.

“…Perfect. Now all you have to do is shoot.”

And so Beomgyu does. He’s not always the best at following directions, but if doing so right now means this will be over quicker, then he’s all for it.

He watches the arrow land a couple inches from Soobin’s last shot, only half caring for where it’s ended up. The older is still standing so close to him, it’s making it hard to focus on this and not the heat of his body.

It’s impossibly strange. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so conscious of the space between them. Why should he be? Soobin’s his best friend.

And yet–

“Not bad.“ Soobin says, sounding oddly surprised. “You’ve improved a lot since last time.”

Beomgyu inhales sharply, only to regret it after when Soobin’s scent envelopes him further. Sandalwood and nutmeg. Warm. He blinks once, taking a step back unconsciously.

“Last time?”

“Yeah.” The alpha’s eyes are off of him once more, and it feels like Beomgyu can breathe again. He hands him another arrow. “You used to miss the target by a bit more.”

Well how was Beomgyu supposed to know that?

“…Must be your teaching skills.” He mumbles, lining up the arrow with the string. His hands are nearly shaking. He hopes Soobin isn’t looking too close.

“I taught you last time too.” Soobin says. It comes out softer than anything else he’s said to him today. And it comes out closer. Beomgyu wills his heart to slow down as it beats wildly in his chest the moment this registers.

Soobin’s behind him now, so startlingly close that Beomgyu’s sure that he’s able to catch the shift in his scent—like fruit that’s become perfectly ripe, excitement of his omega all too clear.

Fuck. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe.

It only seems to make the trembling in his hands worse. To his misfortune, Soobin seems to notice all too quickly, his hand coming up to steady Beomgyu’s own, and then help him in straightening out his posture once more.

It’s closer than he had been the first time around. Closer than he’s been to him all week. And when Beomgyu releases the arrow it lands even further away from the bullseye than his first shot had.

“…I must’ve been the one distracted, then.”

Beomgyu’s phone in this universe is silver, lightweight, and has so far been incredibly unhelpful.

He’d found it on his second day here, it had been buried under one too many pillows and absolutely drained as far as battery life went. He’d plugged it in only to be met with a password protected lock screen, and he’d gotten the password wrong so many times since then that he’d grown frustrated and just about given up.

Today, on day seven, Beomgyu finally gets it right.

190304.

It’d been a last resort guess after days and days of nothing. It shouldn’t mean anything here, not as far as Beomgyu’s concerned, but it was his password to his computer back home. Soobin had teased him for it and argued that it was too easy to guess. Beomgyu liked to focus on the romanticism and nostalgia of it all.

And now that password had let him into this Beomgyu’s world, a phone that was his and not at the same time. Things that felt too intimate to snoop through yet gave him no other choice.

His homescreen was a picture of a clover, and his call log—dating back months from the time that it was actually being used—was nearly entirely filled with Soobin’s name, saved plain and simple, except for an annoying, incriminating little heart next to it. None of the others’ names take up nearly as much space.

Beomgyu hopes it doesn’t mean anything.

He opens up the search engine next, clicking into his history immediately.

Yes, he’d like to be kind enough to respect–well, his own privacy, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and Beomgyu is both desperate and feeling timed.

He hasn’t progressed much on his mission (that’s what he’s calling it now), which is unsurprising considering he’s barely begun to even feel comfortable around everyone, but still. This has to help somehow.

Maybe it’ll allow him to tap into the life this Beomgyu lived before him. His thoughts, his worries, his feelings.

Beomgyu will take anything at this point.

The first is something boring—a search on proper scent patch application. It’s only interesting in the sense that it seems more like something he would search for than this Beomgyu, and even he’d been able to figure it out without much trouble. Could he not have asked any of the others? Was he that taken aback by presenting an omega amongst everyone else?

It’s puzzling, sure, but unhelpful in the end.

The second, dated days before his arrival, makes Beomgyu freeze momentarily.

Temporary mating bonds

Beomgyu clicks on it with a shaky finger, watching the page load anxiously.

This was probably something he should’ve thought of looking up himself. It would help tremendously to figure out what this thing between him and Soobin is, and if possible, what caused it. The thought of this Beomgyu doing that before he got here is a little daunting, though. Beomgyu has no idea what to expect, and he has no idea what his other self had been hoping to find.

A brief explanation on mating bonds comes up first, and beneath that, where it gets into temporary territory- the word accidental glares at him dramatically. He takes in everything as his skin begins to thrum unpleasantly, as if reading about it has reminded him of his current situation.

Temporary mating bonds were usually accidental. Which means this one was a product of Soobin and Beomgyu screwing up somehow. Although there was also the possibility that it was just one of them, Beomgyu hopes that that isn’t the case.

If it had to be, hopefully it had been Soobin’s fault.

None of the articles below show up purple, which makes it impossible to figure out what this Beomgyu had been looking for. But he clicks through them regardless. Now is probably as good a time as any to do his own research.

Most of them just repeat the same things. There are instances where temporary mating bonds are done on purpose, but they can be pretty tricky to get right in those cases, which is ironic. Beomgyu’s already crossed out the possibility that his and Soobin’s was purposefully done though, considering the way Soobin had been acting since he got here. Plus, Kai had told him that they were best friends, so that wouldn’t make any sense.

The contrary is just as hard to stomach, though.

He’s five or so articles in when he finds a heading that makes him slow down, hesitant and yet curious as he clicks on it.

One-party Inflicted Temporary Bonds

This had been Beomgyu’s least favorite possibility. But he couldn’t rule it out yet, especially when he was so clueless even now, seven days in.

There are subheadings that Beomgyu skims through, too nerve-ridden to carefully read through the article’s introduction. His eyes land on one about three-fourths of the way down.

Temp-Bonds in Relation to Presenting

The section reads:

It can happen, although rare, that if both parties have enough of an emotional connection and one is on the precipice of presenting, that party A’s attraction to party B can be enough to create a temporary mating bond. This is especially seen in cases where close contact isn’t abnormal between both parties.

Attraction?

Beomgyu hadn’t been prepared for that possibility.

Sure, Soobin was attractive, and he had no trouble with this concept back home either. They were idols. It was—unfortunately—part of the job.

And sure, there were times, though Beomgyu hated to admit it at such an incriminating moment, that the sight of his best friend left him a little shaken.

But that was normal. His best friend was attractive, yes. And even if he didn’t know what he and Soobin were like here, yes, close contact was normal back home. He assumed it was here too.

But knowing your best friend was attractive was a lot different from being attracted to them. He and Soobin had never crossed that line, and yet there was a dull ache in his chest, clawing alongside the anxiety beneath his skin.

Everything he opened up just made him more anxious after that.

A shared playlist on spotify with the alpha, filled with one too many love songs and tender, emotional lyrics. His camera roll, with picture after picture of Soobin, of the two of them, in tandem, serious looking photographs, and next to those, silly ones too. Not nearly as many of the other members.

It was startlingly similar to his own phone back home, and yet he couldn’t push the feeling aside, as if the article was mocking him. He couldn’t think of it all so simply here, no. Not with the word attraction hanging over his head ominously.

The last thing he opens is his message thread with Soobin.

It doesn’t feel right to look through it in its entirety, and he doesn’t think he could stomach it either when it’s all feeling so real suddenly. But there at the bottom is one unsent message from the older, like a smoke signal, dated just three days before his arrival.

3:04 AM

Soobin-hyung ♡ unsent a message

Beomgyu stares at the screen blankly, waiting for the words to fizzle out or turn into something new. When neither happens, he brings his eyes up, reading over the mundane messages that predated this one.

There’s nothing strange or unusual about them. Not as far as he can see. They read just like his messages with Soobin back home would, and it only makes him more restless to realize this.

Had he fucked up somehow just before presenting, and forced Soobin to spend his heat with him?

The thought brings him an emotion that’s bone deep- something akin to shame or frustration. It’d be the worst possibility to face, and yet Beomgyu can’t shake it. This nerve wrecking feeling that he's hit the nail on the head.

Did this Beomgyu have… feelings for Soobin?

The second he thinks it, he can’t unthink it. It would explain so much.

The accidental mating bond. Waking up in Soobin’s room. Soobin’s behavior towards him—like he didn’t know how to act around him, when they were supposed to be best friends.

Everything.

God, even the others' reactions made sense when he thought of it like that.

Their hesitance. Their near pity.

He likes Soobin and Soobin doesn't like him back.

And he’d gone and messed up so badly somehow that he’d gotten them stuck in a mating bond.

The more he thinks it over, the more he starts to spiral, fully convinced he’s figured it out. It’s not like he can ask any of the others, and he especially can’t ask Soobin, but everything would align this way; most of his questions would be answered.

Maybe that was why he’d been sent here. This Beomgyu had fucked things up so badly before him that he couldn’t even bring himself to be the one to fix them. And how would he anyways? The omega was probably mortified by what he’d done, and there was no way he was going to be the one to set things right when he’d probably be too busy dealing with his… unrequited feelings for his pack leader. His best friend.

Perhaps Beomgyu was delusional and coping, but to his sleep deprived brain it made sense.

He just had to help… himself get over this silly crush, and then with time the mating bond would go away too, and he and Soobin would be back to normal.

Platonic. Like they were supposed to be.

He’s not certain of many things in this world, but he’s now sure of this one thing.

He needs to find a way to fix this.

He has to stop relying on Soobin.

Dinner had become easier to get through now that he was treating everyone just as he would back home.

It also helped that they’d finally begun to give him real tasks though, and he wasn’t just sitting around while everyone else did stuff. Beomgyu was optimistic that his learning archery was merely the beginning of a more positive change, and that everyone else would stop being so hesitant around him soon.

Kai had been the first to loosen up, but he was always like that. At least with Beomgyu. It didn’t feel like he had to pretend around him, and he’d even found himself able to laugh when the younger one made jokes. Full-belly, head thrown back things that made him feel light, even if merely temporarily. He’d constantly alternate between stealing his kitchen duties and whining when Kai would willingly give them up. It made him feel warm inside, like he’d snuck a little piece of home into this otherwise unfamiliar world.

Taehyun was just Taehyun. It hadn’t felt like he was different even once since Beomgyu had gotten here. He was a steady constant, an unchanging reassuring force. He didn’t tiptoe around Beomgyu or the things the other’s hesitated to say, but still he was gentle in the way he handled him.

Sometimes it felt like Beomgyu was the younger one, just like back home.

As far as Yeonjun was concerned, Beomgyu still couldn’t really say.

It felt like he was far away sometimes, and yet others, Beomgyu felt most comforted merely by the look in his eyes. He didn’t know this world well, didn’t know himself. And yet Yeonjun looked through his differences with poorly concealed care. Beomgyu felt it, always. That he was being looked after. By all of them–yes, even Soobin—as he imagines a real pack would.

Though he supposes they are a real pack, but still.

Sometimes he gets so scared that they’ll be able to tell that he’s pretending, that he isn’t the same. Like on his fourth day here, when he’d forgotten to put a scent patch on first thing in the morning, and instead of looking alarmed Yeonjun had simply taken him into his own room and put one on for him.

Or on his third– when Taehyun had asked him to collect their mail, and when he’d hesitated Kai had simply pulled him along, as if it was no big deal.

Perhaps it wasn’t to them. At least not yet.

Beomgyu might worry that his time is running out in that regard, if he didn’t have bigger things to worry about.

Like Soobin.

No matter what, it always leads back to him. As if Beomgyu’s stuck in a corn maze and knows no way out. His nights end the same without fail, always teetering around being too much and not enough all at once.

Soobin leaves him a new article of clothing, and Beomgyu takes it with greedy hands. He’ll supply Soobin his own, and the alpha will look hesitant but take it in the end. Then he’ll say goodnight like its a secret and not a pleasantry, and Beomgyu will curl up in a bed that’s his and yet not, only able to sleep once the other’s scent is back beneath his nose.

It had been enough, once, even if just barely. But by day six Beomgyu had slept his most restless yet. It was beginning to take a toll on his body, he knew, but he couldn’t afford to be selfish anymore.

None of this had been Soobin’s fault, and even if it wasn’t technically Beomgyu’s either, he knew it ended up in his hands nevertheless.

Which makes this dinner more difficult to get through than the last few had been.

He had been serious when he’d decided to stop relying on Soobin. Which was fine—it wasn’t like they were the closest anyways, and things had only barely begun to lighten up between them. Beomgyu did feel a little bad about undoing that progress, but it was better for them in the long run.

If he was going to help this Beomgyu get over it, he was going to have to make some sacrifices, and in turn feel mildly uncomfortable doing so.

Like right now.

Usually, Beomgyu tries to sit beside Soobin. Which may sound surprising, but he’s in a mating bond with the guy. While things haven’t been the best between them, it’s a small solace that Beomgyu gets, just being near him calms him, making things feel right temporarily.

Today he makes sure to sit next to someone else at the dinner table, finding himself sandwiched between two non-Soobins. It makes the itch beneath his skin worse, and feels a whole lot more uncomfortable, but those are just the small sacrifices he has to make.

If Soobin’s progressed somehow, Beomgyu wouldn’t know it. He spends a majority of dinner avoiding his eyes, instead laughing at Kai and Yeonjun’s quips and Taehyun’s comments. It’s easier this way, even if it doesn’t feel like it at the moment. He’s sure of it.

He tries his hardest not to think about Soobin. Even if it leaves him feeling restless all through the night as he gets ready for bed, and even as he worries about the uncertainty of his future. His being here.

When Soobin knocks at his door this time, Beomgyu opens it with a certainty about him.

“Hyung,” He calls out, and Soobin seems startled to see him. His eyes are wide and an aching sort of dull, but Beomgyu tells himself not to worry about it. He can’t afford to. “I’m fine now.”

He’d rehearsed this scene in his head.There, it went incredibly easy, with little to no resistance from the alpha.

It almost looks like it’ll play out just as he’d imagined for a minute, too. But Soobin is frozen still at his doorway, like Beomgyu had said the last possible thing he’d been expecting.

“…What?”

“I’m fine.” Beomgyu repeats himself, shifting uncomfortably in his spot. He’s gotten so used to not being directly under Soobin’s stare that it’s a little disorienting. “I don’t think I need it anymore.”

It’s a lie, of course. If anything, the clothes were slowly becoming less and less efficient, hardly filling the void of his supposed mate’s presence. But Beomgyu couldn’t tell Soobin that. He’d done enough damage as is.

Soobin almost looks like he doesn’t believe him, and Beomgyu worries, briefly, that he might fight him on this. He is their leader after all. His best friend before anything else. He must know him like the back of his hand. Must know him like he does his Soobin.

The doubt must not be enough though, because after a mere moment he’s stepping backwards, looking unsure of himself and the article of clothing in his hands.

“Okay.” Soobin mumbles, and Beomgyu counts the seconds down before the warmth in the air leaves him. Dreading it and anticipating it all at once. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.” Beomgyu says, tight lipped smile firmly in place.

The second Soobin is out of his sight, he goes weak against his bedroom door, already fearing for what’s to come.

Tonight is going to be a long one.

Chapter Text

Beomgyu’s plan to stop relying on Soobin falls apart within hours.

Not the getting over him part—that much is still on top of his priorities list—but he’d clearly underestimated the power of a mating bond, temporary and accidental as it may be.

He meets Yeonjun at breakfast with what he’s sure are the worst dark circles of his life.

“What the hell happened to you?” Yeonjun asks, because a good morning clearly couldn’t have sufficed.

What a beautiful start to his day.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Beomgyu mumbles, reaching for a bowl for his cereal. Yeonjun’s eyes follow him, as if he’s expecting much more to come out of his mouth. He really doesn’t have the energy for that, though. Not until he gets some sort of sustenance in his stomach.

“Is it the insomnia again?”

“Again?” The confusion in his tone is hard to hide.

“Yeah.” Yeonjun continues. “Remember? You had it pretty bad when you first got here.”

Beomgyu does not.

He’s been trying his hardest not to think about home, lest it make the hollow feeling in his chest worsen, but at times like this it was almost impossible.

“What had helped then?” He asks, going for casually forgetful and not absolutely ignorant. He’s willing to try anything that’s not the one thing his mind is yelling on repeat.

Yeonjun’s face twists, like he knows what he’s about to say will be an uncomfortable truth to hear. Maybe he has to hear it anyway.

“Soobin did.”

Of course.

Beomgyu doesn’t know why he’d even bothered asking. It had been Soobin back home too, buying him a body oil that was good for insomnia. He doesn’t even think to ask Yeonjun to elaborate, scared that the answer here will only make him feel worse.

“Well, that’s not an option this time.” The words almost hurt to say, as if this thing inside of him is beginning to take physical damage too. Maybe that comes with the exhaustion of staying away when he’s supposed to be closer than ever.

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. Soobin’s staying away too, which must mean he’s fine that things are this way.

“Why not?” Yeonjun sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t understand what his answer could be. “He was the biggest help to you the first time, and he’d probably be even more helpful now that you’re mates.”

“Temporary.”

“Temporary. Whatever. Are you still doing the clothes thing?”

Beomgyu flushes. “You knew about that?”

“We all did.” Yeonjun shrugs. “It’s kind of hard to miss Soobin ominously going back and forth each night like a weirdo.” Then he pauses, like he’s afraid Beomgyu might take offense in his stead. “No judgment though.”

But Beomgyu’s still stuck on everyone knowing. And they weren’t even doing it anymore. He hadn’t planned on exposing this. Not ever, and definitely not so early in the morning when he was just trying to eat. But-

“We stopped last night.”

Yeonjun’s spoon clatters loudly against his bowl, the sound of metal irritating Beomgyu’s already sensitive ears.

“Ah-,”

“You stopped?”

“Yes hyung. that’s what I said. What’s the big deal? I figured… you know. It’s best not to form attachments.”

“You already have formed attachments. You’ve literally mated.”

The word makes Beomgyu wince.

“Temporarily.”

“Temporary or not, that bond is real. No wonder you look like this,” The betas hands gesture wildly at Beomgyu, and Beomgyu shrinks, wishing he could hide from Yeonjun’s judgement. “I was going to tell you the clothes wouldn’t even be enough. But you’ve stopped?”

“Why am I getting lectured?”

“Because Soobin’s not here. And you’re the one being dense right now.”

The frustration in his body reaches a peak. He groans into his hands, throwing a glare at Soobin’s bedroom door. It’s always taunting him.

Look what you had once. Look what you can’t have again.

“Exactly! Soobin’s not here.” The words sound annoyed, he knows. But that’s because he is. “In fact? He’s probably fine. I’m the only one that’s this messed up over it. It’s my responsibility to deal with it.”

Yeonjun’s quiet for a moment, as if he’s seriously considering Beomgyu’s words. Beomgyu pokes at his cereal as the silence grows, feeling awkward now that he’s actually given voice to his worries. It’d done nothing to make him feel better.

“Did Soobin tell you that?”

“Huh?”

“Did Soobin tell you that he’s doing fine, and that you’re the only that’s messed up over it?”

Beomgyu doesn’t answer. He can’t. The ache in his chest is feeling worse by the minute, as if Soobin’s name is a piercing thing at a fresh wound that he’s left uncovered and vulnerable.

“I know he didn’t. Have you not been paying attention to him?” Yeonjun asks, and Beomgyu can only continue sitting there in silence. There’s an off feeling clawing at him, but he doesn’t know what it is. “You’re not the only one that hasn’t been feeling their best, Beomgyu-yah. I’m just saying. I think you can help each other out. You’re in this together.”

It gives him an odd feeling of deja vu, back to Taehyun’s lecture on his first day. It’s all said in good faith, Beomgyu knows. It’s just that it’s horrible timing.

He’d literally decided last night that he wouldn’t be relying on Soobin anymore, that he’d do his best to help this Beomgyu get over his unreciprocated feelings. How was he supposed to do that when his body was taking it like this? When Yeonjun’s words were ringing in his head, sounding an awful lot like he had a point?

Beomgyu thinks about it all throughout his morning, as he finishes up breakfast and switches the topic of conversation with Yeonjun to something else. He promises him that he’ll think about it, but he bolts outside the minute he hears noise coming from Soobin’s room.

He is thinking about it, he swears. He’d just prefer not to do so with said alpha anywhere too close to him, especially when he’s embarrassingly desperate for exactly that.

There’s also the matter of actually looking at Soobin like Yeonjun had said. Of past looking, paying attention. He’s afraid of what he’ll find there if he allows himself anything longer than a few seconds glance—can already feel the guilt bubbling up inside him and he hasn’t even done it yet.

Plus—God, he’d literally told the man merely hours ago that he didn’t need anything anymore. How was he supposed to go back on his word in such a short amount of time?

It would help both of them, if what Yeonjun said had been right, but still. The thought of facing Soobin was inexplicably daunting.

Since when had talking to his best friend become so hard?

He’s watering the last row of tomato plants when Soobin appears before him, as if a materialization of all of Beomgyu’s worries and doubts, blocking the sunlight and casting a soft, comfortable shadow over him.

Beomgyu is thankful for it, even if it means that he has to look up now and meet his eyes.

“Hyung?”

“Beomgyu-yah.” Soobin says, swallows. And Beomgyu looks. Beomgyu pays attention.

“What is it?”

His skin is thrumming pleasantly, unbearable desperation to be in Soobin’s vicinity finally placated. Beomgyu would focus on it, on that telltale sign of satisfaction coming over him, if he could do anything other than look.

Soobin’s always been handsome. Beomgyu knows, this has been established. He’s beautiful now too; face a honey trap Beomgyu’s literally built to fall into, greedy to touch and hold with his own hands.

But past that, he looks undeniably drained.

His hair is roughly tousled and disheveled, as if he’d spent the night running his fingers through it. His clothes are poorly coordinated and distractingly wrinkled, and although the Soobin that he knows has never been the tidiest person, he’s never let it get to this extent.

Above all, it’s his face that makes Beomgyu’s heart ache.

He has dark circles under his eyes, worse than the last time Beomgyu had noticed them on the alpha. There’s a persistent furrow in his brows too, like he’s already grown accustomed to being in a state of distress. Like he’s expecting it.

No, Beomgyu hadn’t truly believed Soobin could get by completely unaffected, but he had never allowed himself to believe that it could be this bad for him, too.

It’s like he’s looking in a mirror, and the ache in his chest at the sight is something Beomgyu hadn’t been prepared for.

Guilt.

What fault did Soobin have that Beomgyu had fallen for him?

“I know you said you were fine last night.” Soobin starts, and his voice flows through Beomgyu like a relaxant, unwilling as he may be, he’s not immune to its effects. “And I wish I could respect that, I do. But I’m not fine Beomgyu-yah.”

His best friends voice is deep, and the way Soobin speaks is sturdy—like he’d gone over these words in his head many times before he’d brought them with tentative hands to Beomgyu’s ears.

It’s silly, Beomgyu thinks. He’d have listened no matter how shallow the outline of speech had been.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to, because he’s still doing as Yeonjun had asked. He’s paying attention, and Soobin is being braver than Beomgyu would ever allow himself to be.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and his gaze is firm for once. Unshaken. “I am. But I need this.”

Beomgyu shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry. I was being stupid.” It hurts to admit it, but Soobin has already given him an inch. He can be brave like Soobin had been, he can follow his example. “I need this too. I’m the one who should be saying sorry. This is my fault.”

Soobin’s face twists, his eyebrows pulled and gaze a back and forth, flickering thing.

“No, you don’t have to say that to make me feel better. I’m-,” He stops, voice faltering. “really sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up again. I don’t want to push, just- I don’t think this is good for us in the long run.”

The alpha seems distressed all of a sudden, the type of thing that smothers you, like smoke. His scent has gone a bit darker too, deep like something festering from the inside out. Beomgyu has no idea where he’s misstepped, and he’s hit with an unexpected itch under his skin to make it right.

It’s like he’s missing something vital here, like he’s opened up an old wound from carelessness. Whatever it is, Beomgyu doesn’t know how to fix it, which only makes him feel worse.

“Could we exchange clothes again, then?” He says instead, trying to undo whatever it was that set them off course. “Like we were doing before?”

Only at those words does Soobin’s palpable anxiety seem to ease. And with it, Beomgyu’s own. It’s not all magically better, but it’s something, and he’ll take what he can get.

“Of course. That’s what I was going to suggest too.”

It’s too bright out for all this, really truly entirely too sunny for them to be finally communicating outside of all places, but Beomgyu knows that if it doesn’t happen now, it might never.

And he does not have the time for “never”.

“Okay then.” He nods, fiddling with the watering can in his hands as Soobin stares down at him. He’d truly grown unaccustomed to it. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

Horrible. He’s somehow managed to make swapping clothes sound like a date. Surely the tips of his ears are pink now. For once, Beomgyu’s thankful that it’s not his Soobin standing before him. He’d have noticed by now, and Beomgyu would never hear the end of it.

This Soobin seems particularly unphased by both his words and his appearance. He can’t tell if that’s better or worse.

“Sounds good.” He says, and surprisingly, Beomgyu can agree. This is important. Merely a temporary fix—he can get over Soobin and rely on him at the same time. Just a little.

It shouldn’t hurt anyone.

The itch beneath his skin persists throughout the day, uncaring for the promise he’d made to meet Soobin later.

But it at least helps ease his mind. His afternoons are usually spent in turmoil over how to act with Soobin in the house, relieved when the other steps out for even just a moment. This time, Beomgyu is unphased by their passive proximity. He isn’t so scary anymore, not now that it feels like they’ve actually talked for once, especially about something that matters.

It helps him out with his interactions with the others too, making everything run smoother and less stiffly. As if everything is back to normal that can be at the moment. The thought helps a calm settle over him, and he at least spends the evening mentally relaxed (though… still itchy).

Yeonjun must be able to notice the shift, even if minuscule, because he catches Beomgyu’s eyes over the dinner table, watches him push dishes closer to Soobin subtly, caring as quietly as he can without getting caught. 

It isn’t strange, and it isn’t a set back on his journey to getting over him. They were just like this back home. Comfortable.

Soon, everything will be back to normal.

As Soon as the clock strikes 10, Beomgyu is waiting for Soobin by his doorway.

He’d gotten ready for bed with perhaps too much excitement coursing through his veins, but what no one was around to witness couldn’t hurt him. It was simply too big of a thing to look forward to, and he’d found himself humming as he’d brushed his teeth—something he’d never done before.

Well, not in this world at least.

And it was all because soon Soobin was going to be bringing over a piece of clothing with his scent on it.

Beomgyu was really starting to turn into some sort of freak.

Before he can dwell on his dignity’s demise any longer, a knock rings at his door. Firm and yet gentle. Undoubtedly Soobin.

He nearly opens it right away before he remembers how close he is to the door. So two large steps backwards and a clearing of his throat later, he finally makes his way forward once more to pull the door open.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Soobin smiles, and it’s a dimpled thing. It feels, briefly, like it’s his first day here all over again. Clueless to the intricacies of the world and only familiar with this face that he knows and loves so much.

“I brought you this.” Soobin says, and his hands come up, bringing the piece of clothing in his hands into Beomgyu’s field of vision. Right. That’s what he was here for.

“Thanks.” Beomgyu reaches out for it, fumbling with his own article of clothing—a shirt he’d worn to bed last night. “Here’s mine.”

He has half a mind to blush over how awkward they’re being, but he’s also just giddy at the prospect of finally getting some sleep soon.

“Thank you.” Soobin mumbles, shifting on his feet. The dimples on his cheeks make a reappearance, not from a smile, simply from a shift of his mouth. Beomgyu fights the urge to feel the indent beneath his fingers; focusing instead on what he can catch of Soobin’s calming scent.

It’s silent for a moment, and Beomgyu wonders if he’s supposed to say something to fill in the gaps. He can’t think of anything though, not when his mind is a mixture of slush and a giddy mountain of joy he’s mentally leaping through at the thought of finally getting some sleep.

“Well, goodnight, then.” He says, pressing his fingers into the sweatshirt in his hands, soft fabric curled into his palms.

Soobin hesitates, like he has something else to say. Beomgyu waits and waits, curious even as he’s exhausted, but the air merely settles.

“Goodnight, Beomgyu-yah.” Soobin says, stepping out of Beomgyu’s space once more, taking his warmth with him.

The words feel tender in a way Beomgyu isn’t expecting, warmer than the yellow-tinted light bulb lighting up the hallway. They just about tilt his world on its axis, and he’s left merely staring into the space Soobin had left behind.

He’d gotten several goodnights from this Soobin, but this one had felt different, somehow.

It had felt like the goodnights from his Soobin did—like they were promises.

In his bed, Beomgyu pulls Soobin’s sweatshirt closer to him, trying to tie his scent to this memory.

It will be enough.

It has to be.

It’s not enough.

Beomgyu had done his best to ignore the persistent itch beneath his skin; the ache in his chest, that familiar feeling of misalignment. Sure, it had gotten increasingly harder to manage these last few days, but Soobin’s scent—even if merely in the form of a trace left behind—had always been enough at the end of the day.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in bed with his eyes tightly squeezed shut, trying to regulate his breathing and stay eerily still. It has to have been hours, and still sleep won’t come.

He’s exhausted, physically and mentally at this point, tired beyond belief. It can’t have even been this bad back home after performing for hours, and at least then he’d been able to sleep. He’s been trying to wade off the feeling—that uncomfortable sensation beneath his skin that’s been coming and going all day—but the longer he spends there with Soobin’s scent just about mocking him, the more anxious and restless he becomes.

Eventually, he finds himself on his feet, eyeing the time even though the bright white light of his phone screen makes his eyes burn.

It’s already 3:50—somehow even later than Beomgyu had expected.

He throws his phone back onto his bed, curling his fingers around Soobin’s sweatshirt.

Even the moonlight coming in through his window feels harsh from how tired he is. It feels like he’s suffocating, almost. Like he’s stuck in a room with no oxygen.

But he’s not, a little voice in the back of his mind reminds him—and before he knows it he’s pulling open his bedroom door, hesitantly making his way down the hallway.

The entire house is quiet, the lack of noise so prevalent that it’s almost a sound itself. Beomgyu can hear his footsteps as he makes his way across the living room, Soobin’s sweatshirt held tight in his hands.

And then he’s standing outside Soobin’s door.

It’s almost funny now, thinking back on all of the times he’d avoid looking at it. Of all the times he had looked and felt a dull, hollow ache in his chest.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Doesn’t know what he’d been hoping for in doing this. But the ache is almost unbearable now, nearly physically painful at this point. His hand rests weakly on the doorknob, fingers barely touching it, and still certain of the weight beneath his hands.

What was he thinking? He hadn’t even properly thought this through before he’d made his way over here, as if he really was following a magnetic pull. Mindless and primal.

He's chastising himself for being greedy once more—for even thinking this was a good idea—when the door pulls open on its own, so startlingly fast that Beomgyu nearly stumbles forward.

The smell of sandalwood and nutmeg envelops him like a warm, soft blanket.

Soobin’s scent.

“Hyung.” Beomgyu gasps, suddenly feeling out of place, even as he feels more comfortable than he had in hours. He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting when he’d looked up, but it definitely hadn’t been a wide-awake looking Soobin.

Soobin’s eyes trace his face, and Beomgyu must have really grown unaccustomed to being held beneath that gaze. He flushes, and yet he’s physically incapable of looking away. He must look foolish standing here at 4am with no explanation. Must look insane.

“I’m-,”

“It’s not working. Right?”

Beomgyu hesitates, eyeing the still-tired face of his best friend. Well- of Soobin.

He nods.

“Yeonjun-hyung had said that it wouldn’t be enough soon.”

Soobin’s eyebrows furrow, his hand twitching against the door frame, so subtle it’d go by unnoticed if Beomgyu were any less crazed from lack of sleep.

“You talked to Yeonjun-hyung about it?”

“Yes. In the morning. I think-,” Beomgyu pauses, unsure.

What did he think? It had been on the tip of his tongue, as if instinctual.

His body aches with it, need.

What does he need? How does he get rid of this awful feeling in his chest?

It feels like a puzzle he can’t figure out, and then as if offering up a missing piece, Soobin’s scent goes warmer, just barely, but it’s still enough for Beomgyu to notice.

His eyes go wide as it clicks. That word from earlier back at the forefront of his mind.

Scenting.

He’d read about it briefly in that fanfic, and while the concept had seemed downright depraved to him at the time, the sole idea of it now felt like a lifeline.

Soobin’s still looking at him, waiting, and Beomgyu worries his lip as he contemplates bringing it up.

Would it be weird to suggest it? It was hard to gauge what classified as crossing the line here, especially when he and Soobin had barely gotten over their difficulty making eye contact, and yet were somehow mates.

Was he being greedy again? No-, this was something bigger than the both of them. It was affecting Soobin too. It had been Beomgyu’s fault to begin with, and now they were both facing the consequences.

He hesitates, suddenly finding it too hard to look Soobin in the eyes. He can fix this, he thinks. No, he can make it better. It just takes a bit of courage.

This is his best friend.

His best friend.

Finally, the pull inside him beats the fear.

“What about scenting?”

Soobin blinks, slowly.

“What?”

“Scenting.” Beomgyu can feel his face flushing, the tips of his ears going pink. “Y’know… I just. Think it might help.”

He’d started off pretty confidently—well, as confident as one could get in this scenario—but Soobin has gone tense at the words. Beomgyu can only look at his hands.

“Are you sure?”

Yes, Beomgyu wants to say. Quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. But Soobin’s the one that sounds unsure of the suggestion, like he’s the one apprehensive.

Had Beomgyu crossed that line he couldn’t see?

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

It’s silent between them once more as Beomgyu waits for Soobin to answer. He’s merely an anxious heartbeat as the seconds go by; merely another quiet intake of breath in this still, dark house.

Just as Beomgyu starts to feel like the quiet will drive him insane, Soobin shifts, his dark eyes boring into Beomgyu’s own.

“Um, okay then.” He steps back, looking unsure in his own body. The sight would make Beomgyu laugh if he weren’t feeling freakishly anxious himself. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Beomgyu nods, suddenly oddly impatient. It’s as if his body can tell that he’s inches away from his source of relief. Longing for it just as he had each and every night he’d spent here, each and every night he’d pushed it away.

And now it’s here. A warm scent that’s all encompassing and offering him respite. Hands that Beomgyu knows like no other; that Beomgyu doesn’t know, yet.

“Do you wanna do it here?” Soobin side steps, as if to allow Beomgyu in. Beomgyu would just about throw himself on the alphas bed if he wouldn’t look insane doing so. It takes an incredible amount of self restraint to refrain from doing it the minute it comes into view, anyways. “Or is that- we can do it in yours instead if-,”

“No.” Beomgyu cuts him off, maybe too fast. Soobin’s eyes go wide, tracing Beomgyu’s face like doing so will answer all his questions. “Here is fine. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” The words are said softly, and Beomgyu is grateful that even if just for a moment, it’s only the two of them in this too-loud world.

Soobin’s room is just as he’d remembered it, all intricate looking furniture that’s somehow still homey in its aesthetic. It’s no different than any other part of the house, not really—but Soobin sleeps in this room. Wakes in it.

His bed is unkempt and looks as soft as it is in the recesses of Beomgyu’s memory, and it’s nearly cruel. How unchanged this room appears, like it hasn’t haunted his every waking moment since he’d left it.

The whole room smells like Soobin, feels like him—unfathomably soothing and electrifying all at once. Beomgyu feels more himself than he has all week just being here again, and even that ache in his chest stutters.

The soft sound of the door closing behind him brings him out of his reverie, and when he turns to look at Soobin the older is already looking his way, taking him in in a way that makes the nerves under Beomgyu’s skin light up once more.

“You can sit down, if you’d like.”

Right. He was here for a reason.

He makes his way over to Soobin’s bed tentatively, all too aware of the other in the limited space between them. Soobin follows behind him like a puppy, and Beomgyu nearly sinks into his bed the minute it touches his skin.

“Your comforter is so much better than mine.”

Soobin huffs, and though the laugh is hardly there, Beomgyu is thankful. It fills the space, even if only for a moment.

“You always say that.”

Oh. Does he?

The thought flusters him, making his stomach turn with discomfort. It shouldn’t be a big deal. This universe’s Beomgyu is just another version of him; idol Beomgyu some degrees removed.

Except Beomgyu wouldn’t have found himself in this situation.

“Well… it’s true.” He clears his throat and the fog settling over his mind. “Mines scratchy.”

Another dip in Soobin’s bed. Soobin’s beside him now. Beomgyu does his best to breathe.

“You’ve never told me that before.” Soobin says, and his voice is closer than it has been all week. His scent curls around Beomgyu, roaming freely now that his scent patches are off. God, Beomgyu needs it. Can Soobin tell? “We’d have switched it out by now if you’d been honest.”

“Well,” Beomgyu blinks up at him, waiting for his heart to calm. “Being honest is hard.”

Another pull of Soobin’s eyebrows, a downwards slope to his mouth. If mating bonds came with the ability to read minds, it’d be the first time Beomgyu’s not against its torturous side effects. Unfortunately, Beomgyu has yet to find a bright side.

His mouth opens and closes, and Beomgyu lets the seconds go by patiently, even when it starts to feel suffocating, even when it starts to feel like even his heart is louder than the quiet of this room.

He’s waiting for him to say it, waiting to make out the reason for that look on his face. But it must be just as Beomgyu had said.

Being honest is hard.

Soobin clears his throat, and as if proving his point, changes the subject. “Should we start, then?”

“Right.” Beomgyu nods, but then he’s left just… sitting there. “Um, so do you want to…”

Want to what? He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. Soobin must, though, because he’s simply smiling a lopsided grin, inching closer on his too-soft bed.

“Do you want me to take the lead, like before?”

Before? Great, exactly what Beomgyu needed—confirmation that he’s supposed to know how this goes. And worse, with Soobin?

He has no choice though. Their minutes are precious.

“Yes.” He whispers, and then as an afterthought, “Please.”

“Right.” Soobin swallows, and Beomgyu nearly laughs. It’s like they’re mirroring each other. He wonders if it’s a side effect of the temporary bond, or if this is just always what it’s like with every Soobin in every universe.

Or something.

And, okay. So what if Beomgyu has no idea how this is supposed to go? He’s read fanfiction on the subject. He’s lived it, in another life. And he isn’t even the one doing the scenting. Truly, how difficult could it be to just… sit there?

Beomgyu could not have been more wrong.

“I’ll start now.” The alpha whispers, and Beomgyu holds his breath as he gets closer and closer, until there’s a hand at the side of his neck and the air between them is intimate, shared.

Soobin doesn’t look at him, just dips his face into the crook of his neck, where Beomgyu’s sure he smells the sweetest, as if he’s done this before a million times and knows his way around.

At the first touch of Soobin’s nose against his skin, Beomgyu flinches involuntarily.

It feels like his heart will leap out of his chest. He keeps thinking- any second now, Soobin’s going to be able to tell that I have no idea how this is supposed to go. The fear must be so bad it tinges his scent, involuntarily going sour—because a moment later, Soobin’s pulling away. Looking up at him with eyes full of worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Beomgyu says, but he can hardly meet his eyes. It does nothing for his case.

“Don’t lie to me.” Soobin pulls away further, and now there’s some real space between them. Beomgyu’s stuck between feeling grateful for it and wanting it gone. “Are you uncomfortable with this? Because if you are, we can figure something else-,”

“No.” It’s almost too quick. Soobin pauses, and his own scent has gone damp with concern. “No, I’m fine, really. I think I’m just… nervous.”

Soobin relaxes at those words, and Beomgyu’s hands twitch at his sides. He’s always been the fidgety type. He misses being able to just reach out without a second thought. It was usually Soobin he was reaching out for.

“Okay. Do you need more time?”

Yes. No.

The softness in Soobin’s voice nearly makes Beomgyu’s eyes well up. It’s tender and warm, reassuring in all the ways that 4am Beomgyu is too vulnerable to handle.

“It’s fine, seriously. I just want to be able to sleep already.” That much is him being honest, at least.

Soobin nods in understanding, and then the palm of his hand is back against the column of Beomgyu’s throat. Right there with his wild pulse. “Here goes, then.”

Hurry up, Beomgyu wants to say. His heart is still beating out of control, and Soobin slowly inching closer isn’t helping, but maybe not having to look the alpha in the eye will.

His head tilts to side instinctually, as if Beomgyu’s body knows better than him—and Soobin’s scent goes deep again, like it sometimes does, randomly, an intoxicating, heavenly thing.

This time, when Soobin’s nose meets his scent gland, Beomgyu holds impossibly still.

Soobin’s sort of caging him in, one hand down at Beomgyu’s side, an indent over his comforter, and his other still on Beomgyu’s neck. It’s hard to believe they’re really this close together, and it’s so alarmingly intimate that Beomgyu has to count backwards in his head to steady his heartbeat.

His hands curl at his sides, and Soobin runs his nose over his scent gland, over and over. Torturously slow—as if he means to engrave his scent there and take Beomgyu’s with him.

It’s cold at first, and then eventually, as Soobin’s body presses imperceptibly closer, warm.

Soobin’s scent is clouding his senses, foreign and familiar all at once. He knows this scent, yes, knows it like no one else’s—takes it in greedily most nights he’s slept here, and yet it’s never been this close. This real.

Soobin must be feeling the same, must also be going through the fuzzy headspace Beomgyu has to shake himself out of—because he lets out a sound right by Beomgyu’s ear, something akin to a groan, and Beomgyu’s hands curl into the front of his shirt.

Closer.

When had his hands moved?

“Hyung,” Beomgyu whines, and it’s involuntary. Now that he’s here, lungs filled with Soobin’s scent, he can’t seem to remember what he’d been here for in the first place.

But it’s like his voice breaks whatever haze Soobin has fallen into, because suddenly the air between them goes cold again as Soobin pulls away, and Beomgyu can breathe again.

He blinks, trying to regain his focus.

Soobin’s face is almost… flushed. A warmth to his cheeks that isn’t natural, isn’t something Beomgyu’s used to seeing. His hands are at his side again, and for a moment, just a moment, Beomgyu misses the warmth of them against his skin.

“That should be enough, right?”

Beomgyu swallows, remembering. Right. Sleep.

“I think so.”

“I’m glad.” Soobin nods, looking bashful but more relaxed than he had when Beomgyu had first walked in. Beomgyu feels it too, the tension is gone from his shoulders, the itch beneath his skin scratched. He smells like Soobin, and Soobin smells like him, faint but there.

“Thank you hyung.” He whispers, afraid to shatter the delicate silence around them. He gets up from Soobin’s bed, already missing its soft comfort. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Beomgyu-yah.” Soobin says, watching him go with a softness in his eyes that makes Beomgyu’s skin tingle. He lingers at the door for a second more, and his mouth opens up again before he can stop it.

“Also. I’m sorry that I just- showed up like that.”

He fiddles with the material of his shirt, wondering at the scent there. The scent everywhere. Warm.

Soobin shakes his head. His face is a gentle thing, so much like his Soobin for a moment that it makes Beomgyu’s throat burn.

“I was on my way to you, too.”

Beomgyu dreams that night.

It’s the first he’s had since he’s arrived, and he plays it on loop the moment he wakes, over and over again, until all that’s left is the faint memory of it. Until he begins to second guess even that.

In his dream, he’s strewn uncaring across his bed, his bed, back home. He’s just slightly off center, just enough so that he can feel the telltale weight of Soobin in the space next to him. Their shoulders are aligned, and the heat of his best friends body makes it all feel real, even if only for a moment.

There’s a song playing in his ears, a mess of wires tangled up between them. It’s faint even as it echoes, like it’s background noise and knows it too. Still, Beomgyu tries to make it out.

“Listen.” Soobin says, and Beomgyu does. To his voice. To the song. “This one reminds me of you.”

“Hmm.” Beomgyu hums, and his eyes fall shut. To hear the song. To hear his voice.

The bed dips as the song crescendos, and only then does Beomgyu look, eyes blinking slowly as he takes Soobin in.

His best friend. Yes.

“Beomgyu-yah.”

Soobin’s looking at him, and Beomgyu waits. It feels familiar. The warmth. The wait.

“Yeah?”

He’s leaning over him now. Just barely, enough to block the light above them. Beomgyu’s bed is warm. He knows no greater comfort than this.

But Soobin looks worried now, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. His eyes flicker warm, across the planes of Beomgyu’s face, and Beomgyu feels his heart beat to the sound of the song still playing on a loop. Over and over.

“Never mind.” Soobin says, like it’s nothing. Beomgyu watches him lay back down, finds it hard to look away. Something.

Say something.

“What song is this?” Beomgyu breaks the lull between them, waiting for Soobin to go warm again. His best friend.

And Soobin smiles; Tender. Real.

Beomgyu stares, greedy. He’ll never get sick of it. He wishes there were a way to touch it, to feel the curve of Soobin’s smile against his own skin. A soft and delicate thing. Beomgyu wishes he could feel it.

Soobin’s mouth moves, but Beomgyu doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy picturing his grin; close enough to touch.

When Beomgyu wakes, it’s merely the faint traces of sandalwood and nutmeg on his skin that are able to calm him.

It had been a dream, Beomgyu knows.

But it had also been a memory.

Soobin had never told him what he’d been meaning to say that night, even after Beomgyu had asked countless times.

Why had it come up in his subconscious now?

He rubs his eyes, trying to make the ache in them go away from waking up abruptly. The song from his dream plays in pauses in the corner of his mind, and Beomgyu’s reaching for his phone before he knows it.

He lets the joint playlist he’d found recently play song after song, his bleary eyes going in and out of focus as he looks at the cover.

Thirteen songs in, the melody of the song playing makes him still, and the last thought he has before sleep takes him in once more is a simple one, for once.

He’s finally found it.

Chapter Text

There’s a balcony on the second floor that opens up from the upstairs living room, with white doors that push open with a creak and a cushioned chair stationed in the furthest corner. 

He’d found it during his first week here, when he’d used calling Taehyun and Yeonjun to dinner as an excuse to go exploring upstairs. 

Sometimes, when the ache of homesickness gets especially bad, Beomgyu finds himself sitting out there, staring into the dim morning light and watching the sunrise, or into the bleak night sky long after it has set. 

It’s where he is now, watching the clouds make way for the glow of the morning sun. There’s a hollow ache in his chest, always, that seems to only ebb and flow, but never fully fade. 

He misses the feeling of being on stage, surrounded by too many lights and too many people. The feeling of that familiar ache in his bones, overexertion that he’d push through time and time again, even when he shouldn’t. 

He misses Kai’s too loud laugh; the way it’d echo through the practice room when Beomgyu would push himself just an inch more, just to see them all smile. He misses Taehyun's reassurance, that steadfast confidence that it’ll all work out, hyung— even when Beomgyu’s not so sure himself. He misses Yeonjun’s mischief, the kind that makes Beomgyu’s own fit perfectly, a groove that only the two of them can fall into, jokes that land because it’s them. 

And he misses Soobin.

He misses watching him smile, over and over again, every single day, because of him. Against all odds, even when it should’ve been the hardest thing to do in the world, watching it happen anyways. Him. Them. Both of them. Over and over, a comfort he knows like no other, the mere existence of him a breath of fresh air, a hand held out in support. 

Even if everything else fades, I have you.

He used to think it true, and that had been enough.

The thought, the assumption. 

But ever since getting here, that simple fact had been undone, and all he’d been left with was the ache. Missing him. 

It’s strange that this is the thought that’s been most constant. Since he’d first arrived it hadn’t once faded, hadn’t once gone away. He misses so much, misses them all so heavily—and yet Beomgyu is certain, day by day, that it is Soobin he is homesick for. 

It’s silly, really. This is his best friend he’s talking about, someone who he’d been with for years and only grown closer and closer to. Soobin was his other half, in some ways. How had it taken this for him to realize 

how much having him by his side meant to him?

Coming to terms with that fact now that Soobin’s so far away of all times is incredibly inconvenient. There’s nothing he can do with the feeling but sit on it, nothing he can do other than try to push it away. 

Especially since this world has its own Soobin he needs to deal with. 

The light morning breeze brushes against his face as the balcony doors push open for the second time that day, just as creaky as they’d been the first time. Beomgyu looks up in curiosity, meeting Taehyuns stare as he steps out with a raised eyebrow. 

“What are you doing out here?”

He brings his attention back to the sun, curling his fingers around the sides of the chair. 

“Thinking.”

It’s almost as if he can hear Taehyun thinking from where he stands off to the side. He scratches at his neck, and Beomgyu briefly registers his walking closer. He ends up standing with his arms resting on the railing, his calming scent entering Beomgyu’s vicinity. 

He breathes it in subtly, allowing the notes to fall over him. It’s clean and soft, and although Beomgyu has never particularly cared too much for the smell of pear or mint, it calms something tumultuous inside him, even if just a little.

“You still doing that?” Taehyun asks, gesturing towards his neck. Beomgyu flushes, bringing his hands up to his scent patches. 

“Is it weird?”

“No.” The beta assures, but there’s a certain tug to his eyebrows. “Just not used to any of us concealing our scent to this extent. Do you not like it?”

No. 

How does Beomgyu tell him that even waking up early just to double apply scent patches still doesn’t feel like it does enough to cover up all the things it might say? 

He’d read about that, he’d noticed it since getting here too. With so subtle a shift in everyone’s scents, it was as if he was being shown a mood ring. Beomgyu wasn’t used to wearing his heart on his sleeve like that. 

And he definitely wasn’t used to going around smelling like peaches and something overly sweet.

“Not particularly.” 

Taehyun nods in understanding, although it doesn’t seem like he’ll drop it anytime soon. 

“Is it still hard to come to terms with it?”

Beomgyu shifts in his chair, bringing his legs up and curling his arms around them loosely. The sky has gone warm now, which means he’ll have to face the day soon. At least he’d slept properly for the first time in a long time last night, though even that had come at his progress’s expense. 

“Come to terms with what?”

“Being an omega.” Right. Taehyun’s never been one for beating around the bush. 

Truthfully, Beomgyu’s just been avoiding really thinking about it. However, saying that would just make Taehyun look at him with that… look on his face again. Which-no thank you. 

“I guess. It’s just.. weird overall.”

Taehyun nods. “Makes sense. I wish one of us could help you, but we’re just as clueless. Though I’m sure you already know that.” 

Beomgyu snorts, unable to keep the sound in. He really does. Ending up here had been a truly tragic twist of fate, especially now of all times. He was hardly even familiar with this stuff, but presenting as an omega? What did he know about that? 

“You guys have done what you can, though. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m thankful for that.” 

And they have. Subtly and consistently, the kind of care that doesn’t come as a surprise when he considers that these are just alternate versions of his members. 

Yeonjun will more often than not make him tea “just because”, but Beomgyu knows the herbs he uses are meant to help him with any remaining post-heat symptoms. Kai will always attempt to do any heavy lifting that should really be Beomgyu’s job, even when Beomgyu insists he’s fully capable. Taehyun’s always finding ways to try and subtly fix any of Beomgyu’s problems, playing counselor and finding his way into his doubts. (What he’s doing now, really.)

And Soobin…

“I guess the whole temporary mating thing was a blessing in disguise though, no? Sure, it was hard at first, but it also made it easier.”

Beomgyu wants to say that he can’t think of a single thing that’s been made easier because of it. But-

“You know. Your heat.” Taehyun says, like he should know. Even in this instance, Beomgyu doesn’t think he’s at fault for wanting to play clueless. “Or you presenting. Whatever terminology you’d prefer.” 

“Both are equally terrible.”

“Well, doesn’t make it any less true.”

Right, Soobin had also been affected by Beomgyu’s presenting as an omega. And even if Beomgyu would like to live in ignorant bliss about what it meant for them to be temporarily bonded, or for him to have woken up in Soobin’s room that first day here, he’s all too aware of Soobin’s role in this. Of Soobin’s… help. 

Taehyun’s looking over the balcony railing with a look on his face, like he’s remembering something. That look that only means danger for Beomgyu’s nervous system, as he’s learned over the past couple of days. He ignores the itch slowly creeping back under his skin, like Taehyun has woken something dormant with the mere mention of a name. 

“Soobin-hyung was really scared, you know.”

It’s a quiet thing, the words spoken by the beta. Beomgyu’s at a loss for words, more than he could’ve anticipated. “What?”

“That night, the day you presented.” Taehyun continues. “He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t really have anyone to ask either. We’re all useless, like I said.” His face splits into a grin for a split second, wide and cat like. Beomgyu can’t return it, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes anyway. “He just kept saying he didn’t want to hurt you, and I remember thinking, how would you of all people ever hurt him? But it wasn’t like the thoughts were logical or anything. He was just… really worried.”

It isn’t the first time the feeling has come over him, but this time it’s a harsh, biting thing. The words make Beomgyu’s stomach turn, make his heart ache. 

He feels like an imposter. No- he is one. These words— dangerous in their honesty and truth—shouldn’t be spoken to him. Not when they aren’t even about him, really. But Taehyun just keeps going, taking his silence with ease.

“You know, don’t you, hyung? How much Soobin cares about you. I guess that’s why he… maybe more than anyone else, maybe even you, was worried you’d present as an omega. He knew it’d be difficult for you, presenting without a mate. Even now it must be hard. Plus, you’ve always wanted to be a beta. Like hyung and I.” 

Right, Yeonjun and Taehyun and their easy, uncomplicated relationship with their secondary gender and their calming scents. Of course this Beomgyu would’ve wanted that. That ease with which he’d have navigated his relationships with the others had he been nothing extraordinary. Not rigid and not soft. A comfortable in between where he could be both or neither. Where he could’ve been anything and anyone, and anyone in relation to everyone else. 

But he was an omega. And it had only made things between him and Soobin infinitely more complicated. 

“Honestly, I think he was being a little dramatic. He’d have thought himself into a panic attack if you hadn’t needed him like, immediately.”

With every word Taehyun speaks, Beomgyu’s heartbeat accelerates in his chest.

“Because it was always meant to be this way, don’t you think? You joined us last, and you complete us. Our packs omega. I think deep down, Soobin-hyung knew it too.”

Soobin-hyung knew it too. The thought only makes Beomgyu’s stomach churn. How was it that this was how things were meant to go? 

“Was I the only clueless one, then?” Beomgyu tries to laugh, but it comes out sounding broken. “Was it just, like, what- deep denial?”

“Maybe.” Taehyun shrugs. “But it was merely out of self preservation. I think you were scared too, hyung.” The younger leans away from the railing, fully turning towards him now. “Weren’t you?” 

Of course he was. 

Beomgyu doesn’t have to have lived it to know. It’s in the simmering anxiety that’s been with him since he got here—as if it’s a part of him that’s more than just mental. Of course he’d been scared then. He’s scared now, too. 

Before he can answer Taehyun, there’s a knock on the balcony doors that startles them both out of the conversation. 

Like always, Beomgyu smells him before he hears him. It’s a startling feeling, one he’ll never get used to. The itch beneath his skin is eased almost immediately, and it only makes Beomgyu feel less in control the more he thinks about it. 

“Sorry.” Soobin says, his voice sounding pleasantly deep. A telltale sign that he’d only woken up moments ago. For a moment, Beomgyu wishes he had been there to see him wake, to watch the sunlight make its way over his face instead of the clouds, as quick as the thought comes, though, Beomgyu waves it away. “I don't mean to interrupt, but we should be leaving in a bit.”

“Leaving?” Beomgyu asks, anxiety beneath his skin peaking. 

“To the markets.” Soobin clarifies, shifting in his spot. “It’s Taehyun and I’s turn to go shopping.” 

Beomgyu turns to Taehyun, who’s blinking owlishly back at them. 

“Ah, sorry hyung. I forgot. I made plans to meet with a friend.”

Soobin’s eyes go wide. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Taehyun nods, not even bothering to pull out his phone and check the time. “Now. But Beomgyu hyung’s not busy, he can go with you.”

What? 

How the hell had he managed to get roped into this? 

Soobin looks taken back by the suggestion too, but he’s clearly not as opposed to the idea as Beomgyu would like him to be right now. 

“Do you mind helping, Beomgyu-yah?”

Yes , he minds helping. He’s literally supposed to be limiting contact with this man as much as possible, and he’d already spent five minutes too many last night with Soobin’s nose dipped into his neck. 

Unfortunately he can’t say any of that though. 

“Of course not.” He offers Soobin a small smile, the best he can muster when all he wants to do is retreat back into his shell. “Just let me change?”

Soobin nods, already retreating. “Okay, make sure to dress warm since it’s windy out, we’ll eat before we go.” His eyes don’t linger, but they don’t avoid him either. It’s a good thing, probably. This is what normal must be like, even if it makes Beomgyu feel ill at ease. “See you later Taehyun-ah.”

“Bye!” Taehyun calls out after him, and then Soobin’s warm, too good scent is gone with him. 

Soobin’s a better driver in this universe than his own, which he would find funny in any other situation but this one, where the air between them is stifling and Beomgyu’s trying his hardest to pretend like it’s not. 

The car is quiet as they drive, with only the hum of the radio keeping them company. When he’d first gotten inside he’d had to resist the urge to switch through the channels, listening in on whatever’s popular enough to play here. When Soobin had slid into the driver's seat he’d shoved down the ache that came with being near him and not being able to really talk to him, and the longer he’d sat in that disconcerting feeling, the longer the silence had grown. 

Even when he gets the feeling that he should be breaking it, it’s just so hard to. It’s even more awkward between them than usual, which is seriously saying something in this universe considering the time Beomgyu’s spent here. 

Every time he turns to look at Soobin, the sight of his side profile will just make his ears go warm, reminded of how little space had been between them last night. 

Beomgyu’s not a prude . Not in the slightest—But whatever version of himself that had spent his heat with Soobin hadn’t been him , not this version of him at least, and he certainly wasn’t the one that was used to… scenting either. 

He and Soobin had never gotten that close, and now that Beomgyu had breached that distance, it was a hard thing to forget. Harder still to keep the memory from playing over and over again. 

Not that it was even a possibility anyways, since- 

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes.” Beomgyu says. For once . He’s half grateful the silence has finally been breached, and half miserable at the thought that this was the conversation replacing it. 

“I woke up feeling better than I have in days, actually. I think it was pretty effective. Well- at least for me.” He swallows, and the sound echoes loudly in his ears. It’s too quiet in the car, any sound he makes feeling obnoxiously loud. 

He can’t seem to find a balance, either rambling needlessly or fumbling for the right words. “What about hyung?”

“Me too.” Soobin says, his steady voice calming something inside of Beomgyu. “I’m glad it worked out.” 

The omega nods, silently affirming his agreement. He picks at a fraying thread on his jacket, watching as Soobin pulls into what seems to be a parking lot. 

“We might have to continue doing it from now on.” Soobin clears his throat, glancing at him briefly. “Scenting. Just until the bond breaks.” 

“What, nightly?” The surprise in his voice is evident. 

Why hadn’t he considered the possibility that this would have to become a regular thing? He’d barely managed to make it through five minutes before, and now it was meant to be a reoccurring thing? 

He feels silly for not having thought this far. Of course they should continue—it was literally the only thing that had worked. Still, the idea makes the anxiety in his stomach bubble. How is he meant to stay in control if things continue this way? 

“Yeah, if that’s what you’d prefer.” Soobin’s voice is soft, as if he can smell the nervousness on him. He really shouldn’t be able to, not under Beomgyu’s scent blockers, but it sometimes still feels like he can anyways. “If you only want it every other night, we can do that too.” 

He finishes parking the car, and before Beomgyu can blink he’s getting out of his seat and making his way towards Beomgyu’s door, pulling it open for him like it’s muscle memory. 

“Won’t that make it hard for you?” He asks, disbelief evident in his tone. Hadn’t they just gone over this? 

“Maybe.” Soobin averts his eyes, his hand curling around the door frame. “But if that's what you would like, I’ll surely manage.” 

Manage? 

Hadn’t he said the same thing before? 

It was obvious that it wouldn’t be enough, just like it hadn’t been the first time. They were pulled together like magnets, they ached in tandem, and Beomgyu knew this. He had seen Soobin struggle, had seen him push it aside once before. 

Beomgyu doesn’t know how to pin down whatever it is he’s feeling. 

He’s frustrated, for starters, that it feels like it always comes down to what Beomgyu wants and accommodating his needs. But just as that thought comes, he feels silly for it the next second. 

It was just like this back home, wasn’t it? He and Soobin would always accommodate the other’s needs, always care too much and too deeply. To the point that sometimes it did hurt. Ached, even. 

Why did the same sentiment make him bristle here? 

Soobin waits patiently for him to step out of the vehicle, and Beomgyu stares at the ground as he does so. His warm, comforting scent settles over him as they walk side by side—as if the alpha is knowingly releasing it to help soothe his anxiety—and it only makes him feel worse. 

It is different, isn’t it? 

Because Soobin treated him so gently, with careful, tentative hands, even when things had become so complicated because of him—because Soobin was achingly obvious in his care, even now when being treated with it did Beomgyu more harm than good. 

How was he meant to get over him if he kept being like this? How was he meant to blame himself for falling for his best friend when he shouldn’t have? 

“Let’s just do it nightly.”

Soobin stops in place, and Beomgyu is forced to pause his walking too. He has no idea where they’re going. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, hyung.” He swallows around the lump in his throat. Weird. He feels so weird, here. “It’ll be easier that way.” 

Soobin nods, resuming his pace along the sidewalk. “We’ll do that then.” 

They both need it. Beomgyu knows . It’s for the better. But he can’t help the anxiety that’s clawing at his chest at the thought of being that close to Soobin again. 

Even now walking beside him feels… different. Too heavy and almost surreal. When their hands brush, Beomgyu has to try hard not to flinch back at the touch. It’s a hard thing to do, because something deep inside of him is insatiable in its desire for Soobin’s touch. All he wants to do is lace their fingers together, and the thought that he can’t makes that familiar ache in his chest worse. 

He can do nothing but match Soobin’s pace silently, breathing in the faint notes of his scent the whole way through. 

As they turn a corner, Beomgyu finally spots where it is they must be headed. The markets. 

It’s just as he’d pictured it, various stands lining a wide, shaded street that seems to go on for quite a while, and near the end of it little shops that resemble the street-shops in the more vacant parts of Seoul. It smells pleasantly sweet, and for the first time in a while Beomgyu is grateful for the aroma of something more saccharine than his own scent. 

Everyone around is completely unmoved by their presence, and it’s as awe-inducing as it is discomforting. It’s strange seeing people moving through their days as if nothing is amiss when Beomgyu’s whole world has been turned upside down. 

They walk through the market leisurely, bagging different assortments of fruits and vegetables. Beomgyu had no idea they were even consuming this much produce, but then again he was used to mostly ordering in. 

Ah- it really was a bad habit. No matter how hard he tried, all of his thoughts seemed to circle back home, like a broken record playing the same song over and over again—insistent on being heard. 

“What about these?” Soobin asks, breaking him out of his thoughts. He’s holding up a box of strawberries, turning it every which way, as if it’ll change the more he does it. Beomgyu offers a weak smile, taking the box from his hands to properly take a look at them. 

“These are good. They’re all a day or two away from being perfectly ripe. But do we really need this many?” 

There’s a smaller box right next to it, but Soobin had seemed completely indifferent to it, immediately going for the larger option. 

The wind is starting to pick up speed, and it makes its way through Beomgyu’s hair, leaving it all tousled. He runs his fingers through the now tangled mess of his bangs, looking up at Soobin as he waits for him to answer. 

For a moment, he’s merely quiet. Staring down at Beomgyu in a way that makes his face feel warm even with the cold brush of air against it. 

“You like strawberries.” 

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, ears picking up the statement in wonder. It’s a surprisingly simple thing. A soft one. 

“I do.” 

But it doesn’t mean anything. He hadn’t been expecting it, that’s all. 

Soobin nods. It’s like you can read my mind , Beomgyu thinks. 

It was always like that between us. 

The thought only brings the ache inside of him from earlier back to life. As if he could ever forget. 

But Soobin’s smiling, like it’s all simple. 

“You do. So, we’re getting the big one.” 

You’re making things harder for me . 

He wishes he could say it, even if it meant accepting a truth Beomgyu still couldn’t face himself. He wishes he could tell Soobin to stop, to go back to holding him at a distance. 

He wishes he could tell him how terrifying it is to see his Soobin in him; to be looked at with such gentle eyes in a world where he knows that they mean something. That they had meant something too real for the version of himself that he kept pretending he wasn’t anything like. 

He can’t say any of that, so he takes the package of strawberries and places it carefully into their grocery bag, leaving all of his too-honest words trapped beneath his tongue as they make their way further down the street, stall to stall.

Eventually, they reach the shops all the way at the end. Soobin stops in front of the one that looks to be where they’re supposed to get their spices and a few other things, and as the alpha seems to hesitate at the entrance, Beomgyu realizes he’s been carrying far less weight. 

“Are you tired?” He asks, looking up at him. Whatever they need from the shop can’t be too hard to find, he can probably handle that much. “I can go in and get whatever else we may need.”

“No, no it’s okay.” Soobin shakes his head, moving the bags in his hands to one arm. “I’d rather we stick together.”

“Alright. But we might get this over with sooner if we split up the remaining items.” Beomgyu suggests, pointing to the bottom half of the shabby list in Soobin’s hand. His handwriting is just like it is back home. God, he shakes the thought away. “These two you, and these two me. Okay?”

Soobin seems hesitant, but he ultimately agrees. As they make their way inside the shop, Beomgyu realizes it’s jam packed and almost bigger than it had appeared on the outside. 

No matter how reluctant Soobin seems in letting him out of his sight, Beomgyu is only immensely relieved when he finally does. He finally gets some air to breathe that isn’t lined with an undercurrent of Soobin, that doesn’t sit too heavily in his lungs. 

It’s heavenly, really. Which is exactly the problem—the longer he spends in Soobin’s proximity, the less he remembers why he should be anywhere else. 

He doesn’t know his way around the shop, but everything is well organized enough that finding the two items he’d assigned himself to is an easy task.

First is an assortment of spices, all relatively close to each other and therefore easy to spot. He picks them up with ease, thankful for their light packaging. Then, the jam, which Beomgyu’s honestly surprised they don’t make themselves. He makes his way over to the correct shelf, eyeing the assortment of cans and jars lining them. 

He finally spots it, and he’s reaching out for it just as the steady quiet of the corner of the shop he’s standing in breaks. 

“Hey!” A voice calls out, and it’s too rough on the ears- grating almost. Beomgyu traces it to its source, coming eye to eye with an older man standing a few feet away from him. 

He’s eyeing Beomgyu too heavily, and a sick feeling comes over him as the man steps forward, making his way closer. Every instinct is telling him to move, so Beomgyu does, abandoning the jam in favor of stepping away from the shelf and turning his back to the man. 

“Hey you!”

The man’s voice gets louder, and with the increase in volume rises Beomgyu’s anxiety too. He walks faster, but the man’s footsteps behind him are too loud in his ears, sounding closer with every passing second.

As he looks around the shop and realizes Soobin really is completely out of sight now, it only serves to make his discomfort worse. 

He rounds a corner swiftly, just as he feels the man getting so close he can feel the back of his neck begin to sweat—and then he’s pulled forward by a familiar weight, the scent making its way into his senses so strong Beomgyu’s barely able to process the shift as the spices in his hands are dropped on some random shelf and he’s pulled toward the exit. 

Soobin is moving quickly, without so much as turning back to chance a look at him as he pulls him past anything standing in their way. Beomgyu follows him cluelessly, trailing along in the wake of his now less properly contained smell of sandalwood and nutmeg. 

There's a flickering smell of petrichor leaving Beomgyu’s skin thrumming unpleasantly, and for a second he’s thrown for a loop, unable to trace it to any one thing. 

Then, all at once, it hits him, as if the rain has turned into a thunderstorm and struck him with the revelation.

Alpha’s upset. 

The second they come to a stop in a more hidden corner along the street, Soobin’s turning around to face him, face twisted into something distressed. 

“What the hell was that?” The older questions, his voice sounds almost alarmed, matching the previous anxiety Beomgyu had felt. The hold he has on his wrist is too firm, and it only makes it harder for Beomgyu to think clearly, especially when his omega is anxious over multiple things at once. 

“What do you mean?” Beomgyu asks as he tries to pull his wrist free. Soobin’s grip just goes tighter, like he isn’t even conscious of his own actions. The people around them move aimlessly, careless about the exchange going on between them. Soobin’s eyes look frantic, and the sight makes the uncomfortable feeling under Beomgyu’s skin grow once more. 

“Why didn’t you call for me?” He sounds exasperated, and his voice echoes too loudly in Beomgyu’s ears. “If I hadn’t been close by-,”

“If you hadn’t been close by, I’d have figured something out, Soobin.” He’s unable to contain his own emotions any longer. No matter how much this thing inside him is dying to soothe Soobin’s turmoil, his own stubbornness beats it in the end. Perhaps Taehyun had been right—he hadn’t come to terms with it. With any of it. “I’d have been fine, hyung.”

“I don’t want you to be fine. I want you to be safe. Always, all the time. But especially if I’m here to take care of you. Why-,”

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me.” Beomgyu exclaims, annoyed by both Soobin’s behavior and the fact that he had been looking for Soobin in his moment of distress earlier. “You’re not my bodyguard. I’m perfectly capable.” 

Soobin doesn’t answer for a moment, and Beomgyu worries he’s spoken too much. Still, the fire in his chest continues to burn. 

“I know you’re capable. But I want to.”

His voice comes out so quiet this time, Beomgyu nearly doesn’t hear him over the loud ringing in his ears, anxiety creeping over his skin. 

“Huh?”

“I want to take care of you.” Soobin says, louder this time. The grip on his wrist goes loose for a heartbeat, and Beomgyu can nearly feel his own in his chest. “I’d have– even before this. Before any of this, you presenting. Us bonding. I’d have wanted to take care of you.” His voice sounds almost breathless, like it’s taken a lot to get the words out. And Beomgyu wonders just how transparent he is, that Soobin can read him this well. 

Soobin’s eyes are tracing his face, and it makes something inside of him sink. “Is that so bad?” 

The gentleness in the alphas voice hits him harder than any harsh tone could have. 

At times like these, it truly becomes clearer to Beomgyu that he doesn’t know what he’s doing here—staring up at Soobin’s wide, startled eyes that do look nothing but worried for him, making him wince in the face of his own insensibility. 

He’d forgotten, hadn’t he? It wasn’t Soobin’s fault that he had fallen. It wasn’t Soobin’s fault that they had ended up like this.

And it certainly wasn’t Soobin’s responsibility to pick up the jagged pieces of their relationship each time Beomgyu became afraid to get too close. 

“No.” He mutters. “No, it isn’t. I’m sorry. You’re… my best friend.” He says, even though it’s hard to look him in his damp eyes. “Of course it’s okay for you to care. I care too.” Beomgyu confesses, a thing that’s both large and quiet. 

Because he does. 

Back home, like it was breathing. Here, like it’s a secret he must keep. When Soobin’s gone too long, when his warm scent is absent from their house and it makes the ache worse. He always wants Soobin closer, always wishes he could stomach him being further away. 

“But I can handle myself, hyung. Really.” 

Because even if he doesn’t want to, it’s a truth he has to face. 

It’s too late to undo whatever’s gone wrong, and Beomgyu knows it all too well. He's always too much or too little—this surely isn’t him setting things back to normal either, but he keeps messing up, always ending up on the wrong foot. 

“I know.” Soobin flushes, and his face falls, like he’s lost his footing too. Beomgyu watches it all play out, and smells the insecurity on him. He’s unable to rid himself of the pulsing ache in his chest. 

“I know, sorry. I’m just sensitive these days.” He finally fully releases Beomgyu’s wrist, and even though he immediately misses the warmth the touch had provided, Beomgyu knows it’s for the better. 

“It must be the bond's fault.” Soobin laughs, and it’s the kind of thing Beomgyu knows too well. The attempt to backtrack on his emotions, even when it means none of this is really getting fixed. Because of him. Beomgyu knows. 

Why won’t Soobin just say it? Why does he always let things go? 

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand.” 

Soobin nods, but it still feels like Beomgyu’s bruised him somehow. Even so, what would fixing it even do? He’s not meant to be bridging the gap between them. He definitely shouldn’t be as concerned about it all as he currently is. 

Perhaps it’s better, this way.

“Um sorry for- freaking out on you. I could smell your distress, but you weren’t calling for me, so I guess I just lost it for a moment there. I should’ve… handled that better.” 

Beomgyu shakes his head, shifting the bag in his hands. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m okay now.” He’s telling Soobin as much as he is telling himself. It doesn’t matter. 

None of it does. 

“Right.”

It does little to soothe his anxiety. 

The walk back to the car is quiet save for the rustling of the bags in both of their hands. 

They’d abandoned both the spices and the jam that Beomgyu had been in charge of, which had only worked to worsen his mood. He’d been in charge of two things and somehow still found a way to mess up—no matter how much a voice at the back of his head tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault in this situation, Beomgyu couldn’t find it within himself to feel any better about it. 

Soobin opens up the passenger door before he does anything else, taking the bags from Beomgyu’s hands and placing them all in the backseat. 

It’s fascinating that it’s all so easy for him. Now that he seems to have pushed past his initial discomfort he does it all like it’s as simple as breathing, taking nothing from him at all. 

Right as he’s about to take the car out of park, he freezes, as if he’s remembered something. 

Beomgyu watches him unbuckle his seat curiously. 

“What’s wrong?”

Soobin shakes his head as he pushes open the car door, calling over his shoulder loudly. 

“Nothing! Just wait right here okay?”

He doesn’t even wait for an answer, simply running back up the path that they’d been down mere minutes ago. Beomgyu watches him leave with a gaping mouth, completely unaware of his intentions. 

Soobin had told him to sit and wait, and truthfully he has no intentions of doing otherwise. He watches people and cars alike come and go, and the minutes roll over slowly but not unbearably. 

After what must be ten or so, he finally spots Soobin walking back over, large package in hand. 

He pulls the clunky metal door of the back open once more, and Beomgyu watches in astonishment as he throws whatever it is back there with the rest of their purchases. 

“Did you forget something?”

Soobin’s seat belt clicks back into place as he nods, reversing the car out of the parking spot. “Mhm.”

“What was it?”

“You’ll see.”

Okay. Ominous. 

Beomgyu doesn’t have the energy to question him further though, so he just lets the silence fall over them once more. 

The air outside is cold but not imposing, so he rolls his window down and lets it hit his face gently. 

It isn’t the first time he’s noticed, but every street they pass is unfamiliar. All of the neighborhoods they drive past resemble those from back home, but he’s sure he’s never seen them before. It’s another one of those things that reminds him just how out of his element he really is. 

He’s not even used to Soobin driving this much. 

Sure, they’ve gone on short, less intimidating trips together, just to quietly pass the time and bask in each others presence, but it had never been Soobin taking them this far before. Just them and their manager and the two or three songs they kept steadily in their rotation, some becoming quickly overplayed. 

It was never about the destination back then, every minute spent was just precious in its entirety. Because it was time spent with Soobin. 

Because it was the two of them. 

He’d realized that recently, and just as quickly he’d been pushed three steps back. 

Now every day was uncharted territory, and the acceptance that more often than not, they would find themselves in this silence. 

And yet, every now and then Beomgyu found himself sitting with an off feeling in his chest—the silence was loud, yes, and still there was something almost… soothing about it. 

If this Soobin wasn’t looking at him, no matter how much he flinched beneath the weight of his own affection—if this Soobin wasn’t talking to him like everything was just the same, then he wouldn’t have to wonder what any of it meant. 

Because that wasn’t a thing he’d ever had to worry about with his Soobin. Right? 

It was simple with them. Easy. 

But every time Soobin looked at him here, and it made his heart beat like there was something wrong with him, every time he smiled and it made it feel like home , like nothing at all had changed, Beomgyu began to doubt just how much of that was true. 

“You can just take these. I’ll carry the rest in.”

Beomgyu’s eyebrows raise, eyeing the leftover items in the car. “You sure? I can carry more.”

Soobin just nods, already picking up both the groceries and that huge package he’d gone back to get. “I’ve got it.”

“Alright then…”

Again, Beomgyu really doesn’t have the energy to argue. He makes his way up the steps towards their entryway, hitting the doorbell with his right hand as he shifts the bags in his left. 

Thankfully it pulls open after merely a moment, and he’s automatically greeted with Kai’s spiced, vanilla scent. 

“You’re back! I was beginning to think hyung kidnapped you.” 

“Ha. Ha.” Soobin walks past them, quickly changing his shoes and moving towards the kitchen to set the bags on the counter. Beomgyu pushes the door shut behind him and pulls his eyes away from the older, pulling on his own house slippers in what feels like slow motion. 

“Have you eaten?” 

“Yep.” Beomgyu nods, walking to set what’s left of the groceries down next to Soobin’s bags. “We ate before we left. Help us put the groceries away?”

“Sure!” Kai makes his way around the counter, sorting through the bags like nothing. Beomgyu moves slowly, watching more than he is actually doing anything. Thankfully the two alphas don’t seem to notice, or simply don’t care, because he only vaguely knows where everything is supposed to go.

When they’re done putting everything away, Beomgyu retires to his room, already missing the comfort of his bed after being outside for what felt like hours. 

He’s pulling off his jacket when a knock sounds at his door, turning his attention towards it. 

“Come in.” He calls out, pulling a more comfortable shirt out of his dresser. 

The door pushes open softly, and as soon as the person at the door steps inside, Beomgyu feels his skin thrum pleasantly. God. he’ll never get used to that. 

“Did you need something hyung?” 

Soobin shakes his head, bringing the package in his right hand into Beomgyu’s field of vision. 

It’s the thing he’d gone back to get. It’s placed firmly in the large bag Soobin’s holding, and he still has no clue what it is. 

“This is for you.”

“Me?” Beomgyu’s eyes go wide, eyeing the bag that is now being held out to him. Soobin nods, and the longer Beomgyu spends just staring at him stupidly, the more he looks like he’s seconds from turning around and taking it back. Beomgyu really wouldn’t be able to blame him. 

He grabs the bag before Soobin can back out, looking inside hesitantly. 

“It’s nothing big.” Soobin mumbles, even though Beomgyu’s looking right at the nothing big and feeling his stomach twist all funny. 

His hands feel clammy as he pulls it out, and when he finishes, he can only stare. 

“I figured it might help you sleep. I mean- of course past the scenting… I just thought it would be better overall. In the long run.”

The bedding is tightly compressed into its packaging, but Beomgyu’s able to recognize it instantly anyways. He pulls at the zipper, running his hand along the soft material of the comforter as he looks up at Soobin. 

“You really didn’t have to.”

Soobin’s looking back at him a little weird, something between warm and nervous, like he doesn’t know how Beomgyu is taking it. Which makes sense- since Beomgyu doesn’t know how to take it either. 

“I wanted to. It might still not be as comfortable as mine is though, that one’s been broken in from years and stuff.” 

Beside himself, Beomgyu laughs at Soobin’s rambling. His ears are a little pink, and it makes it infinitely harder not to tease him. If this were his Soobin, he would’ve so easily. Here, he simply can’t. 

“Thank you, hyung.”

Soobin smiles at him; that dimpled, real addition to his face that feels so familiar Beomgyu has to hold his hands back from reaching out to touch— this must be them going back to normal. This must be things going right. He can’t afford to mess that up. 

“You’re welcome.” Soobin says, and it’s easy. 

Beomgyu just has to do his best to keep it that way.

It should be hard getting used to sneaking into Soobin’s room at an ungodly hour and having him too close for comfort, but it’s easier than Beomgyu would like to admit. 

On thursday, he slips into Soobin’s room earlier than usual. 

It’s been an especially heavy day, and the only thing keeping him from slipping into sweet slumber is the lack of Soobin on his skin. The lack of Soobin’s scent. 

It’s only been four or so days of them scenting and already Beomgyu’s grown spoiled. Still, he likes to believe he’s exercising some self control. 

“You can just wait on the bed.” Soobin says, walking around and slipping into his en-suite restroom. So Beomgyu does, curling into his cold, comforting bedding as Soobin goes through the last of his nighttime routine. 

It reminds him a lot of what it was like back home, of nights he’d spent testing Soobin’s patience and intruding on the others personal space. 

Maybe it isn’t the best idea- being this comfortable around him. But the pillow beneath his head is simply too perfectly comfortable to care. Even now that Soobin’s replaced Beomgyu’s own bedding, it doesn’t hold Soobin’s scent like this, and he’s just too exhausted to care about should be’s as he snuggles into it, letting his eyes fall closed. 

He can hear the steady running of water from Soobin’s sink, the occasional rustling just a few feet away. It lulls him into a half-conscious state, his breathing evening out easily with the alphas scent surrounding him like this. 

When Soobin enters the room, it’s only by the sound of his footsteps that Beomgyu is alerted. The older doesn’t speak, and Beomgyu doesn’t open his eyes. 

“Hyung?”

“Hm?”

“Can we just do it like this? I’m really sleepy.”

More quiet follows for a moment, and then Beomgyu feels the bed dip—that familiar, comforting weight approaching him. Only then do his eyes flutter open, but only barely. The room feels darker than it had coming in, but he’s not too concerned with the promise of sleep looming over him.

“Whatever you want.” Soobin replies, already inching closer. 

His voice is deep and soft against Beomgyu’s ears, and he takes in the sound of it greedily. Maybe if he closes his eyes, he’ll be able to take this Soobin’s niceties and pretend they are not born from obligation, but instead a mere testimony of his affection. 

No.  

“Beomgyu-yah?” He can feel Soobin freeze. He had been so close, where had his mind gone? 

“Sorry.” Beomgyu clears his throat, attempting to regulate his scent. He knows, without Soobin having to say it, that it’s gone sour. “You can start.”

He’ll keep his eyes shut, but won’t allow his mind to wander. 

Truthfully, he’s too exhausted to stay alert anyways. 

“…Alright.”

And so he waits with bated breath as he feels Soobin hover over him. It doesn’t hit him until then that perhaps he hadn’t properly thought this out before suggesting they just do it as is, but it’s too late for remorse now. 

Soobin’s palm feels warm and soothing against the curve of his jaw, and Beomgyu memorizes the feel of his skin against him. It’s one of the few things that keep him grounded in reality, this touch that simultaneously keeps him awake and puts him to sleep. 

“Your scent is softer today.” Soobin whispers the words against his nape, right by where Beomgyu wants him the most. He fights the urge to pull him closer, instead tilting his neck more. A silent plea. 

“Softer? Is your nose blocked?”

A soft huff against the right side of his neck. Soobin’s found the energy within himself to laugh, apparently. 

“No.” Finally, Soobin’s nose finds its spot against Beomgyu’s scent gland. Breathing him in with the ease of someone versed in the knowledge of Beomgyu’s tells. As if he knows what he needs more than even the omega himself. “I mean it’s.. lighter. More flowery than fruity. Like you’re… comfortable. Here.”

Oh. Is that what it means? 

“I am comfortable. Your bed is better than mine.” 

Soobin continues his work, releasing his pheromones and covering Beomgyu in his warm, woodsy scent. The heat of his body pressed up against Beomgyu’s is unnervingly pleasant, leaving his heart racing in tandem with Soobin’s own. 

“Is it?” Soobin asks, and the words come out a whisper. Still, Beomgyu hears them. How could he not? They’re spoken against the skin of his earlobe, so close they feel like a flutter of a kiss instead of a question. 

Beomgyu pulls at Soobin’s hair, fingers tugging just enough to reprimand. “Shut up.”

Unfortunately, it’s a double edged sword, only bringing him closer. 

Soobin’s lips press lightly against his pulse point, where Beomgyu’s sure he smells the sweetest. It must have been instinctual—something meant to soothe him. All it does is make him freeze up. 

“…Sorry.” 

Soobin goes tense after that, Beomgyu can feel it in the way he moves hesitantly. Can smell the slight anxiety in his scent. 

He’s too exhausted to even begin to figure out how to make it better though, so he just waits while Soobin continues scenting him, occasionally running his fingers over Soobin’s hair in hopes it’ll be enough. 

The longer it goes on, the sleepier Beomgyu gets. He fights off sleep several times, sitting up straighter and focusing in on the mix of his and Soobin’s scents in the air. It only serves to make his head fuzzier though, body growing heavier by the second. 

“Hyung?” He mumbles, grasping at his last bits of coherency. 

“Hm?”

“Can I sleep here?”

It must be evidence of the effect Soobin’s scent has on him, of how intricately woven they are because of that bond. He should be mortified right now, and maybe he will be in the morning, but all he can think of right now is giving into the sweet promise of slumber. 

Soobin doesn’t answer right away, but Beomgyu doesn’t worry. His scent has gone warmer, as if calling for him to go ahead and fall asleep. 

You’re safe here.  

He feels it. 

“Of course.” Soobin says, and Beomgyu smiles. Just barely. Finally releasing the loose hold he has on Soobin. 

“Thank you, hyung.”

When Beomgyu wakes up, it’s with a fright. 

The room is dark in its entirety, so it takes him a moment to come to his senses, blinking sleep out of his eyes. 

When his eyesight finally adjusts, it’s to an unfamiliar ceiling, and then a too-familiar back. 

He gets a faint sense of deja-vu, registering that he’s woken up in a place where he shouldn’t have. 

Watching Soobin turn in his sleep, mere inches away from where Beomgyu lays, the memories of last night come back to him. 

Fuck—he’d been tired, sure, but asking to sleep here? In Soobin’s bed? 

And Soobin had just… let him? 

Old habits must die hard. This was something he’d have no qualms with doing back home, and it must not be so new between them in this universe, either. 

But it is different, isn’t it? 

It’s not like they’ve slept in the same bed since his heat, and he hadn’t even been the one there for that. 

The longer he lays there staring at the ceiling, the quicker the anxiety over having overstepped comes over him. 

No—even if he hadn’t, even if Soobin had allowed him this grace, he most certainly shouldn’t be here when he wakes up. This is exactly the kind of thing that would only lead to more trouble; exactly the kind of thing that would only end up with his feelings more interwoven than he should ever allow.

He pushes himself off the bed reluctantly, throwing Soobin’s warm comforter off of his body. He realizes as he’s slipping out that the alpha must have tucked him in at some point, leaving him warm and covered. 

His face flushes involuntarily at the thought, and the ache beneath his ribs at leaving Soobin’s side follows him all the way down the hallway and into his own room. 

It’s cold and empty, and even now that his bedding is just as Soobin’s own, it doesn’t compare at all. 

But this is where he should be waking up anyways. 

Back under the covers of a now Soobin-less bed, he lets sleep overtake him once more. 

Against all odds, he and Soobin fall into a sort of routine after that.

Soobin simply laughs when Beomgyu apologizes for having fallen asleep, telling him if anything that it’s expected. And so if happens again. 

And again. 

A majority of his days are spent endlessly longing for what will come only at night, once everyone has retired to their rooms and the only sounds in the house are those of the steady air conditioning, and then—when it’s too late for Beomgyu to even pretend to care anymore—his footsteps as he makes his way over to Soobin’s bedroom. And then the itch beneath his skin will be soothed once more, and he’ll allow himself to sleep in the warmest bed he’s ever known, but only until sunrise. No matter how much Soobin insists that he can just stay, Beomgyu knows, perhaps instinctively, that there’s a line he shouldn’t cross. 

Over and over. 

A few days in, Soobin had asked if Beomgyu would prefer they do it in his room, but he’d refused the offer all too quickly. 

Soobin’s bed was simply better. No matter how much a quiet voice at the back of his mind whispered that it had less to do with the softness of his mattress and more to do with the warmth of his best friend, he would firmly block such possibilities out. 

They were bonded—and Beomgyu could barely even begin to understand the real depth of all that. If he preferred to lay here, on Soobin’s bed, with only the moon still up to witness it, then who was he to be dishonest—even if merely for the final hour of the day? 

It’s almost too easy. Falling into place beside him, letting their scents interlink, allowing his breaths to go steady as the last shreds of tension leave both of their bodies the longer Soobin spends putting them at ease, breathing him in until all he knows is this. 

He could have allowed his slip up to undo it all, every small step they’ve made forward—but Beomgyu’s coming to terms with the facts of himself in this universe. And perhaps the only thing more important than keeping his pride, is keeping his sanity. 

It’s only temporary, anyway. 

Which is why he allows Soobin to pull him in night after night. Even as it makes something inside of him fester, flickering in echoes as he tries to turn a blind eye. 

Tonight, Soobin is just as gentle as he always is. 

Beomgyu holds perfectly still, trying to sync his breathing with Soobins just as their scents do. 

Sometimes, when he gets it just right, he feels an absolute calm wash over him, a brief but blissful feeling that it’ll all work out. 

He wishes the alpha could just tell him as much—wishes he could read his mind instead of just the subtle shifts in his scent. How could he ever begin to explain or make him understand everything Beomgyu worries about? It would never work out, he knows. And so the closest he gets is that fuzzy feeling that comes over him when Soobin’s finished, and sleep is falling heavy over him like a blanket. 

Beomgyu shifts in his spot, the one he doesn’t dare name as his, not out loud—but he knows, somewhere deep inside him, that it is. Soobin always falls asleep on the other side, an unspoken but steady rule of this new arrangement. 

The pillow beneath his head is no different from Beomgyu’s own—not since Soobin had gone out of his way to buy him the exact same bedding—but it just seems to cradle his head better. 

His eyes are firmly shut, and he feels perfectly situated. The weight of Soobin’s body mere inches away from him only amplifies the warm feeling settling over him.  

Just as he can feel sleep finally pulling him in, Soobin’s voice meets the quiet air of the room. 

“Beomgyu-yah?”

He doesn’t even have the energy to open his mouth, so he merely hums to let Soobin know he’s listening.

“Do you remember the last time we laid like this? You know. Before you presented.”

Beomgyu shakes his head. No. How could he have? 

Soobin goes quiet for a beat, and Beomgyu tries his best to stay awake in case he means to say something else. He finds that it’s an incredibly arduous task.

“It feels like ages ago now, doesn’t it? Every day feels longer and shorter at the same time. Isn’t that strange?”

Strange, yes. Beomgyu hasn’t known normal in a while. 

“We were laying here, just like now. You kept talking about how you were scared about what would happen in the future. You said too many things were uncertain, and it felt like a toss up. Like fate was pulling you every which way, and you never knew how things might end. Do you remember?” 

Ah. Beomgyu nods. That sounds like him. He inhales, listening to the quiet sound of Soobin’s voice filling the room. It’s unusual for him to be so talkative after a scenting session, but the noise is welcome in Beomgyu’s ears. It makes him feel warm all over, makes his body melt further into the bed bensth him. 

“And I told you the same thing I did that first day I found you.” Soobin’s voice wavers, and Beomgyu struggles to keep up with the fluctuation in his tone. “That you’d be okay as long as you were with me. As long as you stayed with us.”

The alpha goes quiet again, and already Beomgyu misses the sound. It feels like he’s dreaming, almost. 

Eventually, just as Beomgyu begins to think that Soobin’s really stopped talking, the low sound of his voice breaks the silence once more. 

“Why do you keep pulling away from me?” He whispers. His cheek must still be squished against the pillow, like it was before he’d closed his eyes. Beomgyu barely hears him. 

“You feel so far away.” The alpha continues, and the words begin to feel further and further away, as if they’re floating away from him. “Even when you’re feeling down, or- anxious, and I can feel it, you never tell me. You don’t talk to me like you used to.”

He can hear Soobin swallowing, and that mere action is almost louder than any of the things he’s spoken out loud just a moment ago. He tries to hold onto all of the words, but his grasp on anything other than sleep is loose. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could undo it for you.”

Beomgyu doesn’t know what it is, but the weight in Soobin’s voice makes something heavy inside him settle. His mind is too exhausted to properly process anything, his eyelids heavy with the weight of sleep.

He doesn’t get to ask what Soobin means.