Chapter Text
Seonghwa's POV:
Solitude was Park Seonghwa’s oldest friend. He knew exactly when it had crept into his life, rolling over him like a shroud of slow poison. It didn’t judge, it didn’t touch. He thought it was safer. If no one got too close, his past remained buried six feet under where it belonged. But while being alone kept his secrets buried, it also carved him hollow. And though Seonghwa would never admit it aloud, it was killing him. Inch by inch, breath by breath.
It was late in the evening, silent in Seonghwa’s shared dorm aside from the occasional whisper of sound from the busy streets below. His roommates, Mingi and San, had left for dinner what must have been hours ago. Their invitation to join was gently denied with the excuse of a headache, leaving the eldest with the place to himself.
Tucked into the ledge of the living room window that overlooked the city skyline, Seonghwa sat motionless as a statue, glassy eyes glued unblinkingly to the starless night sky as he lost himself to memories he’d much rather forget. Nothing significant had happened to bring them on. Running from the past wasn't always the most effective method. And this particular evening, it had caught up with the soft-spoken male and dragged him under, into a sea of memories and emotions that threatened to drown him entirely.
Seonghwa had always strived for perfection. On stage, at home, as a member of his pack, there was no room for error. Mistakes were unacceptable, though much to his dismay, not entirely avoidable. A few slip-ups at dance practice, a voice crack in his vocal lessons, taking too long to understand a joke Wooyoung had made. One by one, each mistake in his day sent him careening down the same familiar slope, spiraling into the dark corners of a mind trained to see flaw as failure.
Perfection wasn’t a choice. It was survival.
_________________________________
In Jinju, a small rural town hours from the nearest major city, the antiquated ways of pack hierarchy and subgender expectations had never faded. Even as the rest of society had progressed and left them behind, his community clung to its beloved, outdated beliefs. In Jinju, Alphas were born to lead, to dominate. Betas were born to support and serve their pack. But omegas? Omegas were told they were precious, but only if they stayed quiet, submissive, and untouched. A disobedient omega wasn’t just scandalous. They were dangerous. Seen as lustful creatures meant to tempt poor unsuspecting alphas. And a male omega? Unthinkable. Their scent’s sweeter, more tempting. Male omegas were a rarity, and in the ever-traditional town of Jinju, an abomination.
If there was one man who loved their traditional ways more than any other, it was Seonghwa’s stepfather.
Lee Jiyoung, the beloved school principal, an alpha on the town council. A man who was endlessly charismatic and charming, the golden boy of their town. At least, that was the image he’d carefully crafted over the years. And no one was the wiser, not even Seonghwa himself.
When he was seven, his father had made the long drive home from his work at the hospital in the next town over, only to be slammed into by a large truck whose driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel. After a week in critical care, surgery after surgery, the loving family man had succumbed to his injuries, leaving behind his wife, Eunji, and their young pup.
Eunji, his mother, was a soft-spoken woman. Fragile in all the wrong ways. She needed to be loved more than she needed to be safe, clinging to the alpha in her life like a lifeline. The loss of her mate broke the woman, leaving her desperate to find someone to fill the hole left behind. Four months after Seonghwa’s father had passed, she met Jiyoung at a town council meeting. Within a season, they were mated, bringing him into their once quiet life forever.
And at first, he was everything a grieving boy could ask for. He was good to them, on the surface. He praised Seonghwa for his excellent schoolwork, took the boy to his first ball game, and taught him to ride a bike. The picture-perfect image of what a father should be. But Seonghwa had always been a bright child. Observant. He’d noticed the strange way his stepfather’s jaw tensed when the rice was too soft. The way his knuckles whitened around the handle of his beer glass when the boy was too loud playing his games. The way the warmth left his voice when Seonghwa failed to answer him quickly enough.
So he’d adjusted. Eager for the man to accept him, desperate for approval from the only father figure in his life. He was quiet, earned impeccable grades, never skipped a chore, never talked back when the alpha would berate him for the smallest of slip-ups. Seonghwa refused to be anything less than flawless. But it didn’t matter. Nothing could have changed what came next. Because some things, no matter how hard you try, you can’t outrun. Especially fate.
No more than a few weeks after his sixteenth birthday, Seonghwa was wrenched from his peaceful sleep to a wave of searing pain that writhed under his skin like wildfire. Like his blood itself had caught fire. He gasped for breath, each attempt more ragged than the next. He was at a loss for what was happening to him. All he knew was he needed help. Desperately.
Mind clouded with pain, his body wracked with aching tremors, Seonghwa barely had enough strength to sit up, let alone stand from the bed where sweat-soaked sheets clung to his body. The young teen was unaware of the addictively sweet scent now permeating the air around him, sugared vanilla and soft amber radiating from his newly awakened scent glands. He had barely managed to claw himself up into a seated position when the door to his room was slammed open so roughly it crashed into the wall behind with a sharp bang that rattled his shelves.
There, in the dark doorway, stood his stepfather. Pupils blown so wide his eyes had been engulfed in a sea of sinister black, nostrils flared, a sneer contorting his lips.
“I thought I was imagining it. I caught small whiffs over the past few days, but I was sure it was impossible. There was no way Seonghwa... my perfect little Seonghwa, could possibly be an omega.” The word left his lips like a filthy curse, his tone low and menacing. He shook his head slowly, approaching the edge of the bed in a slow prowl, like a predator on the hunt.
“But it’s true. You’re one of them. A male omega.” He spat, eyes raking over the vulnerable boy's form with a look of pure rage, tinged with something far darker. Almost… lustful.
Seonghwa trembled against the headboard, fingers clutching his sheets like a lifeline. The terror that consumed him then seemed somehow worse than the agony that continued to course in his veins. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Frozen in place as he awaited Jiyoung’s punishment for the great ‘sin’ he’d committed. But punishment never came. At least, not that night.
Jiyoung had circled the bed, monologuing in an eerie tone all the ways Seonghwa had ruined their lives. How dare he tempt him with his scent? How dare he not be the proper alpha he was raised to be? He snipped and snarked at the shuddering young boy, cursing his very existence for nearly an hour before something shifted.
His stepfather stepped in close, a sinister glint flashing through his eyes as he reached out, ever so gently stroking a finger along his jawline and whispering, “It’s not your fault, my darling boy. You can’t help that you’re an abomination.”
He left a lingering kiss on Seonghwa’s forehead and slipped from the dark room without another word. Seonghwa’s gut twisted and churned with unease, the newfound silence in his bedroom growing suffocating. His body still shook, chest heaving with weak, shallow breaths, body drenched in sweat. The look in his stepfather's eyes… he would never forget. It branded itself in his mind, permanently seared in his memories. When he left the room, his stepfather’s gaze was no longer filled with rage. No, it was something far worse. The alpha looked… hungry.
On trembling legs, the newly awakened omega had dragged himself from the mattress and stumbled towards his bathroom, each step more difficult than the last. He practically collapsed into the cool tiles of the shower, bottles rattling and tumbling off the shelves as he blindly reached around till his fingers found purchase on the shower handle and twisted the knob. Sheets of icy water crashed down over his feverish form, the boy curling up into a ball on the shower floor, writhing and panting as he begged the moon goddess above to end his suffering.
It was there that he remained until morning, shivering and sniffling under the freezing stream of water as he unsuccessfully attempted to wash away the filth that felt like it was curling under his skin. By the time the sun rose, the faux heat that came with presenting had faded away. But that feeling of disgust and shame? That never would.
In the days that followed, Jiyoung’s behavior transformed. The anger remained, but it had twisted into something new. Something worse. He had always been a demanding man, sometimes bordering on cruel. But now… he smiled. The kind of smile a predator offered something small and helpless when it knew it had the upper hand.
He started offering lingering touches to the small of his back any time he brushed past, pressing too close in the kitchen when they were gathering their respective meals. Called him his sweet boy with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.
Over breakfast one morning, when Eunji was out shopping, his stepfather had leaned in close and taken his wrist in an all too gentle grip. “Your first heat is coming soon, you know,” The man had murmured, his tone sickeningly sweet. “You’re going to need someone to help with that, little dove. Someone who knows what they’re doing… to keep you safe, you know?”
Seonghwa nearly vomited right there on the kitchen table.
What followed made everything before feel like mercy. Every mistake, whether it was spilling water on the floor, forgetting a chore, or stuttering through an answer, was met with a rage colder and more deliberate than before. Jiyoung would slam him into walls by the throat or backhand him with a flick of his wrist, each strike delivered with a horrifying ease that spoke of routine.
“Acting like a useless omega already.” He’d scoff as Seonghwa would scramble back in fear. “Can’t even manage simple tasks. There’s only one thing you’re good for, little dove.”
All the while, his mother never stepped in, never defended her own son. Too devoted to playing the perfect housewife, too committed to serving a man who broke what she should have protected. The school nurse blamed his exhaustion on stress. The teachers turned a blind eye to the bruises blooming across his skin.
Seonghwa learned quickly that he was alone. No one was coming to save him.
Seonghwa quickly learned not to flinch. Not to speak unless spoken to. Not to cry. He scrubbed himself raw in the bath, masked his scent with stringent lavender soap until he could barely smell himself at all. And wore heavy scarves on the days his scent grew stronger. He skipped meals to keep his body small and unnoticeable.
It was abundantly clear what Jiyoung wanted from the young omega, what he was planning. The continual hints of being there for his first heat, of being the one to care for him, flooded the boy with a permanent sense of paranoia. He knew, without a doubt, he could not let his stepfather near him. He was not as naive as the alpha deemed him to be. The boy was well aware of precisely what his stepfather was planning for him. And there was no world where he would survive the experience with his sanity intact.
The night his heat arrived, a storm hit hard and fast, smothering the warm summer evening with walls of rain and snarling thunder. The sky was pitch black, save for the brief flashes of lightning that lit any room like camera shutters. It was the kind of night when anything could slip through the dark unnoticed. Or in this case, anyone.
It had been small at first, hardly noticeable. A slight shift in scent, a flush beneath his skin. Until suddenly it was everywhere, inescapable. It burned through Seonghwa, thick and suffocating. And Jiyoung had noticed. The way the man looked at him that night, eyes too bright, voice too kind, the perverse excitement in his gaze? It had triggered something primal in Seonghwa’s gut. Told him it was now or never. He had to get far away and fast.
So Seonghwa ran. Without a plan, without preparation, the teen had slipped out his back door the moment Jiyoung turned his back. He didn't think, didn’t wait, he just ran. Barefoot and trembling, not risking so much as going back for shoes or a coat, the omega raced out into the pouring summer rain. He was soaked in an instant, his thin t-shirt clinging to his feverish skin as he ran as fast and as far as his struggling legs could take him.
By some miracle, he made it to the far edge of town, past the dark tree line where the sharp gravel under his feet turned to muddy farmland. And there, tucked within overgrown grass and trees swaying in the storm winds, sat an old and abandoned barn, weather-worn and forgotten. Seonghwa collapsed in the doorway, shivering, breathless, and caked in mud from his journey. The air was thick with the scent of hay and mildew, the room filthy and forgotten. It was barely shelter from the storm, but it was enough. And just in time, as the first true wave of his heat crashed over him, unfurling over his body so heavily it felt as though he could not breathe.
His body burned, his skin begging for touch, for comfort. His instincts raged against his environment, agonizing over being surrounded by nothing but broken beams, rusted tools, and the suffocating pulse of need thrumming through every nerve. He dragged himself into a corner, curling up in a shivering ball, clutching at his soaked clothes like a lifeline. He had no food or water, no nest. No one. Yet again, the omega was all alone. And he was quickly learning it was better that way.
For days, he writhed in agony. His body betrayed him, over and over again. Aching, desperate, begging for relief that would never come. Every cell screamed for touch, for an alpha that wasn't there. But worse than the need was the shame. The scent of his heat curled around him, filling him with nothing but shame and guilt. He didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. His mind frayed at the edges as the hours dragged by. He hallucinated footsteps. Whispered voices. A hand brushing his cheek, only to wake up and find it was just the wind. He bled into the hay. Clawed at his own skin. Bit into his sleeve to muffle his cries.
By the fourth day, he was barely conscious. The heat had burned itself out, but left him nothing but a hollow shell. Starving, shaking, and covered in filth. He lay there staring at the slats in the ceiling until the rain began again. Only then did he crawl to his feet, half-blind with exhaustion, and began the slow, aching walk back towards home.
He shouldn’t have gone back. He knew that instinctively. But at only sixteen, with no money, no resources. It was his only choice. He set foot in his front yard, clothes stiff with dried sweat and caked in mud, legs barely keeping him upright, and all he could think of was the warmth and safety of his bed. A hot meal and loving embrace from his mother. But instead, as he pushed open his front door, he was met with Jiyoung’s rage.
There was no concern, no relief over his return, just anger so sharp it could cut him open and bleed him dry. And that it did.
“You think I wouldn’t notice?” The man snarled, dragging him inside by the arm. “You think I don’t smell it on you?”
Seonghwa barely got a word out before he was on the floor in a flurry of rough fists and steel-tipped boots. Ragged screams caught in his throat. He didn’t even have the strength to cry, too wrung dry from the past few days. He could only curl in on himself and take it. With each accusation, another blow landed to punctuate it.
“Whore!” A punch to the gut.
“Slut!” A swift kick in the ribs.
“You ran off to get fucked, didn’t you?” A jab to the cheek.
“Who was it? Some stray alpha? Some filthy beast in the woods?”
Eunji stood frozen. Silent. As always. Not stepping in to shield her suffering son from her mate’s inferno of rage. Only when the alpha had burned through his anger and stopped his assault on the omega’s trembling frame did she pull him aside and let out a shuddering gasp. Seonghwa lay unresponsive on the hardwood floors, bloodied and bruised. She shook him, begged for him to open his eyes, but he did not. For the first time in her adult life, Eunji acted like a mother should. Demanded that Jiyoung carry him to their car to take him to the hospital.
The car ride to the hospital was a blur. He faded in and out, crumpled in the backseat like a rag doll. It was nearly an hour away, the closest one to their rural town. His parents fed the nurses who rushed to their aid a lie. Said Seonghwa had been mauled by a classmate gone feral during his first heat. Told them the poor boy hadn’t known better. Made themselves look like victims, too.
But one nurse didn’t believe it.
She was older, with tired eyes that spoke of the full life she had lived, and gentle hands that understood his fear of being touched. She changed his bandages with care, brought him extra broth when he slept through mealtimes, and sat by his side so he would never be alone. She never asked questions, at least not directly. But somehow, she knew. And she knew Seonghwa could never go back.
One night, she slipped an envelope under his pillow. Inside the envelope lay 100,000 won, and a note.
Go. Tonight, when they discharge you, before your family arrives. Run like hell and never look back.
So Seonghwa did precisely that. He ran again. Only this time, he didn't stop till Jinju was nothing but a ghost left far behind in his past. Used some of his limited funds to catch a bus into Seoul, a city where anyone can get lost amongst the crowds.
The streets were louder than Jinju, but somehow no lonelier. Seonghwa learned quickly how to disappear. He lied about his age, kept his voice low and polite, scrubbed his scent gland raw with perfumed soaps any chance he got, so no one would catch on to the sweet scent that betrayed his true and rare nature. He called himself a beta. People trusted betas, didn’t ask questions when they said they had nowhere to go. He slipped between shelters and half-lit corners of the city, washing dishes for scraps, sleeping with his shoes on. It was outside a bar in an alley where he first heard the word blocker.
He followed the whisper. The woman who sold him his first scent patches didn’t care about legality. She took his money, didn’t ask why his hands shook. She gave him something more substantial than anything on the market. The kind that left chemical burns if you wore too many.
He wore four at a time.
Then came the suppressants. Black market pills, unregulated and dangerous, but highly effective. They made his heats vanish into a dull ache, muffled his pheromones, blurred his biology until even he could forget for a while what he truly was.
The hunger faded with time. The exhaustion didn’t.
He got a job cleaning after hours at a strip club. Fell in love with the sound of music, with the way bodies moved freely when no one was watching. It reminded him what living was supposed to feel like. From there he worked his way up. Got a job as a barista, took free dance classes at the community center. Joined a small dance crew.
When the scout from KQ Entertainment handed him a card after a community center dance recital, he didn’t dare believe it. But when he made it through auditions, he knew one thing for sure: no one could ever know. If they found out what he was... what he had been? It would all be taken away. So he crafted the perfect beta persona. A neutral scent of fresh linen that came from a bottle, lean muscle from hours of exercise, and days of hunger. He buried his truth beneath layers of blocker patches, excessive pills, and discipline. No nesting, no slipping, and no letting anyone in to see the signs. Never again would the truth see the light of day.
From then on, Park Seonghwa was a beta.
_________________________________
“Hwaaa, we brought home leftovers!” The front door opened with a gentle thud, San’s warm voice echoing through the dorm as he and Mingi strolled in, startling Seonghwa free from the memories he’d been imprisoned within.
Seonghwa jolted, nearly smacking his forehead against the window before him. He squinted as the apartment lights flickered on. San’s head peeked around the corner, his bright smile faltering as he took in the state of the elder where he sat.
“Hyung… you okay?” The young alpha tilted his head, brows furrowing with concern as he stepped closer to check on his packmate, the plastic takeout bag still dangling from his fingertips. “Why were you sitting in the dark?”
Seonghwa pressed his hands together, a subtle attempt to still the trembling of his fingers. He took a deep breath and adopted a calm expression, disguising the turmoil churning beneath his skin.
“I’m just… thinking.” He brushed off the concern with an easy smile, rising to his feet. “Don’t worry Sannie. Everything’s fine.”
The look on San’s face made it clear he wasn’t convinced, but before he could press further, Mingi rounded the corner and interrupted.
“San, where’s the… oh Seonghwa!” A smile spread over the tall man’s lips as he looked over the elder. “Have you eaten? I ordered extra, didn’t know if you’d have the energy to cook for yourself if you’re not feeling so hot.”
The care in his eyes filled Seonghwa’s chest with warmth, but he shook his head in dismissal regardless. “I’ve already eaten, but thank you, Mingi. That’s very sweet.” As he brushed past to leave the living room, he gave Mingi’s arm an appreciative pat, the most open affection he allowed himself to display on days like this.
Of course, he hadn’t eaten. But with their comeback quickly approaching, he couldn’t afford to let himself slip. Before practice, he’d had a bowl of rice with his morning coffee. It was enough. It had to be. Maintaining the lean muscles that helped him pass as his faked subgender was hard enough with his biology working against him. Anything he ate always went right back to filling out the softness his body was designed to maintain. His sharp jawline, his lean muscles, and angular features— they were all thanks to the necessary sacrifice.
Over time, the gnawing hunger had faded into a quiet ache he could usually ignore. The same way he ignored the burning sensation of his scent blockers stacked along his spine. It was just a part of life. He’d accepted it.
Seonghwa softly wished them both a goodnight and slipped away from the duo as they watched their packmate disappear to his room with furrowed brows.
The omega closed his door behind him and let out a soft sigh of relief, itching at his back where the scent patches left tingling sensations against his raw skin. His eyes scanned his bedroom, perfectly organized and tidy, not a speck of dust in sight. Nor a scrap of comfort. Only a pillow and a thin blanket draped over his simple sheets. Nothing that could tempt him to nest in a moment of weakness.
Trudging to his bed, Seonghwa slumped down against it, curling into a tight ball against the cool sheets. His palms pressed to his eyes, as if that could block out the darkness creeping in on the edges of his mind. Fuck. He was running low on his suppressant pills, down to his last bottle, and as much as he wanted to pop an extra for the day, to crush the way his instincts were rearing their ugly head at the moment. The way his inner omega was begging for a nest or to simply be held… it made him more nauseous than he already was.
So Seonghwa did the only thing he could when his instincts battled for control. He cleaned. Dragged himself from his bed and went over every inch of his already immaculate bedroom. Scrubbed the hardwood on his hands and knees, ran the vacuum over his rug, changed his already clean sheets. But it wasn’t enough. So he moved onto the kitchen.
The main room of the apartment was dark again, his roommates having settled in their respective rooms for the night. Seonghwa flicked on the kitchen lights and pulled a caddy with his favorite cleaning supplies from under the sink, getting straight to work. The omega fell into a quiet trance as he scrubbed the counters, wiped out the microwave, polished the stainless steel fixtures in the room till they sparkled like new. He cleaned anything and everything to curb the ugly feeling twisting in his gut. To cleanse his mind.
The omega was seated on the floor in front of the open fridge, the contents cleaned out and reorganized already. The man was working on scrubbing up a spill on one of the shelves when a startled yelp interrupted him. Seonghwa flinched, eyes darting up to the source of the sound.
“Seonghwa? Fuck. You scared the shit out of me—”
A bleary-eyed Mingi leaned against the doorway, shirtless, his broad shoulders relaxed. Black sweatpants were slung low on his hips, the sharp lines of his toned torso and arms catching the dim kitchen light. His dark hair fell in tousled waves over his forehead. He blinked down at his roommate, confusion tugging at his features. “I was just getting some water… are you cleaning the fridge?”
More alert now thanks to the shock, the alpha’s gaze swept around the kitchen, taking in the spotless counters, the gleaming floor, the lemon scent of disinfectant still lingering in the air. Utterly baffled, his eyes returned to the ‘beta’ on the floor.
“It’s two in the morning, hyung… was this really that urgent?” There was no judgment in his tone. Just quiet concern.
“I-“ Seonghwa was frozen in place, color rising in his cheeks. From shame, mostly. And possibly a flicker of heat from the flustering sight of a half-dressed Mingi in front of him. Not that he’d ever admit as much, even to himself.
He hadn’t considered that one of the boys might wake up and catch him in the act. “I couldn’t sleep… thought I might as well be productive,” The lie slipped out all too easily. He had plenty of practice these days.
Mingi hummed softly, looking him up and down with quiet scrutiny before reaching out and offering his hand. He didn’t push the subject, and Seonghwa was grateful for it. “Why don't we make you some tea? It might help you relax enough to rest. Works for me.”
Seonghwa stared at his outstretched hand, hesitating for a moment before giving in. Cautiously placing his hand in Mingi’s, he let himself be pulled to his feet. “I guess it won’t hurt to try. Let me just-“
He was interrupted by a soft tut.
“Uh-uh. You sit down, Hwa. Let me do this.” Mingi’s voice was deep and steady, with a tone that left no room for argument. He ushered the elder male into a stool at the counter before he could lift a hand to help, turning away to put the kettle on.
Seonghwa took a seat with furrowed brows, hands twitching in his lap with the urge to get up and do it himself. But by the look on the alpha’s face? He couldn’t convince him if he tried. So he conceded. Watched Mingi shuffle through the kitchen with a quiet focus, like a man on a mission. Albeit a very sleepy man.
Seonghwa parted his lips to ask for the lavender jasmine blend, his favorite, but stopped when he saw it already in Mingi’s hand, paired with his favorite mug, too. Something about it made his chest ache with the feeling of being... seen.
Mingi’s expression brightened as he set the tea down in front of him, the steam curling between them. His eyes met Seonghwa’s and softened, pupils still blown wide from sleep... or something else. His gaze was steady, grounding. “There. Drink up hyung.”
Seonghwa lifted the mug to his lips, his hands trembling with emotion.
Somehow, that simple gesture? The tea, the silence, the support... it soothed something deep in Seonghwa’s chest. His instincts, always frayed and straining, finally settled. After hours of scrubbing, of obsessively wiping and reorganizing, this was the only thing that had helped.
And it was infuriating.
Infuriating how easily Mingi had managed to soothe his instincts, when he’d been trying all fucking night. With a single act of care, the alpha had done it in minutes.
For once, Seonghwa allowed himself to linger for a while. Perhaps it was selfish, but deep down, he knew he needed it. And by the look in the alpha’s eyes, it seemed as if he needed it too. His fingers curled around the warm mug, soaking up the heat it radiated as he drew in a long sip. Across the counter, Mingi busied himself with rinsing out the kettle, though he kept sneaking glances toward Seonghwa. Not with questions. Just a quiet kind of attention. There was something pleased in his posture, in the easy way he moved now. Like some quiet, instinctual part of him was satisfied with what he’d done.
For a moment, the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was soft. Whole. Safe. And that scared the hell out of him. Because safety was never permanent. Comfort came with consequences. And letting his guard down even once could unravel everything he’d worked so hard to keep hidden. He took a quick sip of the tea, using the motion to gather himself.
“I should probably try to sleep,” he said softly, already sliding off the stool.
Mingi straightened up from leaning his weight on the counter, eyes flickering over Seonghwa’s form. “You sure?”
Seonghwa avoided his gaze, nodding. “Yeah, I think the tea helped. Thanks.”
“Anytime, Hwa,” Mingi said, his voice gentle, something unspoken lingering in the air that Seonghwa didn’t have the energy to unpack.
He simply turned on one heel and slipped away, still clinging to the floral mug. He could feel the man’s heavy gaze on his back as he departed. Watching him go. And Seonghwa hated how badly he wanted to turn back.
Tomorrow, he’d put more distance between them. He had to. But tonight? Tonight, he fell asleep with the now-empty mug clutched in his grasp, a lone tear rolling down his cheek.
The morning light slipped through the blinds in thin, pale stripes that warmed the skin on his cheek. Seonghwa stirred under the weight of sleep, heavy and reluctant, his body still buzzing faintly from the emotions of last night. For a moment, he lingered under the covers, letting the quiet wrap around him like a blanket. The omega quietly groaned and tried to reach for his phone, but it was then that he felt the cool porcelain handle of the mug still clutched in his fingertips.
A strange ache in his chest, sweet and unsettling, made him twist slightly under the covers, eyes staring at the ceiling as the light moved across the room. Fuck. The memory of Mingi and his sweet gesture of making him tea resurfaced in his mind. He was so lovely... and Seonghwa didn’t deserve it.
With a soft sigh, he pushed himself upright and sat the mug aside, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The apartment was quiet, the faint hum of the city outside his window the only sound. He rose slowly, stretching carefully to ease the tension in his muscles, mindful of the lingering soreness from yesterday’s scrubbing and the relentless choreography practice that awaited him.
Seonghwa quickly dressed in his workout clothes, opting for something simple and easy to move in. A loose white hoodie and a pair of grey joggers, the fabric soft and worn from countless washes. Practical, quick, and comfortable. Quintessentially beta. His reflection in the mirror showed pale cheeks and freshly brushed silver hair. His eyes were sharp, alert. A practiced mask of readiness he wore every morning. He moved to the kitchen for a quick protein bar and water, his motions precise, automatic.
By the time he slipped on his sneakers and slung his bag over his shoulder, the two alphas he lived with had joined him to leave. Both dressed in easy workout clothes, both swaying and leaning on each other as if they might fall back asleep at any second. Seonghwa looked them both over and let out a soft laugh, taking an arm in each hand and ushering the two out of the door into the fresh morning air.
The van waited outside, engine humming, ready to ferry them to the studio. As Seonghwa climbed in, he found his thoughts already shifting, preparing for the intense hours ahead. Dance practice. Music. Choreography. His perfectionism, his need to move, to flow, to keep control... it would keep the ghosts at bay, at least until the day ended.
The air in the practice room was thick with heat and exhaustion, mixed with the smell of sweat and frustration. The suppressants Seonghwa took left him unable to notice his group mate’s scents, but even he could tell how bitter the air had become.
They’d been running the same section of choreo for over an hour now. Somehow still not perfect enough for the standards of their choreographers or themselves.
San sat on the floor with a towel around his neck, his shirt long discarded into some corner of the room, with a red-faced Wooyoung sprawled out at his side, panting heavily. Yunho’s shirt had soaked through with sweat, clinging to his chest as he held a hand fan to his face. All together, the group already looked beat.
Seonghwa was still standing in his last position, repeating the same move in front of the mirror on repeat over and over, till he’d perfected it. His icy blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, the thin hoodie he’d donned that morning clinging uncomfortably to his body. He was just as exhausted as the rest of the group. He could feel it in the hollow ache of his arms, the way every breath felt as though it was scraping his throat raw. But his team needed him at his best. And he refused to let them down.
Finally satisfied with the way he had run through the movement, Seonghwa paused to take a look around at the state of his pack. The way Mingi was slumped on the floor with an arm over his eyes, and how Jongho quietly struggled to catch his breath in the corner. The tension in Hongjoong’s shoulders as he and a red-faced Yeosang discussed something with their choreographer.
Without thinking, Seonghwa jumped into action. Adjusting the studio fan towards the members who had congregated towards the center of the room, cracking open a couple of water bottles, and passing them to Wooyoung and San on the floor. Wiping down the bench and nudging Jongho towards it to take a break for a moment.
If anyone noticed Seonghwa’s behavior, they didn’t say anything. It was who he was. Their silent caretaker. The anchor that kept them from giving out, whether the team realized it or not. And right now, it was clear they needed his care.
With so much attention on them after a very successful comeback earlier that year, the pressure was on for their next. It needed to be just as good, if not better. Their manager had used words like “intense stage presence” and “flawless execution” as if they were encouragement, rather than subtly disguised threats. If they weren’t satisfied with the results by the end of the practice day, Ateez would lose a week’s worth of momentum.
Soon, they were all being gathered back up by their choreographer and ushered to their starting positions. Seonghwa nodded and complied as always, like it was nothing. Like the pressure wasn’t weighing on his mind, fraying the edges of his composure. Instead, he put on his game face and centered himself. He could break down later (not that he’d let himself). For now, he had to push through.
They all did.
The music started back up, and the group resumed as if they weren’t drowning under the weight of exhaustion. Like the professionals they were.
They made it through another four full run-throughs.
Barely.
When the final beat faded out, Seonghwa held his pose for an extra few seconds as if it were a real performance. Just as he’d been trained to. Only when the rest of the room dispersed into low chatter did he allow himself to exhale and drop his trembling arms to his sides.
Around him, the others collapsed back into their various corners of the room, chests heaving and foreheads dripping with sweat. They all looked wrung out. Wooyoung had slid down to the ground with a dramatic groan. Yeosang joined him, flopping face-first against the cool hardwood planks.
Seonghwa didn’t allow himself to stop, even for a second. He was already moving, handing Yeosang a protein shake, folding discarded towels into a neat pile, passing a fresh one to a drenched-looking Hongjoong who had already locked into watching a replay of their last run on his laptop.
His instincts pushed him to keep going until every member of his pack had been taken care of. And even beyond that, checking the speaker’s battery and collecting empty water bottles. He couldn’t stop, even if he tried. Unaware that all the while, his hands were shaking. His face pale.
He didn’t realize anyone was watching until Jongho’s voice cut through the overlapping voices that filled the room.
“Hyung, why don’t you take a seat?” The younger asked calmly, nodding his head towards the open space at his side. “We’re done for now. It’s okay.”
“I’m fine,” Seonghwa murmured dismissively, his hands not stopping from stacking the pile of scattered choreo notes he’d collected.
“You’ve been standing since we came in.” Jongho pointed out, brows furrowed.
“I’m used to it.”
Jongho didn’t answer right away, continuing to watch Seonghwa move around with an unreadable expression, a towel hanging loose around his shoulders like he was waiting for something.
It was unsettling to be watched so closely. He could still see the young alpha from the corner of his eye. Observing him with a particular kind of intensity that left his skin tingling with heat.
He bent down to realign the stack of folded towels. A useless task, they didn’t need fixing. But he did it anyway, needing something to distract from the unrelenting gaze.
“I just like staying ahead of the mess,” he murmured, voice too light to be casual. “If I sit now, I’ll get stiff.”
A soft hum came from behind him. Jongho didn’t press him, but the silence he left behind felt heavier than if he had.
Jongho wasn’t one to be easily fooled; Seonghwa knew it. And worse, he kept watching. Not with judgement... or even pity. Just care. Quiet, patient care. The kind that made Seonghwa feel a bit wobbly on his feet, like the ground might give out beneath him if he stood still for too long.
So he didn’t. He moved towards the fan, fiddling with the settings and turning it towards the center of the room where the rest of his pack congregated at Hongjoong’s side, watching the computer screen replay their last run through. Any little act of care he could manage.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Vocal training, a stage outfit fitting that ran long, a rushed lunch break with everyone, save for Seonghwa, cramming food down their throats before hurrying off to the next thing. It was a packed schedule, with no time to breathe or think. The pressure of it all had grown suffocating. Like his head was trapped under water, the world around him moving slowly, muffled. Heavy.
And all through the insanity that was the music group’s day, Jongho stayed close.
Not obtrusively. He didn't hover or nag. Just stayed near. Always within arm's reach, always a step behind or beside him. Always watching with those hypnotizing dark eyes.
He could feel him even when he wasn’t looking. Like he was there, ready to catch him if he so much as stumbled. But Seonghwa didn’t want to stumble. He didn’t want to be seen slipping up.
So he kept going as he always did. Kept handing out snacks, ushering everyone along to keep on schedule. Smoothed over the tension when Yunho and Wooyoung butted heads over where to sit in the van, placing himself between them as a buffer. He was efficient at what he did, with four years of wrangling the dramatic pack under his belt.
But by the evening, as they finally made their journey home, all piled in the van half asleep and burnt out, the buzzing in his head had grown sharp. Persistent and impossible to ignore. The edges of his vision had grown hazy, his body running cold. Dehydrated and exhausted, probably. He’d had a few sips of water after rehearsal. But even by Seonghwa’s standards, he hadn’t had much to sustain him. Not even a protein shake.
He’d meant to... but it was so easy to forget when he was so occupied with keeping the rest of his pack afloat. And he didn’t regret that. Not even for a second. It was a thankless job, but Seonghwa didn’t do it for the recognition. If anything, he preferred that his actions go ignored. He needed to do it. To soothe the biological need to care. In a way that didn’t make his nature obvious. And besides that, he loved his pack. Each of the alphas and betas held his heart in the palm of their hands and didn’t even know it. He would do anything for them. Anything to keep them together. And he knew that if the truth were exposed, it would destroy everything they’d built. Bring down scandal and shame, and they would never forgive his betrayal.
So he served them, quietly. Gave the pack everything he had without letting them close enough to notice. And that was enough.
By the time they made it to the apartment, the sky outside had shifted into a muted array of pinks and violet, a crescent moon peeking through the clouds as the sun sank. The whole pack had gathered at Seonghwa’s shared apartment with the promise of dinner after a long day. They were all strewn across the living room. Half of them watching TV, the others scrolling on their phones.
Seonghwa stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled, standing over the stovetop. He fought the urge to sway on his feet as his vision grew spotty. His body begged for a break, for rest. But with a whole pack in the other room, waiting to be fed, he didn’t have a moment to stop.
He moved on autopilot. Pressing start on the rice cooker, stirring a pan of sizzling vegetables. His limbs ached, but the sensation was distant now, having already been ignored this long. He was reaching for a stack of plates from the cabinet when he heard Jongho’s voice beside him, cutting through the haze.
“You should sit down, hyung.”
Seonghwa flinched, just slightly, but still didn’t turn to face him.
“I’m fine, Jongho. I just need to finish dinner first.” He glanced over his shoulder, feigning a smile. “You should go rest, you worked hard today.”
“You’re not fine, Hwa.” Jongho insisted, though his tone was gentle. “You’ve been on your feet since sunrise.”
“I don’t mind,” Seonghwa murmured. “Everyone’s hungry. I can’t keep them waiting.”
“You’re hungry too.” Jongho pointed out, matter-of-factly.
Seonghwa hesitated for a moment, long enough to notice the tension in his fingers. The way his legs trembled under the strain of his weight. But he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when dinner wasn’t finished. Not when—
A strong hand reached out and gently wrapped around his wrist, pulling it away from the stovetop.
“Jongho-”
“Sit down,” Jongho said again, softer now, but still firm. Leaving no room for debate. “I’ll finish it. Just... sit. Please.”
Seonghwa stood frozen in place, hyper aware of the way his skin heated beneath Jongho’s gentle grip. The urge to argue bubbled up in his throat. He needed to do this. Needed to care for his pack like a good omeg— wait.
Maybe he was truly at his limit for the day.
He didn’t move for a good, long beat. Then slowly, reluctantly, he stepped back.
Jongho’s hand carefully moved away from his wrist, instead finding its way to the small of his back and guiding him to the stool at the counter’s edge.
“I’ll take care of it, Seonghwa. Just rest.”
As Seonghwa sat at the counter, his aching frame finally at rest, it was his turn to watch. Jongho picked up right where he left off, as if he’d been paying attention all along. He turned off the stove, scooping the rice and plating everyone’s dishes neatly and efficiently.
He poured a glass of water and set it in front of Seonghwa, staring expectantly until the eldest had finished every drop. Only then did he offer a satisfied smile and allow him to help carry the plates to the dining table.
The table filled quickly.
Hungry and impatient hands reached across the surface, reaching for the side dishes and rice, chopsticks clattering against their ceramic plates. San and Wooyoung bikered over the last spring roll. Mingi sat half asleep as he lifted food to his lips. Yeosang scrolled on his phone between bites, as did Hongjoong. Yunho, slouched in his seat, had already shoveled half his plate into his mouth before even looking up.
None of them said a single word. Not so much as a thank you. Not that Seonghwa noticed, he was merely pleased that he had cared for his pack. He sat at the far end of the table, picking absently at his plate, taking a few tiny bites of plain rice between glances around at the people he loved most.
Jongho, however, seated once again at Seonghwa’s side, watched the scene unfold with thinly veiled irritation. Even with his dulled senses, Seonghwa noticed it. The discontent. The young alpha’s sharp gaze cut across the table, jaw ticking. Then, without warning, he jabbed his elbow to his left. Hitting Yunho square in the ribs.
Yunho grunted, looking up with a glare. “What the hell, man?” He hissed, setting down his chopsticks.
Jongho just nodded towards Seonghwa once, pointedly. Yunho followed the motion to the older beta who sat quietly at the head of the table, still absentmindedly pushing his food around the plate.
Yunho’s disgruntled expression dropped, replaced with furrowed brows and a soft frown. A look of guilt. “Shit- Hyung. Thank you. For dinner. It's great, all of it.”
There was a silent pause as Seonghwa lifted his head in surprise. A quiet ripple of other thanks that followed, sheepish and soft.
Seonghwa gave them all a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The attention on him was uncomfortable, even if it was well-meaning.
The group devolved back into chatter, speaking amongst themselves in overlapping conversations. The longer they sat there, the more the room started to tighten. His heart was beating too fast. Too loud. The pack was exhausted. The energy in the room grew tense. Words began to snap across the table. Playful at first, but quickly turning sharp. A jab about someone’s timing in rehearsal, a muttered complaint about stage outfits.
The alpha pheromones in the room thickened. He could feel it, see it in the tension in Hongjoong’s jaw, the way Yunho’s fists tightened around his glass. How Mingi’s leg bounced under the table like he was trying to shake off frustration.
They weren’t doing it intentionally; it was just their nature. But it didn’t matter. It was all too much.
Too much for an omega running on no food, no rest, three scent blockers, and a heat suppressant attacking his system. His instincts were fraying. He could feel the warning signs prickling against his skin. The itch just below the surface. Panic, fear. Terrified of the emotions running high in the room. His scent glands ached with the urge to fill the room with a soothing wash of his own scent, to calm the tension. But he couldn’t afford to do that. Not here. Not ever.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” he said suddenly, voice soft and strained as it cut through the heated energy in the room. “Long day.”
The bickering paused.
“Everything alright?” Wooyoung asked through a full mouth of food.
Hongjoong had taken enough interest to finally lift his head from his phone, where he’d been answering emails, watching with the observance only a leader could.
“Of course.” Seonghwa nodded with a practiced smile, waving him off as he stood and pushed his practically untouched plate aside. “I’m just tired. Goodnight everyone.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his clenched fists as he slipped from the room before anyone else could ask another question. He felt Jongho’s eyes on him again as he left in a hurry, glancing over his shoulder and regretting it.
Jongho stared at him with an intensity that spoke of understanding. Like he knew more than he let on. And that was terrifying.
Seonghwa escaped down the hall, past San and Mingi’s doors, to his room at the very end. The door shut behind him with a click, and he locked it for good measure. Only then did he let himself collapse into his bed.
His scent blockers were barely holding. He’d foolishly only applied two that morning, hoping to give his sensitive skin a break for once. A dumb move. Between the stress of the day, the oppressive alpha pheromones filling the air with frustration, and Jongho’s clinging to his side, they were holding up by a tenuous thread.
With a heavy sigh, Seonghwa reached into the drawer of his bedside table for the box of patches, tugging his sweatshirt up so he could apply one to his side. Then another. And another.
Three fresh patches. Three extra layers of protection. His system screamed under their oppressive weight, but it still wasn’t enough. The rattle of the pill bottle echoed in the quiet room as Seonghwa tipped one out and popped it past his lips, swallowing the blue pill down dry.
Now, he could rest. His scent was safely locked away, his urges and instincts buried under another dangerous dose of chemicals.
The omega lay in his bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over his eyes to block out the light of the lamp he had no energy to get up to turn off. The muffled sounds of the pack outside bled through the walls, allowing him to fantasize in his exhausted mind that he was with them. Smiling, laughing, and bickering as if he were just part of the team. Instead of an outsider who played a perfect part just to fit in. It was a comforting image that he let lull him into a fitful sleep.
__________________
Yunho's POV:
The chaos from dinner had finally quieted down into a calm lull, with only the sound of the TV playing and the gentle clatter of dishes being washed in the kitchen to fill the air. Most of the pack had filtered out already, heading back to their dorms for the night to get some much-needed rest.
Jongho hadn’t spoken a word to any of them once Seonghwa had left for bed, but the scowl on his lips as he finished his meal and washed his plate said plenty. If that wasn’t enough, his scent did the rest of the talking. A normally grounding blend of cedar wood and smoky vanilla had become bitter with frustration. Like a campfire was burning right at their dining table.
By the time he left out the door with Wooyoung and Hongjoong for their apartment a few floors above, he had calmed down just a touch. He’d stepped aside with Yeosang to have a quiet conversation by the window, and it seemed to balance out the bitterness he was carrying, enough that he did speak to say his goodbyes before leaving. Even if he did it with a disappointed glare.
Yunho couldn’t blame him for his anger. He’d had felt ashamed of himself from the moment his mistake was pointed out. They’d all had an exhausting day, but Seonghwa had done more than the rest of them by far. Any pause in their hectic schedule, he’d been there. Feeding them, passing them water, murmuring words of encouragement. The beta hadn’t stopped for even a second. And then still found it in himself to cook an entire meal for his pack. And none of them so much as smiled in gratitude before descending on the meal like ravenous animals. Until Jongho called them out on it.
Yeosang, his roommate, was gathering his things from the coffee table and placing them in his bag when he looked up at Yunho with a raised brow.
“You ready to go?”
The alpha shook his head gently, offering a half smile. “Nah. Mingi wants to get a couple of rounds of this new game in. I’ll be home in a bit.”
Yeosang nodded, perfectly content with his answer. The quiet beta was always more than happy to have the place to himself. “See you then.”
Yunho waved, waiting till the door had swung shut behind him before moving off to the kitchen. Seonghwa had worked so hard on dinner, the least he could do was finish cleaning up before the obsessively clean beta snuck back in to finish the job.
After half an hour, the kitchen was spotless once more. The dishes were washed and put away, counters scrubbed clean, and leftovers neatly packed in the fridge. Yunho could hear Wooyoung and San’s playful bickering through the walls of San’s room, bringing a soft smile to his lips.
His eyes flickered down the hall to Seonghwa’s closed door. No light shone through beneath it, no sound came from within. A frown curled over his lips. Something wasn’t right with the eldest packmate. The way he’d left dinner with a fake smile and an untouched plate had left a bitter taste in Yunho’s mouth. He couldn’t scent any distress in the air, at least not over the overpowering clash of all the cranky alphas in the room who were too tired to even notice and rein in their scents.
Still, something was off.
So with everything in the kitchen wrapped up, Yunho filled up a glass with water and nabbed a few lemon honey candies for the throat Seonghwa loved before tiptoeing down the hall towards the man’s door.
He knocked once. No answer.
He waited a beat, then knocked again. “Hwa?”
Still, silence.
Yunho tried the handle. It wasn’t locked. He cracked it open, just enough to peek his head in.
It was dark inside, not even a speck of light peeking through the drawn curtains. He could barely make out the outline of Seonghwa’s body, curled up on the far side of the bed. On top of the comforter, facing the wall.
So he stepped inside slowly, quietly, careful not to startle the resting beta. From the sound of his steady breathing, he must have been sleeping.
“I’m just gonna leave these here,” Yunho whispered, gently setting the glass and candy down on his nightstand. He was just about to leave when something hit him... or rather, didn’t.
He couldn’t smell anything.
Yunho had always had a particularly sensitive nose. He’d always been overly attuned to the scents of the world around him. It used to be overwhelming, as a young pup, wandering around with a million different pheromones drifting around the air, giving him impossible headaches. But he’d adjusted over time. He was used to it. But he could always pick up on even the slightest changes in his packmates' scents.
Except for Seonghwa.
He could never sense when he was happy, or sad, or scared. There were never any changes, though he always chalked it up to the beta’s impeccable sense of control. He could always catch onto at least a hint of something, though. Freshly washed linen, notes of lemon. Subtle, soft. It was never powerful, but it was always there.
But now? Nothing. Not even a hint. It was like the room had been scrubbed clean. Sterile.
Yunho’s brow furrowed. He took a half step closer, breathing in quietly again just to be sure. But still, not even the faintest whiff from the sleeping beta. That wasn't normal, it was-
“...Yunho?” A soft voice cleared away the silence.
He turned, his eyes falling to the bed. Seonghwa had shifted slightly, rolling onto his side and blinking up at him with round, bleary eyes.
“What’re you doing?”
Yunho swallowed, a sheepish smile curving over his lips. The elder looked so soft and small in his big bed, the sudden urge to grab the blankets and tuck him into them filling his chest... which he ignored.
“Uh... I brought you water,” he whispered. “And the throat candy you like. I noticed you didn’t eat much at dinner.”
Seonghwa blinked at him and tiredly rubbed at his eyes, groggy and confused, but not angry with him. If anything, he looked more vulnerable than Yunho was used to seeing him. His heart ached in his chest, and he wasn’t even sure why.
“Thank you,” he murmured, carefully pushing himself to sit up.
Yunho shook his head with a sad smile, passing the beta the full glass. “Nah, don’t thank me. You’re the one who bent over backwards looking after all of us today. It’s about time someone took care of you for a change.”
Seonghwa’s expression faltered, a fleeting look of pain flashing across it before being wiped away so quickly he could’ve sworn he imagined it.
“That’s not necessary. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, but-“ A frustrated sigh escaped Yunho’s lips as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. “We’re your pack, Hyung. We need to take care of you just as much as you care for us.”
Seonghwa just smiled, one easy and practiced. It didn’t reach his tired eyes, and something about that made Yunho’s gut twist with unease.
“It’s okay, Yunho. I’m fine. Really. I like taking care of you all. God knows you boys need the help.” The elder chuckled, evidently trying to deflect with humor.
Yunho wasn’t convinced. But he respected Seonghwa’s discomfort and backed off from the subject. He forced a weak laugh, nodding along. “You’re right. What would we do without you, Hwa?”
“Live in your own filth like your wolf ancestors.” Seonghwa teased, the tension that had gathered in his shoulders easing, his fingers relaxing in his lap.
“Hey!” Yunho huffed, playfully nudging his shoulder. “I’m not that bad. I think you’re talking about Hongjoong here.”
Seonghwa shuddered. “Ugh. I don't even want to think about how bad his room is right now. I’ll have nightmares.”
“Well we can’t have that, now can we?” Yunho murmured with an endearing smile. He spared a glance at the clock on Seonghwa’s nightstand. “Shit- it’s past midnight. I should really let you get some rest, hyung. You’ll be dead on your feet tomorrow if you don’t get enough sleep.”
Seonghwa hummed in agreement. “Mmm… I might be. But so will you.”
Yunho grinned, reaching out to ruffle the elder’s already sleep tousled hair. “Nah, I’ll be just fine. I’ve got a redbull in the fridge waiting for me when I get up. But you can lean on me during practice. I’ll keep you upright when Hongjoong starts droning on about boring shit.”
“My hero.” Seonghwa dryly mused, a hint of a genuine smile tugging at his lips.
Yunho felt the tight knot in his chest ease. He’d made Seonghwa smile. Actually smile. His inner alpha purred in his chest with satisfaction.
“I mean it, Hwa,” He insisted more seriously as he got up to leave. “You can lean on me. Anytime. I’m here.”
It was silent for a moment, though he was able to pick up on the shuddering sigh Seonghwa let out as if he was struggling to accept Yunho’s words.
“Goodnight, Yunho,” finally came the beta’s reply, a soft whisper. “Sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Star,” Yunho murmured, the nickname slipping off his tongue for the first time. But it felt right. Seonghwa was a star. His star. A beautiful shining light in a sea of darkness.
With soft steps, Yunho padded through the dark room back to the door. From the sound of his evened-out breaths, steady and gentle, Seonghwa had already fallen asleep once more. He spared one last glance over his shoulder at the sleeping male. While he was resting, he looked so... peaceful. Something, he realized, that was rare to see on Seonghwa.
So, as Yunho finally slipped away from the beta’s room and made the short journey home to his dorm just a floor below, he made a decision. He would always be there for Seonghwa to lean on. To give him something he, for reasons unknown, could never seem to find. Peace.