Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chan was thirteen when he left home. Just thirteen years old when he was ushered into a company building, contracts signed, fate sealed, and his life forever changed. 

He shuffled his feet nervously, his small bag of clothes clutched in a too-tight grip. The door to the dorm felt more like a portal to another world than it did a flimsy doorway to a company-owned apartment. The hand not clutching his single bag of belongings held a piece of paper, the code to the door scratched on it by a manager during their meeting. 

It had all felt like one big dream, or nightmare, depending on the moment. The flight from Sydney had been the single most terrifying ordeal of his life, though it was quickly topped by the meeting with the JYP executives. Contracts were signed, a slew of pages signing away things Chan didn’t even realize could be taken away. Some he expected, like no dating and supervised social media. He had signed away an agreement for how his presentation would be handled, and agreed to go on suppressants should he present as an omega. 

The industry was still feeling out that sort of thing; omegas in mixed dynamic idol groups. Male omegas in particular. It had only been five years since the first male omega debuted in Super Junior, followed the next year by G-Dragon as the first omega leader. In years past idol groups were alpha only for males and omega only for females, with the occasional beta girl blending in. Things were still tentative, betas and omegas only just carving their way into boy groups where previously omegas were considered too fragile to keep up long term or betas too plain to be considered in comparison to alphas who could better fill the spots. 

This all passed in a whirlwind of papers and adults speaking in a language he just barely grasped, and now Chan was here, standing in front of a plain white door, behind which would be his new home for however long it took him to debut. He swallowed dryly, reaching his hand out to punch in the code, and pushed open the door. 

The living space was exactly as he had expected, crowded and messy, shoes scattered over every available surface just beyond the entrance. The first thing he noticed was the smell, the myriad of different scents nearly overwhelming even to his unpresented senses. His childhood home had still smelled of pups when he left, the warm, easy scent of milk and clean cotton sheets curled around him, much like his baby siblings would. This was not that. 

Chan scrunched his nose, taking a careful step over the pile of shoes. It seemed like most of the people living here were absent, probably at school or training, seeing as it was the middle of the day. He glanced down at the paper, scanning it for the directions to the room assigned to him, helpfully drawn out by the kind beta who would be his manager for now. 

He walked down the hall, hearing some quiet chattering behind other closed doors, until he reached the room that was circled in red ink on his paper. He took a deep breath, and pushed this door open as well. 

Immediately, he was greeted with the sight of another boy. He was lanky and skinny in ways that made Chan certain he would grow much taller once he was older. He looked to be about Chan’s age, with a round baby face and hair sticking out in every direction but the right one. His eyes were bright and his smile somehow even brighter when he turned to look at Chan as he entered. He, too, was unpresented, which Chan had already been told one of his roommates would be. The boy grinned at Chan, and for a second he wasn’t sure if he should feel reassured or intimidated by the gesture. 

“Oh!” Chan stammered, remembering the lesson on introducing himself his mother had drilled into his head before he left. He hastily bowed, his bag slipping from sweat slick palms to land on the floor with a thump. “Hey! I'm Chris- oh, uh, Chan!” He stammered, his sentence a jumbled mix of Korean and English. The language was still new, still sloppy in his mouth and tumbling from his lips in a halting, inexperienced kind of way. He knew too little, having only grown up learning just enough to have stilted conversations with his grandparents over the phone, and what he did know was too clunky, his accent so obviously foreign dispute his familiar features.. He blushed, the fear and uncertainty bubbling inside him once again. 

“Hi Chris! I’m Bambam!” The boy replied easily, the accented English catching Chan so off guard he almost stumbled backwards out of the room. Where Chan’s accented Korean was a source of embarrassment, Bambam didn't seem bothered by his own, the words delivered easily and comfortably despite the thick accent they carried with them. 

“You speak English?” Chan asked dumbly, his manners forgotten for a moment. The boy laughed, clambering out of the bed with all the gracelessness of a thirteen year old and bounded over, coming face to face with Chan. 

“I learned in school!” Bambam replied, pushing Chan’s bag away from the door so it could close and dragging Chan to sit down on the empty bed, the sheets folded carefully at the foot. He all but shoved Chan to sit, sitting on his own and facing Chan. The boy’s leg was almost vibrating, bouncing rapidly in excitement. 

“Where are you from? What can you do? I rap and dance!” Bambam started, his questions rapid and excited. The fear he had felt turned to almost manic amusement, his head light from the rapid shift in his own mood. Chan laughed, holding his hands out, finally getting the other boy to stop for a moment. 

“I’m from Australia, I can rap and sing.” Chan said, a grin to match Bambam’s own on his face. Bambam whooped, jumping a little so he bounced on the bed. Chan laughed, tracking the excited, frenetic way the other boy moved with a sort of fascinated curiosity. 

“Is Bambam really your name?” Chan asked, curious about this new person. He had never heard a name like that, but it suited him, somehow. 

“Nickname! My birth name is Kunpimook Bhuwakul, but in Thailand we use nicknames. Our names are reeeally long” He explained, dragging out the word. Chan nodded seriously, committing the unexpected cultural lesson to memory. So his roommate was Thai. He took a little bit of comfort in knowing that they were both foreigners, knowing that the struggles he faced would likely be mirrored in his roommate. 

“How long have you been here?” Chan asked, glancing around the room. The second bed was already clearly claimed, piled with stuffed animals and blankets. Around the room little knick-knacks and clothes were scattered. The messy sprawl of a thirteen year old with no parent telling him to clean was evident. There were two bunk beds in the room, both top bunks and the bottom bunk that Bambam had been sitting on were clearly claimed, with the fourth unmade bed now apparently Chan’s. 

“Only a few months! I got here last year when it was just me and Peniel-hyung!” Bambam explained, pointing up at the bunk bed over Chan’s head. Peniel sounded like a foreigner's name, and Chan felt a spark of excitement at the idea of another foreigner with them. “The bed you're sitting on is Brian-hyung’s.'' Bambam continued, and Chan stood up abruptly, shocked that he had been sitting in someone else's bed. Bambam laughed, waving him back down. 

“He doesn't mind, shush. The bed above me is going to be yours, right now it’s plushie storage.” Bambam grinned, Chan sat back down tentatively. Now that he was actually looking for it, he could tell there were others sharing this room. The soothing scent of dragon's blood and the faint scent of cedar lingered in the room, though being unpresented, Chan couldn’t really tell if they were alphas, betas or omegas. 

Bambam seemed to read his mind, pointing once again at the bed Chan was sitting on “That's Brian-hyung’s bed. He’s an alpha. Peniel-hyung is also an alpha!” Bambam explained, already seemingly in tune with how Chan’s mind worked. “Peniel-hyung is from America and Brian-hyung lived in Canada, so you can talk to both of them in English too, don't worry.” Bambam said, kicking Chan’s shin lightly, smiling.

“You looked like you were going to cry when you were talking in Korean earlier! I’m the same way, I can barely remember anything.” Bambam laughed. Chan blushed at how his nerves had been so easily spotted. Bambam waved a hand dismissively. “But whatever! Tell me about yourself!” He urged, leaning forward into Chan’s space, the ever present grin on his face mere inches from Chan’s. 

They talked for seemingly hours, about anything and everything. How Chan had impressed the recruiters enough to have them come to his home, how Bambam learned to dance, and the competition he had entered to win his mother a date with the idol Rain. Eventually Bambam moved to sit beside Chan, the two of them relaxing on the bed as they talked, time slipping away from them far too easily. 

Something about Bambam put him at ease. Chan wasn’t sure if it was his energy, or the way the other boy seemed to have already decided that Chan was his best friend. Whatever it was, they just clicked. 

By the time they heard the dorm coming to life behind their door, the light streaming through the single bedroom window was tinted red by the setting sun. Footsteps sounded in the living room, and the main door seemed to be in a constant state of opening and closing, new people arriving home from training or stopping by on their way home from school, though no one had so far entered their shared bedroom just yet. 

A light knock interrupted Bambam’s story, their laughter trailing off when an older boy poked his head into the room. Bambam and Chan both remembered their manners enough to stand, giving a sort of half-nod-half-bow to their fellow trainee, who hummed appreciatively at the gesture. 

Stepping into the room fully, Chan couldn’t help but take a moment to take in the boy in front of him. He was broad, with wide shoulders and arms that looked thicker than both his own and Bambam’s legs. His gaze was intense, and even without the sudden sharp smell of mint and juniper Chan already knew the man was an alpha. 

He nodded back at them, and Chan seemed to deflate a little, the rigid stance he instinctively took slackening into a more natural one. Beside him Bambam giggled. 

“I’m Hyunwoo,” The alpha introduced himself, nodding at the two of them. Bambam clearly already knew him by the way he flopped comfortably back onto the bed. Hyunwoo seemed unphased, keeping his eyes on Chan. 

“Ah! It’s good to meet you, Hyunwoo-ssi.” Chan managed to work out in Korean, earning another giggle from Bambam. He kicked Bambam’s leg, pouting when it only made the other boy giggle harder, but Hyunwoo gave an appreciative smile in return for his attempt, laughing a little under his breath. 

“You can call me hyung, no need to be so formal if we’re living together.” Hyunwoo said, and another knot in Chan’s stomach that he hadn’t even known he had seemed to loosen. He smiled at the older man. From down the hall he could pick up a racket, the sound of various boys concentrated in one place drifting down to their room. Hyunwoo glanced back over his shoulder, jerking his head in the direction of the living room. “It’s time to eat, come on out.”

At the thought of food, Chan realized how ravenous he was, not having eaten since the night before. He had been far too nervous on the flight and then later at the company to have even entertained the idea of eating anything. Talking with Bambam had been a welcome distraction, but now the offer of food was enough to make his stomach growl in protest. Bambam stood up, bumping his shoulder into Chan’s, urging him to follow. 

They trailed after Hyungwoo like hungry puppies, Chan noticing the two other rooms he had passed now had their doors standing wide open, though both of them were empty. The sound of laughter and conversation was loud as they reached the main living area, a large table set out on the floor that hadn’t previously been there. Seated around it were ten other trainees, some sitting at the table, others on the various pieces of furniture scattered around the room. 

“Ah, the new meat!” One of them grinned as Chan entered the room, Chan’s ears went bright red at the nickname. Bambam barked a laugh, flopping onto the ground next to a handsome brown-haired boy. 

“Hello! I’m Bang Chan! Thank you for taking care of me!” Chan recited in rushed Korean, bowing down at a ninety degree angle. This earned a myriad of endeared coos and good-natured laughs from the crowd, a rush of voices speaking over each other in a way Chan immediately gave up on understanding. The boy Bambam had sat next to scooted over, gesturing for Chan to sit next to him. 

Chan padded over, nodding politely as he took his seat. The other trainees seemed like a mix of friendly and intimidating, though they seemed to quickly return to chatting once Chan had sat down. Chan’s eyes landed on one boy who was quiet, replying in mostly nods and shrugs to the other boys sitting around him. Bambam, ever in tune, leaned over to mock-whisper to Chan. “That’s Mark, he’s Taiwanese; from America. He doesn’t know a word of Korean.” 

At the sound of his name Mark had turned to glare at the pair. Chan shrunk back, giving a hesitant smile and aborted wave, both of which were ignored. 

The boy that had called him over laughed, rolling his eyes. “He’s just grumpy, ignore him.” He said, taking a large scoop of black bean noodles and dumping them onto Chan’s plate. This boy smelled like Coffee and vanilla, carrying the warm smell of an omega. “I’m Jinyoung.” He introduced himself, pushing the filled plate and a pair of chopsticks at Chan. 

“That’s Mark, Jaebeom, Peniel, Wonpil, Hoetaek, Sungjin, Hyunwoo, Yugyeom and Brian.” He said, pointing at each of them in turn. Everyone either gave a friendly nod or wave, minus Mark, who went back to his eating food in silence. Chan greeted them all politely, smiling at the warmth from the omega next to him. It was good to put  faces to the names of his new roommates, and both Brian and Peniel seemed friendly and kind, from what he could tell just by observing them chat with those around them as they ate.

Life seemed to return to normal after the introductions, with the trainees going back to their small groups, a mix of Korean, English and seemingly some scattered Mandarin leaving Chan to try and piece together the words he could hear, too timid to push into a conversation himself. He began to eat, deciding to focus on listening in on Jinyoung and Jaebeom’s conversation, catching words here and there, though not enough to really understand the context. 

Soon enough his plate was cleared, his stomach still yearning for more after being empty for so long. Chan glanced at the bowl, frowning a little when he realized the main dish had been cleared, the bowl scraped clean by the twelve other boys around him. He sighed, stomach grumbling, and put his chopsticks down, resigned to wait until breakfast the next morning to completely satisfy his hunger. 

An arm reached out, scraping a sizable pile of noodles off the owner's plate onto Chan’s, almost burying his chopsticks. Chan jolted, surprised by the gesture. Hyunwoo smiled at him, setting down his now empty plate. “You traveled a lot today. Eat.” He said simply, gesturing down at Chan’s now full plate. Chan smiled, but before he could thank him Hyunwoo was already standing, beginning to clear empty plates and dishes with the others. 

Chan smiled down at his plate, a light blush on his cheeks from the simple action. He was the oldest in his family, used to taking care of his siblings rather than being the one who was taken care of. He ate, content that this whole thing may not be as scary as it seemed. 

One by one the trainees wandered off into their own rooms, leaving behind Chan, Bambam and the two Jinyoung had pointed out to be Brian and Peniel, his new roommates. Brian moved first, sliding off the couch to join Chan on the floor, sticking a hand out for a handshake. “My name is Brian! You can call me Hyung though!” Brian said in easy English, a bright smile on his handsome face. 

Chan smiled in return, shaking his hand. Peniel followed next, scooting over on the couch to be closer to the group. “I’m Peniel. Nice to meet you.” He greeted with a polite nod, which Chan returned. 

Brian snorted, looking between the three of them, a bright smile on his face. “I think this will work out just fine.” He laughed and Chan grinned brightly up at him in return. 

- - - 

Several weeks passed in a blur of quick adjustments, a crisp school uniform dropped off on his first weekend, and a polite young manager writing down his bus schedule to go from the dorm, to class, to the company and then back to the dorm. It had been overwhelming, a near-panicked rush of rapid change, but now, several weeks later, he had finally settled into a routine. Bambam had become almost a third limb, the two of them  inseparable both at the company and in the dorm, stuck to each other’s sides at every spare moment. 

Part of their quick attachment was the fact that, along with Yugyeom, they were the only pups in the dorm; unpresented among the crowd of alphas, betas and omegas in training. Regardless, they seemed to simply have a natural connection, falling into an easy companionship, Yugyeom melding into their little circle naturally. The other pup was already taller than both Bambam and Chan by a head, broad shouldered and bright. 

Most of the hyungs in the dorm took the pups under their wings with a natural sort of ease, happy to have dongsaengs they could both indulge their natural nurturing instincts on as well as underlings they could force to go get snacks from the convenience store, or to clear the plates at dinner time. Chan did these tasks with the full focused enthusiasm he put into everything, while Bambam and Yugyeom whined and complained. Bambam in particular was able to easily garner coos and pets from the older boys when he pouted in just the right way.

Jinyoung was the main provider of that attention. He was a gentle but steadfast omega, quick to pull a pup against his side for a cuddle after a long day of training. Chan found himself sitting with him at the table long into the night, the older boy helping him with his homework and Korean lessons, patient and kind despite the extra work it surely presented. Chan found himself seeking his attention often, tugging at Jinyoung’s sleeve to show the omega a dance move he had recently mastered, eager to earn a bright smile and congratulations from Jinyoung, whose praise for the pups seemed almost unending some days. 

Jaebeom was far quieter, but the alpha easily took the lead of their little group during training, able to point out flaws and help with adjustments easily. He smelled of rain and jasmine, and though his eyes were dark, he smiled broadly at Chan when he did well, and laughed just as loud as the others when Bambam got up to his usual antics. Though he had a temper, it never felt scary, but Chan chalked that mostly up to the way Yugyeom and Bambam had seemingly mastered teasing the alpha, learning quickly that they could hide behind Jinyoung or even Chan, who the alpha had a soft spot for. 

Mark, despite his cold greeting, was less scary than Chan had first thought. A rare drift beta, the first one Chan had ever met, he was a strange myriad of behaviors. Kind and tolerant one day, the next he would drift into a snappish temper, calmed by Jinyoung or pushed further by Jaebeom. Chan had learned to expect the unexpected with the older boy. They got along well enough despite this, often conversing in English even though their homes were far from each other. They both took some sort of solace in sharing their mother tongue. Mark’s affection came much more subtly than the others, mostly in the form of water bottles filled without asking before practice, or snacks snuck into pockets of school bags. It was a subtle sort of affection, best if not brought up face to face, but regardless, it made Chan smile. 

Hyunwoo fell easily into the role of hyung, being the oldest in their little trainee group. He never sought to take leadership from Jaebeom, but Chan often found the two in their room, Jaebeom seeking advice or guidance from the steadfast alpha. Chan found him in the common room often, cleaning up after the others or taking care of some home repair project or another. He was quiet, taking the seemingly endless criticism from their mentors with grim determination, getting better and better after each scathing critique or evaluation. 

At some point, a rowdy young alpha joined their little group as well, sliding into place with an almost unnatural ease. Jackson was bright; loud and fun. A reckless counterpoint to the ever present guidance of Jaebeom and Hyunwoo. His laughter could be heard throughout the dorm, and his bright scent of iron and roses became a staple in every room due to his frequent visits. Chan learned he had been on the road to becoming an Olympian, but gave it up to join JYP. He liked him instantly, and their little group of English speakers broadened. 

Chan’s roommates were just as quick to fall into place in his life. Brian, or Younghyun as the Korean-speakers sometimes called him, seemed to adopt the role of Chan’s older brother. He often found himself pulled into the alpha’s lap, picked up and carried from room to room on a whim, though Chan never found a reason to complain. Brian made sure Chan and Bambam ate, completed their homework and slept on time. Some nights, Chan found himself crawling down from his bunk to bury himself into Brian’s sheets, soaking in the scent of cedar and citrus. Brian never scolded him on those nights, waking him up with a soft shake and an offer for breakfast, which Chan gladly accepted, sheepishly climbing out of Brian’s bed and into Bambam’s to wait with the other boy until it was time to get up. 

Peniel was less doting, less brotherly than the other alpha, but not for any bad reason. He was simply a bit awkward, seemingly unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do with the pups underfoot. He often treated them like little betas, much to the amusement of Jinyoung. He was good at diffusing tough situations in the dorm, especially when Mark’s temper flared, his calm and firm English one of the most surefire ways to get the beta to relax. Chan often sought Peniel’s company when he needed amicable silence. 

---

It was fall, the trees bare outside the dorm windows. It hadn’t snowed yet, but Jinyoung assured him that it would soon, the omega’s words backed up by the way the air would bite the apples of Chan’s cheeks and the tips of his fingers each morning on their walk to the bus stop. 

Chan grumbled, rolling out of Bambam’s bed, having snuck into it late last night to combat the cold with a warm body against his own. It was raining out, the pre-dawn light just barely enough to illuminate the sheets of water coming down in torrents. They had a rare day off, their choreography teacher and vocal coach both coming down with a cold. Their managers had given up on planning something new, just telling the kids to relax and practice on their own; news that had been received with gratuitous whoops and cheers. 

Despite the lack of schedule, Chan still woke early. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, he slipped quietly out of the room so as to not wake any of his roommates. Insomnia had become something he was accustomed to before he got to JYP, though the long nights of training and classwork didn’t seem to make his condition any better. 

The dorm was silent, doors closed as he padded softly down the hall. The wooden floors were cold through the thin layer of his socks. He made his way to the kitchen, stifling a yawn. Ramen was a surplus in this dorm, easy to make and then toss into one of the many thermoses scattered around the kitchen. He carefully extracted the pot from where it was stored in their non-functional microwave, closing the door with a quiet click, careful to avoid clanking the pot on the stove once it was filled with water. 

He stood in the kitchen, hair puffed out in all directions, his curls not yet tamed by careful brushing or a hot iron. The pajamas he wore were Jinyoung’s, Chan had found out rather quickly that the various shorts he had brought with him to sleep in were not suited for the chill of a Korean fall. The omega had offered him a pair almost immediately. Chan lifted the too-long sleeves to his face, taking a deep breath of the coffee-vanilla scent that still lingered there. 

A deep voice interrupted his moment, causing Chan to yelp. “You should put the soup base in, the water is boiling.” Hyunwoo said, a small smile on his face as Chan whipped around, eyes wide, a small, dramatic hand clutching his heart. 

The alpha rolled his eyes, his familiar minty scent filling the kitchen as he gently moved Chan out of the way, ripping open the ramen packet to dump the soup base into the boiling water. Chan peered past him curiously, eyebrows scrunched up. “Hyung, I thought the package said to put the ramen in first, and mix it after it was cooked? Did I read it wrong?” He asked, tugging on Hyunwoo’s sleeve. 

Hyunwoo hummed, mixing in the base and then dropping the noodles into the pan, covering it with the lid before he answered. “It tastes better if you do it this way.” He explained, gathering the empty packages and crumbs of ramen into his palm to throw into the trash. Chan watched him, stifling a large yawn and rubbing his eyes, stuck in the space between tired and unable to rest further. 

Hyunwoo watched him for a moment. He sighed, pulling the pup against his chest. Chan stiffened, panicking for just a split second at the unexpected physical contact, but he quickly melted into the embrace. Hyunwoo’s large hand carded through his hair. 

“Did you not sleep well, pup?” He asked. Chan shook his head, not bothering to lift himself from the cozy embrace of the older boy’s broad chest. 

Hyunwoo hummed, and the two remained in a comfortable silence until Hyunwoo’s internal countdown told him to check the noodles, a small approving sound coming out at the smell and texture. He guided Chan to the couch, sitting him down and going back to the kitchen to pour the noodles into a bowl, grabbing a clean pair of chopsticks as well. 

Chan had burrowed into the cushions, tucking a blanket Jinyoung and Jaebeom frequently used around himself as he sleepily watched Hyunwoo work. He accepted the bowl of ramen with a grateful smile, ducking his head when Hyunwoo reached out to affectionately ruffle his hair. 

“Eat and then go try to sleep again. You have a whole weekend to rest, you don’t need to be up this early.” He said gently, walking back to the kitchen to wash the pot, placing it on the overfilled dish rack to drip dry. 

“Why are you up, hyung?” Chan asked him between slow bites, working hard to keep his eyes open now that he was warm and fed. Hyunwoo shrugged, walking out of the kitchen to pull his coat on at the door, offering Chan a quick smile. 

“I just have some things to do this morning. Don’t worry.” He promised, waiting for Chan to nod in understanding before exiting the dorm, the door clicking shut gently behind him. 

Chan finished his ramen, setting the bowl on the coffee table to be yelled at over later. While it was tempting to crawl back into the warm bed with Bambam, the boy always seemed to wake up no matter how careful he tried to be, and he didn’t want to bother him. Even still, a desire to not be alone in the cold led him to the room shared by Jinyoung, Jaebeom, Hyunwoo and Yugyeom.

Opening the door quietly, Chan padded over to the first bunk. He gently shook Jinyoung’s shoulders. The omega yawned, opening one eye. Chan didn’t need to say anything for Jinyoung to lift  the covers to let the pup crawl into bed. Chan burrowed into his warmth and closed his eyes. Jinyoung cooed softly, pulling Chan closer and nuzzling into his hair. 

Chan drifted off to the sound of early morning rain pattering against the window, swallowed by the smell of coffee and vanilla. 

Later, Chan awoke to the sound of raised voices coming from the other room, which, while not completely unusual, was still enough to rouse him from his sleep rather quickly. The bed was empty, Jinyoung having seemingly left a while ago judging by the cold spot left behind. Chan pushed his way out from under the covers, shivering a little as the cold air hit him. 

When he reached the hall he could hear the voices more clearly; Jaebeom, Mark, Bambam and Hyunwoo. The first three were expected, but Hyunwoo almost never raised his voice. Chan sped up, all but sprinting down the hall, his heart stopping at the sight that greeted him. 

Hyunwoo was standing in the center of the dorm, several bags packed around him, his hands up in a placating gesture. The other three stood in a semi-circle around him. Bambam’s eyes were misty, clutching onto one of Hyunwoo’s bags as if to anchor him in place. 

“So you're just giving up?” Mark spat, voice loud and angry. Jinyoung watched from nearby, Yugyeom pulled against his chest, though Chan honestly didn't know who was seeking comfort from whom.

Hyunwoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The company was going to cut me next month anyways. I got an offer somewhere else, I had to take it.” He explained, voice remaining careful and even. Chan’s shocked gasp drew the attention away from Hyunwoo for a moment. Jaebeom’s jaw was set in a firm line, teeth clenching in the same way they did when Yugyeom was pissing him off. 

“Hyung, you can’t go…” Chan whined, taking a few steps forward to join the semicircle, eyes already wide and distressed. “There has to be a mistake, you can't leave!” Chan all but shouted, voice cracking embarrassingly on the last syllable. His head was pounding at the thought of Hyunwoo leaving them like this.

He had known, theoretically, that this was going to be one of the harsh realities of leading this life. He had known the dorm would be a revolving door of trainees going in and out as they sought after and gave up on their dreams. But Hyunwoo was different, he was a skilled dancer, a skilled vocalist. He had too much talent to just be thrown out like that!

Hyunwoo sighed, looking between Chan and Bambam, both misty eyed pups. He gave them an almost pitying smile, and Chan choked back the sob that tried to claw its way out of his throat. Hyunwoo pulled them close, holding both of them against his chest as they broke down, clinging to him and trying not to cry. Chan hoped Hyunwoo wouldn’t notice the wet spot on his shirt. 

Jaebeom finally sighed, running a hand through his hair. “There’s nothing we can do to stop this, is there?” He finally asked, though Chan could hear in his voice that he already knew the answer. 

Hyunwoo shook his head and Jaebeom sighed, frustrated and hurt. Mark stalked off towards the room he shared with the others, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. Jaebeom glanced at Hyunwoo and turned to follow, putting a hand on Mark’s shoulder as they disappeared into the room. 

Hyunwoo was left with Jinyoung and the pups, Yugyeom peeling away from Jinyoung to hesitantly join the group cuddle, small sniffles coming from the normally stubborn boy. Jinyoung sighed, stepping closer to run a hand through Bambam’s hair, who at some point had started crying openly, face pressed into Hyunwoo’s chest like he could physically restrain the massive alpha from leaving.

Chan finally looked up, cheeks ruddy and wet. “I’m going to miss you so much, Hyung.” He sniffled. Hyunwoo smiled, bringing a large hand to the boy’s cheek to wipe away the tears from his face.

“Keep working hard, Channie-ah. You’re going to make me so proud someday.” He said, frowning when it only made the tears flow harder. “You’ll debut, I can feel it. All of you will, I can just tell these kinds of things.” Hyunwoo laughed softly, bumping his forehead gently against Jinyoung, who had also teared up in the meantime. 

“It’s not fucking fair.” Bambam growled into his chest, Yugyeom barked a laugh through his tears and Jinyoung pinched the pup’s ear scoldingly. 

“Bambam, language!” The omega said, though there was no heat to his words. Bambam wiggled defiantly, squeezing tighter. 

“Fuck language!” He grumbled, Hyunwoo laughed in his typical loud, almost booming fashion. 

It took a few minutes for the group to finally untangle. Jinyoung looked between the pups and Hyunwoo helplessly. “Let's get them to rest and I’ll finish helping you pack.” He offered. Hyunwoo nodded, and between the two of them they herded the trio to their room, bundling all three into Jinyoung’s bed once more. 

Bambam curled into Chan immediately, his smaller figure fitting like a puzzle piece against Chan’s chest. Chan pressed his face into the unruly crop of bed head Bambam still sported, forcing his own tears not to fall as Bambam cried into his chest. His heart ached at the sound, and he pulled him impossibly closer. Bambam clung to him fiercely, their lanky teenage bodies tangled awkwardly around each other as they sought to eliminate any space that could exist between them. 

Behind him, Yugyeom scooted closer, not quite as desperate for contact as Bambam. He hesitantly held onto a fistful of Chan’s shirt, using that point of contact to ground himself. He wasn’t crying yet, but Chan knew that later, once he was alone in the silence of the bathroom, he would probably tear up. 

It took a while for Bambam’s sobbing to trail into whimpers, and then eventually silence, broken up by the wet sniffles and the occasional hiccup of the other two boys sharing the bed. Chan held him close, breathing in the calming smell from Jinyoung’s sheets, trying to soothe the ache in his chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to find the people he would debut with- the people he would build his pack with someday.. 

Sleep came fitfully to Chan that night, and for many nights after. 

---

Time marched on, out of Chan’s control, and in many ways it made him question if the world had anything like fairness or empathy in it at all. Peniel packed up and left, called to another company with the promise of a swift debut. His bed went empty for a while, the sharp smell of dragon's blood fading from their space until Chan could hardly remember it. And yet they moved on, the company rotating them into the next practice unit, the next evaluation, the next promise of debut, or threat of elimination. 

Bambam stayed plastered to Chan’s side, and eventually Yugyeom joined him, their little huddle feeling like the only stability the dorms had to offer. 

Wake up, go to school, go to practice, eat, sleep. Repeat. 

Just like that, Chan’s first year passed, filled with melancholy in some places and triumph in others, but he had a team, a group that was chasing their dreams alongside him, and that, at the very least, felt solid. Stable. Like home.

Chapter Text

Chan yawned, stretching his arms up and over his head. A few of the vertebrae in his back popped with a satisfying series of clicks. In the months that had passed since Hyunwoo left, the hole in their little trainee group had felt raw and empty, but recently things had seemed to flow back into their natural order. 

Both New Years had come and gone and the world was well into 2012; over a year since Chan had arrived in Seoul. The adjustment had gone so much smoother than he had ever dared to hope. He had managed to pick up Korean well enough by now. He rarely had to be coached through conversations anymore, though he still floundered under pressure. He didn’t struggle to communicate with less patient trainees now, and he no longer needed one of the English speaking hyungs to hover nearby just in case he needed saving. 

Between the manager hyungs and his trainee hyungs, they had managed to show him everything from where to buy food to how to do his laundry. Sometimes he almost felt like a proper adult, walking around the city by himself, buying his own snacks and clothes and useless trinkets with the allowance he was given. He wasn’t allowed to stray too far from the dorms on his own just yet, and he had to let a manager know every time he left the safety of the dorm, but the sense of independence let him immerse himself in a fantasy of responsibility and adulthood that he knew not very many people his age got to experience; not with their parents still waiting in the wings when they got home. All of this was very well and good until he was up at night way later than planned, listening to one of his hyungs explain mathematics to him as he struggled with his homework and suddenly he felt very much like a kid again.

Training was… a lot. He had to adapt quickly to the lessons; there were few other options, realistically. The training wouldn’t be getting easier anytime soon and it wasn’t like their instructors were going to suddenly become patient and understanding. In fact, they had practically guaranteed them that the training was only going to get more difficult from here on out. For Chan and the trainees who arrived around the same time he had, their grace period had ended. They could speak and understand when they were spoken to. They could fend for themselves in the wilds of the city and no longer needed to be babysat every second of the day. From here on out, there would be no more handholding. From here on out, there was a very real risk of Chan being sent home. Just like Hyunwoo.

Though he was terribly homesick, the idea of being shipped back to Sydney and becoming just another faceless student again was terrifying. More than his dreams of pop stardom being crushed, the idea of losing his newfound independence was what scared him the most. So Chan found himself bouncing rapidly between school, the company, and the dorm. His days passed in a blur of work and practice, practice, practice because he couldn’t go home. He wouldn’t go home. It just wasn’t possible. He refused. 

Chan glanced lazily to the side, where Bambam lay slumped over in the coveted very back row of seats of the bus, tucked between Chan and one side and Yugyeom on the other. With a sleepy snuffle, his head lolled to rest against a disgruntled Yugyeom’s shoulder. The other pup seemed displeased at the attention, but as always, he begrudgingly let the lanky boy do as he pleased. Chan chuckled, and reached over, pulling Bambam to flop gracelessly against him instead, his head falling into the crux of Chan’s shoulder and neck. 

He pressed his nose into the untamed tuft that was Bambam’s hair, soaking in the scent of pup and the faintest scent of green, new peaches that seemed to linger around the other boy lately. His hair was still damp, tickling Chan’s nose in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It had still been dark outside when they left the dorm, the interior of the bus lit only by the thin yellow strips of LEDs, casting everything in shadow illuminated up only by a faint yellow glow.

“He stayed up all night playing games again, didn’t he?” Yugyeom quipped with a smirk that told Chan that he already knew the answer to that question. 

Chan rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway. “He always does, unless Jinyoung-hyung hides his DS.” He snorted. At the sound of his name, Jinyoung glanced back from his seat a few rows up. Chan pointed at Bambam by way of an explanation and both he and Yugyeom giggled at the exasperated eye roll the omega gave in return, knowing Bambam would be painfully DS-less tonight. 

The familiar, heavy weight of Bambam against his side was comfortable and warm. He found himself zoning out just a bit, looking out the window of the bus and watching the grey streets of Seoul fly by without really absorbing most of what he was seeing. The streets were empty this early in the morning. Most students were still curled up in their beds, tucked away from the overcast sky and cold morning air outside. Chan had long since gotten used to their grueling early schedule, capable of working off only a few hours of sleep where the other trainees would be dead on their feet.

The bus ride passed quickly, their stop fast approaching. Chan shook Bambam gently, smiling fondly at the dazed look he gained in return. “Bammie, we’re almost there. Wake up or manager-hyung will yell at you again.”

Bambam yawned and sat up. He stretched himself like a languid cat, blinking several times to clear the sleep from his eyes. Bambam had grown so much in the past year, standing a proud three centimeters taller than Chan now. His round face contrasted by how wiry he had become, despite the seemingly endless amount of food he put away. The three of them were fourteen now, still scruffy and undersized compared to some of their hyungs, although everybody could tell that Yugyeom was already gearing up to be a giant. 

“What are we even doing today?” Bambam whined, awake and clearly disgruntled by that fact. Yugyeom huffed next to him, rolling his eyes hard enough Chan thought he could hear it if he focused.

“We have basic lessons today. The hyungs have their evaluations though.” Yugyeom said, pointing at Jinyoung and Jaebeom. The two older boys leaned in close to each other, exchanging words low enough that Chan couldn’t hear them. 

“You make it sound like something serious.” Bambam scoffed, “As if JYP-nim would ever cut them . You, however-” Bambam laughed at the offended look Yugyeom gave him. 

“Not all of us can be dance prodigies.” Chan scolded, pinching Bambam’s ear gently in reprimand. They both laugh at Bambam’s yelp, slapping Chan’s hand away with an affronted pout. 

“Cute,” Chan grinned, despite Bambam’s glare. The bus came to a stop and they moved as a well-trained hoard, grabbing bags and masks and forgotten protein shakes, piling off the bus in a mass of squeaking shoes to step out into the weak rays of dawn, the barely risen sun doing absolutely nothing to combat the chill in the air. 

“I hope you pups aren’t too sleepy to pay attention in choreography.” Jackson said, falling back from the other trainees, his and Mark’s bags hanging loosely off his shoulder. 

Chan still hadn’t quite figured Jackson out. He was loud and impulsive, but held an undercurrent of care that made him easy to trust. Chan often found himself playing around with the young alpha. Some nights he even went out with the older boy and Mark to skateboard in the evenings, an activity they swore up and down that they were absolutely allowed to do. 

Chan had some serious doubts about that, but it was fun, so he chose to ignore his suspicions in the name of blowing off some steam. 

“When have I ever been too sleepy to do anything, hyung?” Chan giggled, pressing up into the affectionate ruffle of Jackson’s palm through the unruly curls of his barely tamed bedhead.

“There we go! That’s dedication. You two could learn a thing or two from our Channie.'' Jackson teased, pointing accusingly at Bambam and Yugyeom, who gave a valiant attempt at hitting Jackson in the head with a thrown (blessedly only half full) water bottle. 

In the end, Jackson ducked. 

The water bottle sailed past him to thump harmlessly into Jaebeom’s broad back. Chan smelled the flair of annoyance before Jaebeom even turned around. The alpha’s natural rain scent spiked, like the crisp edge of wet and humidity that rode on the crest of the wind right before a summer storm. He turned his head to the side, jaw jutting out in a way that Chan knew meant he didn’t care which pup (or Jackson) was to blame, they were all in trouble. 

“Good luck with that!” Bambam cackled, breaking away from their huddle to bolt past the annoyed alpha. Chan laughed in disbelief, sprinting after him before Jaebeom could even open his mouth and command them to stop, Yugyeom hot on his heels. The sound of their giggling and their feet pounding down the hallways of the company completely drowned out Jaebeom’s annoyed shouts and Jackson’s accompanying,

“But hyung -”

---

“ Bang Chan! ” The dance instructor’s sharp voice cut through the sound of shoes squeaking against the polished wood flooring of the practice room. Chan stumbled, barely catching himself from falling face first to the floor. 

“Y-Yes, seonsaengnim!” Chan shouted. The rest of the trainees stopped as the music cut off abruptly. 

Chan swallowed nervously, forcing himself to make eye contact with the strict beta leading their class today. “Were you trying something new, stylistically, by being a beat behind everyone else or did you just suddenly forget how to dance?” The woman barked. The other trainees averted their eyes from the scolding, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

“I- uh-” he fumbled to find the words. His Korean tangled on his tongue uncomfortably. He didn’t know how he was supposed to answer and his panic was a heavy scent in the enclosed room. 

The instructor rolled her eyes, lip curled as she turned away from Chan. 

“I don’t actually care what your excuse is, just stop doing it.” She snapped, waving a dismissive hand. “Everyone take a fifteen minute break, I expect you all to be perfect when we pick it back up!” She shouted, clapping her hands to release the trainees from the stiff stillness they had fallen into when the scolding started. 

As soon as she left the room, Chan slumped in relief. A soft whine escaped his throat, his face burning in humiliation at being so publicly reprimanded. 

“Don’t worry about her, she’s been snapping at everyone today.” Jabeom said, walking up to Chan, a water bottle in his hand. Chan took it gratefully, downing it in several desperate gulps. Jaebeom watched him, ruffling his hand through Chan’s sweat damp hair, leaving a lingering scent of alpha behind, the sweet jasmine and cool, clean scent of rain grounded Chan easily. 

“Thank you, hyung” Chan pouted, looking across the hall to where Bambam was helping Yugyeom through a move. Despite not being in Seoul for much longer than the others, Bambam took to the choreography like a fish to water, flying past most of the ‘basic’ dance moves that the company used as a baseline and onto bigger, better things. Chan himself struggled with those same moves. Some days his body didn’t seem to want to cooperate with him, refusing to even sort of mimic the deceptively complex movements. It made Chan look young and clumsy next to Bambam who seemed to be growing and improving day by day with a sort of deceptive grace instead of with the painfully awkward jumps and starts Chan struggled through.

“Stop focusing on other people.” Jaebeom said, voice firm but not unkind. Chan blinked, unsure how Jaebeom knew what he was thinking. 

“You have an honest face, Channie.” He said, once again answering Chan’s unspoken question. Chan blushed, rubbing the back of his beck bashfully. “You’re doing fine , Chan-ah. You can’t keep comparing yourself to someone who’s not you or else you’re just going to drive yourself crazy. Stop trying so hard to be like him and just focus on being you . Focus on where you are at, what you need to improve, but also on what you’re already great at. Don’t just think about where you’re lacking, because you wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t already something amazing about you.” The alpha continued, leaving his hand on top of Chan’s head as a comforting weight. It reminded him of when he was much younger and his alpha father would lay his hand on the back of his neck during thunderstorms; the gentle scruffing by his sire immediately settled his nerves making each rumble of thunder seem less and less scary until he blinked and realized that the entire storm had passed.

Jaebeom would never do something so familially intimate as scruff him, at least not in public, but the heft of his wide palm settled him almost as effectively as if he had. Chan couldn’t help but feel a little childish at the action, though it was admittedly comforting to have the older alpha doting on him like that.

 “I know. It's just...hard.” Chan explained lamely, frowning down at the floor. 

“When I get stuck, I write a song.” Jaebeom said, taking a drink from his own water bottle. Chan’s eyebrows scrunched together, eyeing Jaebeom suspiciously. 

“And… writing a song helps with your dancing?” He asked, confused. 

Jaebeom laughed, shaking his head. “Not even a little bit. But it makes me feel better. Like I’m doing something useful. Being productive. Even if it turns out that I’m the worst dancer in the group-” Chan scoffed at that, but Jaebeom nudged him with an elbow so he kept his praise of his hyung’s dance skills to himself, at least for now. “-even if I turn out to be the worst dancer in the group,” Jaebeom repeated, a little grin playing around the corners of his mouth, “It won’t matter because I can write a song that Jinyoung’s voice will shine one. Bammie will dance to it and everyone’s eyes will be on him, and you’ll get everyone on their feet with your rap verse. And I can listen to it and know that it was my contribution to the group. That I worked hard on it. Plus, it’s a great way to clear your head. Sort of like writing poetry or whatever.” He explained, with a sort of patience he seemed to only afford Chan in his voice. Chan nodded, eyes wide at the wisdom the alpha was giving him. 

“You should try it. I’ve heard you writing out raps, you know. I bet you could do a song. It doesn’t even have to be good.” He tapped Chan on the forehead. “Whenever it gets too busy up here, get out a notebook and write it all down. Even if it doesn’t feel like a song at the time, you never know what might make great lyrics in the future.” Jaebom said, giving Chan’s shoulder a squeeze, “You’ll never know unless you try.” 

He left Chan behind, wandering over to  talk to Jinyoung and Mark. The omega pressed into his side as soon as he approached, settling there with his head resting on Jaebeom’s shoulder. 

Writing… did not seem like a bad idea, Chan thought. He had been writing his own raps for a while. The idea of a whole song was intimidating, but Jaebeom’s assurance that it didn’t even need to be good made him think it was more achievable. It was much easier to make something bad than something good, he reasoned, but Chan wanted to make something good. He wanted to be perfect. Anything less than perfect felt shaky, scary. Unstable in the worst way possible. 

“What did Jaebeom-hyung want?” Bambam’s voice snapped Chan out of his thoughts, the boy seemingly appearing at his side out of thin air. Chan barely suppressed a yelp at his sudden presence, though judging by the smug grin on his face, that was exactly the reaction that Bambam had wanted.

“He told me to write a song.” Chan shrugged. 

“Why?” Bambam asked, flopping down to sit against the mirror, looking up at Chan. Chan squatted down, relishing the stretch in his calves as he spared Bambam’s neck from being craned upwards for too long. 

“He said to get my thoughts out of my head or something. Like therapy.” He said, settling down cross legged next to Bambam. 

“Are you going to do it?” He asked, foot scooting over to tap into Chan’s absentmindedly.

Chan gazed across the practice room, watching the way Jaebeom’s hand settled comfortably on Jinyoung’s waist, so natural neither even seemed to notice it was happening. Chan shrugged. 

“Probably. I may as well try, yaknow?” Chan said, breaking his eyes away from the sight of the alpha’s thumb slipped up under the hem of Jinyoung’s shirt, rubbing gentle circles into the skin just over his waistband. Chan’s ears felt warm, like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“If it’s like everything else you try, you’ll pick it up no problem.” Bambam said, kicking Chan’s foot to regain the other pup’s attention. Chan rolled his eyes, leaning back until he tipped over, tumbling into Bambam’s open lap with a grin. 

“You’re too serious.” Bambam scolded, flicking Chan’s forehead scoldingly, Chan pouting back up at him at the action. 

“I- '' Chan's words were cut off by the door opening. Their teacher marched back in, clearly no more relaxed than she had been before, despite the short break. 

Chan scrambled to his feet and reached his hand down to help pull Bambam up as well. They stifled panicked giggles together as they booked it back to their spots, determined to not be the last in place and risk another scolding.

Chan took his position, noticing the encouraging look Jaebeom sent him in the mirror, nodding firmly back at the alpha. The music started, and all of Chan’s thoughts gave way to the movement of his body and feet, the room filling with the squeak of shoes once more. 

--- 

Everyone in the dorm had adjusted fairly well to their new setup. No one had taken Peniel’s bed yet, the extra room was more of a revolving door of various trainees, here one week and then gone the next; bound to another company chasing after the tantalizing offer of a quick debut, or heading home with a heavy heart once they decided to give up and quit. 

Chan had learned to not get too attached to anyone, keeping his affections tucked away for the little core group that had remained steadfast and committed. It was safer that way, easier to keep close to those who were as determined to debut with him as he was with them, instead of hurting each time the people who didn't match their intensity abandoned ship. 

Chan’s pencil screeched along the paper in a jagged line, the sudden presence pressing against  his back all but shoving him into the table. “Get off me, Bam!” He whined, reaching back to swat at the clingy pup. 

Bambam groaned dramatically, glaring at the off-white wall of the living room like it had somehow personally offended him. Chan sighed, knowing nothing would get done until he sorted out whatever had gotten Bambam into one of his moods. He set his pencil aside. Staggering to his feet, he piggybacked the limp boy over to the couch.

With a rather inelegant flop, he positioned them with Bambam laying against him, resting his chin on Bambam’s head. “Why are you pouting?” He teased, poking Bambam’s knee. 

“What does he have to be so big for?” Bambam grumbled, his face set into a deep scowl. Chan blinked. 

“Who are we talking about and what’s big?” He asked, trying to keep the laugh out of his voice. 

“Pervert!” Bambam yelled, kicking at Chan’s feet. “I’m talking about Yugyeom!” 

Chan sighed, familiar with this particular complaint. He tangled his hand in Bambam’s hair, tugging at it teasingly, earning himself a smack on the thigh from the other pup. 

“He’s just tall, Bam-ah! It’s not the end of the world,” Chan laughed, smoothing Bambam’s unruly hair flat once more. Bambam rolled over, now facing Chan, an adorable pout set on his soft features. Chan really did try his best not to laugh.

“But the hyungs trust him more than me! They treat me like a pup compared to him! Yesterday Jinyoung-hyung wiped my face at dinner!” Bambam whined, writhing around in annoyance so hard that Chan had to rest a hand on his bony hip to keep him from rolling off the narrow couch. 

“You are a pup!” Chan laughed, raising his hands to protect himself from the barrage of smacks that earned him. Bambam gave up, wiggling up to hook his chin over Chan’s shoulder, sprawled out over his chest. Chan wrapped his arms around his waist, glad Bambam was too distracted to notice the blush fighting its way onto his cheeks, the tips of his ears already a bright, incriminating red. He could feel the heat pouring off them, but he had at least some hope that his hair would hide it. 

Chan considered both Yugyeom and Bambam his best friends, but the two had an admittedly strange dynamic. Chan was willing to bet money Yugyeom would present as an alpha someday, with how broad and tall he already was at a measly fifteen years old. Sometimes the two would get along perfectly. With Chan added into the mix the three of them were an unstoppable tornado, as Jinyoung liked to call them. And then at other times the two barely seemed able to stand being in the same room as each other, barbed comments flying relentlessly when one of them seemed to be in a rotten mood. Chan had become an expert at stepping between them, adept at soothing Bambam’s ire and deflecting Yugyeom’s frustration, but it wasn't an ideal arrangement. He cared about them both and it was exhausting to see them constantly balanced on the edge of an argument.

“How about this? Next time we sneak out-” Chan started, ignoring Bambam’s helpful reminder that ‘ Jackson-hyung said it's not sneaking’ “-we invite Yugyeom. The hyungs won’t mind, and we can all get closer.” He suggested, putting his hands on Bambam’s hips and leaning back to look at him. 

Bambam pouted, but nodded, snuggling back into Chan’s chest. Despite the fact Bambam had gotten longer, taller , he still felt like practically nothing against Chan’s chest. He could and had slept with Bambam lying on top of him for an entire night and hadn’t woken up any worse for wear. He barely weighed anything, like a sparrow resting on a twig. Bird bones. Nothing but air and feathers. Chan ran his hand through Bambam’s hair, yawning now that he had been forced to relax. 

The pair had almost dozed off when the front door opened with a bang, jolting both of them awake. Jinyoung’s face was flushed, his scent bright and excited. Chan jolted up, Bambam scrambling in his lap. He dumped the other boy on the couch next to him. 

“Hyung, what-” Chan started, but was cut off when Jaebeom stumbled in behind Jinyoung, face just as flushed and eyes just as bright as the omega’s. The two of them had been called to a meeting with JYP-nim and their instructors just before the rest of them had been sent home, but that had been hours ago. Chan hadn’t thought too much of it at the time, but judging by how worked up they were, something had clearly happened. Despite the almost manic smiled on their faces, Chan couldn’t help the momentary sinking feeling of fear, anticipating the worst-

“We’re debuting!” Jinyoung shouted. The rest of the dorm occupants began to pour out of their rooms at the shout. Chan blinked once, twice, and then was out of his seat, barreling towards the older boys. The rest of the dorm crushed in as well, the word ‘debut’ serving as a trigger for a barrage of overlapping questions and congratulations, 

“What do you mean you’re going to debut?!” Bambam shouted, hot on Chan’s heels as they rushed the pair. Jinyoung was smiling ear to ear. The flush on his cheeks and sweat clinging to his brow made it seem like he had run all the way up the many, many flights of stairs to get to the dorm and share the news as quickly as possible. Judging by Jaebeom’s similar state, they had probably raced each other there, but the omega had always been a bit faster on his feet. 

“JYP-nim called the meeting, he says he wants to debut us as a duo!” Jaebeom answered, a laugh almost breaking up his words. 

Chan wanted to feel sad- he wanted to complain that the two older men were debuting without him, but the joy in the room made him hold his tongue. Behind him, Jackson, Mark, Bambam and Yugyeom crowded near, congratulating the pair for their soon-to-be debut. Chan pushed down the irrational fear of being abandoned, beaming up at them instead.

“That’s incredible, hyungs!” He said, leaning into the pets Jaebeom was doling out to everyone he could reach in thanks. 

“We’re moving into our dorm next week. We’ll still be training and doing lessons with you guys from time to time, but they want to start us on our own schedule. Filming content, a music video, and preparing for music shows.” Jinyoung explained, finally pushing past their small crowd to sit down on the abandoned couch, the high of his impending debut (and the adrenaline rush from his sprint up the stairs) finally getting to him. 

Chan melted into the crowd of trainees. A quiet melancholy seemed to spread through the group as the reality of what a debut for Jaebeom and Jinyoung meant. They’d be leaving. The scent of coffee and rain would fade from the dorm, just as the scent of mint had when Hyunwoo left.

 Jackson was the first to speak up. 

“So does that mean you’re…leaving us?” He asked, too new to Korean to be anything but painfully blunt with his question. Jinyoung blinked, as if he hadn’t even considered it. 

“No.” Jaebeom said, voice firm enough to quiet the little group and garner all of their attention. “They want us to debut now, but they plan on making a group, too. We’re like a-a teaser. We’re still gonna debut as part of the group when it’s time.” He explained, reaching a hand out to squeeze Jinyoung’s thigh. His thumb brushed across Jinyoung’s inseam as he quelled the sudden rush of nervous omega, like overcooked coffee grounds, that sullied the air. It was obvious that in his excitement Jinyoung hadn’t even thought about leaving the pups behind.  

Chan was reminded of the hand Jaebeom put on Jinyoung's waist during training, the way the two seemed to gravitate towards each other like magnets, butting heads but always returning to each other’s inexplicable orbit. He wondered, sometimes, if they were courting, but neither of them had ever offered to define their relationship. If it weren’t for the unmarked skin of their necks, Chan sometimes would have been almost certain that the pair were already mated.

“So that means…” Yugyeom started, hopeful.

“We aren’t leaving you guys behind.” Jinyoung cooed, pinching a handful of Bambam’s soft cheeks, causing the boy to squeal and slap him away, everyone laughing at the antics. 

The melancholy lifted. Even though they wouldn’t be in the dorm anymore, they’d still be waiting for them. Our alpha. Something in Chan whispered, looking at Jaebeom as he pulled a wiggling Bambam away from Jinyoung. It felt right to defer to Jaebeom in that way. He had every trait that the handsome alphas from the dramas did. Dependable, respectable, protective yet kind. He was someone Chan could see himself following without question someday. 

“You look a bit shaken up.” Mark commented from behind Chan, making the pup jump. He blushed, scratching the back of his head bashfully. “You know Jaebeom and Jinyoung would never leave the pack behind.” Mark scolded with a gentle flick to Chan’s nose. 

Pack … It was the first time Chan had heard that word used for what they had. Watching the way Jinyoung leaned into Jackson, rubbing his omega scent on the young alpha, he supposed that it made sense.

Pack for Chan had always meant family, his mother and father and siblings were his pack. He knew that South Korea favored larger packs, and it was becoming more and more common for idol groups to develop into packs, real packs, with a strong pack alpha and a doting head omega. Genuine love between the members broadcasted for all the world to see. It had intimidated him, when the teachers first said they might form a pack with their debut group. But the longer he spent with his fellow trainees, the more right it felt. They were a pack; this little ragtag group of trainees. His heart swelled at the thought, that dark little cloud of fear dissipating like mist on a warm day. 

“This means a celebration dinner!” Younghyun crowed, the rest of the group picking up his cheer easily, frantic as ever at the thought of meat. “Jaebeom is paying!” The other alpha added, the cheers loud enough to drown out Jaebeom’s bark of complaint. 

---

Chan hid his laugh in his sleeve, following Mark and Jackson down the stairs. With Jaebeom and Jinyoung out of the dorm, sneaking out had become a much more frequent occurrence, though this was the first time they would be dragging a hesitant Yugyeom along. Bambam followed along behind, his skateboard held close to his chest so that the trucks made as little noise as possible until they exited the stairwell. The sun had already set, their managers long since having gone home, and that meant it was time for them to steal away into the night on their skateboards. 

As usual, they waited until they were a block or so away before Mark tossed his skateboard down, the others following quickly behind. Chan jumped onto his easily, confidence coming from the many times they had done this, but Yugyeom stumbled, unfamiliar with the borrowed skateboard. 

“Don’t fall off, you might break the road!” Bambam cackled, gliding past Yugyeom with practiced ease, his hands buried casually in the pocket of his oversized hoodie. Mark and Jackson laughed, though Jackson slowed down just enough to make sure that Yugyeom could keep up as they made their way down the street, their path lit by the yellow glow of the street lights high overhead. 

“At least if I fall off I won't snap my arm in half!” Yugyeom shot back. There was only a bit of a teasing lilt in his voice, thankfully, no hidden malice behind the comment. Chan rolled his eyes at their antics, tossing his empty soda bottle in a trash can as he passed and earning a pleased cheer from Jackson. 

“You’re both pretty, now stop bickering!” Chan called out, moving to the side to make way for Bambam beside him, who had slowed down to a drop back beside Chan. Lured by Jacksons earlier whoop . 

“Awe, Chris, you think I’m pretty?” Bambam asked, batting his long lashes at the other boy. Chan flushed, choosing to ignore Mark’s teasing crow of ‘ Ah, young love’ to instead swat at Bambam, who easily drifted out of his arms reach, an all too pleased grin on his face.

“Yeah you’re pretty,” Chan rolled his eyes. “Pretty unbearable.” He snarked, shoving his hands in his pockets as well. 

Bambam absolutely was pretty, was the thing. He was still tiny and lanky, but Chan found it charming. He often found his thoughts drawn to the way the other boy smiled. To the way he would stretch across Chan’s lap in a graceful arch. To the smell of peaches that often filled their room now. More than once Chan had found himself burrowing into Bambam’s sheets, seeking out the comforting smell. It always ended with Chan red faced and embarrassed, sneaking back to his own bed before anyone noticed. His heart flared with an emotion he adamantly chose not to name at the thought. 

They skated for an hour or so, taking turns trading jabs, finding things to throw at each other, and then pick back up to throw away at Chan’s light scolding. 

“Dude, watch out!” Mark shouted suddenly in warning, swerving to avoid a shallow pothole in the street. Bambam managed to avoid it by leaning hard to the left, but Chan wasn’t as lucky. One of his wheels caught in the yawning crack in the asphalt, and suddenly his board wasn’t underneath his feet anymore. He stumbled, a yell catching in his throat as he tried to catch himself. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he instinctively tucked to the side to stop his face from becoming best friends with the pavement. 

He tumbled over himself in a graceless roll, coming to a stop a few feet from the pothole, dazed and disoriented from the sudden fall. 

“Chris!” Bambam was already at his side by the time Chan managed to push himself into a shaky seated position. Bambam’s eyes were wide as his hands fluttered over Chan’s body, checking for injuries or breaks. Chan hissed through his teeth when Bambam grabbed his shoulder a little too roughly, Mark swatting his hand away before Chan could say anything. 

“Jesus, Bam, don’t make it worse!” Mark scolded, nudging the pup out of the way so he could kneel in front of Chan. He gave him a once over, clearly looking for any major damage. 

“I was trying to help! What if he broke something? What if he can never dance again? Can you lose the ability to rap from a fall?” Bambam ranted, cut off as the palm of Jackson’s hand pressed firmly over his mouth. 

Chan snorted, raising a brow at Bambam who was trying to peel the much stronger boy’s hand away from his mouth. “I’m fine, Bammie. It’s just a little scrape.” Chan huffed, catching the distressed look in Yugyeom’s eye. He gave him a smile, trying to reassure the other pup that everything really was ok. 

Chan leaned forwards, allowing Mark to gently peel his shirt away from his side.

 “Oh damn.” Mark hissed, looking at the long line of scrapes down Chan’s side. Bambam let out a distressed whine, Jackson finally releasing him to go fret over Chan, now that Mark was assessing the damage. 

“Yikes, that looks nasty.”  Jackson said, following close behind. He knelt down, picking up Chan’s hand to check the scraped palms, carefully picking out a rock that had wedged itself into one of the cuts. 

Chan fidgeted under so much attention, his ears burning red as the two checked over his scrapes. They were gentle with him, Mark’s smoky evergreen entwined with Jackson’s sharper scent, strong like freshly bruised rose petals. It would have been enough to make Chan’s nose itch had he not been so familiar with them already. He had to admit it felt nice, having both the older boys attention in this way. Their hands were careful, kind despite both of their admittedly rough personalities. 

Chan felt… young. Small and taken care of. But in a good way, not in a ‘this world is too big and too new and I’ve lost my way’...way.

It was a nice feeling, something he had been missing in the weeks since Jinyoung moved out. The debut had gone well, over a million views in only two days were insane numbers to think about. The whole dorm had crowded around the television on the day of their first music show, cheering loud enough that no one could even hear ‘JB’ and ‘Junior’ s song. He was proud of them, so incredibly proud, but the dorm did feel much colder without them there. Chan hadn’t realized how much he had come to depend on the two of them for comfort and guidance. 

He had written his first song, just after they left. Jaebeom’s words had guided his pen as he scratched messy Korean onto the page. It wasn’t good. Not even a little. But, Jaebeom was right. It felt good. 

“I’m never sneaking out with you guys again.” Yugyeom decided, earning a chorus of laughter. 

“This doesn’t normally happen, I swear.” Chan promised, accepting Jackson’s helping hand up, carefully avoiding contact with his abraded palms. He cautiously rolled each ankle, scrutinizing each movement for even the slightest twinge that might indicate that it was sprained, or worse, broken. The left one throbbed a little, but it was nothing that wouldn’t heal overnight, or at least be tolerable by morning. 

“Yeah, normally Channie does his best to not eat shit.” Jackson teased, ruffling Chan’s hair when the pup gave an offended gasp. 

Bambam bent down to pick up Chan’s abandoned bag and skateboard, slinging the bag over his own back and holding the skateboard. “I can take that?” Chan offered, snorting when Bambam pulled the board away from him, as if he was offended at the suggestion. 

“You obviously can’t be trusted not to kill yourself. You can walk, man.” Bambam quipped. Chan grumbled, ignoring the chorus of snickers it earned him, crossing his arms over his chest as he pouted. 

“Do you wanna get some ice cream?” Yugyeom suggested, gesturing at the lights of a convenience store back the way they came. 

“That just might be the best idea you've ever had.” Bambam laughed, already starting off towards the promise of ice cream. 

“Hey I’m full of great ideas! Like, all the time!” Yugyeom protested, but he followed after Bambam anyway, their boards rattling over the rough pavement as they raced ahead. Jackson chose to walk beside him. He nudged Chan’s uninjured side gently, the look of quiet concern on his face was all the words he needed. 

Chan nodded, bumping him back just as gently. “I’m ok, hyung, I promise.” 

“Good, because now we have to figure out how to hide this from the manager.” He said. Mark heaved a heavy sigh, nodding his head in front of them. 

“But for now, ice cream?” Chan asked hopefully, giving the alpha his best puppy eyes. Jackson tried to seem resolute for all of two seconds before he deflated, gesturing at Bambam and Yugyeom’s retreating backs. 

“For now, ice cream.” He conceded. Chan grinned, running to catch up with the other two ‘97 liners. Bambam immediately plastered himself to his uninjured side. He was warm tucked up against him, despite the chill of the night. 

Chan hummed, content, the sting of his scrapes lost to the debate over mint chocolate that he walked into. At least the two of them seemed to be getting along better. 

---

Back at the dorm, Chan’s scrapes were bandaged by a fretting Younghyun. Afterward, Chan sprawled out in his bed. Bambam curled into his side, one leg slung over Chan’s hip. It was a familiar position, one they had fallen into countless times before. Bambam nuzzled into his shoulder, yawning into the skin of Chan’s neck. 

Chan shivered, adjusting one arm to better wrap around Bambam, drawing lazy patterns into the other boy’s back. 

“Hey Chris, when do you think we’ll debut?” Bambam asked suddenly, not lifting his head from Chan’s shoulder. Chan was silent for a moment, eyes tracing over the patterns of the well worn comforter on the bed in contemplation. 

“Soon, for sure. Jaebeom and Jinyoung-hyungs said JYP-nim was planning something.” He said, suppressing the pang of longing for the stalwart alpha and warmhearted omega. 

Bambam hummed in agreement, tapping a mindless rhythm into the bed with his feet. Chan felt that aching, tremulous emotion come back; something he still didn’t have a word for- or at least was too afraid to label in any sort of serious way. It bubbled up in his chest, tight and uncomfortable and more than a little scary. Like standing on the edge of a building, looking out over the city below, seeing just how close he could inch his toes to the ledge before he got too dizzy, too afraid to keep going. 

“When we debut,” Bambam continued, “We’re going to kill it.” He was unaware of the turmoil going on within the boy under him as he prattled on sleepily. “All sorts of awards and shows, all the money we could dream of.” He mused, lifting his head to frown at Chan when he felt his chest shaking with barely contained laughter. 

“Sure, Bammie,” He teased, feeling more than hearing Bambam’s indignant huff in response. 

“Let a man dream!” Bambam whined, digging his chin into Chan’s shoulder in retaliation. 

“I would if there was a man in this room.” Chan shot back, wrapping his arms around Bambam, trapping the boy's arms against his sides to stop him from hitting. 

“Do you think they’ll debut us together?” Chan asked suddenly, squeezing Bambam to his chest. Bambam scoffed, struggling to push himself up enough to look into Chan’s eyes.

“Duh? We’re too perfect together not to be together!” He said with all the confidence Chan wished he had. 

Chan didn’t know where he got that conviction from; that unwavering assurance that no matter what happened, it would all eventually work out in his favor. Chan never had that. He always worried about what was next, what was now, even what had just passed. He never wanted to bring the group morale down, so he kept those feelings tight to his chest, closed off in their own little box, determined to not be a burden those around them.

Bambam never had to close himself off like that. He was bright, loud and confident. Talent oozed from his very being like honey from the comb. He was gifted and proud and funny. Charismatic in a way that drew eyes to him from all across the room, despite still being a pup and not yet having presented. 

Chan knew Bambam would grow up to be beautiful. He could see it in the glint of his eyes, the way his limbs seemed to go on past where they should, but never enough to look anything less than elegant. 

Chan rolled over, sprawling half over Bambam, ignoring his wheezed protests. Bambam flailed his arms, palms and knuckles landing the occasional blow as he wiggled out from under Chan’s weight, desperate to escape the aggressive nuzzling of his hair that the broader pup was subjecting him to. 

Laughter filled the room as they began to wrestle, pillows and stuffed toys flying off the bed onto the floor, knocked off by thrashing limbs. Chan twisted and turned, determined to keep Bambam pinned under him. He grabbed his hand, trying to keep him from escaping by holding him down. 

Bambam cackled, twisting away from Chan. He hooked a too-long leg over the boy’s hip and used the leverage to try and switch their positions. 

By the time one of them conceded, they were panting; out of breath and flushed. The bed sheets were destroyed, torn out of place in their impromptu struggle and mostly wrapped around Bambam’s legs, much to the pair's amusement. Their heavy breathing occasionally interrupted by fits of breathless giggles. 

“We’re a team, you know?” Bambam said, and Chan felt the sentiment claw at his chest. Bambam’s hand suddenly felt too warm. The aroma of peaches in the tiny room, crowded with so many beds and so many different scents, was too overwhelming. That nameless emotion he had been so steadfastly ignoring surged to the surface like a rogue wave, a roiling tsunami determined to crash into any barrier Chan put up against it, threatening to spill out if he even thought about letting go. 

In that moment, lying there with Bambam in a tangle of limbs and breathless giggles, Chan thought it might be love.

Chapter Text

2013 began the same as any other year that had passed since Chan came to Seoul; most notably with the arrival of new faces in the dorm room. New Year meant new auditions, and new auditions meant new trainees who would study with them until inevitably, for whatever reason, they left, either to leave the dreams of becoming an idol behind or to debut somewhere else. 

To be perfectly honest, he was a bit over it. 

Over the new faces and new names and new hopes and dreams being shared late at night in excited whispers. Pups who had left behind their childhood homes clinging to each other for comfort, looking at each other with delighted eyes as they imagined their new friends by their sides for the long haul. It never worked out that way. There was always one trainee, a lynchpin, who gathered all the new faces to them like a moth to a flame, and then when they quit, because they almost always quit, it started an avalanche effect.  It only ever took a few months after the first one quit for the dorm to empty out and leave Chan and Bambam alone in what Chan had come to consider ‘their’ room, even though they still shared the space with Younghyun. 

Chan stretched out on his bed, joints popping uncomfortably. He had recently hit a growth spurt, if one could call a few centimeters of quickly accumulated height a ‘spurt’. Compared to walking trees like Yugyeom, Chan was still… not tall, but it was enough for him. He was fifteen now, if you counted by Korean age which he definitely did because what teenage boy didn’t want to seem older and wiser than he actually was, and he was finally beginning to look less like an unpresented pup and more like a soon to be presenting pup. He was proud of his extra centimeters and the sparse little peppering of hair that came in on his chin and upper lip that he had to shave each morning now and his voice had, for the most part, stopped cracking. It wasn’t quite as deep as he’d hoped, nothing like Jaebeom’s timbre but it was nice, he thought, pleasant to listen to. Mostly he was grateful that he could get through an entire recording session without having to redo a line after a dreadful squeak snuck its way through and ruined it. 

A sudden commotion from outside the room caught his attention. The familiar rattle of suitcases on the stairs signaled that a fresh batch of trainees must be approaching. He knew that the nice thing to do would be to get up and go greet the new additions, but he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable today. There was no need for him to stand in the foyer with a stiff welcome wagon smile plastered on his face. He would meet them all eventually, once they settled into the rooms. 

Several more of the beds than usual had remained empty since the last time they had a trainee exodus. Hoetaek, Donghyun, and the others left and they weren’t immediately replaced by new hopefuls. Perhaps this was indicative that the company was finally beginning to get a clearer picture of what they wanted the debuting groups to look like. That they were slowing down on auditions, becoming more selective with the boys they brought into the dorm versus the boys who would commute from their family homes; trainees on a trial basis selected more for their availability than for their talent. Even so, the dorm still felt crowded and stifling sometimes. Without Jinyoung’s calm presence in the space, the alphas were butting heads more often. The remaining betas were doing their best to pick up the slack that normally would be held by a firm omega head, but with so many unpresented pups in one space there was only so much they could do. 

He was torn from his thoughts by a high pitched yelp, and the roar of laughter that followed. 

“Channie! Get out here!” Younghyun called out in English, his voice carrying through the closed door of their shared room. Chan shoved his DS under his pillow, hopping off his bed to pad quietly out to the main room, curious as to what caused such a reaction.

A young boy stood awkwardly in the foyer, his suitcase held  in front of him like a shield. His face looked white as a sheet, and Chan was confused until he noticed Bambam cackling. The boy was halfway through pulling his pants back up from where he had apparently flashed the newcomer, though Chan would not have been able to say why if his life depended on it. 

“I swear I thought it was the hyungs!” Bambam cackled, diving out of the way of the playful kick Younghyun aimed at his rear. Chan snorted as Bambam scampered over to use him as a human shield, knowing that the ‘Chris Method’ as he called it was a tried and true way of deflecting a hyung’s scolding. 

“He’s been here a grand total of three minutes and you’ve already traumatized him, Bammie.” Chan laughed, gesturing at the new trainee who was slowly regaining the color in his face. Chan left Bambam giggling in the hall, stepping forward to offer a friendly hand to the newcomer. He always felt like this, disinterested and annoyed at the idea of getting to know new people until they were in front of him and then he couldn’t help but be curious. 

“Hello, I’m Bang Chan! It’s nice to meet you!” Chan said, his Korean coming naturally at this point. The boy’s eyes flicked between his hand and his face. He still seemed a bit nervous, but he reached out to grasp Chan’s hand firmly anyway, bending at the waist in a short, shallow bow.

“I’m Choi Youngjae. It’s nice to meet you, Bang Chan-ssi.” He introduced himself formally, giving Chan’s hand a quick shake. 

Youngjae smelled sweet and sagey, with that certain note that curled in Chan’s underdeveloped nose and identified him as a beta, but there was a lingering scent of pup hanging about him that made Chan certain Youngjae had only just recently presented. 

Chan smiled, stepping back so the others could introduce themselves, though Bambam only received a hesitant nod from across the room. Youngjae was still clearly uncertain about the flashing he had received. 

“Is there anyone else with you?” Chan asked, picking up Youngjae’s second bag and leading the way further into the dorm. 

“Not that I know of. From what I heard, they decided to cut it down to just one trainee per audition, so it’s just me.” Youngjae said, following Chan down the hallway. 

Chan led him to the room that Jinyoung and Jaebeom had abandoned. The smell of rain and coffee still lingered, though Yugyeom's blossoming pine scent was beginning to make itself at home. The pup had been delighted to have the room to himself over the past few months, lording it over all their heads with a certain smugness that had earned him more than his fair share of pranks in retaliation. 

Yugyeom was young, but he seemed close to his presentation regardless. Lately his scent had gotten stronger, a heady mix of pine, ozone and flint, like the peaks of a mountain before a storm. Everything about the boy screamed alpha and the older trainees were all but making bets on how soon they would need to lock the boy in the nesting room for his presentation. 

“Take any of the empty beds, sheets are in the closet at the end of the hall” Chan told Youngjae, setting the bag he had carried down on an empty bed. 

The young beta beamed, the pretty mole under his eye disappearing in the creases of his smile. Chan smiled back. He couldn’t help but notice the other boy was almost impossibly pretty. Elegant and almost statuesque. He wasn’t sure what his role or skills were, but he was certain Youngjae would get the visual position of whatever group he ended up in. 

“We’re home!” Chan heard some shout, Jackson’s booming voice penetrating through the paper thin structure of the dorm walls easily. Youngjae stared at the door to the room, eyes wide and uncertain. 

“You’ll get used to them. I swear they’re not that ba-” Chan tried to promise, but his words were almost immediately cut off by Younghyun announcing loudly,

“Bambam flashed the pretty new beta!” 

Youngjae’s blush was instant and bright, staining the pretty curves of his full cheeks an embarrassed crimson. 

“Eventually.” Chan added, trying not to laugh. “You’ll get used to them eventually.”

—- 

The day that Yugyeom presented, it was raining. 

The dorm smelled of wet boots and the little wax melter Jinyoung had left months prior that someone always plugged in when they were missing him but didn’t want to say it out loud. It filled the small space with a confusing tangle of wet scents and warm vanilla. Rain pattered against the windows in a rapid tap tap tapping , drowning out the early morning sounds of the dorm stumbling to life. 

Chan was awake first, as always. He never slept very well anymore after the offer of snuggling up in Jinyoung’s warm bed had left along with the omega. A few of the others had noticed, offering their own beds as a weak substitute, but he brushed them off with a casual shrug. This had been his normal before he came to Seoul. Jinyoung had spoiled him, really. He would get used to sleeping alone again. And besides, it wasn’t like he slept alone that often anyway. Bambam had taken to crawling into his bed, despite Chan’s insistence that he didn’t need any company. If he woke up almost just as often from Bambam elbowing him in the back, well, no one really needed to know that. 

Chan left a grumbling Bambam behind in his narrow bed, five more minutes , he had said. Out in the hall, the dorm felt unnaturally dark. The curtains were still drawn in the living room, and the weak, stormy gray light did little to penetrate them, creating a sort of dim, confusing mess of shadows and half-light that his eyes struggled to adjust to. The singular window at the end of the hall illuminated the hallway to an almost stark quality in comparison, the blinds having been left slatted open by someone at some point and the alley on the other side not worth hiding themselves away from. 

Yugyeom shuffled out of his door, cheeks flushed despite the chill of the floor on his bare feet. Chan perked up, furrowing his brow at the other boy. Yugyeom never got up early. 

He only made it a few steps closer to him before he stumbled back. Pine and flint, cut by the sharp scent of ozone hit him like a wall. Thicker, much, much thicker than the weak hint of a scent pups on the brink of adulthood carried with them. This was a full scent. A mature scent.

Yugyeom blinked at him in confusion, as if he didn't smell like the mountains themselves cracking and falling apart, didn't smell as sharp as an abandoned quarry and a lightning strike all rolled into one. It was distinctly masculine, distinctly alpha, and it ran with the undercurrent of a pre-rut that, even unpresented, Chan could pick up on, a shaky swoop low in his stomach.  

“Gyeomie, you’re-“ Chan started, cut off by the harsh, annoyed growl the pup- no, alpha - aimed at him. Chan flinched back, and Yugyeom himself seemed surprised at the action. 

“Channie I’m…” Yugyeom started, unsure of what to say. He still hadn’t found the words when the door behind Chan  opened and a sleepy Bambam stepped out into the hall, halting at the sight of the two. 

Even unpresented, Bambam’s sweet peach scent filled the hall, amplified by his surprise. The growl in Yugyeom’s throat rumbled back to life. He drew himself up, seeming to grow several imposing centimeters in just a few seconds. He reached out, careful and slow, like he wasn’t trying to scare Bambam off before he could get his hands on him. He barely took a step towards the younger boy, however, when suddenly Younghyun was in the hall, marching towards Yugyeom with a fierce look in his eyes. 

“Come on, pup. Let’s get you out of here.” Younghyun said, planting a firm hand on Yugyeom’s shoulder. Yugyeom growled, trying to twist his way out of the older alpha’s grip, the mini-rut brought on by his presentation already beginning to cloud his mind. Chan pressed himself to the wall, making himself impossibly small while Jackson joined the tussel, eventually corralling Yugyeom into the scent-proofed nesting room, to whine away the rest of his presentation alone where he wouldn’t cause trouble. 

It had only been a few minutes at the most, but to Chan it felt like everything had shifted on its axis; the entire world tilted sideways. Flint and pine lingered in the hall, no longer layered with the soft warm scent of pup that they all carried with them. Chan swallowed, looking over to Bambam, who seemed similarly surprised at how the morning unfolded. 

“Are you ok, Channie?” Younghyun asked, taking Chan by surprise. 

Chan hadn’t been scared, not really. He didn’t think he could ever really be scared of Yugyeom like that. But being growled out by an alpha in such a way was undeniably jarring, especially this early in the morning. No matter how close Chan was to his own presentation he was still immature and his brain was still hardwired to react to a mature alpha growling at him the way a pup would, with submission and an instant desire to right any wrongs he might have committed.

“I’m ok. That was just… a lot.” 

Younghyun laughed, ruffling a hand through Chan’s hair, and the ripe pine was suddenly replaced by gentle cedar and sandalwood. Chan took a deep breath, folding into his hyung’s scent as he always did, nerves soothed away by the simple gesture. 

“Presentations tend to be like that. He’s just a big boy, so he caused quite a ruckus.” Younghyun laughed, hand coming to rest on Chan’s shoulder comfortably. “You and Bammie are probably pretty close to your own, better prepare yourself.” He said with a playful wink, and then he was gone, probably to call the managers and tell them what happened. 

Chan stood in the hall for a few minutes, missing the flush on Bambam’s cheeks, and the way the other pup fled back to their own room. 

Later, Chan found himself leaning comfortably against Bambam in their room, fiddling around on his phone as Bambam tapped away at the controls of his DS furiously. Chan barely noticed when the tapping stopped, but he did notice the sudden increase in weight against his side as Bambam abandoned his DS to sprawl out on the mattress instead. 

“You’re thinking things.” Chan declared, reaching out to tap a single finger against Bambam’s exposed forehead. Bambam scrunched up his nose, but didn’t argue like he normally would. 

“We’re presenting soon, yeah?” He asked, and Chan shrugged. 

“Probably soon enough, anyways.” He said, finally turning his phone off, knowing Bambam was gearing up for a longer conversation, and as always Chan was unable to deny the boy anything. He was never able to deny Bambam anything that he wanted these days, no matter how big or how small. 

“Have you thought about it a lot?” Bambam asked, rolling over to push himself fully into Chan’s lap, the knobs of his spine digging into Chan’s thighs, though he would never dream of pushing him away to get away from the sensation. “The company will want us to find mates, eventually. Market our dynamics.” 

Truthfully, Chan had thought about it. He had thought about it a lot, actually, especially over the past year when his body and his dreams had started to betray him. 

He had imagined their debut, their presentations, more than he wanted to admit. He imagined himself, a strong alpha, or even a reliable beta, falling easily behind Jaebeom’s leadership. He imagined Bambam’s peach scent blossoming into a sweetness that marked him as an omega because there was no doubt in Chan’s mind that Bambam would grow up to be the most beautiful omega. He imagined his mark on Bambam’s neck, his scent rubbed into Bambam’s very being. So that anyone who passed by knew that Bambam was his . 

“Sometimes.” Chan lied. 

“I just…. don’t want it to all be out there?” Bambam confessed, frowning up at the top bunk above their heads. “I don’t want all of my firsts to be on camera. I don’t want them to all be shared with everyone.” Bambam groaned, sitting up suddenly, tugging at his own hair. “Is that, like, totally selfish of me?”

“I get that, It’s pretty intimidating.” Chan confessed, gently pulling Bambam’s hands away from his poor hair, lest he actually tug clumps out amid his annoyed groaning. “I don’t think it’s selfish at all.”

“Then kiss me.” Bambam pleaded.

Chan spluttered, flushed and wordless, blinking at Bambam like the other pup had grown a second, a third head while uttering those three words. He wanted Chan to… what? 

“ W-why? ” Chan questioned, grasping at simple words. His brain felt like it was seconds away from puddling out his ears to stain the threadbare sheets under them. Sure, he had thought about kissing Bambam more times then he could justify, but actually doing it? Actually following through with the thoughts he kept sealed in that little secret box inside his heart? 

Chan didn’t think he would ever be ready for something like that. 

“For practice!” Bambam whined, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to understand and Chan just wasn’t getting it. He was blissfully unaware of the turmoil Chan was going through, grinning as though this was the best idea he had ever had in his entire life. “So when it’s time to do it for real, we aren't total garbage at it!” 

Chan swallowed dryly, considering his options carefully. This could be his only chance to kiss Bambam, but it could also ruin everything they have now. He glanced at his best friend, licking his lips. They were bitten and dry, catching against his tongue. He had to urge to hunt up some lip balm.

“Y-yeah, yeah ok. Let's do it.” He said, hoping the little bit of conviction and confidence he tried to inject into his words managed to bleed through. 

Bambam cheered, shuffling up on the bed so he was facing Chan, too-long limbs tucked in a graceless cross under him. “So do we just…” He said, looking to Chan for guidance, despite Chan having just as little experience as him, that is to say none, and the entire idea having been Bambam in the first place. 

Chan shrugged, tucking his own legs under him. “Just… do it? I guess…?” He hazarded, trying to pretend he wasn't running through a million scenarios in his head of how exactly every part of this could go so, so terribly wrong. 

Bambam leaned in, and Chan imagined their teeth clanking together uncomfortably, imagined his sharp canine, meant for marking his mate, catching on Bambam’s soft lip and drawing blood where there wasn't supposed to be. 

His thoughts were muffled by a pair of lips pressed to his own, warm and soft, lacking any clanking of teeth or blood or any other nightmare scenario Chan had put himself through in the last five seconds. 

It was… nice. The scent of fresh peaches seemed to envelop Chan. Their lips didn’t move, too immature and inexperienced to do more than simply hold their faces together, but regardless, it felt perfect to Chan. 

Chan’s eyes opened slightly, seeing Bambam up close like this, eyes closed, his lashes resting gently against his soft cheeks… Chan swallowed down a whine, pushing forwards just a little, feeling the way Bambam gave into the movement, letting him take more and more. Something in Chan rumbled, pleased at the easy submission. 

The kiss lasted an eternity too short, and then Bambam was pulling back, his bright eyes opening along with the movement. They were both flushed, their scents spiking in the stale air of their dorm room. Chan wanted to chase that flush on Bambam’s cheeks, follow it down to the arch of his neck, lay more exploratory kisses on his cheekbones and jaw. 

“That wasn’t so hard!” Bambam grinned, interrupting Chan’s frantic thoughts. Chan could feel the flush on his own face, but gave a small smile anyways, drawing on the shroud of confidence his trainers at the company had been teaching him to fake for years. 

“Did you think it would be?” He teased, smothering the disappointment he felt when Bambam flopped back onto the bed instead of going in for another kiss. This was just exploring for Bam, testing invisible boundaries to see how far he could push them before they broke. 

Chan was afraid he would let Bambam do anything, even if in the end, Chan was the one who broke. 

“Not really! In the movies they made it seem like there’d be… more to it I guess?” Bambam said, sprawling out, his sock-clad foot pressing against Chan’s bare ankle, maintaining contact, like Chan was his anchor. Chan shrugged, letting his hand fall to brush Bambam’s ankle, holding that contact there as if he would float away without it, because Bambam was his anchor, too. 

“It’s just kissing.” Chan said, and Bambam hummed, not noticing the strained tone to Chan’s voice, or the way the flush hadn't left the other boy’s cheeks yet. 

“Yeah, it's just kissing.” Bambam agreed. 

—-

Looking back on it years later, Chan would feel almost guilty that he woke up that day as if it was any other day. 

Training went as usual. He hit all the moves they asked him to, sang all the right notes, and rapped to the beat of the new test track they had delivered to him last week. It had all been so painfully ordinary.

Chan had stayed behind with Bambam to get ramen, letting the other trainees go home without them. Jaebeom and Jinyoung were busy with promotions, appearing at the group training sessions less and less as they featured on shows and dramas as an established duo.

Chan knew something was off the minute he approached the dorm. The scent in the hallway was… sharp. Sad. He swallowed and glanced to the side, seeing the way Bambam had also tensed, obviously picking up on the same bad vibe that Chan was. 

Chan quietly opened the door. His heart almost lept straight out of his chest when the first thing he saw was the sight of Jinyoung curled up on the couch, huddled into Mark’s side. His cheeks were streaked with tears and Mark’s own face was damp, the steadfast beta sharing misery with the omega. Jackson and Younghyun paced nearby, distress rolling off of them in waves. 

“W-what happened?” Bambam asked quietly, tears already pricking at his eyes, the scent of distress affecting the sensitive pup. 

Jinyoung turned at the sound of Bambam’s voice. He looked gaunt, his hair was oily and disheveled. A hand clutched his stomach like he was trying to physically hold himself together, and the bright red of a fresh mating mark graced the tanned arch of his neck. Chan sucked in a sharp breath, glancing side to side to try and find Jaebeom. He was the only one he could think of that would… no that could mark Jinyoung like this. 

“Did Jae-“ Chan started, protectiveness flaring bright in his chest, but it died out with a small shake of Jackson’s head, and for the first time Chan noticed Jackson had been crying, too.

Jinyoung whined, reaching out for the two pups like he needed them to live. They went easily, folding themselves into the Omega’s arms like he was their own mother. Jinyoung buried his face in the crown of Chan’s hair and sobbed. Chan didn’t know what he was crying over, but he shed tears of his own anyway. Jinyoung’s coffee scent smelled like it was burnt, like grinds roasted too long, smokey and suffocating. 

He held onto Jinyoung, put his hand over Jinyoung’s own on his stomach and whined when the action only caused Jinyoung to cry harder. Bambam was sniffling wetly, nuzzling desperately into Jinyoung’s neck, careful to avoid the tender mark, as if he could scent over the distress pouring off of their only omega.

Chan wondered where Jaebeom was, why he wasn’t here with the newly claimed omega comforting Jinyoung himself. Nosing into Jinyoung's chest, he could smell the alpha’s damp jasmine, but he was suspiciously missing from the dorm. If not for the fact that training had gone normally today, Chan would be worried that something had happened to the older boy. He swallowed back the lump in his throat when he felt the dampness of Jinyoung’s tears on his shoulder.

How long they remained like that, curled up together in a ball of misery on the couch, Chan couldn’t tell, but eventually, he was lulled to sleep by the tight embrace of Bambam and Jinyoung. 

When he finally opened his eyes, it was dark in the dorm. His head was still pillowed on Jinyoung’s chest and above his head Jinyoung was speaking quietly with Mark, presumably to not wake the pups. Chan squeezed his eyes shut, faking sleep, not wanting to disturb the hushed conversation. 

“And you’re absolutely sure?” Mark asked, his voice gentle, quieter and softer then Chan could remember ever hearing him speak. 

“The doctor confirmed it. Five weeks…” Jinyoung said, his voice soft and sad in a way Chan had never heard another person sound, but he could hear the words clearly with how he had his ear pressed against the older man’s chest.

Mark sucked in a soft breath and Chan heard the rustling of fabric, seemingly Mark cuddling closer to Jinyoung in response to his distress. 

“And Jaebeom…?” 

“He’s with management… with the mating they want to speed up the group project. The duo is over, basically.” Jinyoung said. Chan frowned, his eyebrows creasing slightly. It was apparently enough for Jinyoung to notice, as he felt a gentle hand card through his hair. 

“Channie, are you awake?” Jinyoung asked gently, voice so soft Chan couldn’t help but open his eyes, the guilt of overhearing what was clearly meant to be a private conversation gnawing at him. 

“I didn’t mean to…” He started, stopped by Jinyoung’s gentle smile. 

“It’s ok, pup. It’s… it’s ok.” Jinyoung sighed, pressing his nose into the crown of Chan’s head and taking a deep breath. “I’ve missed the smell of pups.” Jinyoung said softly, voice cracking on the last syllable. 

“Hyung, what happened?” Chan asked quietly, meeting Jackson’s eyes from where the alpha was standing prone nearby. He clenched his jaw and looked away, and the avoidance only made Chan’s anxiety peak higher. 

“Jaebeom and I… mated, obviously.” Jinyoung started, adjusting Bambam in his lap delicately. “The company wasn’t happy. It wasn’t supposed to happen… and then.” Jinyoung swallowed, his hand coming down to once again press against his flat belly. 

“I’m pregnant.” He said, soft and scared and vulnerable. Chan’s heart squeezed at the two simple words. 

Pregnant.

 Jinyoung was going to be a mother. Jaebeom was going to be a father. The pack was going to have a pup already. Excitement and dread tugged at him in equal measures, unsure of which way he wanted to sway. How he was supposed to feel.

A baby was a miracle. Jinyoung would make a perfect parent, however young he was. But a baby meant their debut would be delayed, or worse, canceled. Worse yet, Jinyoung would be left behind, left home alone to take care of a pup while the rest of them lived out his dreams without him on stage. 

Chan stared at the flat of Jinyoung's belly apprehensively, joy and trepidation warring inside of him, snapping out of it only when Mark coughed pointedly. 

“Hyung!” Chan yelped happily, “You’re having a baby!” He nuzzled firmly into Jinyoung’s neck, refusing to let any sort of selfish doubts about their future push the omega even further into his distress. Bambam shifted awake at the quiet yell, cuddling into Jinyoung as he fought against the sleep tugging him back under. 

Jinyoung smiled, pressing a kiss to the pup’s head, letting Bambam fall back asleep with a soothing hum. 

“The company wants to keep it a secret for now.” He sighed, “While they figure out what to do with us.” Jinyoung told Chan, smiling at Jackson as he brought him a cup of tea. The alpha didn’t drink tea himself, but Chan figured it was some instinct to take care of their pregnant omega pushing him to make the gesture. 

“We’ll figure it out, hyung. It’ll be alright.” Chan said, summoning the conviction Bambam always seemed to possess so easily in these kinds of situations. 

And iIt would be alright.

It had to be. 

—-

Jinyoung spent a lot more time in the dorm after that. 

‘JJP’ still had their own dorm, but with the amount of meetings Jaebeom was in all the time, Jinyoung was often left alone and he seemed to crave the presence of the rest of their little pack. 

Jinyoung still seemed to be grappling with the concept of being a parent so soon, lost in thoughts that Chan couldn’t hope to understand, and was far too young to even begin to know how to help. He remembered when his own mother was pregnant, the way she glowed and held her belly like it was the most precious thing in the world. Jinyoung still held gentle hands to his flat stomach, but insecurity flooded his movements, his features, his scent. 

He had begun to smell pregnant, and consequently seemed to be quarantined to one of the two dorms, hidden away like a shameful secret. The company seemed to want it kept quiet, the trainees who knew were even banned from talking about it amongst themselves at the company. It was suffocating. 

Chan was in the kitchen when Jaebeom came home late one night. He always looked so exhausted these days, anger and desperation written on his features in equal measure. Chan didn’t know what the company was telling him, but it clearly upset the alpha. 

Jaebeom walked down the hall to the old room that he used to share with Jinyoung, turned into a sort of nesting room for Jinyoung and the rest of their little pack. No one seemed to mind the disruption in their daily lives the omega presented, though Bambam and Chan shared whispered confessions to each other late at night, about the fears they harbored surrounding their debut that they couldn't share where anyone else, but especially Jinyoung, might here. These thoughts were passed under the heavy duvet, guilt gnawing at them for even thinking about something like that when Jinyoung was in a much more precarious position. 

Chan heard the door to the nesting room open, though the voices filtered out of the crack left in the door, too low to be heard had Chan not followed behind, drawn to the hushed voices.

“They want us to give it up. Adopt it out and debut like nothing happened.” Jaebom said, obviously trying to maintain a level of calmness despite the anger bubbling up in his voice. 

“We can’t!” Jinyoung hissed back, accompanied by the sound of shuffling from the nest. 

“I know!” Jaebeom snapped, voice raising slightly. He sighed, and the silence seemed to stretch on, neither knowing what to say. “I told them we won’t. We’ll work around it… keep it a secret, or just not debut. But I’m not letting them make you give it up.” 

Chan stepped away quietly, making his way back to the kitchen, feeling distinctly like he had overheard something he wasn’t supposed to. He felt like that a lot these days, guilty and unsure of what he was supposed to know and what he wasn’t. The energy in the dorm had been off since that night, everyone moving around on tiptoe, unsure of when or if everything was going to fall apart around them. 

Chan hated it. 

Chan hated that he hated it. 

He wanted to be happy for his hyungs. 

They were mated. They were having a pup!

Chan was going to be part of a pack with a pup. It was all things they had grown up hearing were beautiful blessings, but now it felt more like a stick thrown into the gears of a bike; once that had previously been racing down a hill with the finish line in sight. Chan feared the impact of the inevitable crash. 

Chan spent more and more time with Bambam, the two a tangle of limbs more often than not in the evenings, seeking the bone deep comfort the other always brought. The others joked that they were like puzzle pieces, and Chan secretly liked that idea. Pieces that belonged together, that fit perfectly no matter how chaotic everything around them was. Bambam was like a refuge and Chan clung to that port in a storm as fiercely as Bambam clung to him in return. 

-- --

The scent of lemon floor cleaner hitting him as soon as he entered the dorm.

He scrunched his nose at the harsh, chemical smell. Shoes were stacked carefully on the rack by the door, the curtains all open to let the light filter into the dorm. It was cleaner than he remembered seeing it in… ever, really. 

“Welcome home, Channie!” Jinyoung called from the kitchen, peeking his head out. He was smiling, hair freshly washed and fluffy, looking so much more like himself than he had in such a long time that Chan had to do a double take. 

“Hi, hyung! What’s all this?” Chan asked, toeing off his shoes, making sure to arrange them neatly so as not to ruin any of Jinyoung’s hard work. Not that it wouldn’t be ruined the minute the others got back, but Jinyoung seemed to appreciate the gesture. 

“I was just feeling really good. Wanted to make this place feel a little less sad.” Jinyoung smiled, his coffee scent fresh and warm once again. Chan couldn’t help but smile, burying himself into Jinyoung’s hug, nuzzling the unmarked side of his neck, soaking in the affection like a sponge. 

“I like when you’re like this,” Chan giggled, detaching himself to trail after jinyoung into the kitchen, a small stack of kimbap made and ready for eating. “Practicing the whole ‘head omega’ thing?” Chan teased. Jinyoung immediately flushed bright red at the words. 

He put a hand over his stomach, rubbing gently, and that small, careful smile was back. “Yeah. I think I am.” He said, and for the first time, this all seemed to feel right. 

“You’ll do great, hyung.” Chan promised, their small moment broken up by the sound of the others getting home, shoes thumping loudly into the floor as they’re kicked off haphazardly. 

“I didn't spend two hours sorting shoes for you to ruin it immediately!” Jinyoung yelled, marching out of the kitchen with a singular goal. Chan watched him go, taking a easy breath for the first time in weeks. 

Things got easier after that. 

Jinyoung’s time was split between his own apartment and the trainee dorm, and while Jaebeom seemed to still be in an endless procession of meetings, it got better. He seemed less stressed, nuzzling into Jinyoung openly within the dorm, his hand kept posessively on the younger man’s stomach, as if he was guarding the life growing within him. 

The status of their debut was still uncertain, however. Chan, Bambam, Yugyeom and Youngjae seemed to be excluded from the ‘deep’ late night talks. While the rest of the older trainees would gather, heads bent together and voices in a quiet hush, they were shooed away to their rooms. Chan tried to not let it bother him. Yugyeom was presented now, a full fledged alpha, so it wasn’t just because Chan was still a pup that he was being excluded, but he couldn’t help but feel young and helpless anyways. 

It all came to a head one evening, the stick in the gears finally crashing the bike. 

Chan was sprawled out in Bambam’s bed, his torso over the other boy’s legs, tapping idly on his DS. They had today off and had spent it lazing around in bed. The others had gone in and out all day, Jinyoung appearing early in the morning to make breakfast as usual, though the omega had retired early for a nap, claiming back pain. 

“Did you get that shiny you were looking for?” Chan asked, rolling over to face Bambam. Bambam looked up briefly and scowled, his soft face screwing up in displeasure at the mention of the elusive pokemon. 

“No, I gave up. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Bambam said dramatically, flopping back into the mattress, his head thunking against the headboard. 

“We’re home!” Younghyun called from the living room, accompanied by the sound of several pairs of feet. Chan scrambled off the bed, Bambam following quickly behind. Younghyun had promised to bring them food when he got home, the heavy white bags in his hands proof he had kept his word. 

“You’re the best, hyung!” Chan called and snagged one of the bags, bringing it over to the low coffee table, Bambam effortlessly relieving Younghyun of the other one to follow suit. 

“It’s not just for you two,” Younghyun laughed fondly, toing off his shoes. “Where’s Jinyoung?” He asked. Chan waved his hand, busy unpacking the styrofoam containers of meats and rice, mouth watering. 

“He’s taking a nap in his room!” Chan called. Younghyun nodded, walking down the hall towards the makeshift nesting room Jinyoung had carved out in the overcrowded dorm. 

Chan licked his lips, grabbing a pair of wooden chopsticks, tossing Bambam another pair. He pulled them apart with a firm snap of bamboo when Younghyun’s voice rang out. 

“Mark! Call Jaebeom!” Younghyun shouted, frantic and panicked in a way Chan had never heard him before. 

Chan glanced wide-eyed at Bambam, launching himself off of the floor to follow the sound of Younghyun’s desperate voice, Mark, Jackson, Yugyeom, Youngjae and Bambam hot on his heels. 

He smelled the blood first. Not a lot, which was confusing. Jinyoung was curled on his side in the nest, clutching his stomach like it was the only thing keeping him together, reminiscent of that first night on the couch. Jackson pushed past Chan, the younger members invisible as the older ones crowded around Jinyoung, whispering questions. 

Jinyoung shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. Besides the smell of blood, the smell of distress was enough to make Chan lightheaded, wavering in his place in the doorway. Something was wrong. 

Incredibly, painfully, world-endingly wrong. 

And he didn't know what to do about it. 

He watched in a haze, pressed up against Yugyeom and Bambam, as Jaebeom rushed into the dorm. Mark snapped at them, and they retreated into the hallway.  Jaebeom passed back out of the room a few moments later, Jinyoung bundled up in his arms, blankets and all. Jackson and Mark trailing after despairingly. Younghyun was already on the phone, but Chan was too out of it to understand the Korean being spoken. 

Chan didn’t dare ask questions. Not when Younghyun called Yugyeom to help throw out the blood spotted sheet Jinyoung had been laying on. Not when management arrived, speaking with the alpha in hushed tones, heads bowed together. 

When the others got home, Jae and Hyunggu and Sungjin and the others whose names and faces he was still learning, the atmosphere of the dorm was stagnant. Chan followed Bambam back to their room, Youngjae and Yugyeom trailing behind, unsure of what else to do but sit in silence, Youngjae making a valiant attempt at spreading his soothing beta scent in the small space, despite his own distress at the scene they had witnessed. 

Jinyoung didn’t come home that night. Nor did Mark, Jackson, or Jaebeom.

The food went cold, abandoned on the coffee table where they’d left it. 

When Younghyun finally walked through the door, he was pale, his cedar scent rotted and heavy. He walked into their shared room and gave the pups a weary, bone tired smile. The action did not reach his eyes, but he offered no explanation, climbing into his bed silently, back turned to the world. Chan didn’t know if he was asleep, but he was too scared to ask. 

Jackson and Mark came home next, the pair pressed together like separating would cause them to fall apart. Mark seemed to be in a full omega drift, his usual neutral scent a desperate attempt at comfort. Jackson soaked it in. Chan stood uncertainly in the living room, mouth open, desperate to ask what happened, but similarly to Younghyun the pair silently brushed past him, headed to their room, the door closing with a firm click. 

A week passed before Chan saw Jinyoung again. He was thinner, pale and breaking out. He looked awful. 

Bambam rushed in without a second thought, pushing himself into Jinyoung’s arms, babbling a million words a minute that Jinyoung accepted with a quiet nod. Chan held himself back, unsure how to approach the topic of what happened, where Jinyoung had gone. Why he smelled sterile and sad, the gentle smell of pregnant omega a gaping hole in the other’s scent. 

So he waited. 

He watched as Bambam guided Jinyoung to the couch. Watched Youngjae bring him a cup of tea, watched Yugyeom press into his other side, holding his hand like a lifeline. 

“Are you ok, hyung?” Bambam asked, nuzzling into him like he could rub away the distress on their only omega. 

“I’m fine, Bam-ah.” Jinyoung sighed, though it was clear the words were spoken out of obligation, rather than being truthful. 

“Jinyoung-hyung… what hap-” Bambam began, but was quickly cut off by Jinyoung speaking again. 

“Bammie, your scent smells stronger. You might present soon, pup.” Jinyoung said, the shift in topic was so abrupt everyone in the room shuffled uncomfortably. Bambam gave him a weak smile, nuzzling into the hand that came up to cup his cheek. 

“What do you think I’ll present as?” He asked, his curiosity shot down by Jinyoung’s avoidance. Jinyoung was quiet for a moment, finally speaking up. 

“I think you’ll be a pretty omega.” He said, and Chan could hear the way his voice was tight, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

“Just like hyung?” Yugyeom said from beside them, reaching his hand out to squeeze Jinyoung’s free hand. Chan stood to the side, watching the scene helplessly, unsure of what, if anything he could do to help. Jinyoung laughed wetly, nodding. 

“Just like hyung.” 

—

Chan wasn’t stupid. 

Despite the way the rest of the pack refused to say anything, he knew there was something wrong with the pup. He could smell it in the way Jinyoung’s scent returned to normal, and could see it in the open grief on his and Jaebeom’s faces. 

No one ever told him, but he wasn’t stupid. 

It took a month for Jinyoung to return to practice, the company behaving firmly like nothing ever happened, despite the cloud that hung over Jinyoung and Jaebeom, extending over the rest of the pack in a heavy shroud. Chan knew he should be mourning just as much as the others, and he was, in the late evenings where Jinyoung would cuddle him close and bury his nose in Chan’s pup scent, clinging to him like a lifeline. He would mourn what could have been then, silently offering whatever comfort he could. But a small, selfish part of him felt something akin to relief. 

He knew he shouldn’t. He hated himself for even thinking like that, but he couldn’t help it. The company was back to normal, their plans for debut back on the table as if Jinyoung hadn’t just experienced the worst trauma of his life. And it felt… alright. It didn’t feel like the world ended. The bike crashed and they stumbled back to their feet, dazed but alive. They brushed off the blood and the dirt, picked the bike up off the ground, checked the chain, and then got back on. They continued. The finish line was in sight, all they had to do was cross it.

Jinyoung seemed determined to push through, work through his grief until his muscles ached and his feet bled. And as he always would, Jaebeom followed, the meetings with the company tapering off until things were just like before the duo debuted. 

Chan knew it was probably too fast. They were all still shaken by the incident as Chan had taken to calling it, but they pushed forward in a haze. With that taken away, they all seemed to cling to debut as their only goal, wandering towards it like zombies. 

When Jaebeom was called to management in the middle of a training session, Chan thought nothing of it. It happened sometimes. The company knew Jaebeom would be the leader of the pack, and despite the pack being unbonded, they treated him with the same level of responsibility a bonded leader would have. 

Chan didn’t envy that position. The thought of being responsible for so many people he loved was terrifying. He was far too… him … to suit such a position. He would present and be a perfect, loyal sub-alpha. It was the only obvious choice. 

When Jaebom came back an hour later he looked exhausted. Chan smiled at the alpha, but the gesture wasn’t returned. He simply gave Chan a long, sad look and walked passed, leaning up against the wall next to Jackson and Mark to talk about the meeting, heads bowed together, voices too low to catch in the busy room. 

Annoyance tugged at Chan at the obvious exclusion. He was still a pup, sure, but he wasn’t some helpless little kid. The way his older packmates seemed to work around him and Bambam- even Yugyeom, despite the alpha having been presented for months, was frustrating. 

Jinyoung approached, immediately pulled into the tight circle. The omegas brows furrowed, then smoothed into a look of shock. He glanced at Chan, but his gaze darted away when he saw Chan was looking back. 

Dread settled in the pit of Chan’s stomach, heavy and cloying. 

Practice passed with no other interruptions, but Chan could feel eyes on his back the rest of the day. Even Bambam picked up on it, cuddling close to his side in the back of the bus. 

“What happened?” Bambam whispered, glancing down the row of seats at their hyungs. Chan grit his teeth, struggling. 

“I don’t know. No one will tell me.” He growled, a low rumble to his voice that caused Yugyeom to glance over, his concerned gaze feeling almost mocking. 

Chan’s frustration doubled with every unsubtle glance back at him, annoyance rolling off him in waves by the time they entered the dorm, Jinyoung and Jaebeom both choosing to go to the trainee dorm as opposed to their apartment. Jinyoung gave Chan a long, sad look as the pup took his shoes off, and something in Chan snapped. 

“What happened!” He yelled, gaining the attention of the whole group, some trainees looking as confused as he felt, while the others looked at him pityingly. Bambam pressed into his side, obviously trying to comfort him, but even the other boy’s immature light peach scent could only do so much for Chan’s frayed nerves. 

Jackson glanced at Jaebeom, and the alpha cleared his throat uncomfortably. If Chan had to guess, he didn’t want the audience they had for whatever news it was, but Chan couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Today in a meeting the company told me that, come January, the group is going to debut.” Jaebeom started. 

That one sentence was enough to make Chan feel like the floor was falling out from him. A debut was a good thing. A debut was the best thing, even. It’s what they had been working towards for years. The sad glances he had received all day felt like shards of glass, the implication of them hitting Chan all at once, so hard that he stumbled, only saved from falling on his ass by Bambam’s tight grip on his upper arm. 

The other pup was shaking, pressed into Chan’s side like he could physically merge them into one, single person, press them together on an atomic level so nothing could separate them. 

None of that stopped Jaebeom’s next words from falling like stones, however. 

“You won’t be debuting with us, Chan-ah.” 

“What do you mean?” Bambam beat Chan to the punch, shocked. He stepped away from Chan as if he could physically fight the words Jaebeom had spoken. Jinyoung bit his lip, looking to the side as if he couldn’t bear to look at Chan at that moment. 

Chan felt like the world had fallen out from underneath his feet. Everything he worked for, everything he knew for himself was suddenly off the table. Stolen away by six simple words. He felt his hands shaking, but didn’t have anything in him to stop it. 

“You have to go back!” Yugyeom barked, his scent a sharp tang of anger in the room. Bambam nodded his agreement, squeezing Chan’s hand hard enough he felt like the bones were grinding together. 

“They have to let him debut with us! You need to-” Bambam started, cut off by a genuine snarl from Jaebeom. 

“Don’t you think I fucking tried? ” The alpha growled, everyone in the room falling still and silent to the aggressive tone from their de facto head alpha. “I argued the entire time I was in that fucking meeting! They said no. That's it. There’s no more that I can do.” He said, and Chan couldn’t tell if he was angry or upset, or both. 

“But-” Bambam whined, voice tapering out at a pointed look from Jaebeom. 

“We can still talk, and we can still see each other.” Jinyoung finally spoke up, voice soft. He sounded choked up, but Chan wasn’t sure. His brain felt full of cotton, slow and muddled. 

“We won’t have to leave Chan behind completely.” Jinyoung asserted, though the hollowness of his voice was enough for Chan to know he didn’t even believe his own words. 

“But we’ll move out! We’ll be practicing away from him, and on a schedule and… everything! It won’t be the same.” Bambam said, seeming to understand that Chan was at a loss for words, choosing to be his voice when Chan couldn’t speak for himself. He always did  know what Chan was thinking. 

“Bambam, there’s nothing we can do. It’s either this or we don’t debut.” Mark finally spoke up, pulling the thumbnail he had chewn down to the skin out of his mouth. A nervous habit the managers had scolded him over a thousand times in the past. 

Bambam opened his mouth to protest, but Chan gripped his arm, stopping him. 

“It’s alright.” Chan said softly, ignoring the shocked look Bambam and Yugyeom gave and the pitying looks the hyungs gave. “It’s… It’s not like we thought something like this couldn’t happen! We prepared for it, right?” Chan said, voice on the edge of hysterics even to his own ears. 

“I… we’ll text every day. We’ll visit when we’re at the company, and have lunch together and… we’ll manage.” He offered lamely, desperately trying to meet the eyes of a pack who seemed pained just by looking at him. 

Jinyoung gave a watery smile, nodding slowly. “We’ll… try.” He said unconvincingly. 

Chan nodded, gently prying Bambam’s hand away from his own. Every nerve ending in his body felt ablaze, sorrow sending ice through his veins in painful pulses, perfectly in time with the rapid beating of his heart. He blinked his tears away, forcing a brave front, and stepped back. 

The pack, his pack, looked at him with sad eyes, Bambam’s face was ruddy and flushed from crying already. 

“You guys will do great. We’ll make it work.” 

He clenched his jaw, fighting back the sob that threatened to break free from his chest like waves beating on sandstone, eroding it away in fragments too small for the naked eye to see. 

“This can work.” Jaebeom said, cold rain and rotten jasmine, thick with emotions. Chan didn’t think Jaebeom knew how to process another loss like this, not so soon after what happened to Jinyoung. 

Chan knew he was lying. 

Chan nodded anyway.

Chapter Text

“Chan?” 

Younghyun knocked on the open door to their room.

Chan knew he was only doing it for his sake, after all, they were the only two left.

The others had moved out three weeks ago, packing up their lives and their things in a deathly sort of silence. They had avoided making eye contact with Chan as they emptied their closets, the bedside tables, and their dresser drawers. The day they moved out of the dorms and finally got to begin living their dreams of being professional performers was supposed to be a celebration, something they had talked about together a million times, looked forward to like most people looked forward to their high school graduation. Instead, it had turned as somber as a funeral procession. Part of Chan felt a bit guilty that, in a way, he was the reason for such a sober mood, but a larger part of him just… didn’t care. 

After that day, he found it hard to care about much of anything.

Food tasted dull and sandy in his mouth, even when the remaining hyung brought him back his favorite snacks from the corner store. When he was at practice, every second he spent there was exhausting. His mind felt like it was racing and trying to wade through molasses all at the same time. He couldn’t wait to get home and finally be by himself, to have some space to breathe and maybe get his racing thoughts out of his head, pour them out into lyrics and maybe his head and his heart would stop feeling like they were going to burst, but when he got home he spent hours with his pencil hovering uselessly over paper. 

He would stare at it in frustration, until his eyes burned and his sinuses felt like they were on fire and then finally the tears he’d been holding back all day would begin to fall, ruining the page. And even though he hadn’t managed to write a single word, he always ripped the page out and threw it into the wastebasket next to his desk, already overflowing with other ruined pages, because even though the tears always dried quickly, they always left behind little signs of his distress in the form of warped paper and blurred lines. Even if he wrote over them, he would always be able to see them if he looked close enough. He would always know.

Chan was curled up in Bambam’s abandoned bed, staring at that wastebasket when Younghyun got home. He shrugged, lifting his head more out of politeness than anything else. 

“Yeah, hyung?” 

Younghyun took a quiet step further into the room. His cedar scent was like a balm on Chan’s lungs, breaking up the cloud of stagnant woodsmoke that Chan had been stewing in. The new aspect of Chan’s scent was unpleasant and cloying, still immature and tinged with pup, but somehow wounded. Broken. Part of Chan thought it almost suited him better than the gentle eucalyptus he had started to develop as he got closer to presentation. 

“I brought home food, come eat.” Younghyun said, not bothering to pose the statement as a question that he knew Chan would deny anyway. Chan skipped too many meals and was looking far too frail for the older alpha to do anything else other than use his sway over him to push him to eat. Chan sighed, pushing the sheets away to roll out of bed, shivering at the hardwood on his bare feet. Their apartment was large, but it was still cheap, and the ondol flooring only covered the living room and the bathroom, elsewhere one had to wear thick socks and slippers in the winter or let their toes suffer. Usually Chan cared more about the chill on his feet, but lately he’d found that it was yet another thing on the long list of things he just… didn’t care about. 

Dinner was monotonous, as always. The remaining trainees never could make quite enough noise to fill the void where the newly dubbed GOT7 used to fit. It was part of why Chan skipped meals with them, if he was being honest with himself. He couldn’t stand how they would chat among themselves and then stop, waiting for a laugh that would never come because Bambam wasn’t there to overreact, or Jinyoung wasn’t there to remind them to eat their food instead of talking so much, or Mark wasn’t there to be lured into a pointless argument. If the newer trainees could feel the absence of the core pack when they had been, for all intents and purposes, outsiders, then they knew that Chan, who had been a part of that unofficial pack, had to be feeling it even more intensely. Their looks of wavering pity, the way they looked at him like he was some abandoned pup left on the side of the road…it made him feel sick. 

Tonight’s dinner was chicken dumplings. 

Chan watched in detached interest as the others ate as if nothing was wrong, laughing and joking with each other. It was getting easier for them, he knew, the longer that Got7 was away. It was unfair, Chan thought, jaw clenched and tight, that they got to move on like that while Chan was still stuck so firmly in the past, or rather, on a future that never happened. 

He stood abruptly. The room suddenly felt much too crowded for his fraying nerves, and too empty, all at once. Chan ignored the question of Sungjin and Younghyun as they called out behind him. He needed to be out of that room, but the thought of going back to the empty bedroom, of looking at a bed Bambam would never occupy again, was almost worse than staying behind in the kitchen that would have once been dominated by his laughter and his voice.

Chan pivoted, pushing open the door to the scent-sealed nesting room usually reserved for ruts, heats, and presentations. He closed it quickly behind him and curled up in the half-formed nest, desperately seeking some sort of comfort. The sheets were clean, but there was a lingering scent of alpha from Younghyun’s last rut that was enough to help steady Chan as he buried himself in the nest with a wounded little whine. 

This time, Younghyun didn’t bother knocking when he entered, padding across the room quietly to the pile of sheets Chan had become. 

He settled down next to Chan, his knee pressed against Chan’s back. Chan clung to the point of contact like an anchor in a storm. 

“You know, I miss them too… but I think It’s different for you, Channie.” Younghyun started. When he spoke in English, his voice was always so low and calm. 

Chan didn’t answer, but he did roll over to squish closer to Younghyun, peeking up through the sheets at him curiously, eyes damp with tears he struggled not to shed. 

“We were close, and I obviously loved them because they were my friends… but I’m no dancer. I never thought for a second that I would be spending the better part of the rest of my life with them. But you… you not going with them surprised us all. I don’t know why they didn’t take you. I can’t answer that. But I can be here for you now… that much hasn’t changed. We might not be pack, Chan-ah, but we are family. That hasn't changed.” Younghyun spoke softly, bringing a hand down to run through Chan’s hair, gently working through the knots in his curls. 

Chan pressed into his touch like he was starving for it, soaking in the scent of cedar and familiarity Younghyun offered him so unconditionally. He closed his eyes, trying to think of something to say when Younghyun spoke again. 

“I don’t know what either of our paths are, and I won’t pretend to know the company's plans, but even if we debut apart, and we both know we probably will, I need you to know that I’ll always be in your corner.” Younghyun said, pulling Chan so he was laying over his lap, head pillowed on muscular thighs, looking up at Younghyun’s reassuring smile. 

The solaces made sense, and Chan knew he should take some comfort in them, but the words still felt hollow. 

“I know, hyung.” Chan sighed anyway, nuzzling into Younghyun’s stomach like a kitten seeking out warmth. 

“Do you want me to do the thing?” Younghyun asked, smiling down at Chan. Chan groaned, rolling over to look up at Younghyun, a firm pout on his face. Before Chan could even reply, Younghyun was humming, picking a tune to begin murmuring under his breath as he searched for the right line to start with. 

“I’m too old for this, hyung,” Chan complained. He wanted to reach up and push away the hand carding through his hair but the bone deep tiredness that gripped him the moment he entered the nesting room didn’t allow it. Younghyun laughed, scratching at the base of Chan’s neck in a way that sent pleasant shivers racing down Chan’s spine. 

“It works though.” Younghyun pointed out, going back to his quiet singing. It was a song that Chan had never heard before - probably one Younghyun had written himself. It was… soft. His hyung’s voice was as gentle and soothing as the hand in his hair was. Chan swallowed back the tears threatening to spring to his eyes, closing them tightly in protest of the surge of emotion. 

He truly felt like a pup again, like he was a grade schooler being soothed to sleep with a lullaby. He felt small and fragile and young and so, so close to breaking that he was almost terrified to admit it. By the time Younghyun finished his soft melody, Chan’s cheeks were wet but the alpha didn’t comment, he just went right into the next song, just a soft, his hands never leaving their task of soothing the young pup. 

If Younghyun felt Chan’s shoulders shaking, his voice didn’t show it. He gave Chan the courtesy of pretending he didn’t smell the sharp, sad scent in the air, or hear the sniffles that Chan choked down. He simply sat and sang, holding the bright pup he had watched grow up, watching helplessly as he turned  into this shattered, hurt thing. Younghyun’s voice wavered slightly, emotion clawing at his own throat. He had done his best to care for the kid he saw as his own brother, and somehow it had still come to this. 

Younghyun closed his eyes, much better at holding back the tears than the pup in his lap. He couldn’t do anything to mend a breaking bond, or heal Chan’s shattered heart, but he could hold him. He could sing him lullabies and brush through his hair until Chan no longer needed him. He could keep the looming specter of Chan's grief from the others until Chan was ready to confront it. He could do that for his Channie. 

At the very least, he could do that. 

—-

“Bang Chan!”

The scolding rang through the practice room, the sound of shoes squeaking against the wooden floor falling silent at the shout. Chan tensed, Park Jinyoung’s voice, JYP himself, finally enough to cut through the fog his head had been in all day. 

It was rare for the company’s namesake to come down from his office on the upper floors and observe the trainees personally. He never took an interest in the trainees unless they were someone he had plans for. Trainees entered the company and left it, all without ever laying eyes on the man’s face. For most of them, a confirmation that the legendary idol even knew their name would be enough to refuel their dreams, like pouring gasoline directly on a fire. 

When he’d arrived near the beginning of practice, the whole room had filled with excited whispers. Got7 had just debuted, they had been the top group of trainees. They were the ones that got all the extra dance workshops, the extra language lessons, the modeling classes, the PR coaching. They were the ones that got all the attention from the staff, the ones that might as well have signed contracts in their hands, because as long as they didn’t give up and just quit - if they were patient and dedicated and didn’t get discouraged - they would get everything they had ever wanted. 

The chance of being noticed, of being picked and placed in the next group of trainees intended for the top, had everyone on high alert, doing the choreography perfectly, following orders perfectly, behaving perfectly, but Chan still felt like he was muddling through, not even JYP’s presence enough to make him care. He knew his moves were sloppy and his beats were off. The choreographer had made sure he knew it, too, but it just didn’t seem…important. Why should he try to get his attention? He’d had it, once, or so he’d thought. Chan had taken all the extra lessons, gone to all the meetings, and what had it gotten him? Left behind. 

He just couldn’t find it in himself to bother anymore. Even now, with his name sharp on JYP’s tongue, Chan only felt a vague embarrassment at being the reason the practice was interrupted. 

Chan met the older beta’s eyes evenly, head bowed just low enough to pass as respectful. 

“Everyone here knows you’re better than this.” The man snapped, “Are you giving up?” The other trainees around the room winced at the harsh words. Chan returned his gaze evenly, the only sign that he even was processing the words being flung at him was the small downward tug at the corners of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, PD-nim.” Chan said simply, unable to think of anything else he could even say in this situation. He couldn’t meet the older man’s eyes, couldn’t do anything but stare at his feet and feel the pitying gaze of the other trainees on his back. He would have done anything to not be there right at that moment, but the universe was cruel to Chan, unwilling to open up the floor and swallow him whole. 

“Look, Chan-ah, I understand that you might be upset with how things turned out, but don’t let a delay in your debut ruin your chances for the future.” JYP continued, waving a hand in a poor attempt to get the rest of the trainees to go back to practice. “Your instructors tell me that you’ve stopped turning in your writing assignments. The nurse tells me you’ve lost weight. I just watched you stumble through moves you had down within your first week of being here. Stop acting like you’ve already failed just because you didn’t get your way.” 

Chan grit his teeth, unsure as to whether or not this lecture was supposed to be encouraging or discouraging him. He hated being talked down to, but he knew that he probably deserved it. He wasn’t worth keeping around and now everyone knew it. If he had been worth keeping around, then he would be standing on stage right now with his hyung, preparing for a music show broadcast, instead of standing in this room practicing a dance routine he had mastered weeks ago. He clenched his jaw, images of pills and swift-moving rivers and bridges and everything he had learned to fear coming unbidden to the front of his mind, plaguing him as they had for weeks now. He felt his face flush, mortified by his own thoughts, yet he couldn’t seem to stop them from coming, faster and faster.

“I just… don’t know.” Chan eventually settled on, eyes glued firmly to the floor, refusing to let the tears pricking at the corners show. Not here. Not now.

“Chan… do you think seeing a therapist might help?” JYP said tentatively, like he was approaching a wounded animal rather than a teenage boy seconds away from crying. Chan’s head snapped up at the suggestion, brows furrowed. 

“I-Why would I need a therapist?” He asked, trying to keep his voice down so the other trainees couldn’t hear. By now the music had started up again and the others had fallen back into formation, but the boys standing nearest were obviously still trying to listen in. 

The CEO took pity on him, pulling him out into the empty hall.

“It might help,” He said, clapping a hand down on Chan’s shoulder like he was giving him advice on his class schedule and not asking him to seek help from a mental health professional. “I’ve always tried to keep a close eye on you kids. This isn’t easy, you know? Being around so many new faces that come and go so unexpectedly. I know you kids can get… attached. The managers informed me that you might have been more attached to Junior and the others than I anticipated. You’re a bit young for bondbreak, but-”

“It’s not b-bond- '' Chan stumbled over the word. He couldn’t seem to force it through his lips, “It’s not that. I don’t need therapy, I'm fine.” Chan snapped, forcing his gaze to meet the CEO's eyes in a challenge he was too young to properly make. He knew he needed to talk to someone, and that a therapist was probably his best bet, but that wasn’t the point. Admitting out loud that he needed to talk meant admitting that something was wrong. He would rather die, and he’d thought about that far too often lately, as well.

“So you’re saying you’re alright?” JYP asked, frown deepening the wrinkles on his face. “You’re telling me right now that nothing is the matter? You’re okay?”

“I am.” Chan replied simply. 

“Then start acting like it.” JYP snapped, clearly frustrated that his attempt at reaching out was met with such resistance from one of his trainees. Chan knew he should feel guilty for wasting his time, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. He could only nod once more, feet rooted to the ground long after JYP was gone.

Eventually, he slumped against the wall, mind spinning. 

Bondbreak.

The word was almost taboo in its severity. 

Bondbreak was the physical and emotional fallout caused by the severing of ties when a pack broke apart or when a mating bond was discarded. That’s what his health teacher had said, anyway. Chan frowned down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them, feeling far too cold for the warmth of the company building. 

Bondbreak was… something that ruined people. It was something that you hear about on the news when poor abandoned omegas ended up locked away in institutions after their alphas had run off with someone else. It was something you heard about when someone divorced their pack and left a wave of devastation in their wake, or when one half of an elderly couple passed away, extinguishing a mating bond they’d carried with them their entire adult lives. Usually the rest of the pack or couple was quick to follow after one passed, the bondbreak too much to cope with. Bondbreak was for people who bore a real, tangible bond with their mates, with their pack .

Chan never had that, never had anything tangible. Chan only ever had naive promises of forever from pups with just as little control over their lives as he had, and a single kiss that was always meant to mean nothing. 

He pushed away from the wall, pacing up and down the hall to try and calm the irregular thumping of his heart. A few staff members in the rooms that lined the corridor popped their heads out, but as soon as they saw him they left him be. 

Bondbreak required a bond , but that wasn’t what he had with them; it couldn’t be that. He refused to let himself be like one of those abandoned mates from the dramas. That’s not what he came to Korea for. He didn’t come here to find a pack or to fall in love. He came here to sing, and to dance, and to make music. All of those things, all of that - pack, mates, pups - was extra. A bonus. A Happily Ever After that he would have one day, but not now, because he was sixteen and no one needed a pack or a mate when they were sixteen to be happy. 

But even as he argued with himself, the sinking dread of how untrue it all was weighed heavily on his mind and his heart. He could deny it all he wanted, scream it to anyone who would listen;

It wasn’t bondbreak, he wasn’t broken. 

But Chan knew better. 

He heard the music starting up once more back inside the practice room. In the past, he would have rushed in to avoid being scolded. He would have opened the door, slipped inside, met Bambam’s eyes in the mirror and shared a mischievous, secret smile. He would have danced his heart out, done his absolutely best so that he could soak up praise from Jinyoung, so he could laugh at the way Jaebeom scolded Yugyeom for something stupid. 

Today Chan sat down in the hall, buried his face in his knees, and did his best to not cry. 

Today his best wasn’t good enough. 

Chan wondered if it ever would be again. 

—- 

‘ Learn More About JYP’s Newest Superstars; Mated Duo JB & Junior!’

Chan groaned. He rolled over, practically throwing his phone away from him. He didn’t bother to close the tabloid-grade article he had somehow landed on.

 He knew that ‘JB’ and ‘Junior’ would never intentionally hide their mating - couldn't have even if they had wanted to - but seeing it discussed so openly, advertised as a headline meant to lure clicks and drum up interest in the band, was a little bit disorienting. 

These days, it was becoming more and more common for idol groups to debut with at least one mated pair. While reputable companies would never dream of pushing trainees together, that didn’t stop them from taking advantage of the kinds of feelings that ran high in crowded dormitories. The pups grew up together, presented alongside each other, lived their lives day after day with each other as near-constants, it just made sense that bonds would form and that by the time they were young adults, ready to step out into the idol world, there would be a few bonds in place, mating or otherwise.

Jaebeom and Jinyoung were both in their early twenties, not an entirely unacceptable time to mate, though it was seen as the responsible thing to do to wait to form lasting bonds until university and the military were out of the way. But with mixed dynamic idol groups came new challenges, challenges that the industry had rushed to adapt to over the last few years. In the past, idol groups were all alphas, all omegas. Chan still remembered the news when Super Junior debuted with not only the first beta in a boy group- but the first omega as well. They were marketed as the perfect mates. Pick your bias, dedicate your life to them, maybe one day they would notice you and they’d be yours. 

Now, with the popularity of mixed dynamic groups overtaking ‘alpha only’ groups, companies had to change their marketing strategies. No more, ‘perfect mate’, now the tagline was ‘perfect packs’. A young, new pack full of diverse members. Their fans could join them at the beginning of their journey as a household devoted solely to each other, learn with them and grow with them, watch them fall in love or not, watch them live their lives together day after day, not just as co-workers, but as a family. And maybe, just maybe, if they were loyal enough, one day they might get to join them too, be a part of the pack, join in on the fairy tale. 

It was inevitable that the higher ups would want to market Jaebeom and Jinyoung’s relationship. Got7 was a new pack, already thriving under the leadership of a strong alpha/omega mated pair.

Chan just hadn’t been ready to see it spelled out so clearly to him. They were a pack, over there, with their Pack Alpha and their Head Omega, and Chan was still alone, over here in the bottom bunk. 

He sighed, pushing himself out of bed to begin preparing to go to sleep, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to get any real rest. Just like every other night, he had wasted a good hour staring at the group chat Jinyoung put him in, waiting for a reply to the message he sent about his day, knowing full well he probably wouldn’t get one until morning, or even the day after. The replies were coming less and less frequently, now. 

Logically, he knew they had to have a chat somewhere without him in it. After all, they never talked about schedule stuff in front of him and they had to talk about that somewhere. But the knowledge that he was being excluded in even that area stung more than it should. 

He frowned, leaving his phone on the bed as he shuffled to the bathroom. He gave a halfhearted nod to Wonpil as he passed. The older beta sat in the living room, seemingly surrounded by scoresheets of music for whatever project he was working on. Younghyun perched on the couch behind him, shuffling through a few pages, his bright red marker scribbling at the page here and there, correcting notes and lines with a cruel sort of efficiency. 

Chan pushed into the bathroom, eyes down to avoid sight of his own reflection. He didn’t want to deal with the disappointment and anger that would come with confronting the neglect he had put himself through these past months. He knew his hair would be a mess, hidden by a beanie whenever he had to leave the dorm, and the bags under his eye would be darker than any concealer could ever hope to cover. He didn’t need to see it. 

Chan splashed water on his face, briefly considering stealing some of Wonpil’s myriad of scented skincare products to tackle the breakout threatening his chin but ultimately he decided against it. To compensate, he rubbed his face too harshly with a washcloth, relishing in the slight sting of the cheap cloth abrading his cheeks. 

The ringing of his phone lured him out of the bathroom, brows furrowing. He hadn’t gotten a call from the others in weeks, claiming they were too busy for them, too tired after music shows and schedules. Chan believed them of course, he could see it in the slump of their shoulders after a stage, or the way they stifled yawns during interviews.

It still hurt. 

“Hello?” Chan asked, bringing the phone up to his ear. 

“Channie-yah!” Jinyoung spoke into the phone, his voice an instant balm on Chan’s frayed nerves. Chan felt the tightness in his chest ease for the first time in days. 

“Hyung, what’s up?” Chan asked, trying to make sure his voice didn’t waver. 

“Ah, well,” Jinyoung seemed distracted, maybe even a bit nervous. “We just wanted to let you know that when we got home today-” Chan frowned at the use of the word ‘home’, tightening his grip on Bambam’s old bedspread. “Bammie presented. He’s sweating it out in our nesting room right now.” Jinyoung continued, unaware of the turbulence rocking Chan’s mind. 

Chan gasped, almost dropping the phone, scrambling to keep the device in his grasp. “Bammie is presenting? What as?” He pushed, heartbeat loud in his own ears. 

“We were all right, he’s an omega!” Jinyoung beamed, the pride in his voice obvious even over the tinny phone speaker. 

Chan swallowed, thinking about Bambam, graceful, lanky Bambam. He swallowed, trying to cool the sudden heat he felt in the room, flooding his cheeks and creeping up his neck. His throat was dry and it clicked when he tried to swallow. 

“Is he alright?” Chan asked, something deep, instinctual in him aching at the idea of being away from his best friend right now. He remembered Yugyeom’s presentation, the drama and the fear that came with it. Was Bambam the same way? Was he worried? Scared? Disappointed? There was no way he was disappointed. Bambam was one of those people who seemed to relish the idea that he was going to be an omega. He seemed to prefer it, even. He was probably elated right now. 

“He’s fine, he was clingy all day and eventually went into his faux-heat when we got back, when he was laying on the couch with Jaebeom.” Jinyoung explained, either not picking up on the worry or choosing to not address it. “Being so close to his pack alpha is probably what pushed him over the edge, he practically had his face buried in Jaebeom’s neck, huffing his scent.” Jinyoung chuckled

“Oh- oh good,” Chan flushed an even deeper red, imagining the sight that Jaebeom and Bambam would have made, cuddled up together with Bambam hurtling towards his first heat. It was too much, his immature body didn’t seem to know how to react to the unbidden thoughts of his mature mind, so instead it gave him anxiety. “I’m glad. Can I… talk to him?” Chan asked hesitantly, voice small, worried. 

“Oh, Channie, um… I’ll tell him you asked when he comes out, but he can’t right now.” Jinyoung sighed into the phone, saying exactly what Chan knew he would, but the bite of disappointment was sharp regardless. 

“Ah, of course. Thank you, hyung.” Chan sighed. Something crashing in the background on Jinyoung’s end. Jinyoung cursed, the phone muffled for a minute. 

“Sorry to cut this short, I have to go Channie! I’ll keep you updated!” Jinyoung rushed, the line going dead before Chan could even process what he had said. 

Chan let the phone drop onto the sheets, not bothering to even turn the screen off. The room reeked of the bitter smoke scent he had developed, choking and suffocating like a forest fire. 

Before the news of debut he carried a gentle eucalyptus scent, reminiscent of home. He knew scents could change for a myriad of reasons. He learned it in health class like anyone else. Mating was the first thing to changed a scent, carrying an undertone of the mate’s scent and subgender to ward off suitors. But things like pregnancy, illness, trauma, or bondbreak could also change a scent. 

He knew that the others had noticed, it was impossible to not notice the way he had developed the cloying scent of a wildfire. They didn’t comment on it, letting Chan work through it on his own. The closer he got to his presentation, however, the sharper the scent seemed to get.

But now Bambam was presenting, Bambam was an omega and Chan didn’t even get to hear from him about it. Chan wasn’t there. Chan wasn't even a part of the everyday aspects of his best friend's life anymore. From now on, Bambam would reach every milestone they dreamed of together without Chan. 

A small, cruel part of Chan’s brain wondered if Bambam even felt the distance. If Bambam even thought about how Chan was still in the cramped trainee dorm instead of by his side. 

He knew if he asked, Bambam would fall over himself, assuring him that he missed him, that they all missed him, they felt his absence every day on every stage or something. 

He also knew they’d be lying. 

Chan left his room, shuffling out into the living room once more. Sungjin had joined the work session, perched on the couch next to Younghyun, pointing with a pen to the laptop sitting on the coffee table. 

Younghyun lifted his head when Chan entered, the trailing scent of wildfire and ash following him like a haze, all three of them falling silent. 

“What’s up, Channie?” Sungjin asked, giving a small smile to the pup, concern poorly masked on his face. 

“Jinyoung-hyung called. Bambam’s presented as an Omega.” He told them, standing awkwardly in the hallway, unsure of what he even wanted to accomplish by coming out here and announcing it like that. He only knew that he needed to be out of that room, away from that phone. 

“Oh,” Younghyun said knowingly, a sidelong glance aimed at the other two as he scooted aside, making a void of space between him and Sungjin. He nodded at the newly cleared spot. 

“Come look at these lyrics with us. Wonpil is convinced he’s got the next big hit.” Younghyun smiled, his comforting cedar scent enough to draw Chan across the room, squishing into the too-small space between his hyungs. 

He didn’t help with the music much, but listening to the others talk around him was grounding enough for now. He leaned into Younghyun’s shoulder, watching the scratching of his pen on paper. 

Younghyun kept carefully still, not wanting to dislodge the fragile pup from where he had pressed up against him. He sighed, lifting one hand to card through Chan’s hair, carefully working out the ever-present knots he found in the curls. 

“Thank you, hyung.” Chan whispered, pressing further into Younghyun’s side. 

Wonpil and Sungjin exchanged a knowing glance. Younghyun’s smile was tight when he replied. 

“Always, Channie.” 

— 

The months after passed almost painfully slowly, the in-and-out of trainees slowing down in the wake of the new group. The last that had come were a bright omega named Byeongkwan, followed shortly by a newly-presented alpha Yuchan. The texts from the GOT7 pack began trailing off even more, pushed by pain and distance until Chan himself stopped sending messages. They made him feel small, pathetic in a way he hated. Reaching out desperately for a pack too busy to acknowledge the scrawny pup nipping at their heels. 

Chan noticed how most of the trainees his age were presenting, the amount of pups in the company had dwindled down to a miniscule handful. Chan held the title of the oldest of them, but his presentation was still nowhere in sight. It was unusual for a presentation to take this long. Chan often got mistaken for a pup years younger than he actually was because of his soft cheeks and small frame. He hated it. 

Bambam had already grown into his omega status, wearing a sly smile and the tight fitting, lean clothes that made him look not only gorgeous, but expensive. He was taller than Chan, too. He’d been threatening to out grow him for years, and now he’d gone and actually done it. 

The few times Chan had seen him recently, he’d felt like a fumbling little kid next to the omega, not his same age friend. They had bumped into each other here and there and despite the text messages dwindling down to a few polite texts every few days, Bambam still stopped to say hello when they bumped into each other in the hall. 

The faint peach scent he had carried as a pup didn’t change much as far as Chan could tell, but his adult scent still muted to Chan’s unpresented nose. If he were being honest, being able to experience Bambam’s full scent was what he looked forward to most about presenting. Sometimes he dreamed about it, woke up with a head full of peach blossoms and he caught himself buying peach flavored soda and gummies more often than not when he made a snack run with the other trainees. He couldn’t wait to get his first breath of the real thing, pure Bambam, not dulled by a pup’s nose, or muddle by scentblocker, or layered by the lingering scents left behind by his packmates. 

He didn’t care if it was inappropriate, or if he was yearning for something that was probably never going to happen; one of his most loved daydreams was of finally presenting as an alpha, and jumping in a taxi to race to the Got7 dorm. He would knock on the door and Bambam would answer. Chan would have finally hit his growth spurt and maybe he’ll finally be taller than him again. He’d be handsome and confident, like those alphas in drama who came to confess to the omega love interest. He would pull Bambam into his arms and the first thing he would do was scent him. Push his face into the curve of Bambam’s neck, breathe in peach and happiness. Fill his lungs with it. And then he would kiss him. Kiss him for real, not like when they were kids and it was just ‘practice’. He would kiss Bambam and he’d pour everything he’d ever felt for the omega into that kiss so that there’s no way that Bambam would ever look at him ever again and not see him as an alpha, his alpha- 

“Chan? Earth to Chan? Yah, Chris !”

Chan shook himself free of his thoughts, focusing back on the small group of trainees he found himself having lunch with these days. They huddled around a crowded table at the JYP cafeteria, the hum of trainees and staff around him grounding him back in the present. 

“Sorry, what?” Chan asked, getting a quiet laugh from Byeongkwan beside him. 

“It’s health exam day, did you forget?” Byeongkwan asked, nudging Chan to keep him in the conversation and out of his thoughts. Even though Byeongkwan hadn’t been at JYP for very long he had picked up on Chan's bad habits easily, going out of his way to keep the pup engaged with the world around him. 

“What’s the point? They’re just going to call me ‘small for my age’ again.” Chan huffed, earning a round of snickers from the trainees at the table. It was true, at sixteen he should have at least shown signs of presenting, but nothing was coming to him yet. Not even a developing mature scent aside from the acrid smoke he had grown to hate.  It was humiliating! He had dongsaengs who were fifteen and already a half a head taller than him. 

It wasn’t unusual for omegas’ bodies to push their presentation to seventeen or even eighteen, but there were usually other signs that an omega was going to be an omega. The shapes of their bodies, the cast of the features, the way they reacted to the verbal orders of presented adults. Even if it wasn’t exact, there were always signs. Since Chan had never shown any of those signs, he had long since assumed he would be an alpha. Alpha usually presented around their fifteenth birthday, but that had come and gone and Chan still didn't feel so much as the slightest twinge of growing pains. He supposed this meant he could be a beta, but that was even more concerning, as beta tended to present the earliest, around thirteen or fourteen. Chan felt like he was defective, stuck as a forever pup that people were content to pat on the head on their way by.

“Hey you’re still cute though!” Yuchan piped up, the new alpha beaming at Chan from across the table in a way Chan found he couldn’t be mad at, even though he was sort of just confirming his thoughts. 

“Yah, are you guys bullying Channie?” Younghyun asked from behind, coming up with his smoothie he has produced in lieu of a real meal. He propped his elbow on Chan’s head, leaning onto Chan in a way that made him have to strain his spine to avoid buckling. 

“Always! He’s so cute he makes it easy to want to pick on him.” Yuchan chirped, earning a laugh from Younghyun. 

“I can’t really argue with that one,” Younghyun snorted, nudging Chan in the side. “Pup, if you’re finished eating the health examiners wanna start with you.” He said, sliding into the seat next to them, his ever-present shadow Sungjin quick to follow. 

Chan groaned, looking at the half eaten food on his plate. He scarfed it down for the sake of appearance more than anything, still not able to really muster up any sort of significant appetite. He picked up his tray, tossing his napkin over it to obscure the leftovers. 

“Yeah I’ll head over. Thanks, hyung.” Chan said, turning to walk away before anyone could say anything else. 

He felt Younghyun’s eyes on his back as he left, but he kept walking, heading down to the sectioned off practice room they always used for these exams. The company loved their ‘we put the artist first!’ narrative, and they put it on any PR they could, but at least they actually seemed pretty dedicated to it. All the trainees were required to attend regular check-ups to monitor things like their weight, height, blood pressure, anything that might be an early warning sign that their health might be taking a turn for the worse. 

Every four months they were subjected to a more extensive version of the health testing. This was also when the omega trainees and the female betas got their birth control adjusted. It was illegal to put underage omegas on full blown suppressants, but companies liked to be sneaky and prescribe them a ‘mini-suppressor’ aka a combination birth control/suppressant pill that while it wouldn’t stop a full blown heat, because heats were important for the development of reproductive organs in young omegas, but it would dull the experience down to something much less enjoyable. When Jinyoung had been on a mini-suppressor, he’d spent most of his heats curled up in the nesting room dealing with severe cramps and nausea. 

Conservatives liked to push the idea that all underage omegas should be on mini-suppressors ‘for their own good’ because an omega in heat drew the attention of alphas, and therefore, underage omegas should not be allowed to experience full blown heats. This was of course at odds with advice given by the medical community, that underage omegas needed to use their early heats to learn to deal with what their bodies would be going through for the rest of their lives, so they could function as adults. Heats and ruts were relatively tame before alphas and omegas became sexually active. If an alpha had never knotted anyone before, or if an omega had never taken a knot, their mating cycles were mild and completely manageable on their own without a partner. 

Entertainment companies that housed idol trainees liked to use the excuse that they couldn’t guarantee that their older trainees weren’t ‘involved’ with each other, so it was just safer for their underage omegas to be on mini-suppressors, for their own safety.

Chan heard his omega companions complaining when they came back from their health check-ups with their little foil packets of pills. Either they had to take the mini-suppressor, or risk not having any form of birth control, as they two were combined in the same pill. It all seemed really sneaky and manipulative to Chan, but he’d never really thought about it too hard, like, in a personal sense because he’d always been so sure that he was going to be an alpha. Now, the older he got, the more he looked at his babyish features and his diminutive height, the more he began to think…maybe he was an omega. 

Maybe he should bring it up at his health check. He knew it would be in his file. 

Newborn pups were tested for their subgender almost immediately after birth. Often, if there were any significant health problems in childhood, it could be vital information to have, but in most places around the world it was considered to be confidential, personal, private information that belonged to the pup and the pup alone. It was illegal for doctors to tell parents the subgender of their pup, and it was equally as illegal for parents to seek to discover it through private testing of their own. It was a protective measure, meant to ensure that no one was discriminated against for their dynamic, and to prevent things like selective breeding so that families that preferred alphas or betas over omegas couldn’t reject pups that didn’t meet their expectations. 

Even in the entertainment world, companies weren’t allowed to try to discover the subgender of their trainees before presentation. It was part of the reason why mixed dynamic packs became so popular, because companies got tired of pouring years worth of money and time into a trainee intended for an alpha-only pack, only to have them present as a beta. 

Pups weren’t technically allowed to ask about their dynamic pre-presentation, but sometimes, if there were issues, older pups who had yet to present could be told. Regardless, if he hadn’t presented by the time he was nineteen and a legal adult they would tell him anyway, because it was required to be on his I.D. 

So he could ask, he could point out his worries and maybe they’d take pity on him and tell him.

Chan took a deep breath and pushed the door open, looking at the small makeshift waiting area and the curtained off testing area beside it. A kindly looking beta nurse waved him over. 

“Bang Chan, yes?” She asked, scribbling something down when Chan nodded, confirming his identity. “Alright Chan-ssi, this way please” She asked, leading Chan past the empty waiting area to the consultation ‘room’, an older omega doctor waiting for him there. 

“Hello Chan-ssi, this should be a fairly standard checkup.” The omega said, in that same saccharine sweet tone that all healthcare professionals seemed to have mastered. Chan nodded, zoning out a little as they went through the standard tests. He was prodded and poked, measured and tapped for what seemed like an hour though could really be no longer than ten minutes. He was finally snapped back into it by the sound of the blood pressure cuff being pulled off of his arm, a firm rip of velcro loud in the otherwise silent room. 

“You’ve lost some weight,” The doctor observed, “Have you been eating well?” He asked, setting aside his clipboard. 

“… I think I eat okay,” Chan lied. The doctor narrowed his eyes, looking at Chan carefully. Chan felt small under the omega’s scrutiny, squirming uncomfortably. 

“And sleeping?” 

“I sleep…okay.” He lied again, uncomfortable at how easily the doctor was zeroing in on all the issues he hadn’t even spoken aloud to his hyungs yet. 

“I’ve been told you have been showing signs of bondbreak, is that true?” The doctor asked suddenly. The word feeling like a bomb being dropped in the room. Chan froze, swallowing down bile at the mere mention of that word. 

“I’m fine.” He gritted out, ignoring the pitying look the nurse gave him from the sidelines. Everyone gave him that fucking look. Chan hated it. 

“It’s totally normal for someone to experience bondbreak after being separated from a pack structure. There's nothing to be ashamed of Chan-ssi.” The doctor continued, though his voice had picked up a trace of omega sweetness, a floral scent meant to calm down distressed persons floating into the room. 

Chan hated that, too. 

He yanked his hoodie back on with more force than he needed to, biting back a barbed response. “I don’t want to talk about this. Can we move on please?” He said, the smoke scent he hated battered back at the calming floral notes, impossible to ignore despite the immaturity of the scent. 

The doctor hummed knowingly, jotting something down in the notebook, but seemed to get the hint that pushing wasn’t going to make Chan suddenly spill his guts simply because he smelled a little bit pretty and wore a lab coat. 

The doctor switched gears, flipping through the clipboard to the first page. 

“So Chan-ssi, you’re 16 international age right now, correct?” He asked, and Chan frowned. It was something he had asked at the beginning of the appointment, so the repetition set off some alarm bells. 

“Yes, I’ll be turning seventeen in three months.” He said, pulling at the sleeve of his hoodie thoughtlessly now that the prodding was over. 

“Hm.. You’re small for your age-” the doctor started. Chan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was right about that at least. 

“We’d like to do some lab work to see if your growth period is being affected by anything. It’s not unusual for a presentation to be delayed this long, but your lack of typical puberty signs is concerning.” The doctor went on, scribbling something in their clipboard. 

Chan blinked, processing the doctor's words. “What do you mean?” He asked, hands suddenly clammy despite the relative warmth of the room. He’d definitely had these thoughts before, had them right before he came into this room even. He’d thought maybe he could ask them to tell him his subgender while he waited for his presentation, but he hadn’t- he never thought that- he never thought that something might actually be wrong with him. Like, medically. Like…he might be sick ?

He just thought that maybe he was an omega and if he was an omega he was going to need some time to wrap his head around it. He didn’t want to wake up one morning in heat and have to deal with the dysphoria that would cause him, completely unprepared. He needed time to get used to the idea that he wasn’t an alpha before he was confronted with the reality of it. 

But this? He never even considered something like this!

“Ah, don’t look so worried. Usually a delay in puberty is caused by irregularities in the thyroid or pituitary glands, so we just need to do some quick blood work to point us to one or the other- if anything! It could also just be that you present late and that’s normal for you! We just want to make sure.” The doctor replied smoothly, the saccharine sweetness back in his tone. 

“I- Yeah sure.. I guess?” Chan shrugged, barely even registering as the nurse returned, a tray full of needles and vials ready to take his blood. 

“This will just take a minute.” She chirped and Chan rolled his hoodie sleeve up, letting them prod him and ignoring the light pinch. 

“Alright! That’s all we need from you ! We will email the company with your results within the next few weeks!” The nurse said, the tray now full of vials of deep red liquid. Chan grimaced, looking away, suddenly queasy. 

“You’ve lost some weight, so remember to eat well, but you otherwise seem healthy enough for your age. Thank you for coming by, Chan-ssi.” The doctor smiled, pulling aside the curtain to dismiss Chan.

Chan nodded, wandering past the nurse and the handful of trainees that had taken up the waiting room while he was gone. 

His heart was beating faster than it should, jaw clenched hard enough his teeth felt like cracking. 

Something was wrong with him.

Not just his head and his heart, but him as a person. 

Like on a biological level. 

First, he couldn’t keep a pack, and now he might not even be able to function as part of one even if did manage to hang on to a bond long enough for it to matter. He was almost seventeen years old and he was still a squeaky pup who sounded like he was thirteen. He knew that everyone noticed, they all picked up on how weird it was. Though they never said anything, the way they treated Chan like he was still in middle school said enough.

Embarrassment flooded his chest. The affection from his hyungs that usually made him feel safe and loved suddenly bleeding into a feeling of bone-deep inadequacy. That’s all he was to them. A pup. And a pup could never be an idol. Could never be more than that. 

Chan swerved around a small group of trainees, ignoring their greetings and heading to the studio space that he had convinced a producer to let him borrow while she was away on maternity leave. 

He wanted to be alone. 

The silence that the sound dampening walls of the studio provided him was the only reprieve he could find from the pitying looks and the speculative whispers that trailed him everywhere he went these days like a miasma of misfortune. 

The door clicked shut behind him. Chan gave himself a moment to breathe, and then a moment to cry, sliding down the door pressed against his back, curling his knees up to his chest and allowing himself this weakness. 

The soft foam of the walls absorbed his sobs, hiding away the sound of his distress from the rest of the world. 

The smoke scent would linger long after he was gone.

—- 

Several weeks had passed since his health screening. The crisp fall air had begun to give way to the frigid chill of winter. 

Korean winters were one of the few things that Chan never really grew accustomed to. The cold seeped into his skin until it felt like it settled into the marrow of his bones. Before, when he was younger, a hyung - usually Mark - would always toss an extra jacket over him before they went out the door, drowning the pup in a comforting wash of scent. Since they had left him behind, Chan refused to offer, donning the scratchy padded coat he bought with his parents' money, pretending it warmed him half as much as the borrowed garments did. 

Chan pressed his forehead to the cool bus window, watching his breath fog up the glass. The city that flew by outside was gray and still sleepy. On his right Younghyun tapped away at his laptop, unbothered by the movement of the bus. Chan got carsick too easily for that. 

The tapping was interrupted by a buzz, Younghyun's phone politely vibrating in the relative silence of the early morning trainee-haze. Chan didn't bother lifting his head, choosing to close his eyes and try to catch even a few more minutes of uncomfortable, restless sleep. 

The low murmur of the alpha next to him and the slow rumble of the bus in early morning traffic was almost enough to lull Chan into something resembling rest. Younghyun sucked in a sharp breath next to him, his usually mild cedar scent spiking. That was enough to jolt Chan out of the limbo he fell into, suddenly awake and alert. He looked at Younghyun, who had turned away, all but whispering into his phone. 

Irritation bubbled up, but Chan tried to stomp it down. He knew he wasn’t entitled to whatever secrets his friend was being told.

It still annoyed him. 

Younghyun whispered a goodbye, glancing at Chan.

“I’ll tell you at the company.” He said simply, none of the avoidance Chan had grown used to with Jaebeom and the others. Younghyun was nothing if not honest, a quality Chan dreaded as much as he adored. 

The ride to the company was torturous after that, especially with Youghyun’s nervous energy beside him. When the bus finally stopped Chan considered just…staying on it. Sitting on the bus and letting it ride off, letting it take him far far away where no one would know him or miss him or mourn him. Like in those drama when the love interest’s entire world came crashing down on them for whatever reason and instead of dealing with it they decided to disappear overnight without a word to anyone. He’d go to some island, get a job at a cafe or catch fish or he’d work at the local clinic and be inspired by the old man who ran it to become a doctor and then one day he’d come back to Seoul a changed man, Dr. Bang, and he’d see all his old friends again but they would hardly recognize him. ‘What happened to you, Chan?!’ they say and he’d say, cryptically, ‘I stayed on the bus’ -

Younghyun nudged his side, and Chan’s fantasies of a lonely beachside village shattered. He sighed, pushing himself out of the seat. He trailed after Younghyun, equal parts curious and fearful of whatever news he was going to tell him.

Younghyun pulled Chan aside as soon as they entered the company building, off to a little hallway that led only to a janitor's closet. Chan swallowed, stomach twisting into knots. 

“That was Jaebeom.” Younghyun started carefully, his words doing nothing to calm Chan’s racing heart. If it was from Jaebeom, then it was about the pack. There’s nothing else they could have to talk about. 

Younghyun tugged Chan against his chest, leaning against the wall so Chan could lean into him. It was a juvenile position - like a father waiting for the doctor with a scared pup, but it soothed him regardless. 

“Channie this… isn’t going to be easy for you to hear.” Younghyun started, rubbing his cheek into Chan’s hair, spreading the cedar scent that Chan had grown so attached to. Chan tightened his hold on Younghyun’s shirt, nodding. 

“Last night, Yugyeom went into a rut when the rest of the pack wasn’t home. The rest of the pack… minus Bambam. By the time they got back, Yugyeom and Bambam were already mated.” Younghyun grimaced. 

Chan blinked, soaking in the words. 

Yugyeom… and Bambam… 

Bambam was mated? He was claimed? 

Chan hadn’t even presented yet and Bambam was mated forever?

There was a bond mark on Bambam’s neck that would never go away. His scent would change, adapt to the bonding and display the fact he was claimed for the rest of his life. It was sort of crazy, but that was the thought that was spiraling around in his head the most. Bambam was mated, he was marked, claimed, his scent was going to change now, forever carrying a note of Yugyeom underneath. The one thing he’d been holding on to, that when he presented he’d finally be able to experience the full force of Bambam’s mature scent. Just his Bambam, pure and lovely and everything he’d ever dreamed of… but now he was mated and Chan would never- he would never be able to scent Bambam without that hint of Yugyeom underneath. 

Chan felt the last whisper of his foolish childhood dreams slip through his fingers. 

“Are they happy?” Chan asked suddenly, the silence in the hall having grown thick and uncomfortable. He knew his question sounded strange, out of place, blurted into the silence but he couldn’t hold it in. He had to say something and he needed to know. If Yugyeom had been in rut, he needed to know that Bambam was safe and happy and loved, that this wasn’t a mistake, that Yugyeom wasn’t going to hurt him because Chan didn’t care if he was just an unpresented pup he would kill Yugyeom if he found out he marked Bambam without his consent, he would-

“Yeah, they seem happy? Uh- until they get eaten alive by the media, that is.” Younghyun answered hesitantly. Chan pulled away from his grip, an uneasy sort of calmness settling inside his chest. 

“That’s…good” He managed to squeak out. “I’m glad they’re happy.” Chan was fighting against his instincts to yell, to cry and scream and throw a tantrum like a child who let go of a balloon and was forced to watch it float away. There was nothing anyone could do to retrieve the balloon and Bambam was claimed. The balloon was long gone, just a pinpoint on the horizon, and Bambam was happy. 

Bambam was happy.

That should be all there was to it. The fact that Jinyoung or Jaebeom didn’t call Chan and tell him themselves shouldn’t matter. The fact that Chan’s dreams of claiming Bambam for his own were fully dashed against the rocks shouldn’t matter. Chan swallowed down the pain he wanted to show, the shock and distress and worry. 

He nodded instead, feeling part of himself retreat into that cold little box deep within himself.

“I’m okay, Hyung.” He said, reassuring the confused alpha standing next to him. 

“Chan…” Younghyun floundered, “I know you… had some feelings for Bammie. It’s okay to be upset, really.” It seemed like he had been prepared for Chan to fly into a rage and he was unsure of what to do now. 

“It’s fine, hyung. I’m just happy that he’s happy. That's what matters.” Chan insisted, pushing down the part of him that just wanted to sob into his hyung’s chest. “I’ve gotta go, I have extra dance lessons. I’ll… see you around.” Chan sighed, taking a step away from Younghyun. 

That step felt like a mile. It took everything in him to not rush back to the alpha and beg for the comfort Younghyun always gave to him so willingly. 

But he didn’t. Because he needed this. Chan needed something to force him to move on, to put space between himself and the pack that didn’t have any space for him.

He needed that more than he needed comfort that enabled him to selfishly hurt. 

He gave his hyung a tense smile before he turned to leave, trying not to think about what he had learned. He smoothed his facade, pushed away the hurt that he no longer felt he had any right to bear. The last remnant of his place in the pack was finally sealed off, and he was left on the outside once more. 

—-

Chan wasn’t sure why he was being called to a meeting at the company. It was early on a Monday, the sky pouring out buckets of icy water, matching his mood almost perfectly. 

It had been several weeks since Bambam and Yugyeom had mated and the media storm was finally beginning to settle down. The initial backlash had been rough, netizens lashing out at both JB and Jinyoung for their lack of control over their pack and at Bambam and Yugyeom for mating irresponsibly at such a young age. Technically, since they were both presented, they were considered to be adults, but legally things got a bit more complicated. Both of them were under nineteen, so technically it was an underage mating. Chan had heard rumors that child protective services had been involved, that they’d visited both the Got7 dorm and the JYP building, before deciding that no crime had been committed, no forced mating had occurred for the sake of publicity, it was just two stupid kids in love making a reckless decision in the heat of the moment.  

The group had successfully diffused the remaining tension with a comeback. It was enough for most of the fans to see Bambam and Yugyeom interacting with each other as they usually did, no awkwardness or apprehension in the way they talked to each other, touched each other. It helped, too, that Bambam seemed eager to show off his mark, despite the stylists deeming it best to keep it covered for the time being. They may be a legally mated couple, but Bambam was still underage, and they didn’t feel comfortable having an underage omega showing off his mating mark on national television, but that didn’t stop the omega from flaunting it behind the scenes. Most of their fans found his enthusiasm adorable, their worries assuaged. Initially, Chan watched from the sidelines, unsure of how to proceed and unsure if offering some light comfort was his place, or even wanted. Eventually, he sent a message to the long abandoned group chat congratulating them, but he couldn’t bring himself to text Bambam or Yugyeom directly. 

Bambam’s scent had changed, even to Chan's still unpresented senses; just like Chan had feared. The few times they bumped into each other Chan had picked up on the change, a light undercurrent of mountain air floating around Bambam, marking him as claimed, despite his still prominent peach. Chan didn’t know what to expect the first time they saw each other, but Bambam acted as if nothing had changed. He was standing outside the administrative offices, obviously coming from a meeting of his own judging by the way he was dressed; professionally, like he was trying to appear more mature and grown up than he actually was. It worked, kinda, but when Chan looked close enough he could still see vestiges of the pup he’d grown up with. 

“Man! I can't believe how much of a mess all of this has been!” Bambam laughed, clapping a warm hand on Chan’s back. Chan, against his better judgment, soaked in the contact, managing a short laugh. 

“Well that’s what you get for mating at seventeen!” Chan teased lightly, the friendly tone of his voice betraying no emotion. 

“It wasn’t planned! But, like, we all knew it was gonna happen eventually.” Bambam rolled his eyes, but a slight blush still creeped its way up his cheeks. “I blame the hyungs for leaving us alone.” Bambam huffed, chuckling as if he had just told the funniest joke ever. Chan swallowed, glancing at the omega who he hadn’t spent any proper time with for months.

Bambam was leaner and taller than ever, his face slimmed down and any lingering trace of his juvenile scent replaced by the air of a mated omega. Chan longed to inhale his fully matured scent but he knew that he couldn’t, his wants betrayed by the reality of the situation. A stark red raised scar decorated Bambam neck, still healing and slightly crooked, embedded into skin by inexperienced teeth. 

We all knew it was gonna happen. 

Chan looked past Bambam at the towering form of Yugyeom, standing a bit further down the hall chatting with one of the public relations staff. Where Bambam still looked young, Yugyeom looked like a grown alpha, jaw sharp and muscles filling in where Chan was still soft. 

Chan could almost laugh at himself. 

He had spent so long pining, his maturing mind held back by an immature body and a scent that marked him as a child. It was so obvious now that Chan had never even been a thought for the omega in front of him. Chan had been imagining an entire future with Bambam, but to Bambam, Chan had never been anything more than a friend. A little brother. He never looked at Chan and thought ‘maybe he could be my mate ’.  Without a doubt, Chan was sure now that the thought had never even crossed Bambam’s mind. 

Why would he, when Yugyeom was there all along, every bit the alpha Chan was not? 

Despite the fact they were the same age, to them, Chan was nothing but a pup. He could be nothing more than that, not until he presented and that day felt like it was never going to come.

Chan shrugged, gesturing to the door behind him. “I’ve got to go, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” He lied, Bambam giving into it with the same easy friendship they always had. Chan envied the fact that nothing changed for Bambam, that his world hadn’t fallen apart as easily as Chan’s. 

Sometimes, on days when it was bad, Chan would stare out at the Han River, wondering if the swift water of the river would be colder than the persistent chill he had grown accustomed to. 

Would anyone search for him? Mourn him? Would he be buried in Korea, far from where his family could lay flowers on his grave every year, eventually forgotten as life moved on without him?

Chan was good at being forgotten. He was sometimes sure no one would mind if they could forget him forever.

Chan grimaced at his own thoughts. The manager’s office felt like a foreboding end goal to his early morning trek. Maybe this was it. Maybe they were finally giving up on him and sending him home. Chan knew with a grim sort of certainty that if they were, he would never make it back to Australia, maybe not even back to the dorm.

He knocked once, pushing the door open when he received a grumble to enter. 

“You asked for me?” Chan asked politely, the instinct engraved in him at this point. 

“Ah, yes, sit down.” The manager said, gesturing to the chair across from her. Chan sat, the hard wood of the chair only slightly more comfortable then standing would be. 

“We got your test results back from the physical.” The manager began, clicking some tabs on her computer to navigate to the email she had apparently received over the weekend. Chan swallowed down his nervousness, trying to physically stop his warped smoky scent from seeping into the room.

“It appears that you will need to go in for further testing. Your blood work indicates that there might be a tumor on your pituitary gland, which may be what’s preventing you from presenting, or going through puberty.” His manager read off robotically. 

Chan wanted to cry, a sense of dread sinking in his stomach. 

A tumor? He didn’t know a lot about biology but he knew the pituitary gland was in his brain. 

He had a brain tumor. 

His silence must have been enough to tip off his manager, who finally looked away from the computer to see Chan all but shaking in his seat. A rush of beta-calm was pumped into the room, the manager crossing the desk to kneel at Chan’s side. 

“Calm down, Chan-ah.” She soothed, patting his knee. “It’s a simple procedure if there is one. A couple days in the hospital and some rest, then you’ll be all better. You don’t need to be afraid.” 

Chan had never heard something so ridiculous. He had a brain tumor. He needed brain surgery and was being told it’s no big deal? What the fuck?

“I…Can...can I call my mum?” Chan finally asked, scrambling out of his seat the second she gave him a sympathetic nod. 

Out in the hall, Chan fumbled with his phone, hands shaking when he pressed the speed dial for his mum. His heart was in his throat as he listened to the ringing until, finally, a familiar voice spoke from the other line. 

“Channie? I didn’t expect you to call! What’s going on?” His mother's voice said, grainy and quiet, but so familiar and soothing that it had an almost immediate effect on Chan, his nerves smoothing out under the gentle tone of his mother. 

“Hi, Eomma,” He said, voice shockingly steady. The admission was on the tip of his tongue, wanting to tumble out into his mom's ear. He knew she would drop whatever was going on to fly to Seoul and be with him, sit with him in the uncomfortable hospital chairs for days until he was released, her sweet honeysuckle scent lulling him to sleep like it had when he was a child. 

“Channie?” His mom's voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Could you call me back later tonight if you just want to talk? Lucas has the flu and has been throwing up all morning.” She said, and Chan could finally pick up on the tiredness in her voice, mixed with worry for her youngest and now also her eldest. 

“Oh-oh yeah of course. I just wanted to hear your voice.” Chan lied, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. “Tell Lucas I said I hope he feels better soon”

“Of course honey, I’ll call you back later tonight! It’s so good to hear your voice, we should talk more.” 

“Yeah, we will, I promise! Go take care of Lucas.” Chan said, the facade of false cheerfulness he had mastered when talking to strangers was passable enough to fool his mother over the phone, though he doubted it would work very well on her face to face, but it was enough to get his mother to end the call without any more questions.

Chan didn’t know why he didn’t tell her. 

He knew she would want to know. He knew she would go out of her way to do what she could to help him, ease his worries. But when he imagined himself in a hospital bed and his mother in a plastic chair beside it, his siblings left at home with his dad while she worried over him and held his hand, something felt… wrong. 

He pocketed his phone, slipping back into the manager's office, an unsettling sort of calm washing over him where before there had been nerves and fear. 

“When can I get the surgery?” 

—

“No, I don’t care.” Younghyun snapped, tossing his toothbrush into a bag. “Shut the hell up and stop arguing.” 

“It’s just a couple of days at the hospital,” Chan groaned, “I don’t need you to come with me hyung!” He tried to snatch the toothbrush out of Younghyun’s bag to put it back on the counter. Younghyun intercepted it easily, holding the bag above his head and well out of Chan’s reach. 

“For some reason that is beyond me, you refuse to tell your mom that this is happening.” Younghyun glared at him, duffle bag still held high over his head. “That means I’m your mom now, so I’m going with you and you can’t stop me.” Younghyun asserted, putting his hand on Chan’s forehead and walking him out of the bathroom. Chan grumbled in indignation at the treatment. He didn’t need Younghyun to babysit him, it was just going to be a quick... noninvasive brain surgery. 

He shivered at the thought. 

“Don’t even try to argue, Channie, just get your ass in the car.” Younghyun huffed, his hand coming down to squeeze the back of Chan’s neck. Chan immediately relaxed, the action of being scruffed by an alpha was so grounding and so startling it was like his body just shut down. He leaned into Younghyun, a small pout on his face, though no longer complaining as Younghyun steered him out of the dorm. A few trainees waved as he passed, tossing out well wishes and casual ‘good luck’s. 

The IV line sunk into the back of his hand tug a little bit when Chan got distracted and forgot it was there, scribbling down his information on the clipboard he was handed. The procedure had already been signed off by his manager in place of his parents. He was currently sitting in a hospital bed in the preoperative holding area, IV making sure he was properly hydrated before the surgery. His clothes, personal belongings, and jewelry had already been taken from him and cataloged. The hospital gown they provided him was thin and papery, obviously meant to be thrown away after the surgery was completed, so it didn’t provide much warmth. The entire hospital was sterile and cold, Gooseflesh popping up on his arms where the chilled air blew past him, so he pulled the scratchy bleached cotton blanket up over himself, forgetting once more about the IV and wincing at the uncomfortable tugging feeling when the blanket caught on the tubing. 

The anesthesiologist had already stopped by and gone over his medical history with him for what felt like the millionth time, performing a quick physical exam before he explained to Chan exactly what sort of anesthesia he’d be getting. Chan had never been under general anesthesia before. The idea of being unconscious and completely helpless while people poked around inside his skull was sort of terrifying, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

His surgeon had stopped by, a smartly dressed beta woman who introduced herself as Dr. Kwon had walked him through the surgery, showing Chan on a tablet exactly how the procedure would go, explaining that since the pituitary gland was located at the base of his brain they were going to go up his nose and drill into his skull , which sounded terrifying but apparently that was the least scary option because the other option was to have the shave half his head and do like real brain surgery where they removed part of his skull and everything. The week before they had taken a frankly insane number of high resolution scans of his brain, and they were going to use those scans as well as feed from the camera they were gonna stick up his nose to help guide the tiny little tools they would use to remove the tumor. 

Younghyun had sat next to him the entire time, squeezing his hand whenever Chan started to shake too hard. Now all that was left was to wait.

He hated waiting. The smell of antiseptic and scent blockers only just managed to cover up the reek of distress that seemed to invade every room in the building. Even Chan could pick up on it, and he could tell with the way Younghyun scrunched his nose that it was way worse for the alpha. 

The scratching of the pen was the only sound that broke the silence of the room and it was about to make Chan go insane. 

“Bang Chan-ssi?” The nurse's voice made him all but jump out of his skin. A nurse in surgical scrub stood just beside the door, gesturing him forward. 

He licked his chapped lips, looking at Younghyun nervously. Younghyun’s eyes softened, rubbing a hand through Chan’s hair to leave a streak of scent. 

“Go ahead, I’ll be here when you get out.” He muttered, squeezing Chan’s shoulder.

Chan swallowed, nodding. He climbed out of the bed awkwardly, trying to make sure his hospital gown stayed closed in the back and wheel the IV stand forward at the same time. He approached the nurse with a hesitant sort of confidence. 

“This way, Chan-ssi.” The nurse directed, leading him through hallways and corridors, around an almost dizzying amount of turns until he was directed into an elevator that took him down to the operating theaters. 

“Are you ready, Chan-ssi?” The nurse called, opening the door a crack to peek inside and make sure they were prepared for him. 

Chan took a deep breath, nodding. 

“I’m ready.” He said, stepping into the operating room, the thick non-slip socks on his feet just barely keeping the chill of the sloped concrete floor at bay. 

“Alright, let’s get you set up.” The nurse smiled, her gaze not nearly as sympathetic as her words. 

Chan didn’t smile in return, following in a nervous daze. He hopped up on the operating table, waiting as his blood pressure was taken once more and monitors were strapped to him. The cool plastic sheets stuck to his skin as he waited. A bright light was switched on, leaving spots in his eyes, causing him to squint. Finally, the nurse instructed him to lay back.

“Count to ten, Chan-ssi.” The anesthesiologist coached, pressing the plunger down on a syringe attached to his IV. 

“One… Two… Three...”

The world went dark, and Chan slipped into unconsciousness. 

—

Three days after the surgery, Chan woke up in his hospital bed, sweat beading on his brow and his head spinning. The steady beep of his heart monitor was spiking, reacting to his distress, eucalyptus and smoke pumping into the air around him, signaling his distress to the world. 

It was dark outside, but regardless of the time a nurse was quick to enter, lured by the warning beeps of his heart monitor. 

She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide when she looked at Chan, a smile breaking out on her face. 

Chan’s brows furrowed at the expression, head muddled. Why was she smiling? He was obviously sick - he was probably dying. There was nothing to smile about? 

“Congratulations, Chan-ssi. You’re an alpha.” She beamed.

Chan groaned, pressing his face into the bed, the heat blazing through him making his teeth itch. 

He was in rut . His first rut, in a hospital room, recovering from brain surgery. 

He wanted Younghyun with him. He wanted to be in the dorm’s nesting room surrounded by familiar scents instead of the sterile pallet of the hospital. He wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Three days passed in blur, the fire in his veins making it difficult to get the rest he needed to recover. His head pounding with the waves of pre-rut that washed through his body with the first presentation coupled with the still healing surgical sight, so the nurses upped his pain meds during his rut, keeping him sedated enough to keep him in bed and not cause too many problems, though Chan wasn't sure he even wanted to leave his bed, much less cause any problems. 

By the time he came out of it he was exhausted, wrung out both mentally and physically. He couldn’t believe he had to go through one of the most personal moments of his life surrounded by doctors and nurses who had known all along he was going to be an alpha, so all their congratulatory platitudes rang hollow. 

A soft knock on the door distracted him from his pity party. 

“Hey, I heard you’re finally fit for polite company.” Younghyun greeted, stepping into the room. 

Chan scrunched his nose, hit for the first time by the full force of Younghyun’s scent. 

The cedar scent that he was accustomed to now carried with it earthy tones that Chan had never been able to pick up on before, a distinct scent of sandalwood and frankincense that made Younghyun smell like the temple his mom used to take him to, fragrant and earthy and grounding. Beyond that, he smelled like an alpha. Deep and dominating and almost overwhelming for Chan’s first interaction with someone who wasn’t a nurse on scent blockers. 

“You stink.” Chan grumbled, burying himself into his bed sheets that smelled like his own woodsmoke and bleach. Younghyun barked out a laugh, a disbelieving look on his face. 

“Some alphas would scruff you for that, pup!” He scolded, no bite to his words. 

“Ah- I’m not a pup anymore!” Chan pointed out, a grin slowly stretching across his face at the correction. Younghyun huffed fondly, shaking his head. 

“No, you’re not. Now you’re just a runt.” He teased, flicking Chan’s nose. “Let’s see how long it takes you to get your growth spurt.” 

Chan growled playfully in response, the sound deeper than it ever had been when he was a pup. 

“Then you better bring me meat so I can grow.” 

“Yah! So demanding!” Younghyun huffed, matching Chan’s smile with his own, fond look. “Beef or pork, little alpha?” 

—-

Everything seemed to change after Chan presented. 

He did notice that he was already growing, his limbs aching and sore, his joints tender. Even his fingers hurt when he plucked at the strings of his guitar. His voice was already noticeably lower and most importantly, he wasn't being treated like a child anymore. He was an alpha now, mature in his own right and on the cusp of legal adulthood. 

It felt better than he ever dreamed it would. 

The younger trainees seemed to fall into step behind him, as if they had just been waiting for his presentation, and Chan, against his better judgment, welcomed it. 

He welcomed the late night dance practices, the opportunity to help a trainee who looked up to him work through whatever was holding them back. He embraced the responsibility of walking omegas home or to the corner store. It made him feel almost complete in a way he hadn't been sure he would ever feel. 

He never let himself get too close to anyone, though - he knew better than to wish for that, now.

Younghyun was pulled away from the rest of the trainees, put on a new schedule and squished into a project band with Jae, Junhyeok, Sungjin and Wonpil, and though it stung, Chan didn’t even pretend it surprised him. 

Younghyun was an awful dancer, he’d never make it in an idol group. Honestly, they were all pretty bad. 

Chan chuckled at the thought, scooping the ramen from the pot into a bowl, passing the dish off to Byeongkwan who accepted it with a beaming smile. 

Byeongkwan was everything an omega was supposed to be. He smelled like peonies and apples, his smile was as bright as a sun, but he held an undercurrent of ferocity to him. He never backed down, never let his dynamic influence the way people respected him. 

Chan dumped another packet of ramen into the pot, splashing some water over it and setting it back on the stove to cook when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. 

“I’ve got it!” Chan called. He tossed the dishrag onto the counter and headed for the door. It was probably delivery or something - the trainees were awful about spending their allowance money on things they didn’t need and at least a third of it regularly went into takeout, despite their mostly-functioning kitchen. 

He opened the door, ready to accept the package of food, and was stopped by the appearance of a boy. A pup, who couldn’t be more than fifteen if Chan had to guess.

He had a round face and the largest eyes Chan had ever seen, framed with fluffy black hair and an owlish look on his face. His scent was distinctly immature, but carried a hint of tangy orange that Chan felt strangely drawn to. 

Chan realized he had been staring, coughing awkwardly and moving aside for the apparent new trainee. 

“Er- hello. We weren't expecting any new additions?” Chan admitted, grabbing one of the boy's suitcases and dragging it inside. 

“Oh! I thought they told you I was coming!” The pup yelped, his ears flushed red. Chan laughed, already endeared by the boy. 

“It’s okay, it happens. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Bang Chan, you can call me hyung.” Chan introduced, bowing politely. 

The pup smiled, a bright, gummy smile that Chan nearly melted at, and he bowed right back.

“Nice to meet you, hyung! I’m Han Jisung, born in 2000, please take care of me!” 

Chapter Text

Chan learned early on that life at JYP was a series of quick adjustments. 

People came and people left. The people who stayed changed, becoming more and more different from the people they were when they arrived, sometimes for the better but sometimes not, and then they would leave, too. Chan was old enough now to understand that he had no power in these situations, but it was still sometimes hard to cope with the sheer helplessness that gripped him when he watched another friend walk out the door. 

Byeongkwan and Yuchan left, drawn away by a promise of an assured debut from a former manager who had grand plans to build a company from the ground up just for them. Chan couldn’t blame them - wouldn’t, really. They were working towards their dreams, just like him. 

It was hard to dwell on their departure, however, when Chan found his hands full of the new pup the company had dumped in his lap so suddenly. 

Jisung was… a lot. Loud and brash one moment and then sweet and clingy the next. He was a series of contradictions, and Chan couldn’t help but feel himself drawn to him. Despite all of Jisung’s glaring personality flaws, he was talented. His voice was perfect, he could rap better than Chan could already, and as a student of DEF Applied Music Academy he had nearly the same level of training at fifteen that Chan had at seventeen. 

He excelled at things Chan had always struggled at with a confidence that was well beyond normal for a trainee his age. He outclassed even their most experienced trainees in every category, always seemed to know the exact right thing to say to diffuse any frustration aimed his way, and always managed to weasel an extra piece of meat from one of the hyungs at lunch. Whatever Jisung wanted, Jisung knew how to get it. Chan would have been jealous if the pup wasn’t so endearing. 

Except sometimes he wasn’t. Sometimes he was so annoying Chan looked up the price of international shipping to Malaysia and tried to calculate how large of a box he would need to ship a runty little pup back home to his parents. Like right now. Right now he was highly considering not even giving the box air holes.

“Jisung, leave him alone. ” Chan groaned, resisting the urge to scruff the pup who was currently nose to nose with another new trainee, a scrawny pup named Daehwi. Daehwi was normally rather gentle and sweet, if a little sarcastic and far too intelligent for his own good, but when put with Jisung they seemed to edge each other into frustration and biting comments way too easily. 

“He’s annoying !” Jisung groaned, Daehwi huffing indignantly at the treatment. 

“And you’re a brute,” Daehwi snapped back in English, using a word he knew Jisung wouldn’t be able to understand, seeming to revel in the frustration of Jisung not being able to comprehend the insult. 

Chan glanced helplessly at Park Woojin, a younger alpha that had joined alongside Daehwi who had almost immediately assigned himself as Daehwi’s shadow, and who seemed to be most easily found hovering somewhere around the pup. “Can you not just leave each other alone for like, five minutes?” Chan sighed, taking Jisung by the shoulder and guiding him away from the scene. 

“Hyung, he was-” Jisung started, trying to shake Chan off of him, Chan's grip tightened slightly as he contemplated whether or not he needed to steer him out into the narrow hallway or not, whatever would keep the rowdy pup under control. 

“Jisung, this is the third fight you’ve picked with Daehwi in the last two days, what is going on with you?” He asked, directing them over to the side of the practice room. Jisung huffed, crossing his arms and looking away 

“He just annoys me, that’s all.” Jisung grumbled, earning a deep sigh. Chan wished Jaebeom or Younghyun were here, they were always better at this kind of thing than he was. Chan glanced at the pup across the room, glad to see Woojin had already pulled him aside and seemed to be having a similar talk with him. 

“Jisung, when you debut it’s going to be as a pack. You can’t keep picking fights or else they’ll never put you in a pack for debut. These are people you might be spending the rest of your life with, if none of the other trainees like you..” Chan trailed off, voice gentle. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of shifting his newly established alpha scent to provide comfort the Younghyun did, but he tried. 

Jisung grumbled, seemingly more annoyed by this lecture than he had been before. “Is that why you didn’t get put in a pack? ‘Cause they didn’t like you?” Jisung asked suddenly, mouth snapping shut at the final syllable as if he didn’t expect himself to say that. 

The acrid scent of smoke filled the room, burning bottlebrush and golden wattle that stung the nose and drew the eye of nearby trainees. Chan swallowed hard, trying his best to regulate the emotions now swirling inside his chest. “Don’t talk about stuff you don’t understand.” He finally snapped, gaze hard when he met Jisung’s wide eyes, already beginning to water a bit with a combination of Chan’s overwhelming scent and puplike panic at having displeased an alpha. 

“Hyung- I didn’t-” Jisung started to apologize, or take it back, whatever he was going to say Chan didn’t want to hear it, at least not right now. 

“You need to think before you speak, Han Jisung. It’ll be good for you if you ever actually want to become an idol.” Chan managed to grind out, trying to keep too much of the bitterness flooding his mouth from seeping out into his words. He turned, eyes locked on the floor as he marched out of the practice room, speeding up as soon as the door closed behind him until he was running, booking it down the halls and to an abandoned restroom at the end of the corridor. 

When he had been a fresh new face at JYP one of the first things the hyungs had done was tell him that this particular restroom was haunted. It smelled like dust and stale lemon cleaner. The lock on the stall didn’t work anymore, so there was a wedge of wood that if you kicked it hard enough you could lodge it under the door to the hall and keep anyone from barging in on you unannounced. The mirror was cracked in the bottom left corner, the faucet dripped, and there was a mysterious stain on the floor right in front of the paper towel dispenser that never came out. It may as well have been haunted, he didn’t doubt that, but in the month’s since Chan’s nose had matured along with the rest of him he had started to pick up on some of the more subtle smells in the room. Arousal and sweat, maybe a bit of lingering desperation and shame. It all hid under the scent of floor wax and antibacterial soap. Of course the older trainees told the little ones to stay away from this room, no one wanted to be walked in on by a twelve year old when they finally got a moment alone with their crush.

Now, all of those older trainees are gone. Chan wasn’t sure if anyone used the restroom for hookups anymore, or if they’d managed to scare off all the pups with their tall tales and had inadvertently made the space haunted in truth. Chan locked the door behind him, pressing up to the wall to take deep breaths, the exhales coming out ragged and wet. 

‘Cause they didn’t like you? 

They did. They had liked him. Chan knows they did. Jaebeom fought for him. Jinyoung held him when he cried. They still texted. They still waved when they saw each other. 

Didn’t they? 

Chan had run into Bambam shortly after he was discharged from the hospital. Chan had been heading to his manager’s to tell her that he was ready to start going to practices again when he caught a whiff of a familiar peach scent. It was like the world faded gray around him. If Chan had been a cartoon character he would have surely been drifting through the air following the scent through the company to its source. 

“Hey, Channie!” Bambam shouted from the end of the corridor, breaking off from the rest of Got7 to sprint down the hall and pull Chan into a hug. Chan struggled to breathe through the overwhelming scent of peach and white wine, undercut by that too-noticeable scent of mountain air that marked Bambam as Yugyeom’s bonded mate. 

“Shit- Hey, Bam!” Chan managed to get out, not able to keep himself from laughing as he hugged Bambam back. 

“How’s your brain? Did they poke you? Leave a scar? Can you still rap? Are you finally good at math?” Bambam teased, a hand coming up to ruffle through Chan’s hair gentler then he would have any other time. 

Chan laughed at the questions, finally managing to get a hand between them and shove Bambam away so he could breathe, let alone think past the smell of peaches. 

“Jesus, Bam. I'm fine! It didn’t leave a scar, I can still rap, and my maths grades are still higher than yours.” He grinned, noticing the rest of the pack, plus their manager, had come to join them. 

Jaebeom gave him one of his awkward smiles, inclining his head in a small bow that acknowledged Chan as an alpha, finally . Chan’s heart swelled. 

“Hey, I’m glad it all worked out.” Jinyoung smiled, his familiar coffee scent a balm on Chan’s rapidly fraying nerves. 

“You’re pretty lucky you didn’t debut with us, Little Alpha, now you’ll probably get your own pack to lead.” Jackson praised from where he was standing next to Youngjae. 

Lucky. Lucky he didn’t debut with them. Lucky. 

“Hah, yeah, I suppose I might, huh?” Chan forced out, the familiar scents that he had been so desperate for suddenly felt overwhelming. They pressed in on all sides, a suffocating mix of intimate and distant, teasing him with a forgone closeness that he would never have with them again.

“You smell like smoke now,” Jinyoung commented harmlessly, giving Chan a small, proud smile. “Not like charcoal or like regular wood smoke. It's sort of spicy. Medicinal. I like it, Chan-ah. It’s a good alpha scent.”

“Wow-uh, thanks, hyung, but I have to go. I have a meeting that was supposed to start, like, two minutes ago,” Chan said abruptly. The pack made noises of acknowledgement, knowing all too well what a schedule so tight you couldn’t even wiggle felt like. 

Bambam detached from his side, replacing Chan’s warmth with Yugyeom’s as he tucked himself under the tall alpha’s arm. Yugyeom’s hand immediately fell to Bambam’s waist, the wide berth of his palm wrapping around the jut of his narrow hip. His head dipped down unconsciously, rubbing his jaw and the tip of his nose over the crown of Bambam’s head, replacing the lingering smear of scent that Chan’s hug had left behind with his own. 

“I’ll talk to you later, We need to get lunch or something.” Bambam smiled as he bumped his head against Yugyeom’s in acceptance of his gentle scenting, taking Chan’s silent nod as agreement to their to-be-determined lunch date.

Chan turned away, refusing to feel Mark’s knowing eyes on his back, and stiffly walked down the hall. 

He turned the corner, to the haunted restroom that no one went to, closed the door, kicked the wedge of wood as hard as he could, and began to cry. 

Not just a few sniffles and some wayward tears, but deep, body aching sobs that left him unable to breathe or think. He felt like the walls were closing in, squeezing him from all sides, like he was dying. Like he was drowning. Like he was both far too small for the body he was in and like he was about to be ripped apart at the seams at any second. 

Chan knew later that it was a panic attack, or an anxiety attack. Whatever you wanted to call it. It was some sort of attack on his body by his own mind, trapping himself inside his head until he wore himself out on the restroom floor. 

Now, Chan felt that same suffocating weight on his chest and forced himself to swallow it back down. He tried with all his might to will away the encroaching panic. Chan knew this was a side effect of bondbreak. He had searched it on his phone months ago, finding every possible side effect in an effort to convince himself it wasn’t what was happening to him but it was, right down to the scent change that Jinyoung said he liked . The forest fire raging inside his heart manifested in his scent, overwhelming the gentle budding scent of salt water and eucalyptus he’d been slowly developing as a pup. 

It was still there, underneath of it all, but all the articles said that the trauma he was experiencing from his broken pack bond would most likely alter his scent forever, a psychological and physiological scar that would brand him as broken for the rest of his life, rejected by his pack. A mark he would bear even if he didn’t have to look in the mirror every day and see the imprint of teeth made by a person who had now rejected him. He supposed in some way, the fact that he hadn’t taken Jaebeom’s mark was a blessing, but his ruined scent was mark enough. 

Actually, it was sort of worse when he thought about it. At least if he had an inert mark people would be able to look at him and see why he was broken. This way, people caught his scent and didn’t know it was unnatural to his biology, in fact, most people, like Jinyoung, seemed to like it. One of the female trainees, a pretty omega from Taiwan, told him that it reminded her of the traditional medicine shops her grandmother took her to, of all the different fragrances burning in the ornate censers. She told him he smelled like happy memories. It was devastating to hear someone describe the scent he hated so much in such a loving way

“Hyung?” Jisung’s voice broke Chan out of the memory, Chan’s head jolting up at the sound of the pup. He must have forgotten to kick the wedge under the door, because Jisung had opened it just a crack, like he was afraid to open it all the way but needed to know for sure that Chan was in there, even though he must have been able to smell his distress clearly even through the closed door. Chan swallowed down the tears that were still threatening to spill, choked back his rising panic back like he was wrangling a cobra, shoving it back down deep into his chest, back into that little locked box he kept the rest of his feelings tucked away in. 

“Yeah, Jisung-ah?” Chan finally answered, standing and turning towards the sink in the guise of washing his hands. 

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Jisung’s feeble voice came through the crack of the door, hurt and guilt evident in every syllable. 

Chan sighed, bowing his head for a minute as he took a grounding breath. He shook the water off his hands, opening the door to confront the forlorn pup on the other side.

Jisung’s head snapped up, eyes big and watery and so earnest Chan that almost envied him. He missed being innocent like that, however fragile it had made him feel at the time. It was better than knowing what the alternative was. “Jisungie,” He mumbled, “I’m not mad at you.”

“But I-”

“You made a mistake, pup. It happens, but I need you to be more careful. You are too talented to not debut just because you can't think before you speak.” Chan sighed. He looked over the worried pup with an appraising gaze. Jisung was still really shaken up, eyes darting all over the place like he was afraid to look at Chan’s face. Chan knew that one day he would be able to instinctively react to the emotional and physical needs of his packmates, subconsciously adjusting his scent to meet their needs, but for now it still took real effort on his part. 

Chan closed his eyes and breathed in Jisung’s baby scent; something sweet and floral with a citrus note tempered by the powderiness of immature , child , pup . He made himself pick out the distress, the worry, and the self-deprecation that lingered like cloying notes of rotten fruit on the tail end of Jisung’s underdeveloped scent, spoiling what should have been the bouquet of a happy pup. He focused on the dejected pup standing in front of him, let him be the only thing that occupied his mind. After only a few seconds it was like something suddenly fell into place, his own scent shifted. Eucalyptus and salted sea air came to the forefront, soothing and peaceful. Chan reached a hand out, ruffling it through Jisung’s unruly brown hair, leaving his scent behind like a salve for the pup’s frayed nerves. The younger boy relaxed instantly. The scent of smoke was still there, but it was more like the fire was raging in the distance, kilometres away from where they were now, safe from the flames. 

“I still feel bad though.” Jisung pouted, leaning into the palm of Chan’s hand like a cat starved for attention. Chan smiled affectionately, pulling him close. 

“Then run to the cantina and get everyone lunch, that should just about make it up to me.” 

“Even for Daehwi?” Jisung pouted, but the teasing lilt to his words made Chan chuckle. 

“Even for Daehwi.” 

—

Even when Chan wasn’t the eldest in the dorms, he was still the alpha trainee who had been at JYP the longest, and that seemed to carry more weight than he had ever anticipated. In the eyes of the other trainees, he became their head alpha. Not quite a pack leader, but still the person who they turned to for support, comfort, and guidance. He was the person they called on when they needed a mediator, when they needed a shoulder to cry on, when they needed someone to knock their heads together and tell them to act right. Jaebeom and Younghyun had always made it seem so natural, easily diffusing fights and acting as an anchor for so many people. Chan felt like it was nearly impossible for him to fill the gaps they left behind, or even come close, but over time he began to realize the problem was him. He was the only one left who remembered what it had been like when Jaebeom was the head of the dorm. He was the only one who remembered when Younghyun had so naturally taken his place and eased them all through the transition. 

Logically, he knew the problem was him. Jaebeom and Younghyun never hesitated to be emotionally invested. Younghyun knew he wasn’t going to debut with Chan, yet he never wavered in his commitment to support him emotionally. Younghyun had been a pillar, his cedar scent diffusing into every room of the dorm like incense in a temple. 

Chan knew that’s what he should be doing. What he had to do if he wanted to make it onto a debut team, but it wasn’t as easy as those two made it seem. Every time Chan dug for the emotions he knew he should have, he came up empty. His control was like sand slipping through his fingers. It was even more frustrating after his results with Jisung in the restroom. He had thought he was finally getting a handle on things, but he’d been unable to replicate his success since then. 

Bondbreak means broken. The little voice inside of him sneered, cruel as always. It haunted Chan at every moment, during every interaction. 

When he made ramen for Jisung at two o’clock in the morning just so he could be sure that the pup had something in his stomach before he went to bed, the little voice liked to remind him Hyunwoo made it better. When he lost his temper and snapped at one of the kids it nagged Jaebeom never would have done that . When he fell behind at practice, exhausted and overworked, it crowed Now everyone will see that you don’t belong here.

Tonight it was bad. His bed was painfully empty with no hint of the scents he grew up relying on for comfort. The voice sneered at him. Why are you still here? There’s no place for you here anymore. They don’t need you. Just leave. Go. What are you waiting for? For them to kick you out?

Chan stumbled out of bed, hands clammy. He hated it, that little voice. It was part of him, his own mind playing tricks on him, but it was like his brain was unaware that the death of this body would mean its own demise. Chan supposed that maybe that was its goal. 

An angry glance at the clock told him it was too early to be awake. The little LED screen displaying a pixelated ‘4:23am’. He signed, stretching his arms above his head so that his spine crackled with the movement. There was no point in trying to sleep again, so he may as well get ready for the day. 

He shuffled socked feet across the cluttered floor, determined not to stub his toe on an errant skateboard. Ignoring the chill of the wooden floors without his slippers, Chan made his way to the kitchen. He grimaced at the dishes left out by the other trainees from last night's dinner, used pots and dirty bowls stacked on the counters and piled in the shallow sink. Jinyoung had always directed everyone to clean up after meals properly, assigning each pup a specific task and scolding them when they complained. 

Chan acutely felt the hole that the lack of a firm head omega left in the hierarchy of the drom now more than ever. He sighed, pulling on some gloves and beginning to tackle the mess in the kitchen, knowing the pups would be too sleepy to deal with it in the morning and it was too messy to leave until after practice. 

This felt natural, or at least more natural than anything else felt nowadays. Even when he couldn't draw up the emotional responses he knew he should be having, his instincts to protect and care for those that relied on him did enough to fill in the gaps, mend what his bondbreak had taken from him and make him almost resemble a functioning person. 

Chan was so lost in his own head, the monotony of running water like a white noise machine in the otherwise silent dorm, that the sudden presence behind him was almost shocking. He scrambled, catching the cup before it crashed into the sink and surely woke more than one disgruntled trainee. 

“Fu- dang , Sungie. You can’t sneak up on me like that.” Chan huffed, holding onto the counter until his racing heart stopped. 

Jisung giggled sleepily, pressing himself to Chan’s back like a cat soaking up his warmth. Chan felt a glimmer of amused fondness settle into his chest, a soft exhale the only way he knew to show it. 

“Why are you awake, pup? It’s too early.” Chan said, going back to the washing. Jisung’s hands made their way around his waist squeezing himself tighter to Chan’s back, though his grip was weak from the tiredness still coursing through him. 

“Heard hyung got up, came out to see why.” He yawned, words muffled by the way his face was pressed into Chan’s back. Chan smiled down at the soapy water, reaching in to pull out the plug now that the last of the dishes were drip drying on the rack. 

“You should go back to sleep, it’s too early for you.” Chan hummed, pulling off the dishwashing gloves and finally stepping back from the counter, Jisung stepping back in time. 

“It’s lonely.” Jisung grumbled, the light orange blossom scent he carried as a pup translating the pout Chan felt being pressed into his back. 

Pups were social creatures, learning everything about behavior from those around them, especially older omegas, before their presentation. Oftentimes packs developed around one omega in particular, rather than an alpha. Most packs outside of the strange construct of the entertainment industry tended to be childhood friends or school friends who orbit an omega or an alpha when they present, learning and growing with the older’s guidance until they also present. 

However much Chan was feeling the lack of a head omega, Jisung and the other pups probably felt it a hundred times more. Chan’s heart ached and he turned around to bundle the smaller boy against his chest. He remembered when he was a pup, nervous and clinging to Hyunwoo in the same kitchen, much like how Jisung was clinging to him now. 

“How about we go lay in my room, and you can get some more rest before it's time to wake up?” Chan offered, mirroring the words he had heard from Jinyoung a hundred times over, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t just repeating what others had said to him before. Jisung nodded, pressing his forehead to Chan’s chest and already starting to shove them back towards the bedroom, feet shuffling. 

Chan huffed affectionately, taking the charge to guide them back towards his room, cracking open the door silently to avoid waking up the other occupants. Woojin was on the bed opposite of his, Daehwi sprawled out over his chest like an uncomfortable, lanky blanket. His elbow was shoved into Woojin’s neck, tilting his head at an uncomfortable angle, but Woojin didn’t seem to mind, sleeping peacefully despite the probably painful positioning. Those two were… something for sure. What exactly that something was, Chan couldn’t say. But there was a connection there that Chan could already see clear as day, even if the other two didn’t. 

Jisung slumped into the bed the minute he touched it, tugging Chan down with him. Chan grunted, shifting to reposition them until Jisung was tucked up against his chest, already asleep. 

In the silence of the dorm, Chan still didn’t fall asleep, but the little voice inside of him was quiet. Chan hugged Jisung closer to him, nuzzling into the younger boy's hair, his whisper barely heard over the light snores of the room. 

“Thank you.” 

—

“When can we go homeeee ,” Jisung whined, kicking his feet on the wooden floor of the training room. Chan snorted an affectionate laugh, raising a brow to the pup all but throwing a tantrum. The rest of the trainees were in similar states of exhaustion, though notably less vocal then the round-faced pup was. 

“We still have some things to practice, Sung. Evaluations are next week and you guys need to have your routines down perfectly, you know this.” Chan said, pulling Jisung off the ground, grunting when the pup went dead weight in his arms. 

“We’ve been practicing for so long, can’t we have a break?” Jisung whined, arms pressed up by his ears due to the way he was sliding out of Chan’s grip like a cat being carried by a toddler. Chan grumbled, dropping him back to the floor with an indignant oof.

“It has been a while, and it stinks in here.” Donghyun, an alpha who joined ages ago and presented in the privacy of his own home, spoke up. Chan considered the alpha a good friend but they hadn’t had the chance to get exceptionally close, despite his long time at the company, since unlike the others he lived in Seoul with his parents. Though Woong, Woojin and Daehwi seemed to have no trouble bridging the gap with the handsome alpha. 

“Fine, fine, you’re right. Take a break. I’ll go get some drinks.” Chan laughed, waving his hand to send the other trainees- Woojin, Daehwi, Yuto, Donghyun, Woong and Subin the message. Yuto gave him a bright smile, Chan returning it with a nod. 

He stepped out into the hall, taking a breath of air not cloyed by the scents of three alphas, an omega and beta and three sweaty pups. Despite keeping up well enough today his head felt a bit out of it, a headache pounding at his temples for the past hour or so. 

He paced down the hall, not paying much attention to where he was going since the trip to the vending machine as all but muscle memory. So lost in thought and the pounding of his temples he missed the door swinging open in front of him, just barely managing to dodge out of the way to avoid being hit. 

“Damn, Channie, you almost ate shit.” Younghyun snorted, the rest of the newly dubbed Day6 project group flooding out into the hall, practice evidently done for the day. Chan huffed, bumping his shoulder into Younghyun when a scent caught his attention. 

Dowoon was new, having auditioned and gone straight into the project group, Chan was unfamiliar with the older omega. Despite his outward appearance he smelled distinctly omega, talcum powder and berries, fresh and bright and good.

“Channie- earth to Chan?” Younghyun asked, hand waving in front of Chan’s face snapping him away from where he had been staring at the omega. Chan’s face felt flush, embarrassed by the out of character slip up. 

Younghyun’s brow furrowed, hand landing on Chan’s shoulder and pulling him in closer. Chan growled, the action surprising them both. 

“ Ooookay and that’s what we’re not going to do.” Younghyun huffed, pulling Chan close enough to take a quick inhale. His face scrunched up, hand staying firm on Chan’s shoulder. 

“You're in pre-rut.” He declared with an air of finality that Chan didn't think he could argue with if he tried. 

Jae muffled a laugh, Dowoon flushed a little now that the weird attention from Chan made more sense. 

“You guys go on to dinner, I’ll get Chan home.” Younghyun said, waving them off. Chan grumbled, trying to twist out of the hold on his shoulder. 

“I’m not a pup anymore. I can get home by myself, hyung.” He complained, frowning at the unamused look Younghyun leveled him. 

“And if you go into rut while walking home? Or on the bus? Or around another alpha?” Younghyun questioned, things he knew Chan had no real response to. 

“But the others-” Chan started, stopped by the heavy weight of Younghyun’s hand on the back of his neck. 

“Have phones and can be texted. Stop whining, start walking.” Younghyun said firmly, the kind of older brother voice he had been using on Chan since he was thirteen just as effective now as it always had been. 

Younghyun got them a taxi, not willing to have Chan out walking the short mile or two to the dorm and Chan was grateful, head feeling heavier and heavier with each passing minute. It was a cloying sort of heaviness, like wading through molasses. By the time they reached the dorm his teeth itched, the unfamiliar scent of the beta driver and Younghyun competing alpha scent making his stomach roll in discomfort. 

When Younghyun grabbed his arm to pull him out of the taxi, Chan growled, climbing out on his own, unwilling to tolerate the too-hot touch of the other alpha on his already overheated skin. 

Chan has never prayed harder for an elevator to not stop than that moment, finally stumbling into the dorm like he was drunk. The scents of home assaulted him on all sides but it was less acrid than the strange beta in the taxi. Familiar, grounding. 

Pack. Something in him growled, and he found no reason to deny it. 

The nesting room had changed little since the others moved out, smelling of clean sheets and a hint of Yuto’s floral omega scent leftover from his last heat. Chan growled low, all but falling face first into the sheets, body slumping over like a puppet with its strings cut. 

“I’ll be here, don’t lock the door, we’ll bring you food.” Younghyun counseled, standing a safe distance from the younger alpha. “Is there anyone you’d want to… help you?” He asked tentatively, like an older brother giving the sex talk for the first time. 

A flash of dyed white hair and peach scent crossed Chan’s mind, flooding his senses with dread and souring his scent. 

“No one, just let me sweat it out.” Chan grumbled, the headache already too much for him to bother keeping his eyes open. The sheets were cool satin, easy to wash and hard to stain, but the crinkling of the plastic mattress cover almost canceled out any comfort the admittedly expensive sheets brought. 

“You’ll be fine, Channie.” He hesitated for a second before he awkwardly continued, “You haven't uh… been active before, right?” Younghyun asked, busying himself pressing the padded foam insulation onto the door frame, meant to stop scent from leaking into the hall in such a small dorm. Chan couldn’t see his face, but he could see the uncomfortable scrunch of his shoulders and he could guess well enough what he meant by that. 

“No, I haven't.” Chan grumbled, pressing himself into the sheets like he could merge into them and cease existing. 

“Ok, good. Well- not good! But neutral? I…I have no opinion.” Younghyun coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because like if you’re still a vir- I mean if you haven’t really done that before it won’t be a full rut, you know? So it won’t take as long and it won’t be, like, miserable. It’s still gonna suck but-”

“Hyung?”

“Yeah, Channie?” 

“Get out.”

“Yup, getting out. I’ll bring you some food later. Painkillers are in the bedside drawer. Text me if you need uh… toys?” 

“ Hyung.”

“Yup, got it, leaving.” Younghyun laughed, closing the door with a muted thump, leaving Chan alone in the silence of the heat room. Chan grit his teeth through the waves of discomfort.

The room was sparsely decorated, if you could even call it decorated at all. There was a small floor table to the left and a nightstand. The bed was really just a pile of mats with way too many pillows, meant to cater to an omega’s need to nest. The mattresses could be spread out, creating more space if more than one person needed to use the room, or if someone had a partner for their heat or rut. Chan flushed when he thought about that last time anyone shared the room together like that. When he was a pup he never really thought about it too much, what Jinyoung and Jaebeom hyungs must have done when they locked themselves away in here. Even after he’d sat through all the mandatory sex ed classes to prepare him for the presentation that never came and he knew, at least clinically, what an alpha and an omega did alone together during their cycle, he sort of never connected the dots that thats what they were doing. At least not until Jinyoung was pregnant, then it was like it was staring him in the face all the time. 

It was weird to think that that was what was expected of him now. Of course all their teachers stressed to them that it was okay to wait. Just because you had a heats or ruts didn’t mean you had to act on them, in fact, they said, it was better if you didn’t. Not having sex meant that your heats or ruts didn’t fully mature, and it was better to have a partner who could help you every time instead of bouncing between whoever was available. Still, it was okay if a presented alpha needed a rut partner because it was just in an alpha’s nature. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

While Chan felt… riled up in some ways, it wasn't the all-consuming need dramas liked to portray it as, probably since he was still experiencing those ‘immature’ ruts, not having knotted someone before, so his ruts would be tolerable but uncomfortable, same as an omegas heats before they've been knotted. 

He went over the information about what a rut would be like that he’d received over and over again via those uncomfortable company-mandated health lessons the pups were forced to take every year until they were deemed mature enough to tap out of them. Chan was still taking them just so the younger kids would behave with him in the room, though at this point the knowledge was superfluous after so many years of the same dull course taught by the same unenthusiastic beta. 

He had been told the same as everyone else, but knowing something in theory was different from actually experiencing it and now Chan was actually experiencing it. He had spent his presentation rut under sedation at the hospital, recovering after his surgery, so this was his first time truly experiencing any rut symptoms with a clear head. 

He itched all over, his skin felt tight and uncomfortable, like a balloon filled with jello threatening to pop. His jaw ached, the urge to bite down on something felt irrational even though he had already become accustomed to the mature alpha canines that dominated his smile now. 

Chan groaned, rolling onto his back to stare forlornly at the ceiling, counting the spiderwebbing of thin cracks in the aging paint, wishing he could be anywhere but this stifling room. 

Younghyun kept his promise of bringing food later, dropping off a plate of steamed pork buns and informing him the company and the other trainees have been informed of the situation. 

Chan flushed slightly at the memory of Younghyun’s small smirk when he informed Chan that Jisung in particular was worried about him. The mention of the younger boy made Chan’s teeth itch with an instinctual urge to claim and bond . Jisung wasn’t even presented yet, he scolded himself. He was just a kid. A silly kid who looked at Chan like he hung the very stars in the sky. But that didn’t stop the dumb alpha lizard part of his brain from chanting pack, pack, mine, mine. It was almost shocking, how vehemently his brain was insisting that Jisung was his . His pack, his to watch over and protect, his to care for and guide. 

Chan hadn’t felt that way about anyone in a very long time, not since BamBam, but at the same time it wasn’t anything like what he felt for Bam. He didn’t dream of kissing Jisung (ew), didn’t imagine a future where one day they could be mates, but he also couldn’t stomach the idea that somewhere in the near future Jisung might not be his anymore. The alpha in him practically snarled at the idea, telling him that the only way he was going to keep anyone from taking Jisung away from him would be to make him pack. He knew the increased sensitivity would be part of his ruts, but what shocked him was how tight he had to clench his jaw to avoid biting through his own lip just thinking about forming his own pack some day. He stuffed the corner of the pillowcase into his mouth and idly chewed on it. 

If he had been older, maybe he could have acted on these desires. Jisung was young, unpresented, but probably not too far off from his presentation and status as a legal adult. Newly presented individuals lived in a weird sort of limbo until their nineteenth birthdays. They were considered to be fully mature adults, legally capable of consenting to heats and ruts, but at the same time they weren’t independent. Under the age of nineteen, they had to have the permission of their pack leader to do things like rent apartments, sign contracts, all those little things that made someone truly an adult, yet at the same time they could consent to a mating as long as they were presented. It was a weird legal gray area that people contested every day. Yugyeom and Bambam mated underage and while it had caused a bit of a ripple, no one argued that they were legally allowed to do so as mature adults, but at the same time both of them had to have written permission from their pack leaders to leave their birth packs and join Jaebeom’s. In the eyes of the law until their nineteenth birthdays, Jaebeom and Jinyoung were their new legal guardians. 

As a mature alpha, Chan was allowed to spend his rut with consenting individuals, help mature omegas with their heats, even choose a mate if he wanted to, but he wasn’t allowed to mark someone and establish a legally acknowledged pack until he was nineteen. If he tried to mark Jisung before he was nineteen, it wouldn’t end well, especially if his pack alpha hadn’t given written consent beforehand, and no one was going to give written consent to an alpha under the age of nineteen. It was a messy, complicated web intended to keep hormonal, newly presented teenagers from making rash decisions and forming packs based on friendships and relationships that wouldn’t last into true adulthood. Chan understood it, but it didn’t mean he had to like it, especially when every elimination where Jisung let his nerves get the best of him or one of their teachers brought up Jisung’s sour attitude left Chan anxious and afraid that this time Jisung wouldn’t make it through.

It didn’t matter anyway, there was nothing Chan could do to change any of this by lying around and overthinking it. He made an attempt to shake himself free of the thoughts that plagues his rut-dazed brain every waking hour, pressing his face into the mattress and huffing the scent of the detergent the dorm auntie prefered, determined to hold out against the ache that seemed to rattle through his bones and the stiffness from his overly-tensed muscles.

“Couple more days, Chris, and then the rest of your life.” Chan grumbled to himself, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would grant him rest. 

Exiting the heat room a few days later felt like stepping onto the surface of a strange planet. His lack of a phone or clock in the room stole any sense of time from Chan over the course of his rut. By the sound of the television in the other room and the lethargic voices of exhausted trainees filtering down the hall, Chan could guess it was late in the evening. Most likely they were all winding down from recently coming back from the company before they had a quick dinner and passed out for the night. 

He padded to the end of the hall, scrunching his nose at the assault of scents after being so steeped in his own for so long. Woojin was the first to notice, the other alpha’s gaze snapping to Chan when the lingering scent of rut drifted into the room. 

Chan opened his mouth to say a sheepish hello, but before he could get the words out a weight slammed into him from behind, sending him stumbling out into the main room, twisting desperately as he tried to regain his footing. “Argh - who-”

“HYUNG !” Jisung yelled, squeezing Chan tightly around his waist. Chan laughed, a full, genuine laugh bursting out of him at Jisung’s enthusiasm. 

“Sung-ah, stop! I stink! I haven't even had a chance to shower yet!” Chan laughed, trying to peel the pup off of him, but Jisung just clung tighter, nuzzling into Chan like he was starved. 

“You don't stink! You smell like a campfire, I like it.” Jisung asserted as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Chan blinked down at him, head feeling too muffled to figure out how to confront the blooming warmth in his chest at the compliment. 

“That’s because you aren’t presented yet.” Yuto yelled from the kitchen, giving Chan a toothy grin. “He definitely stinks.”

“Agreed, he reeks of rut.” Woojin added, his voice teasing but his expression as inscrutable as always. 

“Yah , I didn’t come out here just to be heckled.” Chan countered, sticking his tongue out at them. He finally managed to pry Jisung off of him, keeping a steadying hand on the pup’s shoulder to appease his need for closeness after being separated for the last couple of days. 

“Too bad,” Yuto chirped, walking out of the kitchen with a mountain of japchae in the big silver bowl they got months ago when someone wanted to try making Kimchi from scratch. 

“Go shower and eat, if you’re quick enough you might get a few noodles before the others finish it off.” Hyunggu smirked, directing Yuto to put the bowl on the table. Daehwi followed closely behind with bowls and chopsticks. 

The lure of food tempted Jisung away from Chan’s side for a moment, gazing longingly at the noodles. He glanced between the food and Chan, clearly torn between his allegiance to the alpha and his allegiance to his stomach. Chan laughed, hand leaving Jisung’s shoulder to shove him towards the others.

“Go eat, I’ll be out after a quick shower.” Chan instructed, Jisung’s resolve crumbled now that he had permission. He darted to the table, beginning to fill a bowl with noodles. 

Chan huffed fondly, turning around to head to the shower. 

He didn’t see Jisung piling an extra bowl full only to set it aside for Chan, taking some for himself only after he ensured the older boy would have enough to eat.

— 

Things settled back into their normal routine quickly after his rut. The familiar, exhausting rhythm of training, extra classes for songwriting and music production, pretending to keep up in school on the days he could actually attend in person, and juggling the new responsibilities he’s been handed as one of the hyungs of the trainee group. He almost felt compelled to send Hyunwoo and Jaebeom a fruit basket or something, because he did not know how they had managed for so long with so many of them underfoot.

Winter was approaching, the tacky humidity of summer quickly replaced by rain and wind. It whipped the JYP building with the sheets of rain almost daily and today was no different. The storm that had begun only moments after the trainees stepped off the bus and into the shelter of practice rooms was already lashing the trees outside, sending a scattering of abused leaves in a deluge down the drenched sidewalks and streets. Chan stretched, back popping with the motion when the door to the practice room opened, Younghyun sticking his head in. 

“Hey, Channie.” Younghyun greeted, “I was looking for you.” He walked in without further ceremony. Chan nodded to let him know he heard him, returning to his stretches. He felt more than heard Younghyun approach him, his hands going to Chan’s shoulder to help push him through a stretch they had worked on together a million times over. 

The silence dragged on, weighted but comfortable, natural between the two of them after so long. Chan knew Younghyun had something to say, he wouldn't have found Chan in the middle of practice like this if he didn’t. Chan shifted into a new pose. Younghyun’s hand on his spine and shoulder guided him into the proper posture and Chan hissed out a tense breath at the stretch. 

“We have a date.” Younghyun spoke quietly, “For our debut, that is.” His words broke the relative silence of the room. Chan breathed out, letting the exhaliation push him lower to the ground. 

“When?” He asked simply, the two of them moving onto the next pose, a well oiled machine, words not even needed to communicate a routine they had mastered years ago. 

“September. We already have our songs and everything prepared.” Younghyun answered, wide palm sliding from Chan’s shoulder to the back of his neck, pressing on the tense muscles while his other hand raised Chan’s left arm. 

“Not too long, then.” Chan muttered, the burn of the stretch was the only thing he allowed himself to feel in the moment. He couldn’t let himself feel more, not where others might see. Not when Younghyun might feel guilty. 

“Will you be ok?” Younghyun asked, finally releasing Chan, lowering himself to sit on the floor next to him. Chan rose from the stretch slowly, counting the lines in the wood grain of the practice room flooring. 

“Yeah, hyung. It’s not really surprising.” He shrugged, still not meeting Younghyun’s eyes. He knew the minute he did he would break down, curl into his chest like a pup and leave Younghyun feeling like he was somehow responsible, like he was at fault for how broken Chan really was. 

“Knowing it’s going to happen and having it actually happening are two different things, Chris.” 

Chan laughed under his breath, leaning to bump his shoulder gently into Younghyun, finally looking up at the mirror across from him. Younghyun was handsome, broad but not built, radiating confidence and a commanding, unmistakable alpha aura despite the somber expression he was wearing. Chan could almost see himself with the man’s mark on his neck, a loyal sub-alpha to an alpha as all-encompassing and perfect as Younghyun was. Chan didn’t think he was particularly alpha attracted, didn’t think the bloom of fondness in his chest was anything too complicated. No, Younghyun as his alpha would have been like having an older brother to guide him for the rest of his life. So different from the pack he’d missed out on with Jaebeom as their leader. 

Chan met his eyes through the mirror, taking a deep, steadying breath. “It’ll be fine, hyung. We knew this was going to happen.” He promised, his bittersweet smile doing little to reassure his hyung. 

On the outside he knew he looked like he was handling it well, better than he did when GOT7 debuted for sure. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. He was handling it better, he just wasn’t handling it well . He had to wonder if he would be taking the separation from Younghyun so hard if his heart wasn’t already shattered. Would it hurt so bad if he had someone to share it with? Saying he was fine was a lie, for sure, but he hoped it was a lie convincing enough to fool the man who knew him almost as well as he knew himself. 

“You aren’t invincible, Chris.” Younghyun spoke softly, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. It didn’t fool him. Chan sighed. 

“Yeah, but sometimes I think I might need to be.” 

—

Chan woke up early that day, getting up before the others as usual. It was a Saturday, the first one of the month and one of their rare free days. Most trainees got their allowances on the first and looked forward to the weekend to do a bit of shopping or running around with friends, but Chan had no such plans. He always felt guilty spending the money his parents sent him. He had most of it tucked away in his bank account, determined to give as much if back to them as he could as soon as he started earning his own money. Instead, he used his company provided bus pass and took an early bus over to the JYP building. 

He unlocked the door to his studio quietly, the sound of the lock almost too loud in the stillness of the company building. Just last month he had finally been granted the privilege of his own space as one of J.Y. Park’s many ‘Cheer Up Chan’ attempts. 

The CEO was always finding little things like that to do for Chan, offering him a strange myriad of items, privileges, responsibilities, and perks to try to ‘cure’ the damage done to him by separating him from his would-be-pack. Once a staff member told him that J.Y. Park seemed to regard Chan as a son of sorts, and that he felt immense guilt for not realizing how attached Chan had become to BamBam and the others when he made the decision to cut him from the debut line-up. Chan didn’t buy it, but had learned to not argue with them, or to reject gifts or any other attempts at placating him. A MIDIboard here and a new laptop there, the efforts were at the very least noted, if not always appreciated. While it didn’t do much for him emotionally, he did treasure having his own space after so long of having to share everything with dozens of other boys over the years, including his socks.

He tossed his bag down on the rickety IKEA couch that barely fit squashed against the far wall and kept the door from opening all the way. The digital clock on the desk read a mere 6:21am; Late enough he could get into the building, but still early enough there was only him, a few frazzled personal assistants, and a handful of security guards. The others would come eventually after they had their fun. Even though it was a day off, everyone liked to be seen putting in extra effort, so inevitably they’d come in and put a few extra hours in at the practice rooms or carefully crooning away on the karaoke machines, just so the manager and producers could see them working hard. Sometimes they sought Chan out in his studio, other times they left him alone, treating the foam-padded room as if it was sacred and no one was allowed to enter without his permission. An alpha’s territory, not to be trespassed upon. 

Chan appreciated it, but it did get lonely sometimes. 

Chan pulled his laptop out of his bag, setting it on the desk and beginning the ritual of connecting the various wires and plugs to the machine, the equipment around him whirring to life as he got everything set up. The once dark room was illuminated by the large screen overhead, the track editor already open and ready for him to create new beats or tinker with songs he deemed unworthy of a ‘ _fin ’ at the end of the file name just yet. 

He lapsed so easily into the quiet of the isolated space that it was as if time didn’t exist for him anymore. Nothing bothered Chan in the dark, padded room. Occasionally people would pop their heads in, usually managers making sure he was okay, asking him if he’d eaten, offering him a snack or a drink, letting him know a car was going back to the dorm soon if he was ready to leave. He turned them all down politely, except for the time his favorite manager popped her head through the door with a pineapple smoothie, which he accepted gratefully. But mostly, the closed door was enough of a message to everyone to leave him be. 

It was almost scary how he was able to fall into a trance, the only sound being that he created, curling through his padded headphones and locking him away in the one thing he found himself confident in lately. It was an almost intimate space, a plug-in scent blocker keeping the air neutral of even his own scent, only the smell of the disinfectant he dutifully used after every session to distract him. 

He worked for a few hours, falling into a well practiced groove as he pumped out tracks and lyrics like he was a machine, filling file after file with carefully organized riffs, tracks, snippets and lyrics that he could stitch together later or throw out when they didn't work. 

Chan finally added the ‘_fin’ to the end of a track and sat back, content to spend a few minutes clicking around idly as his mind wound down. He pulled up Youtube to kill some time, checking out recent music, clicking through some gossip rag articles, and checking Steam to see if that game he wanted was finally on sale. 

He clicked back onto Youtube, clicking the recent 24K song, Super Fly . He let the booming track fill his headphones and the gritty music video distract him for a few minutes. iKon’s Rhythm Ta followed soon after. He’d met the iKon kids before, the YG trainees often made trips to the JYP building and vice versa, building off the friendly rivalry between their two CEOs. He remembered standing out in the hall, watching through the practice room window as his soon-to-be Got7 hyungs danced and stunted, blowing the competition away. He had observed with a sort of unrelenting hunger as he watched trainees from another company on the verge of debuting, if only they could get through the final obstacle; reality television. Tried to imagine what it would be like to have to fight for his spot to debut so publicly like that. 

Clicking onto another random song he tapped along, absorbing the rhythm and beats, remembering the words from the older alpha he used to get production lessons from. 

“Listen to everything” he had said, pointing at a filled youtube feed. “You never know what will inspire you, or what you’ll learn you hate.” 

He took that to heart, and spent hours searching every song he could, every comeback and album and b-side from his senior artists, soaking them in and refining what he knew he liked, what he thought he liked and what he knew for sure he hated. It was arguably the most fun homework he ever had. 

The next song died out, Youtube’s next recommendation popped up as a new video. 

Chan’s hand slammed on the spacebar to pause the autoplay before he realized he had even moved. 

Day6’s Congratulations was pulled up, still unwatched by Chan despite being a month old tomorrow. 

When Younghyun had asked what he thought, Chan had sung his praises. 

“It was so good, hyung!” He had commended, “You all did so well! Your voice is amazing!” 

It all fell from his lips so easily, a bright smile and exaggerated arms to sell the act. Younghyun hadn’t even questioned it. 

Chan didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to watch the music video just yet. He had never even entertained the idea that he would debut with Younghyun. Chan was never included in the plans for a band, despite the guitar he could play passably. Chan was a dancer, not a band member, and undeniably Younghyun was a musician, not a dancer. It just never added up.

It was just that there was something about seeing Younghyun so content to be apart from him that hurt Chan almost as much as being separated from GOT7 did. It had always been the two of them relying on each other, even when GOT7 had left, Younghyun had been left behind, too. They were a unit, Chan and his hyung. 

They hadn’t been sustainable and Chan had always known that. The same way he knew now when he looked at the other trainees, such a large pool of them when debut groups were so small, that most of them wouldn’t be by his side when they finally stepped out onto the stage for the first time as idols. It was emotionally exhausting, driving the others towards the goal of debut without making any real promises to each other. They followed Chan so faithfully, the same way he had followed Jaebeom, like he could somehow make everything work if they just stuck close enough to him. They scrambled to join his team during evaluations, trailing after him during dance practices like he had done with his own hyungs for so long. 

Chan pressed a frustrated palm to his eyes, teeth gritting hard enough he could swear he felt one chip. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He didn’t want to care about these kids! He didn’t want to be so invested in the people around him that it caused him to worry and fret over their future at the company because he knew what that led to. Broken bonds, shattered hearts, the unrelenting nagging at the back of his mind that he could have been more , done better somehow. 

He knew that for that reason more than anything he shouldn’t let himself care. He shouldn’t open his heart to these people when they might be gone the next day or next week, next month, next year. Every moment spent together was built on a foundation that was shaky and unsure, every promise made backed up by nothing more than the whims of pups and a dream that still felt a little bit too much like a fantasy. 

Chan knew all of this was true, he knew it so intimately that it was part of his being now; the scent of smoke curling around him like a forest fire. Knew it in the way that he flinched when he smelled peaches at the grocery store, or in the way his brain filled his head with all the ways he could make it all end, and the way he almost didn’t fear his own thoughts anymore. 

Chan wasn’t an idiot. He knew that letting himself care was asking for pain, so why did he keep caring? Why did he wake up earlier than the rest of the trainees to check the weather and make sure there was something to snack on the way to school. Why did he stay up so late to help Daehwi with the math homework he was struggling with, or coach Jisung through the high notes his voice kept cracking on? Why did he ask for Yuto’s favorite heat snack to be added to the shopping list? Why did he even know what his favorite snack was? 

Why did he wake up with Jisung bundled into his bed, the dorm cold as ice yet somehow he felt something that was warm bloom in his chest as he buried his nose in the crown of Jisung’s head and breathed in his puppy scent. Why didn’t he send him back to his own bunk, his own blankets, instead of pulling him closer and going back to sleep?

Why did Chan’s heart keep betraying him, determined to hurt itself again and again?

Why couldn’t he listen to Younghyun’s debut song?

He closed the tab on his laptop, exiting out of the Congratulations music video shamefully, unwilling to listen today, just like he was unwilling to listen yesterday, or the day before that. He sighed deeply, leaning back in his creaky chair to stare at the ceiling, wondering how he ended up here. 

Years ago, Chan was some hopeful pup, moving to a distant country, eager for new experiences and new friends, dreaming of a life of stardom and now… now he didn’t know what goal he was racing towards, what end goal he was trying to reach. The concept of a debut seemed like a fantasy now, the tracks he had saved to his laptop no more than decoration for his home screen. He thought about quitting sometimes. Going home. Graduating high school, going to college, meeting someone, finding a mate, pups, working a nine to five, job. That’s what other people did, right? That’s what his mum and his dad did. That’s what his cousins, his aunts, his uncles, his old friends from primary school’s parents, what everyone did. Why had he thought he was so special? Who had told twelve year old Chan that he was different ? Some company executive? Obviously, they had been wrong. Chan wasn’t special , he was just… Chan. 

“Hyung… what are you doing here alone?”

The voice startled Chan out of his thoughts, small and shaky and very, very unexpected in the dark of the studio. He glanced behind him, Jisung’s face lit by the glowing computer screens that were the only source of light in the small room. Chan frowned, looking at the pup with concern. 

Jisung didn’t usually stay this late, and Chan wasn't usually so lost in his thoughts he could be snuck up on like this. 

“Sung-ah, it’s late, shouldn’t you be at home?” Chan questioned, swiveling his chair around so he was facing the boy, but Jisung only seemed to grow more distressed at Chan’s admonishment.  

“Hyung, why are you here alone ?” Jisung emphasized, as if he hadn't heard the first time. Chan’s brow furrowed as he tried to decipher the riddle behind Jisung’s words.

“I was working on some things? I’m usually here this late, Sungie, you know this-” He was cut off by the sharp scent of irritation from the pup, vibrant in the rather stale air of the small studio. 

“Hyung it’s your birthday and you’re here alone !” The distress in Jisung’s voice was clear as day, and it took Chan a few seconds to process what he was saying. 

It was… his birthday? 

It was his birthday??

It was his birthday and, somehow, Chan had forgotten. 

He had no dance classes today, no vocal lessons or group activities and so he had sequestered himself in the studio early in the morning, emerging only for quick trips to the restroom and to visit the vending machine down the hall. 

There had been no well wishes from the people he encountered, but suddenly the pineapple smoothie and all the little offers of snacks and tentative offers to take him home made so much more sense. 

When his eyes found Jisung once more, the pup was crying. Big, heavy tears sliding down his chubby cheeks and dripping off his chin in the most unflattering way possible. “Hyung… it’s not fair that you were all alone on your birthday,” he managed between his shuddering breaths. 

Chan felt his eyes burning and when he blinked the feeling of tears of his own sliding down cheeks. His birthday was never his favorite day of the year, at least not since he left home and he missed his mother’s miyeok guk so much that it made his heart clench painfully in his chest. He felt a sudden rush of guilt for pushing away the other trainees like he had, denying them something as simple and arbitrary as celebrating his birthday with him when they had obviously been looking forward to it, judging by Jisung’s reaction.

Chan looked at his feet, the ratty sneakers Jinyoung had bought him years ago, worn to shreds from dance and skateboarding. They were almost too small now, after the growth spurt he’d experienced after his sudden presentation, but he still refused to throw them out. His vision blurred and he wondered how it got to be like this. 

When he looked up, Jisung was still there, shoulders shaking with the force of the emotions that seemed too big for such a small body. 

Chan opened his arms, feeling like he was crossing a canyon with just this small act. Jisung barreled into him, nose pressed to Chan's neck and sniffles shaking their bodies. 

“It’s your birthday, hyung! It’s not fair! You shouldn’t be alone today, hyung, you shouldn’t be alone ever!” Jisung pressed the words into his neck, clinging close enough that it would have been improper if either of them had been inclined to care about such things. Chan’s hands settled on his waist, letting himself just… hold Jisung. Let himself soak up all the comfort and closeness the pup had been trying to give him for the last few months, all the things Chan kept telling himself that he didn’t need, Jisung wanted to give him. He was a silly little pup, but he was almost furiously indignant when it came to his claim on Chan, different in the way the other trainees clung to him. They clung to him to get ahead, to get a good evaluation, to earn a higher spot in the trainee rankings. Jisung clung to him because he cared about Chan. He wanted to be with Chan every second of the day, wanted to know everything about him, wanted to talk, play games, eat together, curl up in bed and fall asleep against Chan’s chest. He wanted to just simply be with Chan in an easy, uncomplicated way that no one had wanted to be with Chan since, well, since BamBam. Of course Jisung had wanted to celebrate Chan’s birthday with him. 

Chan didn’t know how Jisung loving him so hard had somehow pushed them both to this point, crying together like someone had died. They sat like that for a while in the darkness, Chan's hand stroking Jisungs back until the pup's heavy sobs tapered into hiccups, and then eventually silence. 

Chan swallowed, his dry throat clicking uncomfortable, he desperately needed a drink of water. He tried to find the words in his head. Should he apologize for forgetting? Thank Jisung for caring about him the way he did? He kept his head down, tucked into Jisung’s neck, delaying the conversation for as long as he could when he heard his long-forgotten phone buzz. 

Jisung snuffled as Chan detached himself long enough to check it, eyes adjusting to the near-blinding brightness of his phone after so long in the windowless studio. 

Incoming, Brian Hyung (22 missed messages)

12:00am: Happy birthday Channie! Our baby alpha isn’t a baby anymore, huh? 

8:12am: Daehwi says you left early, you better not make plans without us. 

8:13am: Barbecue is on Hyung tonight. 

10:20am: No practice for the birthday boy? 

10:21am: Hey Channie, respond when you see these. I hope you aren’t dead or something. 

12:14pm: Manager-hyung says you’ve been in the studio all day. Let me know if you need me to drag you out.  

1:30pm: Make sure to eat lunch, little alpha. 

2:55pm: We’re headed home. I’ll swing by your dorm for dinner tonight. We have cake when you get home. 

2:56pm: Don’t worry about the barbecue, we can do that another day . 

4:30pm: You should get home soon. The kiddos are worried about you. 

4:56pm: Is everything alright? 

6:33pm: Starting to feel like you’re just ignoring me, kid.

7:20pm: Checking up to make sure you’re still good. Manager said he saw you wander out for food so you’re at least alive. You should join us, it’s your birthday, relax a little. 

8:44pm: Almost not your birthday anymore, so get here while you can. 

10:30pm: Cake is in the fridge. I think Jisung is heading to the company soon to get you. Either him or me. 

11:20pm: Jisung is on his way. Channie, you can’t do stuff like this.  

11:21pm: Everyone is worried. Did something happen? You know you can talk to me. 

11:22pm: I know you’ve got this whole ‘lone wolf’ thing going on, but it worries me sometimes . 

11:30pm: Almost too late for a birthday wish. Get it while you can. 

11:55pm: You ok? 

11:59am: Barbecue is still on me, next time you decide to come home. 

12:00am: We’ll try again next year. 

Chan’s hands shook harder the more he read, tears falling and blotting the screen, fractionating the light into colors and grids, breaking up the wave of concerned messages from Younghyun. He checked the rest of his inbox, realizing he hadn’t glanced at a single time that day. 

From: Kwannie hyung 

6:16pm: Sorry for the late message, schedule stuff! Happy birthday Chan! We should meet up, I’ve missed you since we left! (Yuchan says this is from him too, he’s a liar.) 

From: Yugyeom

4:45pm: Yooo happy birthday Chan! 

From: Jackson

3:00pm: Happy birthday Channie! 

From: Park Woojin 

2:43pm: Happy birthday. 

From: Peniel hyung 

1:28pm: Happy birthday dude!

From: Jinyoungie hyung

11:20am: Happy birthday Channie! 

From: Daehwi-ah 

10:23am: You left before I woke up but happy birthday Hyung! Let’s celebrate together ❤️❤️❤️

From: Hyunwoo hyung 

12:05am: Happy birthday Chan. 

From: Bammie 

12:00am: Happy birthday bro!! Finally a big boy! We have to meet up, it’s been toooooo long!!! Dinner can be on me if you’re free?

Chan swallowed hard, shaking enough that Jisung pressed harder into his side, trying to pass on his warmth into Chan, as if he could stop Chan’s shivering by the force of his affection alone. 

“Jisung, I’m-” Chan started, cut off by a firm shove from the pup. 

“Don’t say you’re sorry! Don’t! Just come home! Be a person again, hyung! I don’t know what's going on with you but it's like you're a ghost sometimes. Don’t say you’re sorry just… tell me how I can help you?” Jisung whined, trying to seem firm despite the distressed scent pouring off him in waves. 

Chan pulled him closer, nuzzling into his hair. “I wish I could, Sungie.” He muttered, a frown hidden in the unkempt mane that was Jisung’s hair. 

“Can we go home, hyung?” Jisung asked again, quieter this time. He tugged Chan’s sleeve like a child trying to get their parent’s attention. Chan glanced at the laptop, the empty tab still open from where he had closed out of the music video. 

“Do you want to listen to a song with me, Sungie?” Chan asked, Jisung’s confused noise pulling a quiet chuckle from him. 

“We can do whatever you want, hyung. It's still your birthday until we go to sleep.” 

—

“Chan!” The manager called during a break in practice, waving him down from over by the door. Chan nodded to Woojin and Daehwi, leaving the two of them to their own devices as he  jogged over to greet the manager.

“Good afternoon, sir. How can I help?” Chan asked politely, pushing sweat-damp off his forehead. 

“You’re getting two new trainees. I want you to show them around at the company and then get them settled into the dorm.” The manager said seriously. Chan nodded. This wasn’t the first time they’d put a trainee under his care, he was used to this responsibility, only grimacing slightly at the teasing ‘head alpha’ comments he got from the other trainees. 

The manager opened the door, calling down the hall. When the trainees stepped through the door Chan almost couldn't suppress an endeared coo. 

The shorter boy was lanky and scrawny, his hair a ruffled mess of fluff on top of his head. He bowed immediately upon entering, but when his head popped back up with an almost comedic bounce of hair Chan felt a rush of fondness, almost like when you see a puppy for the first time. He was dimpled, teeth slightly crooked and cheekbones just beginning to cut through layers of soft baby fat on his cheeks. 

The other boy, slightly taller, was gorgeous. His eyes were sharp and his lips curled into an easy smile that reeked of confidence and self-assurance. Chan was sure if for some reason he didn’t debut, he would go into modeling or something, because with a face like that how could he not?

“Hello, My name is Hwang Hyunjin, born in 2000. It's nice to meet you!” The taller boy, Hyunjin, said with a polite bow. 

“Hello! My name is Yang Jeongin, born in 2001, please take care of me!” The other boy greeted loudly, eyes sparkling under the fluorescence of the dance studio. 

Chan stomped down his initial reaction of pinching his cheeks, tucking himself into a polite bow in return and offering his hand, which Hyunjin and Jeongin eagerly took in turn. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Hyunjin, Jeongin!” He smiled, laughing at the bright grins that he got in return. 

“Let me introduce you to the others,” Chan said, giving the manager a nod that signaled it was ok if he left. The manager nodded back, ducking out the open door and leaving the new trainees with Chan. 

“Guys, come greet the new trainees!” Chan called, signaling the other trainees to come over and greet them. 

“Jisungie, Hyunjin is the same age as you, maybe you can help show him around?” Chan offered with a smile, glad Jisung would have a same age friend to rely on now. Jisung gave Hyunjin a polite bow, Hyunjin returning the gesture politely. 

“And Daehwi, Jeongin is the same age as you, so the same thing goes for you.” Chan instructed, Daehwi nodding seriously, as if the task was some sort of evaluation. 

“Let’s all get along well, shall we?” Chan smiled brightly, clasping his hands in front of his chest. 

They didn’t get along. 

Oh sure, at first it seemed like they would be great friends. Jisung showed him around the company, helped him organize and decorate his tiny bit of personal space in the dorm, even shared some of his secret snack stash with him. Hyunjin was soft spoken and smiled easily. He laughed at Jisung’s too loud jokes and complimented his impromptu freestyle raps. Chan was relieved, because he knew Jisung wasn’t always the easiest person to connect with. 

Their first real fight started after dinner about two weeks after Hyunjin arrived. It had been an easy evening so far. Jeongin had made some offhanded comment about missing his mom’s cooking, and Yuto, despite being far from his home in Japan, had asked one of the cooks at the barbeque restaurant he worked at part time to make ends meet to teach him how to make kalguksu so he could make it for Jeongin. It seemed like everyone had a soft spot for the new baby faced trainee. The pups had been so excited, crowding around the older omega as he carefully mixed the dough and cautioned them not to cut the noodles too thick. 

Allen, the new beta from Los Angeles, leaned over to whisper to Chan in English, “He knows he can just, like, buy the noodles pre-made right?” He eyed the flour all over the counters and smeared across giggling cheeks with mild distaste, but Chan only chuckled. 

“They’re just kids, let them have some fun.” Allen rolled his eyes, but Chan could tell there wasn’t any real malice behind it. 

“We’re practically the same age,” but he smiled when Jeongin tasted the sauce Yuto had painstakingly mixed, his eyes lighting up as he declared that it was almost as good as his mother’s. 

“Age is really just a number.” Chan said, “I know people say that all the time, but you know how it is. Everything about the world looks different when you’re not a pup anymore. Doesn’t matter how old you are, everything feels so… innocent right up until you present.” He glanced at Allen and then focused back on the way Jisung’s cheeks practically eclipsed his eyes when he smiled as he added his unevenly cut noodles to the pot. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not in any kind of hurry to make them grow up.”

Daehwi scoffed from behind him. He was hovering in the doorway watching the other pups work with a thinly veiled look of longing. “You sound like a book, hyung.” 

Chan smiled to himself. “Maybe I do.” He looked at Daehwi, arms crossed over his thin chest. Daehwi wasn’t distant or unfriendly, but he didn’t play with the other pups as much, didn’t have the same social drives that they did. He seemed hesitant to exit the little sphere he had formed with Donghyun, Woong and most notably, Woojin. The four of them had a bond that was theirs, their own little budding pack in the same way that Chan felt that burgeoning connection with Jisung. Not quite a pack bond, but something so close he could almost taste it. 

Daehwi was content with his circle, and though Chan was close with him, wanted to look after him the same way he did the other pups, part of him knew that Daehwi’s circle didn’t fully contain him, that Woojin fulfilled the role of a guiding alpha influence in his life. It was always interesting to watch trainees draw lines in the sand with each other like that. They were happy to be friends and co-exist with each other, but certain people would always mean more to them, be their first priority. He’d seen it with what had eventually become Got7, with Byeongkwan and Yuchan, with Hyunggu and Hoetaek, with Daehwi and his little play-pretend pack.  Hearts connected in ways that no one else could ever measure up to. Maybe Daehwi was right, Chan did sound like a book. 

Still, while they were at JYP they were Chan’s to take care of. Woojin could claim Daehwi one day if he wanted to, but for now this was Chan’s house and he could see the way Daehwi was aching to be part of the evening somehow. Chan reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He pulled his card out and brandished it at Daehwi. 

“How about you take Woojin and run down to the convenience store. Get us some drinks?” He offered, smiling placidly.

Daehwi snatched the card from his hand, holding it to his chest with narrowed eyes like Chan might change his mind. “Can I get a snack?” He asked.

“Sure.” Chan smiled.

“Chocolate?”

“Anything you want, Daehwi-yah.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Woojin said, already pulling on his jacket. “You’ll regret it later when your bank account is crying.” 

Looking back, it had been a wonderful evening. Perfect, even. Chan would never have been able to foresee it going wrong, but somehow, it did. 

It was a Sunday night, and around nine o’clock, Yuto and Chan started ushering everyone in the direction of bed. Everyone had school in the morning, and while the ones like Chan who were enrolled in public school could get away with skipping class as long as they turned in their work and sat their exams, JYP had managed to accumulate quite a few trainees who attended performing arts academies. Woojin was a student at Korea Arts School, while Daehwi and now Hyunjin and Jeongin, were students at the prestigious School of Performing Arts Seoul.

Jisung had dropped out of school as soon as he was accepted into the JYP trainee program. The company had offered to enroll him wherever he chose, but he’d pleaded his case, that the only thing he wanted to learn was rap and music production, and time spent at school would be a waste. 

Chan prayed every day that the managers and producers saw what he saw in Jisung; how could they not when they had listened to what Jisung was saying and allowed him to quit school with the caveat that he still worked diligently with JYP’s tutors to earn his high school graduation equivalency?

The fight started when the pups were crowded into the hall bathroom, jostling for a position at the sink as they carefully brushed their teeth with all the terror of pups who know they would be visiting the company affiliated orthodontist very soon. 

“Ugh, I have a technique exam in my modern dance class tomorrow morning.” Hyunjin groaned. “Dance classes before noon should be illegal.”

“But if it was after lunch then you’d be bloated and then Ms. Lim would make weird comments about your ‘body line’ in front of the entire class.” Daehwi grimaced. 

“True.” Hyunjin grimaced right back and maybe Jisung was feeling a bit left out because Jisung piped up.

“I could have gone to SOPA.” 

Hyunjin scoffed. 

“I don’t think so.” 

Chan, from his place on the living room couch, sensed danger immediately. Hyunjin left the bathroom before Jisung could reply, but that didn’t stop Jisung from following him, toothbrush still in hand and toothpaste foam caked in the corners of his frowning mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘ I don’t think so ’?” Jisung mimicked Hyunjin aloof tone in an unflattering way, but Hyunjin barely paid him any attention as he continued on to his room.

“I just don’t think you’re really the type.” He shrugged his elegant shoulders, “They don’t just let anyone in, you know?” Chan watched with raised eyebrows. Hyunjin had been nothing but exceedingly polite since the moment he arrived. A little bit enthusiastic (in a much more understated way than Jisung usually was) but he’d never been quite so… Chan didn’t want to say cruel? Maybe dismissive was a better word. Antagonistic in a listless sort of way that could easily make the other person feel like they were overreacting. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung yelped. He had probably meant it to sound menacing, but his voice cracked halfway through. The corner of Hyunjin mouth curled up in a sardonic smirk. 

“Figure it out.”

“Dude, what’s your problem ?” Jisung said in English and Hyunjin’s smirk quickly turned into a frown. Jisung’s face morphed into an evil grin of his own when he realized that Hyunjin hadn’t understood him. “What, pretty boy? You don’t understand what I’m saying? Wow!”

“You’re an ass!” Hyunjin hissed, whirling around and going into his room. He slammed the door behind him. Jisung kicked the bottom of the door and yelled after him in Korean.

“What did the baby ballerina get his feelings hurt? H can dish it out but he can’t take it? Maybe watch your mouth next time-”

“Jisung-ah.” Chan said sharply, cutting off his tirade at the closed door. “Leave him alone.”

 “But hyung!” Jisung whined, “Did you even hear what he said?”

Chan sighed, standing up from the couch. He steered Jisung back to the bathroom and gestured for him to finish brushing up. The other trainees had run for the hills as soon as they started arguing, well attuned to Jisung’s volatile temper. 

“I heard him.” Chan frowned, “I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow, but Sungie, he probably didn’t mean it the way you took it.”

“If he didn’t mean it that way then why was he being a little bitch about it.” 

Chan frowned at him in the mirror over his shoulder. “Language,” He said, flicking Jisung’s ear. The pup yelped and glared right back at him. “He probably got defensive because you got upset.”

“So it’s my fault?” Jisung said, and Chan cringed at the tiniest note of hurt that creeped into the pup’s voice. 

“No, that’s not-I’m not trying to say-” Chan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he struggled to find a way to explain to Jisung for the ten millionth time that he couldn’t fight everyone the second they said something he didn’t like, even if what they’d said had been kinda mean, like with Hyunjin. “Come lay down with me?” He said instead, and Jisung’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Okay!” He shot down the hall and into Chan’s room, ignoring the groans of protest from Daehwi. “Shut up! This isn’t your room either!” He crowed. Daehwi simply shoved his face deeper into the crook of Woojin’s neck, grumbling about how his room had a eastern facing window and it was too bright in the morning. 

And if Chan thought that was going to be the end of Hyunjin and Jisung’s bickering, he had been sorely mistaken, because it was like once Hyunjin realized he could get a rise out of Jisung he made it his mission in life to do it at least once a day. If Chan had thought Daehwi and Jisung fought, it was nothing compared to the way Hyunjin and Jisung went at it. Everything and nothing was a reason to snark at each other. 

It was frustrating to see because a lot of the time Chan could tell that they weren’t even coming at each other with the intent of fighting. Oftentimes, Hyunjin, who had a deeper, more in depth background in dance than Jisung did, was only trying to help. He would offer corrections on Jisung’s footing, point out when he was missing a beat and throwing off the whole count, criticize his posture when it was obviously holding him back, but Jisung was prideful. He was very proud of his spot at JYP and guarded it jealously. Hyunjin was the same age as him, and therefore Jisung saw them as at least equals, at most rivals . He didn’t like when Hyunjin acted like a senior when Jisung had been there for much longer; in Jisung’s eyes if anyone was in the position between the two of them to be offering criticism it was him, not Hyunjin, and he said as much, frequently, much to Hyunjin’s displeasure. 

In turn, Hyunjin seemed to look for ways to tear Jisung down. He was ‘full of himself’, Hyunjin said, and needed someone to remind him that he was a trainee just like the rest of them. 

“Who took my bb cream?” Jisung yelled, cutting through the commotion of a dorm full of boys getting ready to leave for the company. 

“You don’t even need it.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “You look fine.”

“I have a huge zit!” Jisung said, fretting as he looked at his reflection in the hall mirror. 

“Where?” Hyunjin said, squinting at Jisung’s reflection in the mirror as well.

“Right there!” Jisung said, pointing to a spot on his cheek.

“I don’t see anything.” Hyunjin said, “You look fine, let's just go.”

“I know it was you!” Jisung yelled at his retreating frame. “You better give it back, Hyunjin, I swear to god!”

“I didn’t take your bb cream!” Hyunjin said, but Chan caught the way his eyes cut to his bag hanging by the door guiltily. “I don’t even know why you’re so mad. It was cheap, totally the wrong color, and you don’t even need it anyway, Jisung-ah, you look fine. ” He sounded a bit desperate for Jisung to just believe him, take him at his word that he looked okay and didn’t need any make-up. “All you’re doing with that stuff is making your skin worse, you need to let your face breathe-”

“Just leave me alone!” Jisung snarled, shoving his feet into his shoes and stomping out into the hall. The door closed behind him with a bang and Chan winced at the noise complaint they were probably going to get from the neighbors. 

Hyunjin stood by his own shoes, looking conflicted. Wordlessly, Chan walked up to him and held his hand out. With a sigh, Hyunjin dug into the side pocket of his bag and produced a little tube of make-up. He dropped it in Chan’s palm, refusing to meet his eyes.

“He really doesn’t need it.” Hyunjin mumbled. “He’s really pretty, you know? I kinda want to strangle him that he doesn’t see it.”

“Jisung is…complicated.” Chan said, “I swear he’s a good kid.”

“I know he is.” Hyunjin said. “I want him to like me, I swear I do. I don’t know why I say the things I say to him sometimes. I really am trying to be friends with him.” 

“There’s only going to be so much space on the debut team, Hyunjin-ah. They’re not gonna debut anyone who they think is going to fight in front of the fans and embarrass the company.”

“So you’re saying it's him or me?” Hyunjin laughed, but it was entirely without humor.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Chan sighed, “Just think about it, Hyunjin.”

—

The worst fight to date came just before Hyunjin’s third monthly evaluation. Their choreography teacher was very upset that JYP had yet to recruit any new trainees that could match Jackson or Mark in the tumbling department. Sure, they had plenty of beautifully trained dancers, but Got7 had quickly given JYP a reputation for death defying stunts on stage, and their choreographer seemed determined that if none of them knew the basics of tumbling then he was going to beat it into them (metaphorically, if someone ever laid a hand on one of Chan’s trainees he’d be in JYPs office so fast). 

The choreography for this month’s evaluations involved a standing backflip. Difficult, because it was mostly core strength, technique, and confidence. There was no running start, no other stunts leading up to it to build up momentum, just a flip. The team was composed of Chan, who had backflips drilled into him back when he was running, running, running to keep pace with his Got7 hyungs, but there was also Jeongin, Jisung, Hyunjin, and Allen. 

Allen had a bit of experience with stunting from his studio dancing days back in Los Angeles, and Jisung had been there long enough that he’d been through some of their choreography teacher’s Markson withdrawals before, but Jeongin and Hyunjin were struggling. 

Chan was exhausted, they’d been at this all night. The evaluation was next week and they needed to move past this part in the choreography or they were never going to get the rest of it down in time. Poor Jeongin was in tears already. Chan’s body ached from how many times he’d spotted their youngest, walking him through it step by step only for Jeongin to freak out halfway through and Chan would have to step in and save him before he broke his neck. His back and his shoulders throbbed from all the times he’d caught Jeongin’s weight or had to throw himself underneath him at the last second to keep him from landing wrong. 

The last time they ended up in a heap on the floor Jeongin had thrown his arms around Chan’s neck and wailed in despair,

“I can’t do it, hyung!” 

“Yes you can, Innie-yah. You have to.” Chan said stubbornly. “Or you have to at least look like you're trying. You can’t look scared. This is a test, one of the biggest ones they’re gonna give you here. They want to see you trying. They want to see that you’re willing to do anything to stay here, do you understand me?” He asked, and he knew his voice was a bit to fierce, but the creeping fear he felt as he clutched the fearful pup to his chest and the exhausting clouding the corners of his mind was enough to unsettle him and make his words a bit harsher than they usually would be. “Do you hear me, pup? You have to land on your feet at least. Even if you can’t get all the way up and over, even if you have to tuck your legs to the side, you have got to land on your feet. They won’t accept anything less than that. Just keep smiling, and land on your feet, and they’ll love you.”

“Just keep smiling,” Jeongin took in a shuddering breath. “Just keep smiling, and land on my feet.”

“Good boy,” Chan kissed his forehead, leaving behind a smear of his scent that he hoped was comforting despite the weariness seeping through his pores. “Go get a drink and stretch out a bit. Try again in fifteen minutes?” Jeongin nodded, scrambling to his feet. He stumbled out into the hallway on knobby, gangly legs like a newborn foal. 

Chan stood slowly, stretching out his sore legs with a groan of pain. He was going to need to ask the manager to set up a day with the massage therapist. In the far corner, Jisung sat with his beanie pulled down over his eyes, obviously dozing off. Hyunjin had a mat spread out and seemed to be talking himself through the process. He did a few back handsprings, but seemed unable to work up the courage to attempt the standing backflip. Chan knew from experience that it was difficult to let go of the security blanket that was the feeling of your hands on the floor, keeping you grounded as the rest of your body flew through the air, which was exactly why he had asked Jisung to help Hyunjin. 

He’d known they’d probably bicker their way through it, but Jisung was fearless, a quick learner, and a good teacher when given the chance. He could have had him teach Jeongin, but more and more Chan found himself pushing Jisung and Hyunjin together. He wanted them, no, needed them to get along, to learn to work together, or to at least be able to tolerate each other's presence in a professional capacity. They needed to be able to be in the same room, stressed to hell and back, and not try to kill each other, or Chan was going to have to give one of them up. There was no other way. They had to do this. 

Chan crossed the room and crouched down in front of Jisung. He snatched the beanie off his head and Jisung blinked up at him, hair fuzzy and eyes squinted against the too bright fluorescence. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Hyunjin?” Chan asked in as even a tone as he could manage.

“He told me to leave him alone.” Jisung rolled his eyes. 

“And?”

“And so I’m leaving him alone.” Jisung grumbled, hands buried deep in his hoodie pocket. “He doesn’t want my help, why should I waste my breath?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Chan suggested, “Because you’re on the same team? Because I want you to work together?”

Jisung didn’t seem too interested in what he had to say until Chan brought up that it was him who had asked Jisung to help Hyunjin, but he started to look a bit guilty once Chan reminded him. 

“Ah, hyung,” Jisung sighed, “Alright, I’ll go ask him how he’s doing.” He hauled himself up off the floor with all the enthusiasm as an eighty year old man and hobbled off in the direction of Hyunjin and his mats. 

“Go away.” Hyunjin said immediately. Jisung threw Chan a helpless look, but Chan only waved his hand encouragingly. 

“Hyung said I have to help you.” Jisung said, trying to sound bored and unaffected despite the obvious nervousness displayed in the way he pulled his sleeves down to cover his hands. Hyunjin glanced over to where Chan was leaning against the mirrors. Chan raised an eyebrow at Hyunjin and the pup smiled, bright and brilliant despite his fatigue. 

“Well if hyung said so,” He giggled, and Chan rolled his eyes despite the pang of fondness he felt in his heart. “Dispense upon me your wisdom, oh backflip genius.”

Jisung talked Hyunjin through the preparation, hands gentle as he spotted him, almost like he was afraid to touch the arch of the other trainee’s back, the thin line of his waist. His hands fluttered around uselessly for a few seconds before they settled on Hyunjin’s thighs, guiding him into a deeper crouch. 

“The power comes from your core, but your legs are so long you're gonna need a bit of a head start or else your gonna look like a windmill out there,” Jisung joked, becoming more comfortable the more the worked closely with Hyunjin, but Hyunjin was frowning. 

“No one else is bending their knees this much.” He argued, looking at himself in the mirror as he mimicked the stance Jisung guided him into.

“No, we totally are, it's just because you’re taller it looks more dramatic when you do it.” Jisung tried to reassure him.

“But I’m going to stand out. And then if I mess up they’re gonna see because they’re already looking at me.” Hyunjin huffed.

“They’re going to be looking at you anyway.” Jisung scoffed.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hyunjin scowled and Chan could practically facepalm right there in the room because it was like the two of them never heard what each other was trying to say. 

“It’s just that, you know, you always hog all the attention, it’s hard to get anyone’s eyes on you when Hwang Hyunjin is in the room.” Jisung said. Chan could tell Jisung was trying to complement Hyunjin in his own clumsy way.

Translation: You’re amazing and all eyes are drawn to you the moment you walk in the room. What Hyunjin Heard: You’re an attention seeker and I’m jealous.

“I think I've got it now.” Hyunjin said, voice icy. He turned his back on a confused Jisung who only now seemed to be realizing that he might have messed up somewhere. His shoulders were rising closer and closer to his ears in confusion as Hyunjin turned back to the mats and prepared to attempt the stunt on his own. 

“Wait, Hyunjin,” Jisung called out to him, “Dude, you gotta bend your knees more, I’m serious, you’re gonna land all funky. Ah, shit-” He wasn’t standing close enough to properly spot but he made a valiant effort at getting to Hyunjin in time. He flung himself across the mats and caught Hyunjin in a tangle of limbs and pained cries. There was one particular yelp that had Chan rushing over to them, his heart in his throat. 

Jisung was curled up in a ball, struggling to take full breaths. It looked like he’d taken a knee to the gut, but Hyunjin was cradling his wrist to his chest, looking down at it with slowly mounting horror as he attempted to wiggle his fingers and hissed. 

“Oh shit,” He moaned, “Oh fuck, hyung,” He looked up at Chan with desperate eyes. “Hyung, I think it’s broken.” He turned accusing eyes on Jisung, “You broke my fucking wrist!”

“Better than your neck ,” Jisung wheezed out, struggling to sit up. 

Chan carefully took Hyunjin’s arm into his grasp, lip caught between his teeth as he appraised it with a sinking feeling in his gut. It was already swelling up. Maybe not broken, but definitely sprained. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the time, just a few minutes shy of midnight. He fired off a message to one of the managers, ‘ accident at practice, need a ride to the emergency room. No blood, don’t panic, but hurry ’.

“Let's get you downstairs, Hyunjin-ah.” Chan said, helping him to his feet. “Manager-hyung is coming. We’ll just pop over to the hospital and everything will be fine.”

“It’s not broken.” Jisung rolled his eyes, but Chan ignored him as he helped Hyunjin carefully slide on his jacket and collected their bags. “You’re going with him ?” Jisung asked incredulously, “What about Jeongin?” 

“You and Allen can handle Jeongin.” Chan said, holding the door open for Hyunjin.

“Seriously?” Jisung called after him. “ Hyung !” He yelled, and something in his tone made Chan pause, “I got hurt, too.” Jisung frowned, “Don’t you care at all?”

“You’re fine, Jisung-ah.”

“You don’t care, do you? Oh my god! You didn’t even check on me!” Jisung didn’t usually talk to Chan like this, in that snarky, hateful tone. It rubbed Chan the wrong way, somehow, even if he was right. It wasn’t that he didn’t care if Jisung was hurt, it was just that he knew a knee to gut sucked but he’d get over it. Hyunjin was probably gonna be in a brace for weeks, a cast if their nightmare scenario came true. Jisung was clearly already over his physical pain, he was just dealing with his guilt and his hurt feelings and as much as it hurt him to admit it, Chan didn’t have time for Jisung right now. 

“You’re fine , Jisung.” Chan repeated, which obviously wasn’t what Jisung wanted to hear seeing as how his face turned red and tears sprung to his eyes.

“Wow.” Jisung mumbled, “Whatever, just leave. That’s fine, go. It’s not like you haven’t known me for, like, ages longer than him-”

“Jisung,” Chan said, scent spiking almost against his will; agitation, commanding and laced with subtle dominance, made the pup immediately fold in on himself. “Don’t be a fucking baby. You’re better than this. I said you’re fine. It’s late, take Jeongin home.”

The door swung shut behind him. The last thing he saw as he led Hyunjin down the dimly lit hallway was a few tears actually break free and drip down Jisung’s chubby cheeks. It hurt, a knife straight to his heart, but Jisung needed to learn that he couldn’t always be Chan’s first priority, that sometimes Chan had to worry about other people first. 

When they returned to the dorms at well past three o’clock in the morning, Chan went to his room, seeing an empty bed where normally Jisung would have made himself more than comfortable. Sighing, Chan went to Jisung’s room and pulled the pup from his bed. He carried him down the hall to his own room and tucked him against his chest. Jisung only opened his eyes once, as Chan was drawing the covers over them. He looked at Chan’s face with blearly, eyes and mumbled, 

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, Jisung-ah.”

“That’s good.” Jisung slurred, “Sorry I was being a brat…love you, hyung.”

“...love you too, Jisung-ah.” 

Hyunjin’s wrist wasn’t broken, but it was a nasty sprain. They told him to sit out of the evaluations, but he loaded up on aspirin and did the choreography anyway. He bent his knees just that little bit more and landed the backflip perfectly. He flashed Jisung a smile over his shoulder in thankful triumph, the black of the brace on his wrist hardly hindering his effortless dancing at all. 

Jisung smiled right back.

—

Things seemed to smooth out after that, a strange synergy existed between the two of them that hadn’t been there before. Not better, but also not worse. Simply… different. 

It was well after midnight when Chan woke up, having crashed into his bed at an early 8pm to sleep off his unplanned 36 hours of waking time, split between practice and the studio. He groaned into his mattress, hearing the sounds of bickering from down the hall, two familiar voices despite the barrier of the closed door. 

Chan glanced at the clock on his nightstand and pressed his face into his pillows as if he could merge with his bed and absorb another hour of rest. 

A crash from the kitchen was what finally peeled him out of bed, rolling out of his tangled sheets as he rushed for the door, grimacing at the popping of his joints. Daehwi snuffled gracelessly into Woojin’s chest, but neither stirred at the commotion. 

In the kitchen, Chan was greeted by the sight of Jisung and Hyunjin, nose to nose in a heated argument, a pile of sad, wet noodles on the floor between them. 

“If you had just taken the bowl when I asked you to-” 

“You fucking dropped it! Was I supposed to teleport across the kitchen to get it?” 

“You knew I was handing it to you!”

“How were you handing it to me when I wasn’t even there to get it? You’re so-”

“Guys!” Chan raised his voice firmly, trying to not wake the rest of the dorm up, but also trying to cut through their useless bickering. 

“Hyung! Tell Hyunjin-” Jisung started, offense written on his features. He pointed at the pile of noodles, his pup scent valiantly trying to convey his annoyance. 

“Who dropped the bowl?” Chan interrupted, rubbing his temples to chase away the growing headache. 

“Hyunjin did!” 

“Hyunjin-ah, clean up the noodles. Jisung-ah, do the dishes.” Chan ordered, silencing both their offended looks with a glare, his scent flaring in displeasure at them already causing such a fuss so early in the morning.

Jisung grumbled but grabbed the empty pot, bringing it over to the sink to start washing it loudly enough that Chan would say he was being passive aggressive. 

Chan walked to the living room, throwing himself on the couch to try and pretend he got more rest. He was startled awake from his dozing by a familiar weight draping itself over his chest, opening his eyes to find Jisung’s face mere inches from his. 

“Hi, Sungie.” Chan muttered, bringing his arms up to wrap around Jisung’s waist, resisting the urge to yawn in the other boy's face. 

“Are you mad at me?” Jisung asked. His voice was timid, eyes wide and bottom lip protruding in a pout Chan never could figure out how to stay mad at. Chan sighed, pressing his face into Jisung’s neck and rubbing his jaw along Jisung’s, scenting him affectionately. 

“No, Sungie.” Chan said, tapping a mindless rhythm into Jisung’s lower back. “But you have to stop fighting, well, everyone. First Daehwi and now Hyunjin? Come on…” Chan said, rolling his eyes affectionately when Jisung squirmed in disagreement. 

“I’m not doing it on purpose!” Jisung whined, “They're just so-!” He made a frustrated noise. “What if we never get along?” Jisung asked, pressing his face into Chan’s shoulder so his words came out muffled. 

“You have to get along. He might debut with us and then you’ll have no choice.” Chan pointed out, well aware of the fact Hyunjin was not only gorgeous but also talented. It was a high probability he would end up in the next debut group based on those two factors alone. Chan’s hands tightened on Jisung’s waist, refusing to let go of the boy in his arms even for a theoretical situation. He had too much taken from him to be willing to even entertain the thought. 

“I can’t promise anything but.. I’ll try.” Jisung said, not removing his face from Chan’s shoulder. 

Chan heard a noise, a unsure shuffling of feet on the hardwood flooring. Chan looked up to see Hyunjin standing awkwardly in the doorway, hands fidgeting in front of him nervously. He was looking at the way Jisung and Chan were wrapped around each other on the couch with something unreadable on his face. There was a tiny furrow between his elegant eyebrows, like he was just figuring something out just now as he looked at them, and whatever it was had him worried.

“What’s up?” Chan asked, shifting Jisung away from where he was huffing his neck in a way that was inappropriate for him to be doing where anyone else could see. 

“I wanted to say sorry,” Hyunjin said carefully, his eyes seemingly fixed on where Jisung had reached down to tangle his fingers with Chan’s like being forced to separate from the alpha by even just a few centimeters was painful for him. “I didn’t mean to waste the food and for waking you up, I didn’t mean to inconvenience you, alpha.” He said, head lowered.

Chan winced, “Nah, it’s okay. And you don’t have to call me that. Like, no one has to call me that. We’re all equals here, just trainees trying to get by.”

Hyunjin hummed at that, not looking in any way convinced. His eyes were still trained on Jisung who seemed to be bristling a bit at the attention, throwing himself into Chan’s lap and shoving his face into his stomach, burying himself in the folds of Chan’s hoodie as if by not looking at him anymore that would somehow make Hyunjin go away. 

“Still, I think that I have a lot to learn about how things are done here. I’m sorry if I’ve offended anyone, and I’ll work harder in the future to be a useful part of the team.” Hyunjin had a soft way of speaking, despite his constant fights with Jisung, he was gentle with the others. Beyond graceful and already beautiful, Chan had little doubt the pup, who was just shy of sixteen, would present as an omega soon enough. He already carried a soft scent of roses that, however similar to Jackson’s scent, was distinctly softer and prettier. Hyunjin himself seemed to have little doubt that he would present as an omega either, and almost acted as if he was one already sometimes. 

Chan was already fond of him, fond of the way he trailed behind Chan like a silent duckling, trying to glean off any skills the older trainee had, fond of how he had taken to doing Chan’s laundry for him when he realized how forgetful the older boy was, the neat stacks of clothing at the foot of his bed every Sunday morning for the last three weeks becoming a welcome constant, fond of the way he tucked himself into Chan’s side when they watched movies in the evenings, ignoring the irritated puppy growls Jisung made from his other side. Hyunjin was the first to jump up and claim Chan for evaluations these days, eager to prove himself to not only the company but to Chan himself, and his dedication and earnesty was difficult to not respect, but it didn’t carry the opportunistic feeling that other trainees vying for his attention often did. His interest in Chan felt different, more like Jisung’s, and that was part of the reason it already pained him so much to see the two not getting along. 

Chan sighed at Hyunjin, offering him a small smile as he gestured for him to sit on the empty part of the couch on Chan’s other side, forcing Jisung to squirm as he readjusted, burying his face back in Chan’s neck with no respect for propriety or decency. 

Hyunjin sat delicately next to them, hesitating for a minute before leaning into Chan as well, accepting the warmth from the alpha. He wasn’t quite brave enough to lean in and scent Chan the way Jisung was, but Chan had a feeling that if things went well it wouldn’t be long. He closed his eyes, letting the breathing of the two pups lull him into a half-sleep. Surrounded by warmth and affection, he let himself drift off back to sleep. Today would be as hard as any other day, but at least right now between the two boys who seemed determined to claim their spots by his side, it felt a little easier. 

—

JYP had a fairly streamlined system in place. At the beginning of the year they held auditions, accepted new trainees, weeded through them throughout the year and then started all over the next year. It was frustrating and stressful but at least it was regular. Most trainees got six months to make an impression, but by the time summer rolled around they started making cuts. That almost meant that summer often brought one or two new faces to fill the recently created gaps in the dorms. Not as many as the New Year brought, but one or two on average was to be expected. 

That was why Chan wasn’t surprised to see a young, unfamiliar alpha when he entered the training room. Chan stopped short, eyeing the young man up and down from the doorway. He stood with his back to the door, deep in conversation with one of their managers and the trainer for today’s lesson. 

“What is it, hyung?” Jisung asked, squeezing past Chan to enter the room. The new alpha had a keen glint in his eyes and a warm, mineral scent filled that air as he turned in surprise at the sound of Jisung’s voice, like the sharp phosphorus odor when the wheel of a lighter sparked repeatedly, metal on flint. He was distinctly alpha, and Chan was immediately wary. 

“Ah, there you are.” Their rap trainer greeted, clapping a hand down on the new boy’s shoulder. “This is Changbin, he’ll be joining the company from today on.” 

Changbin stepped forward, giving a short but polite bow. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Seo Changbin, born in ‘99. I’m a rapper.” He introduced himself with a toothy grin that was almost a leer. His smooth voice was a shock to Chan, he’d been expecting something more…aggressive.

Everything about Changbin screamed alpha. His scent was wet slate and the sting of electricity in the air. His face was narrow and his jawline sharp, but his shoulders were already broad, his stance confident and bold. Chan almost found himself stepping back at the sheer force of his natural dominance, but Jisung bounded forward instead with the enthusiasm of an unpresented pup who was none to wiser to the undercurrent of alpha power plays stinking up the room. He stepped forward with confidence, bolstered by the fact that during his time in the company he had earned nothing but praise for his talents. 

“If you’re a rapper then battle me.” Jisung said arrogantly, chin stuck out as if he himself was a fully grown alpha and not a short, round faced pup. 

Changbin blinked down in shock at the pup’s confidence, mouth open as if he was trying to think of a suitable response to the challenge 

Chan beat him to it, grabbing Jisung by the back of the neck in a firm scruff. Jisung melted against him and stepped back easily at Chan’s direction, pouting already at being scruffed like a naughty child. He would normally not be so physical with one of the pups, but Jisung challenging an older alpha so blatantly and rudely not only looked bad for himself, but for Chan as well, and maybe he wanted to show this Changbin who the other trainees obeyed. 

“Ignore him.” Chan sighed, choosing to disregard the muffled laughter from Daehwi, Jeongin and Hyunjin behind them. 

Changbin looked like he was processing things for a second before he laughed, offering his hand for Chan to shake. Chan released Jisung, who remained pouting but stepped out of their way for now. Changbin’s grip was firm and sure, an alpha’s handshake, not quite a challenge but not quite not a challenge either. 

He was testing boundaries, Chan guessed. Besides Woojin, few presented alphas had joined the company, much less in Chan’s age range. It wasn't unusual for alphas to test boundaries in this way when they meet, to play subtle games to determine dominance and leadership positions. 

Chan knew to expect it, he had even had conversations with Younghyun about how to handle situations like this, but Chan still felt mostly unprepared. Woojin was far from the type of alpha to make these challenges. Chan had spent so long as a sub-alpha, so long content to be a sub-alpha for various people that he felt almost unprepared for the challenge that Changbin presented. 

But then, as suddenly as it happened, his grip slackened and his hand fell and the tense moment was over, replaced by a wry smile from Changbin. 

“You’ve got a good grip,” Changbin complimented and Chan couldn't help but huff a laugh, smiling back at him. 

“You too, mate, it’s good to meet you.” Chan complimented, matching Changbins smile with his own. 

“ It’s some alpha bulshit...” Daehwi whispered to Jisung from behind, Jisung giggling into his hand. Changbin barked out a laugh, the sound almost like a cackle. A laugh bubbled out of Chan as well, clapping a hand on Changbin’s shoulder, exchanging a smug grin with the man. 

Changbin melded into the little trainee group like he was made for it. The man was confident and self assured but not cocky, not smug or cruel with his eagerness to prove himself. 

He worked with a single minded focus that almost mirrored Jaebeom in its sincerity. He was not only determined to do well, he was determined to be the best . Anything he lacked on he made his focus until he was excelling at it and he quickly gained recognition within the company. His natural dominance didn’t seem to make him want to crave any sort of leadership or authority among the trainees. After a few days of watching how Chan ran things, he seemed content to fall in line behind him as a hyung Changbin respected and was eager to learn from. 

Jisung had eventually gotten the rap battle he had wanted, though perhaps not the result he wanted. When it was time to decide the winner a majority of the trainees- led by a giggling Hyunjin and Jeongin, sided with Changbin for no other reason than to see the offended gasp from Jisung. Before things could escalate Chan has called it a draw, much to Changbin’s amusement and Jisung’s annoyance. 

That had been weeks ago, and the two of them were near inseparable now, both taking to joining Chan in the studio more often than not, taking up space on his rickety IKEA couch. The room that had previously been Chan’s fortress of solitude now filled with a lightness that had never been there before. 

Changbin hip-checked the door to the studio open, swearing as it bounced back off the side of the couch, his arms full of various snacks and drinks that were certainly not allowed on their diet plans, but the manager wasn’t there so none of them were going to complain. Jisung launched himself off of the couch, grabbing needily at the bag of chips in Changbins arms. 

“Yah!” Changbin yelled, twisting out of his way to avoid Jisung’s grabbing hands. “These are for us to share, you little demon!” He laughed, managing to muscle his way past Jisung to dump the armful of snacks onto Chan’s desk, a chocolate bar landing on his keyboard, typing a random string of letters at the end of the lyrics he had been working on. 

“Damn, Bin! Did you get the entire convenience store? How did you even make it back up here without being caught?” Chan asked, pushing his laptop away to snag a bag of sriracha chips, opening them with a pop. 

“Watcha working on?” Changbin asked, leaning over Chan’s shoulder to peer at the laptop screen. 

“Just a short track, no idea what I’ll do with it.” Chan said, grabbing a drink from the pile randomly, Jisung was already making a small pile out of the snacks he had claimed for himself. 

“How about we take a look at it? Maybe we can make it into a mixtape style track or something? We could put it out on Soundcloud, start getting our names out there?” Changbin suggested, stealing a bag of cheese chips from Jisung’s little hoard, ignoring the pup’s half-hearted complaints. 

Chan hummed thoughtfully, looking at the lyrics on his laptop. “We don’t have a name to get out there though, do we? And I doubt the company would let us use our actual names.” Chan mused, but the idea wasn’t unappealing. 

“Then let’s think of names to get out there.” Jisung said, opening a yogurt drink and downing it in a short amount of time that was frankly disgusting. Chan made a face at him.

“Like what? As a hiphop crew or something?” Chan asked, swiveling his chair to look at the two of them, already knowing the answer by the matching shit eating grins. 

Chan knew this wasn’t a fight he was going to win and honestly it sounded kinda fun. He huffed, pushing away his bag of chips to pull his computer closer once more. 

“Alright, boys. Let's think of a name”

Chapter Text

Against his better judgment, Chan was starting to get used to the daily ins-and-outs of holding a leadership position. He was now officially the trainee that had been at JYP the longest, the one the tutors, instructors, and managers relied on to make sure all the other kids got where they needed to be, prepared what they needed to prepare, and, most importantly, lived to survive another day in the program. 

For Chan, it had been yet another major adjustment. It felt like almost every time the earth turned and he was faced with a new calendar year his whole life was changing. Expectations were greater, responsibilities were heavier, chances to screw it all up loomed around every twist and turn in the path before him. In the past, Chan had always been one of the youngest, one of the babies. He had been coddled and cared for by his hyungs. He was the one being woken up for schedules, coaxed into the bathroom to wash up, rushed into his shoes and coat. Now it was Chan who was waking up an hour earlier than his exhausted body craved just to do all those things for his own crop of kids that relied on him - despite Chan’s best attempt at keeping them at arm's length. He was better at taking care of people than he was at keeping them away, he supposed. 

The trainee manager had asked Chan to keep an eye on the budding relationships between the kids in the dorm. Chan felt a bit guilty about it since it felt a bit like spying, but he still dutifully reported back each week. Daehwi and Woojin’s little group was inseparable, Allen got along with everyone, flitting between cliques like he never left, but Chan was afraid that despite how much he wanted it, he was going to have to scratch the possibility of Jisung and Hyunjin ever having anything that resembled a functioning friendship off as a lost cause. He would never tell the trainee manager that, however, and instead he talked about how both of them were forming firm bonds outside of each other, carving out their own little places in the trainee program.  

It was the first Saturday of the month, and Chan had been kept in bed past his usual 5:00am wakeup time by the comforting weight of Jisung curled into his side, snuffling discontentedly whenever Chan so much as twitched. It was nearing 7:00am when Chan finally managed to wiggle out of his own bed, leaving Jisung sprawled out on the single mattress, tangled in blankets and drooling onto Chan’s pillow. 

He yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, his feet instinctually led to the kitchen by the soft clink of dishware and Changbin’s deep toned humming. 

“Hey Bin-” Chan’s morning greeting dwindled off into nothing as he rounded the corner. It took his still sleep frazzled brain a moment to process the scene in front of him. 

Changbin stood among a sea of egg shell shards. There were several cartons open on the counter next to him and a much too small frying pan filled to the brim with a mixture of massacred egg yolks and little fragments of shell sticking out like shrapnel. 

“So… watcha up to, bud?” Chan asked carefully, avoiding a splatter of egg whites on the floor as he carefully made his way on socked feet to stand beside the other alpha. 

“... Eggs.” Changbin grunted unhelpfully. Chan hummed in acknowledgement, nodding a little as if it were something profound. 

“Is it… working out?” Chan asked, almost unable to stop the humor from seeping into his tone. He chewed his lower lip, suppressing a smile, though the bloom of eucalyptus scent in the kitchen may as well have given him away. 

“Nope.” Changbin replied in English, popping the ‘p’ dramatically. Chan nodded and the two lapsed into silence for a moment, broken only by the wet plop of a clump of egg whites sliding off Chanbin’s hand and onto the floor. Changbin poked at the mass of tortured eggs with a pair of chopsticks, burned at the edges and raw in the middle.

“Changbin-ah,” Chan called, holy shit at this rate he was going to bite through his lip trying not to laugh. “You don’t know how to crack an egg, do you?” 

It was that question that finally made him break, Changbin wailed a disgruntled ‘Yah!’ and smacked Chan in the chest before they both were overtaken by a delirious fit of giggles. They tried to at least be a little quiet so they didn’t wake everyone in the dorm up on their one free day, but Chan wasn’t sure how successful they were as he was pretty certain he heard at least one person get up and close a bedroom door to drown them out. Chan buried his face in Changbin’s shoulder, trying to muffle his own cackling, but was largely unsuccessful. 

“My parents have always cooked for me! I wanted to do something nice for everyone and make breakfast since I was the first one up, but I can’t serve them these.” Changbin managed to wheeze out, his breath warm against Chan’s cheek. Chan snorted, pulling back to look Changbin over. 

“Do you want me to make you some eggs?” Chan asked, genuine, though the teasing lilt remained in his voice despite his best efforts. 

“Oh yes, please alpha, provide for me-” Changbin moaned dramatically, falling back against the counter in the best damsel in distress posture he could muster. 

“Oh my god, don’t call me that!” Chan groaned, shoving Changbin to the side playfully to access the nearest least demolished carton of eggs. 

“Why, it's basically your job.” Changbin huffed, scooping up a pile of eggshells into his wide palm to drop into the compost bucket on the counter. Chan dutifully ignored him, scraping the sad mess of half cooked eggs into the sink to deal with later. 

 “Hey, Channie,'' Changbin called, tone smug. 

“Wha- oh my god,” Chan yelled, turning to the sight of Changbin spreading two egg white coated fingers and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You’re so fucking gross dude.” He scolded, throwing a crumpled up paper towel at Changbin. Chan might not be experienced, but he recognized an omega slick joke when he saw one. He could tell that his whole head was flaming red, his face, his ears, even down his neck. 

“Oh come on, don’t tell me the Big Bad Number One JYP Alpha Trainee has never…” Changbin’s voice trailed off, obviously taking note of the state of Chan’s everything. 

“Oh my god, you've never?” 

“It’s not like there’s a lot of chances for that here at the company!” Chan defended himself, busying himself with cracking three eggs into a pan, the whites sizzling and popping. 

“There’s kind of, like, constant chances here.” Changbin smirked. “Maybe not for you, though, with how Jisungie trails after you like you hung the stars, scaring everyone off with that mean little chipmunk mug of his.” Changbin teased, bumping his hip into Chan’s gently, sensing the sensitive territory he had begun treading into. He picked up the pan full of ruined eggs and scrapped him into the trash. They would have to ask the manager to go for more later and Chan was already mourning the hit to his bank account.

Chan knew Changbin was right. Trainees hooked up constantly, pulled together by hormones and simple proximity to each other post-presentation. The allure of giving in to new instinctual urges could only be pushed down for so long before impulsive trainees acted on them, sneaking into closets or restrooms and sharing inexperienced firsts. 

Chan never had that chance. First he had been too devoted to his fantasy of finding a soulmate in Bambam, and then afterwards far too horrified at the thought of letting anyone close like that to even consider trying. Not that he hadn’t gotten offers, especially after he presented. He would just politely turn them down, or, one memorable occasion, pretend he didn’t know what they were asking. He didn’t like to play the foreigner card but sometimes it came in handy. 

It had been really confusing, going from physically a child with the scrambled instincts of a mature alpha to a mature alpha who looked the part but had none of the experience. Chan was going to be nineteen this year, yet he’d only been a mature alpha for three years. Most alphas his age had presented around thirteen or fourteen, leaving them a good three or four years to acclimate to their new instincts and urges before their omega peers started presenting. Chan hadn’t gotten that buffer. All the omegas his age had been presenting at the same time he was, and it had been nothing short of a sensory assault. Terrifying to say the least. The feelings they inspired in him were borderline appalling, and so he avoided omegas his own age, sticking to the company of other alphas, betas, and older omegas who had their pheromones and instincts under control. None of which was conducive to dating, or experimenting, or anything in between.

“That’s… It’s Jisung.” Chan laughed incredulously, “He’s not scaring anyone off, he’s a good pup.” Chan sighed, letting the sound of eggs cooking and the pan moving across the stovetop fill the silence for a few moments, already knowing how poor of an excuse that sounded like, even to his own ears. 

“He’s not gonna be a pup for long, and it’s not that long ago you were a pup too. I’m telling you, that kid has a claim on you, you just can’t see it. As soon as his scent develops you’re gonna stink.” Changbin teased, handing Chan a plate. 

Chan scooped the eggs onto the plate, passing them back to Changbin and accepting a second plate for himself, before turning the stove off with a click. 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Chan shrugged, “I think you’re crazy, though. He doesn’t see me like that. I’m, like, his mentor or whatever. We’re 3racha, you know? That would be like saying he had a claim on you, too.” Changbin leveled him with a look that felt impossible to understand (or maybe he just didn’t want to understand it), “Besides, he says he’s going to be a beta. His exact words were ‘There are so many betas in my family it’s ridiculous. When we’re a pack I’m going to be the best beta you’ve ever seen’.”

“Chan,” Changbin snorted, “Do you even hear yourself? That kid is already packing up with you in his head.” 

“Yeah, but like, that’s what we're supposed to do, isn’t it? Make bonds and imagine ourselves as a pack because if things go right and we debut together we might be together forever. It’s not me he wants, it’s a future performing on stage.”

“Channie-hyung, someday you’ll have to tell me exactly what makes you think you’re so unimportant, because I’ve never met a single person who doesn’t think you’re the coolest guy in the room at any given moment.” Chan whined at the praise, scooting over to press into the warmth of the other alpha where Changbin leaned against the counter, chasing away the chill of the early morning and the inevitability of the future with the solid warmth of Changbin’s presence. Changbin accepted the weight against him easily, filling the silence with the clinking of silverware as they ate together, undisturbed by the still-sleeping dorm. 

The eggs Chan made to replace Changbin’s monstrosities were fluffy and seasoned to perfection, just the way his mother had taught him when he was a kid. One of the very first things she’d ever let him cook on the stove had been eggs, standing on the little step stool she had purchased just for him she had guided him through all the steps until finally he had a perfect little plate of eggs in front of him, made by his own hands.  Sometimes, he wondered what his life would be like if he had stayed back in Australia. He’d be off to university by now, for sure. Focusing on getting his degree, maybe going on dates. 

Australia was different from Korea; while packs weren’t unheard of, Australians tended to prefer nuclear homes. Packs were more of a concept, a familial association. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents - maybe even your neighbors or your church community; but pack didn’t mean the same thing they meant here. Here pack was loyalty and commitment and love. In Australia, you found your mate, settled down, had pups. People were encouraged to take their time to find the person who matched them best in all ways and often people mated older after dating many people. 

Here in Korea, however, packs tend to start forming young. Fledgling bonds built between pups as early as middle school were often encouraged with most people graduating high school and starting university with at least once fully bonded packmate to call their own, even if it wasn’t their romantic mate. Chan’s parents assimilated to Australian culture hard, and learning to adjust to pack culture in Korea had been a little bit confusing for him at first, but Chan knew from the conversations that the two of them have had that Changbin grew up in a typical Korean pack. Changbin’s parents were a mated pair in a pack made up of several who all loved each other dearly. He had an older sister, as in they shared the same beta mother, but they had no idea who their sires were. Typically in large polyamorous packs no one was too concerned with who the sire was, unless there was some sort of health history that needed to be taken into consideration. All children were loved by all members of the pack as if they were their own. Changbin and his sister both wore their mother’s mate's family name with pride, both because she was the Pack Alpha and because she was their father, but Changbin also had a beta parent that he called his father as well, and another alpha father, too. 

For Changbin, all of this was normal, and it sort of made Chan wonder what Changbin’s alternate future might look like compared to Chan’s own if Changbin were to look back the same way Chan did when he tried to picture what his life might be like if he had stayed in Australia. 

Changbin was sweet and sociable for an alpha. Only a few weeks after he’d arrived he had invited Chan to come with him to meet some of his friends. Old school friends, friends he’d known since middle school and some even earlier. They had been a loud group of kids, all younger than Chan, but around Changbin’s age. Most of them were also trainees at various companies, but some of them were just regular students. Chan hadn’t been around ‘regular students’ in so long that he’d felt ancient almost the second he sat down at the wide table underneath the umbrella outside the convenience store. 

Changbin had introduced him with a loud, “This is my JYP hyung, isn’t he cool?” Which had been embarrassing, and even more embarrassing when a loud chorus of voices agreed. He’d turned red and bashful, but there had been one of Changbin’s friends in particular who seemed determined to not let Chan retreat into himself. He had sly eyes and a hooked nose with baby fat still clinging to his cheeks and knobby knees despite the scent of a fully presented omega clinging to his skin. 

Changbin had introduced him as Wooyoung. Proudly, he told Chan all about how he met Wooyoung when he was twelve when they were going to the same hagwon in middle school. Wooyoung was a student at Hanlim now where he majored in dance and a trainee at BigHit. Every single word Changbin spoke about Wooyoung dripped with fondness, even when Wooyoung was being loud and overly enthusiastic, screaming words in his ear that could have just as easily been said at a normal volume, Changbin simply matched his energy. Neither of them would let Chan feel like the odd one out at the table, repeatedly pulling Chan into conversations, offering him snacks, whatever it took to make him feel included. 

It was easy to see how comfortable the two were with each other. Hands clasped together, arms around waists, kisses pressed sloppily to cheeks. Changbin had even lightly scruffed Wooyoung once but instead of making the omega freeze up it had only made him wrinkle up his nose and crow in mischievous delight. Maybe at first their natural closeness had made Chan feel a little bit jealous, Changbin was one of his after all, a circle that had grown to six since the addition of the adorable beta with the angelic voice earlier in the year, Kim Seungmin, but Chan hadn’t dwelled on the quick flare of jealousy and how it burned in the back of his throat for a brief moment much beyond the slight embarrassment of thinking he had any sort of claim over Changbin. 

Now, after everything Changbin had said, Chan was thinking about it. 

Chan might have never had the opportunity, but judging by the joke and Changbin’s shocked reaction, that obviously wasn't the case for the younger alpha. He tried to think of anyone at JYP he might have been talking about, but no faces stood out to him. There were no omega trainees that Changbin seemed to be particularly attached to, no female beta trainees either. 

Chan’s mind could only keep coming back to one person’s face over and over again and suddenly he was dying to know. He didn’t even know why he cared so much, it was just that when he thought about it, it gave him the same sort of nagging feeling of loss that he felt when he thought about Bambam. What if Changbin had that sort of relationship with Wooyoung? What if Changbin had built those often encouraged fledgling bonds with him, and now time and circumstances were forcing them apart? Chan could easily picture them together, if he let himself think about it. They would make a strong mated pair, leading their loud little mismatched friend group as a pack as they all went on to university, or found jobs. Settled down together and lived their lives. It was a nice picture. Chan had to wonder why Changbin was so willing to give it all up, like he was picking at his own wounds all over again. Did Changbin give Wooyoung up as easily as Got7 walked away from Chan? Suddenly, he had to know.

“Changbin-ah,” He murmured. The other alpha was still tucked against his side, finishing off his plate of eggs. He hummed around the last mouthful to indicate he heard Chan.

“Was it Wooyoung?” Chan asked. 

Changbin looked at him in confusion. “Was what Wooyoungie?”

“The omega you-uh, that you-”

Changbin’s entire face turned red and at first Chan thought he was embarrassed, but then he realized he was laughing. 

“Hyung-” Changbin gasped out, grabbing onto Chan’s shoulder to keep himself upright. “Wooyoung is a lesbian.”

Chan blinked, “What?”

“He’s a lesbian, hyung. He’s only interested in other omegas. And even if he wasn’t-” Changbin shuddered, “I love myself too much to subject myself to that kind of evil.”

Chan blinked again. If it wasn’t Wooyoung, who Changbin seemed so close with, then who had it been? Just someone? No one that mattered? Chan couldn’t imagine that, he needed it to matter. 

The expression on his face must have been too obvious because Changbin chuckled and said, “Ah, hyung, don’t worry about what I said. It’s actually really sweet that you haven’t yet. And I know someone else who would probably think it was really sweet, too.” He winked. Chan shoved him away as he cackled. 

Chan pointed to the rice cooker, “Start some rice, I’ll heat up some soup for the kids.” He said in a tone of voice that said the topic was thoroughly being dropped, but he could still hear Changbin snickering all the way to the pantry. 

—

The practice room always somewhat stank. It smelled of desperation and frustration, of the dozens of trainees, both presented and pups, working themselves up in a cloud of pheromones and teenage boy angst. Chan was used to it, almost numb to the cacophony of scents coming at him from all angles when he entered the room, and that was probably why this particular scent was so easy to miss that day. 

He was leading a dance practice, directing the younger trainees in their chosen units. There was an evaluation swiftly incoming, and rankings were going to change. As per usual, Chan had been eagerly claimed by Changbin and Han, with Jeongin dragging Seungmin along with him and earnestly petitioning their combined voice as a worthwhile addition. Chan of course agreed, adding in a few stray trainees he felt had potential, though he felt no real connection to. Their gratitude had made him feel uncomfortable at first, but he was getting used to it now. 

The groups had split off into their individual units, sprawled out on the floor around several slow, barely functioning iPads while they tried to memorize a choreography from a grainy 144p quality video clip with a little over a week to practice. 

Maybe it was the stress of the upcoming evaluations making him careless, maybe it was the myriad of scents buffering in on all sides, tinged with the extra pressure from evaluations. But regardless of the cause, Chan was engrossed in the dance steps to the song Mansae from Seventeen, trying to figure out how to reorder a song meant for thirteen to a dance group of only six, when a commotion broke near the back of the room. 

Daehwi stood nearby, the bag he had been carrying open in his hand, the contents splayed out on the floor unceremoniously. It seems like he had just grabbed the bag, thoughtlessly, not checking if it was open or not. The younger boy blinked, seeming to take more time than usual to process what had just happened.

Woojin was at his side immediately, drawn by the sound and by the scent of Daehwi, which Chan was just now realizing with ever widening eyes that he could really, truly smell. Woojin checked Daehwi over, as if he was looking for an injury that an open bag might have inflicted. If Daehwi didn’t seem so shaken, if the scent of roses in the room wasn’t suddenly so thick, it might have been comedic how concerned he was.

Chan wandered over, a deep frown on his lips. Daehwi didn’t make mistakes like this, he was organized and in control far more than someone his age should be. Chan would expect something like this from Jisung, or Hyunjin on a bad day. Woojin had his head tilted towards Daehwi when he had approached, murmuring into his ear quietly.

“Are you alright?” Chan asked gently, scanning over Daehwi’s form to see if he was injured however, unlikely it would be. Woojin bristled, angling his body so that he formed a wall between Chan and Daehwi. His eyes looked a bit wild, and his teeth were bared, but he didn’t growl which Chan took as a good sign. Daehwi nodded, seeming to take a moment to process the words. Up close the scent of roses was even stronger, an underlying scent of jasmine and patchouli that Chan had never smelled on him before seemed to warp the air around them. Chan’s stomach swooped, a little voice in the back of his head telling him that he knew exactly what this was, but he didn’t want to draw attention to it and embarrass Daehwi.

“I-I’m okay, hyung,” Daehwi stuttered, still seeming far more dazed than Chan was comfortable with. “I think I might be coming down with something, though. Is it alright if I head home? '' Daehwi asked. He seemed unsure. Evaluations were coming up, a pivotal point to decide if they stayed in the company or left. Every trainee here needed as much time as possible to work and practice. It was risky, letting Daehwi go right now, but if Chan’s suspicions were right there was no way he would ever make him stay, but before he could answer, Woojin spoke up.

“Of course you can go,” Woojin stated firmly. He had that glint in his eye that he sometimes got, an alpha, making a stance, too young to make a real challenge but confident enough to know that the other alphas in the room wouldn’t oppose him even if he did. He glanced at Chan, as if Chan was going to do anything besides agree with him.

Chan nodded, “Of course, head back to the dorm, we’ll  bring you food when we come back.” 

Woojin grumbled, a low, immature, alpha resonance, but alpha nonetheless. The grip Daehwi had on his bag lessened, almost imperceptibly, at the sound. Chan’s eyes flicked up to Daehwi‘s face, seeing the way the sound affected him. Woojin used the little spell Daehwi seemed to be under to corral him towards the door, making more of those soothing rumbles deep in his chest whenever Daehwi seemed to be having second thoughts about leaving for the day. Chan watched them go, resisting the urge to pull the younger boy close and scent him, check him over one last time. Daehwi was safely in the care of his alpha, his brain reminded him for what felt like the millionth time, and his alpha was Woojin; to be more clear, that one’s not yours.

The pair shuffled out of the practice room, making a few half hearted bows of apology to other trainees as they left, for no reason other than to acknowledge the promises of takeout being delivered later. Woong and Donghyun shuffled slightly, heads bowed together as they whispered about something Chan didn’t have the focus to try to hear.

Chan shifted his weight uncomfortably, looking around to the room of trainees staring at him and coughed. “Alright, get back to practice, we still have a few more hours before we can go home.” He barked, shaking his head a little to clear it of Daehwi’s lingering scent. There was something more to it now, something that set Chan’s teeth on edge, but he couldn't worry about that right now. They had evaluations to think about. 

—

True to their word, the trainees entered the dorm laden down with bags of carryout, chattering excitedly about today’s events. After Chan kicked his shoes off at the door, he split from the group, heading towards the room he shared with Woojin.

Daehwi was curled up in Woojin’s bed, covers tucked up to his ears, so that only a small patch of shiny black hair was visible. He looked smaller than Chan remembered. Logically, he knew Daehwi was rather small and fragile for his age, but he never seemed like it. He made up for it with his sharp wit and quick tongue. Now, he appeared only as a ball of sheets in a bed that belonged to someone else.

Woojin was across the room, sitting on Chan’s bed, knowing full well Chan would have no issue with it, despite the boundary most alphas had about others in their spaces. He perked up when Chan entered the room, eyes flashing over to the door to see who was entering before relaxing slightly at the sight of the older alpha.

“Are you two hungry?“ Chan asked, keeping his voice low enough to not wake Daehwi, just in case he was asleep. Woojin shook his head, standing quietly enough that even the old springs of the cheap mattress made no sound.

“He ate a protein bar when he came home, and then fell asleep.” Woojin started, barely looking away from Daehwi's sleeping form.

“And you?” Chan asked, knowing all too well the look in the younger alpha’s eyes. It was the same look he had after skipping meals to spend his lunch teaching Jeongin a dance he struggled with. It was the gaze of an alpha, single minded in his desire to protect what he thought was his. Chan shuttered at the idea of getting between the two. He wondering if Woojin even knew he was making that face.

“Not hungry,” Woojin replied, simply, finally looking away from Daehwi on the bed.

Chan sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get anything more from Woojin after that. “Get some rest then, if he’s still feeling ill tomorrow, we’ll see what we can do.”

Woojin nodded, choosing to pull a chair over to his own bed, leaving Chan’s bed free for him to use later.

— 

When Yugyeom presented, it was dramatic. The growl of a new alpha, cutting through the night air, the way, Bambam’s eyes had widened, pupils dilating at the scent. Chan still remembered the way Jackson wrestled the younger alpha into the heat room, locking him away to deal with the beginnings of his rut where he couldn’t cause any problems.

In his mind, Chan had marked presentations as a dramatic thing. Public, and embarrassing, stripped down to the bone, instincts bared for the world to see. He had been grateful, in a way, to experience his under the effects of sedation at the hospital, if only to avoid the mortification. So when he woke up to Woojin, carefully escorting Daehwi out of the room, the thick haze of an omega in heat coating his tongue, he realized all of his unspoken suspicions in the practice room had been right. Daehwi was presenting, he was an omega. 

He scrambled to get out of bed himself, trying to gently displace Jisung from where he had perched on his chest, the pup still deeply asleep. Cracking open a window, he made it into the hall just in time to see Woojin and Daehwi disappear into the nesting room. He blinked, shocked that Woojin would be so bold but unsure if he should step in.

Legally, Daehwi was now an adult. While he couldn’t mate without his pack alpha’s permission until the age of nineteen, as a presented omega, he could choose to spend his heats with whoever he wanted, though most didn’t choose to spend their first heats with an alpha. He was also on the younger end of the spectrum for omegas, most not presenting until they were sixteen, seventeen, or even eighteen. Daehwi was barely fifteen. Still, Chan couldn’t exactly tell him no. He just needed to make sure he understood, that the heat hadn’t set in too quickly and that Woojin wasn’t-

His panicked thoughts cut off abruptly when Woojin emerged from the room, his face set in a small grimace. The young alpha sat down, back against the door as if to stop anyone from even thinking about entering the room. 

“How is he?” Chan asked, a water bottle held in his hand. He offered it to the other alpha.

“He’s fine. There were some over the counter sleeping pills in the med kits so I gave him one of those. He’s asleep now.” Woojin informed him curtly, accepting the water bottle he was handed slowly, like he didn’t trust himself to move very quickly.

“You did good with him. He’ll be lucky to have you one day when he’s ready.” Chan commented carefully, unsure if he was trodding on invisible boundaries, picking through what may as well be a minefield with how difficult Woojin was to read. 

Woojin snorted, a cruel sound in the relative silence of the dorm. “He deserves the best and that's not me, but I’ve already decided that I’ll be the one to protect him until he finds someone who is.” Woojin said, unreadable as ever, though his brow creased ever so slightly. It made Chan’s heart ache for him. 

“If that’s how you really feel,” Chan sighed, glancing at their shared room. “Are you coming back to bed or are you gonna…?” 

Woojin shook his head. “I’ll stay here in case he needs me.” 

Chan didn’t bother telling him what they both already knew. With an immature heat Daehwi would be uncomfortable but not incapacitated. First heats were rough, but mostly because of the headaches, the muscle cramps, the fevers, the chills. It was like having the flu. All he would need was occasional food deliveries, some pain relievers, maybe an ice pack or a heating pad and all of those things were in the med kit and the tiny mini fridge tucked in the corner. Even in the small dorm they shared, the nesting room had a standard half bath. The room was designed by principle for no one to need to go in or out unless absolutely necessary. Daehwi wouldn’t need anything from anyone until it was time to eat. Specialized air filters in the vents leading in and out of the room even filtered out scent both ways, providing the occupants with fresh, unscented air and keeping the rest of the  dorm from stinking like rut or heat.  

“Let me know if you need anything,” Chan offered anyway, because just like Woojin he had an itch to provide that he couldn’t ignore.

Woojin’s slow nod was the closest to an answer Chan knew he was going to get. He trudged exhaustedly to the bathroom to shower off the lingering scent of Daehwi before he climbed back into bed with Jisung.

The next morning the dorm held a celebratory air to it. Presentations weren’t unlike birthdays, after all, and as soon as the household awoke it became abundantly clear what had happened overnight. 

For once, Jisung and Hyunjin seemed perfectly content to agree on something. 

“How is it fair that Daehwi presented before me?” Hyunjin moaned over his coffee, “He’s a whole year younger than me!” The pup whined,

“Maybe the coffee is stunting your growth,” Jeongin smiled at Hyunjin innocently.

Hyunjin whined, an affronted noise in the back of his throat that immediately drew Chan’s attention. Once he was sure everyone was okay, he went back to his breakfast. They were all due at the company in just under an hour and a half, leaving the pups plenty of time to moan and groan  and a dream over their own presentations. 

“I don’t know what you’re whining about,” Jisung said, his pout so large his bottom lip looked like it had been stung by a bee. “Everyone knows that you’re going to be an omega. Daehwi has always been an over achieving brat, you’ve still got plenty of time.” He waved his hand like he was shooing away an annoying fly instead of Hyunjin’s concerns. “But I’m going to be a beta. I’m at least a year overdue. What if my head is broken like hyung’s was? Do you think I should go to the doctors??” He looked around the room with wide, worried eyes. 

In turn, Hyunjin rolled his own. “What if you’re not a beta, did you ever think of that genius?” He looked Jisung up and down appraisingly, “Yeah, you could definitely be an omega.”

Jisung spluttered, “You can’t tell by how someone looks-“ 

“You just said that I was obviously-“ 

Jisung waved his hands around again, dispersing Hyunjin’s words in the air like troublesome smoke, “Everyone in my family are betas.” Jisung said firmly. 

Chan shot Changbin a pointed look from across the room, see, he telegraphed with his eyes, I told you.

“-all the way back to the Joseon era!” Jisung was saying, “They’re betas who mate betas, for the most part. It’s, like, sort of a tradition, but it's gone out of fashion in the last couple of generations because, you know, it's kinda sexist. My uncle mated an omega and my grandfather almost didn’t go to the ceremony.”

“So your family was servants.” Hyunjin said haughtily, “that’s what you’re saying right? They cooked and cleaned and took care of other people’s pups? That sort of thing?’

“Hey!” Jisung sulked. 

“Betas weren’t always servants,” Seungmin frowned from his place on the floor, leaning back against the couch, “They made wonderful politicians and historians because they weren’t as easily distracted by heat and rut cycles that couldn’t be as easily controlled back then, so they didn’t have to take as many days off.”

Hyunjin’s cheeks immediately flushed at the mention of heat and rut cycles, eyes darting down demurely as he apologized immediately, “Ah, of course you’re right. Our Seumninnie is so smart,” he cooed, reaching out to pinch his cheek which in turn caused Seungmin’s own cheeks to flush as he pushed Hyunjin away, but from where he was sitting, Chan could clearly see the smile that stretched the beta’s youthful face. 

“Hey!” Jisung whined for a second time, “How come you never tell me that you’re sorry? Or tell me that I’m right?”

“If you want me to agree with you then maybe you should say something right for once.” Hyunjin said, rising gracefully from the couch to leave the other three behind. Chan rolled his eyes. So much for them getting along. 

—

At this point in his trainee career, monthly evaluations like they were was simply a part of life. He got up, he brushed his teeth, and once a month his worth as an investment of time and money by the company was judged by a panel of stone-faced producers. They would decide if he got to stay and continue his training, or if it was finally time for him to be kicked out and end up a statistic, and they would do it with a sorry of detached coldness that made Chan wonder at the state of their humanity. 

This month his team was a small one, Jisung, as always, followed by Hyunjin, Jeongin, Changbin and Allen. He was very confident in their skills and knew that truth be told they had nothing to worry about. Not every evaluation someone went home. They could go months and months between eliminations, with every team getting a passing mark and returning home to cry out the stress into their pillow regardless. 

So far their practices had gone smoothly, with only minimal bickering between Jisung and Hyunjin, who as of lately had begun to work on their ability to be in a room together (if only because they learned that if they fought too much Chan would make them go do wall sits together while they held hands). Recently they had even gone four days without a public fight, to which Chan treated them both to ice cream as a reward. Changbin had whined until he too was included, and it was simply impossible to deny Jeongin anything, and since Seungmin shared a room with him their little group of three quickly became six and Chan’s wallet felt a lot lighter, despite Changbin’s offer to pay for himself, Seungmin, and Jeongin. 

Their stumbling journey underneath the streetlights to the corner store reminded Chan of when he was a pup, sneaking out with his hyungs on their skateboards for a fleeting taste of freedom, him and BamBam tagging along like little ducklings determined to keep up, despite the difference in age. 

Chan didn’t sneak his dongsaeng out, because he would never break the rules like that and risk getting them in trouble, nor did they bring skateboards, but Jisung still ended up on the floor of the convenience store at one point, tripping over his untied laces. Chan wasn’t quite sure how he managed to dance so well, but when he was outside of the practice room he had all the grace of a knobby kneed newborn foal, always bumbling and slipping along, quick to grab someone else and drag them down with him into a pile of limbs on the floor in a desperate attempt to remain upright himself. 

It was cute. Jisung was cute. 

He was cute with ice cream on his nose, he was cute when he startled and yelped when someone honked as they passed on the street, and he was cute when, just like every night, he wound himself around Chan in his bunk like a content kitten while his own bunk remained empty two doors down.

He was even cuter when he was beaming with pride, round cheeks pushed to their limit around a gummy, heart shaped smile as the typical panel of monthly evaluators nodded proudly, checking the far right box, the one they had all learned ages ago meant safety. 

Chan knew he would pass, just as he knew the others in his little pseudo pack would, all talented beyond their years, even if he sometimes laid awake at night in a cold sweat dreading what would happen if he was somehow wrong. 

They often looked to him for support but he knew they didn’t need it. Changbin and Han were already better rappers than him, and Hyunjin could dance better than Chan ever would be able to. Jeongin showed potential to be a standout vocalist, even though he was still soft and squeaky at his young age, but Chan knew there was still time. Based on the last meet PD-nim had him sit in on, their projected debut was still two years out, minimum.

He learned they’d held another audition recently, and that someone earmarked for their trainee group had passed, but had remained behind to finish high school. It seemed like they were another foreigner, but Chan hadn’t caught from where exactly. Two years was plenty of time for Seungmin and Jeongin’s voices to develop into something sublime, better than the fledgling wonders they already were. It was a bit daunting to think that there might be more trainees in the future, by this time in the Got7 debut process the final lineup had really been nailed down. All of the trainees in the dorm knew who was going to debut with Jaebeom and Jinyoung, it was just a matter of whether or not they would get lucky and slip in at the last second. The rest of them had been earmarked for this, the current trainee cycle. He couldn't imagine spending another two years watching faces come and go before he felt like he could relax, but that seemed like it was his fate for the time being. 

If Chan could selfishly pick his own team to debut with, he already knew exactly who it would be. Their little group already felt so perfect, he couldn’t imagine anyone else ever fitting in. Sure, he wouldn’t turn his nose up if Allen or Steven ended up joining them, one of the likable floater trainees that didn’t seem to have any sort of allegiance to one pseudo-pack over another, but he also couldn’t imagine making any more space in his heart for strangers. As shaky as the feeling was, Chan was starting to feel a sort of hopeful optimism about the future. He didn’t quite know what it would look like just yet. 

When he thought about packs, Chan thought about Jaebeom and Jinyoung and how in love with each other they were, how their pack was built around their love. Chan knew that’s what he wanted, a pack built around love, but he wasn’t quite sure what kind of love just yet. He couldn’t see himself like Jaebeom, mated to an omega and providing, at least not yet, but something about a completely platonic pack just felt…wrong to him. It also felt just as wrong to consider otherwise when so far in the fantasy pack in his head Changbin and Seungmin were the only presented members, and Seungmin, despite being a presented beta, still felt like an overly enthusiastic pup with his wide grin and his happy little crescent eyes. 

Regardless of what Chan would selfishly pick for his own future, the others still went through the familiar motions of the monthly evaluations. Woojin was awarded a quick check mark, with Donghyun and Woong following easily behind. All three possessed the grace of confident, presented trainees, bolstering them through their evaluations with ease. They were selling a product at this point, no longer learning a craft. The evaluators were either going to accept their skills or pass on them at this point and there was nothing they could do about it. Daehwi was up next. The young omega was only about a week out from his presentation, and you could see it in the way he held his body, self-conscious in a way he never had been as a pup.

He went through the motions of his solo evaluation, singing the song chosen for him with only a few minor warbles and gliding through the steps of the dance, albeit a bit shakily. Nothing out of the ordinary for a newly presented omega whose body was still adjusting and whose senses were still acclimating to the world. 

Chan had turned to the side, fussing over Jisung’s tangled hoodie strings; he'd seen so many of these evaluations that it was hard to hold his interest these days. He was thinking about maybe staying up extra late tonight just so he could have the bathroom to himself, locking the door and filling the too small tub with water and one of the muscle relaxing bath bombs his mother sent him in a care package awhile back that he just never had time to use. His mind was filled with images of silence and lightly steaming water when a sharp, distressed gasp sent ice through his veins. His hands paused on  Jisung’s hoodie, the hopeless knot created by the pup’s fidgeting forgotten in an instant as the scent of bruised rose, rotting jasmine, and distressed omega still laced with the scattered remnants of pup and smatterings of immature heat filled his senses, and when he turned around the source of it became clear. 

Daehwi stood in the center of the room, hands clasped over his mouth like he could hold back the distress pouring off of him, hiding the look of horror mounting in his eyes. 

Woojin growled, a loud, ugly sound in the quiet of the training room. Another trainee, an omega, whimpered uncontrollably in response. A trainee growling was notable enough, but the direct glare he was giving the evaluators - all older betas and alphas - constituted a challenge, mature and angry. The tension in the room thickened instantly, everyone holding their breaths, waiting to see how it would go down. 

“What do you mean, he’s not improving?” Woojin growled, stalking forwards until he was between Daehwi and the mentors, like he could shield him from their piercing stares and judgment with the width of his shoulders alone. 

“Mind your manners, Woojin-ssi.” The vocal instructor snapped, his tense beta smell filling the room, pushing against Woojin’s angry pheromones. 

“I asked a question. What do you mean he’s not improving?” He replied back, shoulders rolling back and chin tilting up, dangerously close to the point of no return. Chan itched to step in and stop them, to pump a soothing eucalyptus into the room like a balm, but Jisung’s hands had risen to hook in the back of Chan’s hoodie, and on his other side Jeongin was clinging to his arm. They needed him, and selfishly, he needed them. He couldn’t step in if it meant risking leaving them alone here, without him. So instead he stared, wide eyed and desperate at Woong, who seemed equally stuck, begging the beta to intervene, to do something where Chan could not. The beta seemed just as unsure of what to do when faced with real tension. 

“I mean, he’s not improving. We have high standards here and he’s below it. In fact, his marks have dropped from just last month, so we have to let him go.” The evaluator snapped, closing the notebook with a dismissive air of finality. He glared down his nose at Woojin, as if the rumble in the young alphas throat was little more than the grumbling of a pup. Chan could smell Woojin’s anger spike, and prayed he wouldn’t go farther. 

“You know why his marks went down.” Woojin growled, “You can’t not take that into consideration, it’s not fair-“

“Life isn’t fair, Woojin-ssi.” The evaluator said haughtily. “He’s not special. Omega have to live in the real world just like the rest of us. He doesn’t get special treatment just because he’s delicate. In fact, he needs to learn the hard way that if he’s going to let his dynamic be an inconvenience that perhaps this isn't the right career choice for him. Maybe something more suited for his type, if he struggles that much.” 

“That’s discrimination-“ Woojin’s fist clenched at his sides like he was really considering knocking the beta out cold. 

“It’s reality. I’ve made my decision, I’m sorry but your little friend-” He said the word with a sneer, implying exactly what he thought the nature of Woojin and Daehwi’s relationship was and why exactly Woojin was so angry to be separated from him, “-has been dismissed from our program. I suggest you watch yourself, or you’re next.” The beta turned on his heel, leaving the room swiftly. Behind him, the trainees were left to languish in the thick fog of anger and distress still pumping from the raging alpha and the newly presented omega.

Chan stepped forward, determined to offer what comfort he could now that he wouldn’t be putting anyone he considered to be his own in danger, but Woojin beat him to it. As soon as the evaluators were out of eyesight he was spinning around, bundling Daehwi into his chest and dropping his head to murmur lowly into his ear, too quiet for anyone else to pick up on. He rubbed his jaw against the crown of Daehwi’s head, furiously scenting him like his anger could cover the stifling scent of miserable omega. 

Chan’s heart squeezed, helpless and useless once more. He couldn’t change the evaluators minds, and he couldn’t offer any comfort that would be worthwhile. He stood there, the tense silence deafening in the normally loud practice room. He had no power, a trainee like the rest of them despite the responsibilities the company kept piling on his shoulders. 

Jisung sniffled, borrowing into Chan’s arms, seeking comfort and warmth. This, Chan could offer. He squeezed Jisung to his chest. He stared over his head at the cup standing unmoving in the middle of the room and resolved to never let the boy in his arms go, no matter who tried to take him. 

— 

Daehwi was teary eyed when they got back to the dorm, though the sniffling had tapered off on the bus, the newly presented omega far too proud to show that sort of weakness in public. 

“I have to pack. They’ll want me out as soon as they can.” Deehwi sighed, not waiting for anyone to say anything before he made his way down the hall, his frame still so small and dainty that his footsteps made almost no noise on the old wooden floors. Chan watched him go, a lump forming in his throat. 

There was a movement in the corner of his eye that distracted him from staring at the empty door frame that Daehwi had disappeared into. He turned, surprised to see Woojin collecting not only Daehwi’s shoes from the doorway but also his own as well.

“You’re going with him.” Chan said, not bothering to frame the obvious as a question. 

“I am.” Woojin answered simply, in that deep, calm voice that sometimes reminded Chan of Hyunwoo. He answered it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like there wasn’t even another option for Woojin besides being at Daehwi’s side.

“Where will you go?” He asked, watching Woong and Donghyun dip their heads as they moved to gather up their things, intent on following Daehwi; just as loyal as Woojin. Their trainee contracts were almost up, it wouldn't take much to pay off the remaining months. 

“I don’t know. Somewhere that will take us. There will be somewhere, companies are always looking for bonded pairs these days; a bonded pack must be even better.” Woojin said with finality, the confidence of a pack leader burning with every word. It was the first time Chan had ever heard the other alpha say it out loud, courteous enough to not call the trainees he’d been scent marking for months his pack while still residing in what was clearly Chan’s territory, but now that it was over and they were leaving, laying his claim verbally in a way that couldn’t be misunderstood. 

Chan smiled tersely, he’d had the realization months ago that Daehwi was never one of his, and now that it finally was settling in his stomach it felt like a sort of relief. He didn’t have to feel guilty or selfish anymore for not picturing the four of them as part of his fantasy pack in his head. Woojin was too headstrong, too independent to fall under someone else's leadership permanently like that, and Daehwi too linked to the young alpha to follow anyone else. Chan never believed in the fated mate stories in dramas, but looking at those two could almost convince him, even if they themselves didn’t know yet. 

“Take care of him, yeah? Of all of them.” Chan sighed, patting Woojin on the shoulder. Woojin nodded seriously, glancing behind Chan to where Donghyun and Woong were standing in the hallway, uncertain. 

“You take care of them, too.” Woojin said, just as seriously, his eyes landing on Jisung, Hyunjin, and Jeongin who were cuddled together in a miserable pile on the sofa. Seungmin sat next to them, alternately running his fingers through their hair leaving behind soothing streaks of his sweet blooms and spicy cloves beta scent that reminded Chan of the rhododendron bushes that grew underneath the windows of his grandmother’s house. “Go talk to them. I’m going to help Daehwi.” Woojin told Chan, his hand falling away from the other alpha’s shoulder. 

Chan wanted to protest, to at least help Daehwi and the others find all their belongings scattered throughout the dorm, but the look in Woojin’s eyes discouraged him, so he gave him a terse little nod instead. 

Chan swallowed against the bitter feeling crawling up his throat, shoving it down into that little box he kept everything else in, refusing to let his selfish pain be visible to the people around him. As the lead trainee, control was something hard-won and here it was again, proving that control was fake. Anything he had could be ripped from him at any moment. However much he pretended he wasn’t, he was just as helpless as the others. He went to his sad little group on the couch and joined them. Instantly he was buried under a mass of knees and elbows. He buried his nose into the crown of someone’s head - Hyunjin’s, he could tell by the shampoo. He pressed a kiss there and left behind a smear of his own scent, hoping the stench of smoke wasn’t too scorching. Before he knew it, he was desperately scenting all four of them, tears silently trekking down his cheeks.

Hours later, when the four members of Woojin’s little pack left the dorm for the very last time, Daehwi ran over, pressed a quick kiss to Chan’s cheek, and resolutely pretended to not notice it was damp.

—

Time passed just as slowly as ever after the departure of Woojin’s pack, and although Chan was no longer lagging behind in practice the way he had been the year prior, the day in and day out continued to feel just as monotonous as ever. More and more often on their days off Chan was choosing to spend his time and allowance money at the internet cafe down the street, absorbed in his own little world of video games and high calorie snacks that he would have to work off for a week. 

By the time he finished up his time wasting session for that day, it was getting close to five in the afternoon. His stomach ached from the lack of real food all day, having been sustained on nothing but dakkochi and coke and one miserably misguided bowl of ramen; he desperately craved a bowl or three of plain white rice to absorb some of the sodium floating around in his bloodstream and making him feel woozy. His joints popped as he stood, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his back. He paid his tab at the front counter, eyes glazed over and ears off so he didn’t actually have to hear the price, and left. 

Despite the bright, clear day, Chan grumbled when he exited out to street level. The sights and scents of the city assaulting his senses in a way they normally didn’t after living here for so long. He chalked it up to his seclusion in the internet cafe all day, his immersion in an imaginary digital world making it difficult for his overly stimulated mind to make the switch back to the real one. The street back to the company was crowded. There were teenagers and college students, walking in fashionable groups as they decided where they wanted to get coffee after class, or run for a late lunch before they went home and got ready to go out for the evening. 

There were hawkers on the street corners, calling out for people to take their fliers advertising everything from barbeque joints to skin care to hair salons to massage parlors. Food sizzled on grills under tents and inside trucks, and even though his stomach was growling for some plain soup and rice Chan was tempted more than once to stop and buy a stack of hotteok. Instead, he plugged his headphones into his phone and blasted a song he heard on a music show the other day, humming along to the lyrics and the impressive instrumentals. There was even a small park between the street he was on and the company building that he could cut through, and soon he was walking in the green shade instead of under the oppressive heat of glass and concrete. People still zipped past him on bikes and scooters, but it was astronomically better than being shoulder to shoulder with whole crowds of strangers. 

By the time he reached the dorm, he was already starting to feel more like himself. Other than shaving some time off his trip, the short walk through the park had done him more good than he’d realized it would. He would have to make a habit of going that way more often. Chan punched in the code for the door. It let out its obnoxious beep, the light turning momentarily green. He shoved it open like he always did, with a bit more force than necessary because the damn thing was old and warped, and swore when it collided with something then flung backwards, smacking him in the knee before it slammed shut. Frowning, he hopped on one foot for a moment as he keyed the code in once more. He opened the door much more carefully this time and grunted when it met with resistance. He squeezed in the crack he managed to force open, staring down at the verifiable mountain of shoes that blocked his entrance. 

Oh, he knew exactly who was responsible for this. An uncharacteristic anger bubbled up in him, a low growl rumbling in his throat to express his displeasure. 

“Jisung-ah!” Chan yelled, voice carrying menacingly through the dorms. The other trainees were not used to him raising his voice like that, much less using something bordering close to an alpha voice on them, so almost immediately heads poked out of doorways with varying levels of curiosity to trepidation depicted on their faces. 

While the dramatic, almost magical, qualities of an alpha’s voice as it was depicted in dramas were not accurate, the tone of an angry alpha carried a natural authority, pushing others to instinctively listen. Hackles would rise, scents would sharpen, and if it was between two alphas, it indicated a fight would begin soon. When used on an omega it triggers their self-preservation instincts and forces them to freeze momentarily out of a desire to protect themselves, making it hard for them to move or speak. It doesn’t last very long, rarely longer than a few heartbeats, but it has been known to cause them to have some pretty severe emotional reaction in the aftermath unless it's being used by a trusted packmate to keep them safe. Because of the potential for emotional or psychological damage, or even putting an omega at physical risk by rendering them incapable of movement, using ‘alpha voice’ against another alpha’s omegas or an unclaimed omega in some cases has long since qualified as a form of assault or intimidation in court. Young alphas are taught very quickly to control their anger and rein in their instincts to command those around them. No one wants to have a record for being someone who endangers omegas that aren’t even theirs. 

While Chan’s tone wasn’t that, no one had ever heard him even begin to speak to Jisung this way and maybe more than a few trainees were a little bit excited to see the favorite pup get a real scolding for once. 

Jisung appeared from the kitchen, a bag of shrimp crackers in his hand. His eyes were wide, surprised to hear that sort of tone directed at him. 

“Hyung?” He asked, voice wary.

“Is it too much to ask you to clean up?” Chan asked, gesturing at the pile of shoes in the way of the door. 

Jisung’s face twisted into a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly “It’s not just my shoes.” He grumbled. Under any other circumstances Chan would normally be impressed at a pup for holding their ground like that. Right now, the pup’s stubbornness simply irritated him, making something almost hateful curl in his chest. It startled him, but not enough to make him back down.

A growl barely contained in the back of his throat, Chan began to sort through the pile, kicking one pair of shoes away then another, and another, and another until he had sorted the mess into two piles, shoes that belonged to ‘Jisung’ and shoes that belonged to ‘everyone else’. 

The dorm was dead silent, interrupted only by the sound of Chan kicking shoes into piles, a dull thump thump thump that carried more than the mere weight of a few misplaced shoes.  

“There.” Chan said, pointing at the pile of shoes designated as Jisung’s, which was significantly larger than the others. “I did the work for you.”

A growl slipped out from between Jisung bared teeth, sharp and careless, like the way he usually snipped at Hyunjin. A puppy snarl more than anything, but a few of the trainees that came to watch still blinked in surprise at the sound. Of course a genuine growl was rare, but for a pup to react to a presented senior that way, much less from a pup to the de-facto head alpha, was unusual even among the most high-strung of trainees.

Chan blinked in surprise, processing the sound for a moment. He knew he couldn’t act rashly no matter how much he wanted to stomp over and scruff the kid for the insult. He only noticed that the growl he’d been holding back had broken free. He caught Changbin’s eye. The look on his face was wary at best, outright worried at worst. His eyebrows were creased in concern and confusion.

“Hyung, maybe we can-'' Changbin said softly, like he was trying not to disturb the stillness that had settled over the room. The other alpha’s hands were raised placatingly, like he was trying to talk Chan down. Chan’s annoyance tripled at his overreaction being called out by the other alpha so plainly. It made that ugly, hateful thing in his chest twist even harder, trying to break free of his control. 

“You have a lot of growing up to do, Han Jisung.” He aimed for curt and cold but it still came out as more of a snarl. Jisung’s eyes widened, and hurt bloomed quickly across his features, but then he squared his jaw and lifted his chin, refusing to give Chan the satisfaction of a response. Chan found himself wanting to push him more, harder, so he opened his mouth to demand he pick up the shoes now while everyone was watching. 

“Chan!” Changbin barked and that was the last straw. Chan threw his own hands up in the air and tossed his bag on the floor next to the sorted piles of shoes.

“Fine.” He said, “You deal with him then, I’m going for a run.” Chan declared, glad he never took his shoes off from when he got in moments before. He wasn’t dressed for a run, and it was really too cold for something like that, but he needed to be out of the dorm before he snapped at anyone else. 

Guilt was already chewing at him when he started walking down the hall towards the stairs, ears burning red at the shame of having snapped like that in front of everyone. The hateful, ugly thing inside his chest had already curled up and died. Withered away to dust and ash like it had never been there in the first place at all. Maybe it was stress, maybe he hadn’t been getting enough sleep, hell, maybe his rut was near! He had no clue what had been driving him, not when he was supposed to be the good hyung, the reliable hyung. The steady, firm source of comfort and guidance. 

And to make it even worse he hadn’t even taken it out on one of the grown trainees, he’d growled at a pup. At Jisung. Over shoes. He groaned, pressing his forehead into the wall of the hallway, wondering how much more embarrassing it would be to return to the dorm immediately and bundle Jisung against his chest like he wanted to, apologizing for acting like a brute over something so useless. 

He turned, hand hovering over the door handle when suddenly there was a thump against the far side. Something heavy enough to make the door rattle in its frame.

“Jisung-ah,” Hyunjin’s soft voice was faint through the barrier of their front door, but he could still hear the gentle scolding it carried as he said, “Don’t throw things.”

 “I don’t know what his problem is!” Jisung’s voice wasn’t anywhere near as soft as Hyunjin’s. In fact, it was almost loud in his indignation. There was a thick quality to it, that Chan immediate recognized from all the time he’d spent comforting him as Jisung being close to tears. “It’s not fucking fair for him to take it out on me! I didn’t do shit-” 

“Jisung-” That was Changbin, still trying to smooth over the situation, trying to make up for where Chan lacked, fix what Chan had broken.

“What!” Jisung snapped. There was another thump and Chan realized it was probably the pup kicking the shoes he’d sorted all over the place. Throwing a tantrum like he was known to do, but never because of Chan. “We all heard him acting like a knothead!” 

Chan swallowed, throat clicking dryly. He turned away, determined to get away from the dorm before that ugly thing woke back up and talked him into opening that door to start this fight all over again. 

“Let’s all just put away our shoes,” Seungmin offered, an olive branch amidst all the hostility. “We’re all guilty here, let's just do what hyung wants so he can feel more comfortable when he gets home.”

The shame was back, outpacing the anger. He turned quickly and jogged down the stairs, the clamor of his shoes on the shoddy steps echoed back at him. He was well aware of how bad of a plan this was the moment he stepped out of the dorm. The weather seemed to have shifted to match his mood. He must have missed the mounting clouds behind the skyline of the city as he made his way home. Now, the rapidly cooling breeze stung his cheeks and whipped through his hair, dark clouds threatening rain. His short sleeved shirt did little to protect him from the biting wind, but he trudged on. He walked quickly, aimlessly down the street, arms steadily by his side, refusing to give himself even the comfort of hugging himself for warmth, not after how he had behaved. 

He wasn’t sure how long he walked, goalless and shivering until he came to the bridge he used to skateboard over. He stepped onto the footpath, nodding to the security guard stationed in the small booth whose sole purpose was to watch for jumpers. The Han River rushed below him in a wide, wide dark stream. Near the midway point of the bridge was a post with a suicide hotline phone installed upon it and the railings rose high overhead, curving inward to prevent people from climbing over them. He sat down, slotting his feet through the railing. His legs dangled over the edge as he leaned his forehead against the ice cold bars, letting the sting of cold metal drive away his thoughts. Where concrete met metal, messages of hope were spray painted. Simple phrases like ‘you are enough’, ‘the sun will rise tomorrow’, and even a simple list that read ‘your mother, your father, your sibling, your best friend, your pet’. He ran his fingers along the rough letters and finally felt the first prickling of tears.

He didn’t know why he snapped at Jisung, and didn't have an excuse for making a scene like that. The shoes were a nuisance but they were just shoes, they were worthless when compared to the smile on Jisung’s face. The smile he drove away with a stupid, impulsive decision to pick a fight. Something in him just didn’t let him back down, once that challenge was made it was like his brain told him he had to see it through, that he couldn’t not finish what he had started. 

He groaned, bumping his forehead against the railing, feeling the metal press lines into the skin of his forehead, though only faintly, much of his sensation stolen by the cold. He stared down at the Han, all those dark thoughts he had pushed away bubbling back up, clogging his throat.

Changbin could manage the trainees, he already was doing great with that. He was naturally dominant, playful and responsible. Him and Jisung would make a good match to lead a pack. Changbin wouldn't growl at a pup over shoes. He wouldn’t doubt himself every day. He would be a good pack leader, unlike Chan. 

He’d be better than Chan. They wouldn’t need Chan. 

He was ripped from these thoughts when he noticed a teardrop disappearing into the darkness below. It must have mixed with the water, insignificant in the grand scale of the world- though it was too dark to see anything by now, the sun having set long ago. Chan leaned back, sniffling now that he noticed he was crying. He rubbed harshly at his numb cheeks, scrubbing away the tears with a frustrated huff. 

This was his fault, who was he to feel sorry for himself? Jisung is the one who deserved to be upset. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning it back on for the first time in what was apparently hours. He had turned it off after he left, running like a coward from the texts Changbin was already sending him. 

The screen blinked to life, showing it was 11:36 now, a full three hours after he had left. Texts began flooding in, crowding the lockscreen, Changbin, Kino, Hyunjin, Jeongin, Younghyun, and even Wonpil. 

Chan scrolled, looking for anything from Jisung, but their chat was empty, the last text from this morning was Jisung sending him a simple, aegyo filled ‘hyung I want to eat meat~’ that Chan never got around to responding to. 

He closed his eyes against the wave of distress that rose up in his throat, choking him when his phone began to vibrate, an incoming call with Younghyun’s name attached flashed across the screen. He thought about ignoring it and letting it go to voicemail, but didn’t, pressing a numb finger to the accept button and raising his phone to his ear. 

“Yes?” He answered in English, not feeling up to the formalities that came with Korean right then. 

“Where are you?” Younghyun snapped into the phone, voice firm. 

“I’m just… out.” Chan replied, kicking his feet over the ledge, staring down at the sightless water below.

“Chris.” Younghyun said firmly, the hint of the alpha Chan used to follow creeping into his voice. “You’ve been missing for hours, Changbin called me asking if you were with me. Now, where are you?”

Chan swallowed, skin pricking with the first touch of a raindrop, nothing more than a mist but enough to send shivers down his spine. 

“At Mapo Bridge, over the Han.” He finally muttered after what felt like an hour of silence. 

Silence greeted him in return, broken by a slow inhale. “Stay… stay right where you are, ok?” Younghyun said carefully, like he was talking Chan down. 

Chan snorted, almost cruelly amused by the worry. “Yeah. Sure, hyung.” He said, letting the phone drop down from his ear and ending the call. 

He felt a little guilty for hanging up on Younghyun like that but he didn’t feel like listening to him shuffle through his dorm and out into the street either. 

Rain pattered slowly onto his skin, but he couldn’t feel it right now. He deserved it, this misery. Hopefully Jisung was bundled in bed with the others, warm and comfortable. 

Chan wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he hung up, lost in spiraling thoughts. The hand on his shoulder made him jump, leg catching under the railing when he whirled around, sending a sharp pain up his hip. He knew it would bruise, mottled blues and purples, a reminder of tonight for a week to come. 

“Hey-” Chan startled thinking it was Younghyun finally coming for him and surprised by the rough treatment, but he was cut off by Changbin yanking him up by his elbow. He pulled him into a crushing hug, skin burning against Chan’s frozen form. Changbin’s scent had alway reminded him of wet flint; like the hiking trails after a mild summer rain, and the tangy metallic heat of warm circuitry. The potent comfort of a concerned alpha looking after one of his own washed over Chan in overwhelming waves. He buried his face into Changbin’s shoulder, pulling in the scent of the other man like a lifeline, soaking in the scent that screamed pack, no matter how reckless that word felt to Chan. 

“Don’t come here alone. Never again.” Changbin said firmly, not pulling away, growling the words into Chan’s shoulder, like if he was firm enough, loud enough he could erase this memory of tonight from both their minds. 

Chan’s arms tightened around him, nodding into his neck, intimately close for two alphas. “I won’t.” He promised, so sincere he almost believed it himself. He was shivering, the cold finally catching up to him now that he was being held against Changbin’s warmth. “It’s not like I could actually do anything anyway.” He said, eyes traveling up the high fence. At the far end of the bridge back the way they’d come he could see the security guard standing, shining his flashlight down in their direction. 

“Come on, let’s go get some food or something.” Changbin said, pulling his padded coat off and forcing it onto Chan’s shoulders, uncaring of his protests. Chan should feel some sort of way at being bundled around by the younger alpha, defensive of his position at the head of the group maybe, but it only made his heart feel warm. Tender and aching, yes, but warmer than he had felt since he left the dorm. 

Chan followed along, climbing into the taxi when he was directed to, the cold seeping into his bones and forcing him to shiver violently against Changbin’s side, the alpha bundling him closer and politely asking the driver to crank up the heat. 

Changbin gave the driver the address for a little hole in the wall place not too far from the dorm. The scent of discomfort was thick between the two of them making the beta driver scrunch up his nose uncomfortably. If it was any other day Chan would offer a large tip, but he realized that he didn’t have his wallet and therefore no means of paying.

Changbin’s hand was an iron brace in his own, gripping his fingers so tight he could feel his pulse under the skin, sweaty despite the cool air outside. Chan’s heart fluttered slightly, tamping down the tinge of affection as a side effect of how worn out he was right now. 

When they arrived Changbin paid the driver politely, not commenting on the cracked windows as he drove off. The soup shop Changbin picked was open until three o’clock in the morning. The windows were a little bit dirty and the plaster around the door was cracked, but the food was delicious. 

“What do you want to eat, Hyung?” Changbin asked, finally releasing Chan’s hand as they pushed open the door. His palm felt achingly empty without the feel of the other alpha grounding him but he shoved it aside, stuffing his hand into the pocket of his pants to ignore the feeling. 

“Doenjang jjigae,” Chan shrugged noncommittally as they slid into a booth. He hadn’t been taken care of like this since Younghyun debuted, the alpha too busy with a career and pack of his own for the trailing junior anymore. 

“The spicy kind?” Changbin teased, laughing at the unamused glare he got in return. Chan couldn’t stop the smile himself, shoving his shoulder into Changbin’s and lingering there for a moment, soaking in the contact. 

Changbin allowed the close proximity, leaning into Chan’s space in equal measure. His scent filled the air around them, grounding and stable, soothing the nerves Chan was still feeling. Changbin flagged down the waiter, a young man probably in his first years of university working late night shifts to make ends meet, and gave him their order. Chan remained silent, content for once to let the younger alpha take charge. Changbin would have been a perfect head alpha, confident and strong willed as he was. Maybe he still would be - nothing was set in stone.

Chan didn’t understand why Changbin gave way so easily, why he fell behind Chan and took up the role of sub-alpha like he was born for it. Like the way Chan used to feel with Jaebeom or Younghyun. Chan wasn’t sure he wanted to be a head alpha. He craved the guidance of his hyungs, the gentle scruffing they would give him when he wound himself up and the smiles he earned with his unwavering loyalty. 

Being in charge was exhausting. He was too messy, too flawed to have that sort of responsibility. He fucked up again and again, in practice and in their personal lives. He knew deep down he wasn’t suited for this kind of power. He couldn’t be trusted to take care of the people he loved when all he did was ruin things. 

A pot of steaming soup was placed on the table before them. Changbin picked up the ladle and filled a bowl for Chan and then for himself. Changbin picked up a pair of chopsticks and fished a chunk of tofu out of the fragrant broth, holding it up to Chan’s lips. Chan met Changbin’s eyes hesitantly before taking the bite offered to him and chewing. He waited in silence for the scolding he knew had to be coming.

“We’re not going to talk about it,” Changbin said after a few quiet moments of eating, meeting Chan’s eye knowingly. 

“What?” Chan asked, astonished. He was sure Changbin was here to give him the dressing down of a lifetime, make him talk about what happened regardless of whether Chan wanted to or not. The dismissal made him feel unmoored, his expectations of the other alpha constantly undermined. 

“It didn’t happen between us. It’s Jisung you need to talk to, not me,” Changbin explained like it was the simplest thing in the world, kicking Chan’s ankle lightly as if to punish him for not knowing as much. 

Chan sighed, responding to the kick with a tender brush against Changbin’s own ankle, missing the shiver that ran up the younger alpha’s spine, the way his eyes darkened slightly, the way his hand tightened on the chopsticks. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

“I’m always right, Hyung.” 

—

Chan and Changbin entered the dorm quietly, not wanting to wake any of the trainees so early in the morning. He slipped his shoes off, tucking them carefully into an empty slot on the rack, noticing the piles of shoes that had been there were put away, a sad smile tugging on his lips. 

Predictably, no one was in the living room. It was well past four o’clock, probably creeping up closer to five on a Sunday. Before too long, a few of them would slip out of bed and put on their best clothes, rumpled in a way that could only be achieved by a teenager doing their own laundry, and board one of the buses that passed their stop to meet their families at church. Jeongin was always the first up on Sundays, even though his family was back in Busan he still diligently pulled himself out from beneath his covers and dragged himself to mass every Sunday morning. When he’d first joined the company, he’d gone by himself to the nearest service, but when Hyunjin’s mother had realized he was going by himself she’d insisted that he go with them. Now, Hyunjin’s father arrived every Sunday morning to whisk the two away until after lunch time when he dropped them off at the company building still in their collared shirts, slacks, and dress shoes, to change quickly before practice. Practice on Sundays was self-guided, but you had to log so many hours in the building or risk having points knocked off on your next evaluation. Chan wasn’t the most religious person ever. He’d been raised catholic, like Jeongin and Hyunjin, and he was fairly certain if he was still living back home he’d be getting up with the rest of his family to go to mass, or getting on a bus from his college dorm to meet them. Instead, he followed Changbin down the hall.

Padding quietly through the dorm to his room, he frowned when Jisung wasn’t in his normal spot curled up in Chan’s bed. The bed across from him had remained empty since after the exodus of Woojin and Daehwi’s little pack. Some of the other rooms were definitely overcrowded, but no one wanted to take up the space just yet. Chan thought it was out of respect for Woojin and his packmates, but Changbin had made some sly remark about the other not wanting to intrude on Jisung’s ‘territory’.

The room felt cold and empty as Chan curled up underneath his sheets. He swallowed back any scent of distress he might be carrying. He didn’t realize how big his bed felt without the pup, or how abandoned his room felt without the others. Curling onto his side he hugged his pillow close to his chest, soaking in the lingering scent of Jisung and trying not to cry. 

-

Chan blinked awake, unsure of what ungodly hour he had even fallen asleep at. He blinked away the haze from his eyes, glaring at the 1:02 on his alarm clock like it personally offended him. He hadn’t not made it into the company building on a Sunday before noon in what felt like years. By this time, Jeongin and Hyunjin would already be back from church along with the rest of the trainees that trickled out for various religious services. Usually he was woken up by Jisung wriggling out of bed if nothing else, but today there had been nothing (and no one) to wake him.

Chan shuffled out of his room, drawn by the urge to brush the sour taste of sleep from his mouth. He headed towards the single bathroom they all shared with his towel and hygiene caddy in hand, wondering if he’d be lucky enough for there to be enough hot water left for him to take a quick shower. The door swung open as he approached. Jisung blinked owlishly in the doorway. His cheek was still red, imprinted with the texture of the pillow he had slept on, and his hair stuck up in one direction like he had just gotten off a rollercoaster and not out of bed. 

Chan swallowed, throat clicking uncomfortably. He thought about what to say, how to deal with the thick tension dripping between them when Jisung made up his mind for them, brushing past Chan without so much as a word. He stared firmly over his shoulder, like if he didn’t look at Chan he wouldn’t have to acknowledge his existence and Chan ached. 

Silence reigned wherever he went that afternoon. The other trainees looked at Chan askance as if he were ready to snap at them at a moment's notice. Chan felt the guilt weighing heavy on his shoulder but he was unsure of how to handle it. There was nothing he could think of that he could say or do that would prove that last night had been a fluke. 

Chan and Jisung ended up leaving the dorm to head to the company around the same time. The bus ride to the company building from the dorm was achingly quiet, Jisung having picked a seat near the front instead of in the back row where Chan had been sitting since he was thirteen. Changbin looked torn between the two of them, ultimately deciding on sitting with Jisung since Hyunjin followed Chan. Seungmin and Jeongin seemed to not want to pick sides and settled somewhere near the middle.

Hyunjin took the seat Jisung usually did, pressing himself close to Chan’s side. 

“What happened, Hyung?” He asked. His weight was a sweet comforting warmth despite the uncharacteristic tension in Chan’s body. Chan knew for certain the boy would present as an omega, his scent already sweetened by the proximity to his presentation, the same way it had been for BamBam. Everything about him screamed omega, sweet and loyal and clever. Nurturing with a deep seated desire to provide comfort even if he could be a bit aloof and quick to offend. 

Chan sighed, wrapping his arm around Hyunjin’s thin shoulder to draw him in just that little bit closer. He pressed his cheek to the top of Hyunjin’s head, eyes pinched closed. “I don’t know. I just… snapped, I guess.” He admitted, frustrated that even he didn't have a good answer for why he acted that way. He expected dismissal for the answer- it was a bad excuse, after all, but Hyunjin just tucked his head under Chan’s chin, nuzzling there to spread around his soothing puppy scent, acting for all the world like the omega he wasn't yet. 

“You’ll be fine. It's Jisung.” He excused. The words hung between them carrying a million different meanings. 

It's Jisung, he can't stay mad at you. 

It’s Jisung, he probably deserved it. 

It’s Jisung, you two always make up. 

It’s Jisung, he adores you. 

It’s Jisung, you need him. 

Chan gave Hyunjin a weak smile, squeezing the dancer’s lean thigh in thanks. Hyunjin smiled, eyes curved into sweet crescents, and Chan decided then he couldn’t let this one go either. Not like he let the others go. Their bus was nearing their stop. Chan looked up to observe the passing scenery and instead found himself meeting Jisung’s eyes. He was staring at Chan, mouth slightly agape with something like betrayal in his eyes. His jaw snapped shut and he turned around quickly. Chan frowned, confused, until he felt Hyunjin sigh against his neck. 

“Well at least now he’ll be mad at me, too.” Hyunjin mumbled. Chan flushed as realization flooded through him. He’d just had a huge fight with Jisung and here he was cuddling Hyunjin on the bus, letting him scent him in public. Even if he was a beta, if Changbin was right and Jisung felt like he had some sort of claim over Chan this would only be adding salt to the wound that was last night. 

But what was Chan supposed to do? Hyunjin was pack, too. Jisung couldn’t throw a tantrum every time someone else got close to Chan, even if things were a bit sensitive between them right now, Chan couldn’t let him set that sort of precedent. 

The bus pulled up to their stop and the trainees trickling into the building for the afternoon session all got off, tromping into the company on heavy feet. They scanned their IDs at the security counter and then huddled up in the elevator. Jisung stood on one side of the elevator and the look he sent Chan was so scathing that he immediately ducked his head and went to the other side. Again, Hyunjin tucked himself against his side and Jisung huffed, crossing his arms self-consciously across his middle before the other trainees filled the gap between them and Chan could see him anymore. 

There was a guest choreographer coming today. They would have a few hours this afternoon to learn the choreography from her and then the rest of the evening to perfect it on their own, then they could film it with the equipment stored in the closet and send it off to their managers to be stored in their trainee files for consideration. Everything they did was work, work, work. Bonus points, extra credit, making an effort to prove you're willing to do what it takes to stand out. Someone would have to be a fool to pass up on guest lectures, whether they be for dance, vocals, rap instruction, even instrument and production classes. 

They entered the dance studio, toeing off street shoes and leaving them in a pile by the door to protect the sunken flooring. Bags thunked against the floor as people settled down to pull on their dance shoes, breaking off into small groups to help each other stretch. Of course, Hyunjin pulled Chan to the side and asked him to spot him as he worked his way through stretching out his back in a series of backbends and arcs. 

Jisung watched from the other side of the room where he stretched with Jeongin and Seungmin, all three of them working on expanding the range of flexibility in their splits under Changbin’s watchful eye, his black belt coming in handy as he corrected their posture. Jisung’s eyes trailed over the curve of Hyunjin’s body and then to where Chan’s hands hovered just under the small of his back, ready to catch him if his muscles gave out. Chan had heard all of Jisung’s frustration on this topic before. How Hyunjin was so flexible and things like this just came naturally to him. Jisung had said before that he never really regretted growing up in Malaysia until he came back to Korea and realized how much he’d missed out on by not taking Taekwondo like all the other kids. Even Jeongin and Seungmin had a few years of experience before they decided it wasn't for them. While Jisung was an amazing dancer, musically intelligent and with a good sense for his body, flexibility was the one area where he struggled, and it was yet another area where Hyunjin excelled. 

Hyunjin easily guided his body down to the floor, legs spread wide as he leaned forward onto his elbow and then finally settled down to rest on the floor with his cheek propped on his forearms as if he were napping at his desk in class and not performing a physical feat that made Chan’s eyes want to water. Chan settled behind him, hands massaging his lower back so that the muscles wouldn’t lock up. 

He heard a hiss of pain and looked up to see Jisung pushing himself a little bit more than he usually would, eyes fixed on where Chan’s hands rested on Hyunjin. His eyes lifted and met Chan’s. Immediately he sprung up from his attempt at deepening his split, or rather he stumbled up, turning his back quickly as he tried to act like nothing happened.

The guest choreographer entered the room. Trainees scrambled up from various puppy-piles excused away as their own attempts at stretching, determined to not be the ones caught slacking by the guest teacher. Chan made his way to his normal spot near the front right of the where he could see most of the trainees in the mirrors and the choreographer all at once, rolling out his shoulders as he walked. 

He looked into the mirrors and caught Jisung’s eye where he’d settled naturally into his usual spot in the row right behind him. He smiled, weakly. Jisung didn’t return the smile, but he didn’t look away, either. Chan didn’t have time to decide if that was progress or not before the blaring of the music forced every thought out of his head, body falling into the conditioned mindset that he had existed in within these four walls for years now, head blissfully empty… for now. 

–

It took three days of them tip-toeing around the dorm like there was shattered glass woven into the very fibers of the carpet for something to break. Three days of uncomfortable silence and painful tension. Chan and Jisung avoided each other like polarized magnets. Chan wanted to give the pup space, to let him work through what had happened on his own and decide when he was ready to talk about it. Chan knew he would feel guilty if he tried to talk to Jisung before he was ready, like he was pressuring him or something, so he stepped back no matter how much it was killing him.  

He didn’t like the distance, and his sleep schedule had gotten remarkably worse since he didn’t have Jisung in bed next to him, forcing him to actually settle down and try to get some sleep. More than once he’d envisioned barging into Jisung’s room to the bed he hardly ever used and scooping him up in his arms, carrying him back to his bed with Jisung bundled against his chest, and hiding him away there until Jisung agreed to forgive him, but that was insane. Those were insane thoughts to have. Jisung didn’t owe him anything, not even his forgiveness. If Jisung decided that Chan was the worst person on earth and that he was never going to forgive him then that was his prerogative. There was literally nothing Chan could do about it, and he was working on accepting that. 

It was Wednesday morning when the dam finally broke. 

Chan was barefoot in the kitchen, sluggish from his restless night, rice frying in the pan in front of him, a large heaping bowl already prepared for when the other trainees woke up, inevitably late and rushing around to get ready for school. 

Soft footsteps made Chan look back over his shoulder. Jisung stood behind him, eyes wide and still a bit puffy around the edges from sleep. Chan licked his chapped lips, unsure of what to do. Jisung was unmoving, staring down Chan like he was trying to solve a difficult equation and Chan floundered under the attention. He wasn’t sure when Jisung had gotten up. He usually slept in until the very last moment  but he was fully dressed now. 

“Have you eaten?” Chan asked, careful and unsure, both of which were unfamiliar feelings when it came to Jisung. 

Chan expected to get a scoff in return, or to be ignored, but what he didn’t expect was the tears that welled up in Jisung’s eyes, lower lip stuck out and trembling with the force of his emotion. 

“Hyung,” He whined, a thin, broken sound in the quiet of the early morning dorm. 

Chan’s brain shut off, moving without conscious thought to scoop Jisung into a firm hug, rubbing his scent into the pup’s hair. Jisung clung to him, all nails and bones. He pulled Chan close to him like he thought he could merge them into one, use the tears slicking his cheeks to fuse them together. Chan’s heart broke, pulling him impossibly closer, a soothing hand squeezing the back of his neck. 

“Oh Sungie, what’s wrong?” Chan asked, pulling back to cup his cheeks, brushing away the tear tracts with gentle movements. Jisung sniffled, whining at even that distance. “Why are you crying, baby?”

“I'm sorry!” He choked out, tucking his face back into the crook of Chan’s neck, seeking comfort that Chan was more than happy to give.

Chan smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Sungie, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should never have yelled at you like that.” He said, glad to finally have the words out in the open. Jisung shook his head against his chest, whining in denial. 

“No, hyung, it's okay. I’m not the only person who lives here, and I’m not a little kid anymore. I shouldn’t be leaving messes for other people to clean up.” He said, voice weak and wobbly through his tears. Chan stroked his hair, trying to sooth him. 

“You’re young, everyone here is messy.” Chan laughed, squeezing him to his chest. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” He promised, glad the sniffling was subsiding, fading away into soft hiccups and deep breaths. 

“You with me, pup?” Chan asked, pulling Jisung out from the crook of his neck, proud at the watery smile he gave and the firm nod of yes. He was a good kid, self conscious and rowdy but earnest. Honest in everything he did, this included. Chan smiled, tension easing from the knot his heart had tied itself into. 

“Good boy.” Chan praised, pulling him in for another hug, soaking in the scent of pup and pack and the hint of orange blossom that was beginning to show in his scent. 

He looked up at Chan with stars in his eyes, lips slightly parted. “I want to be good for you,” He said softly, “I want to be pa-”

“Who the fuck is burning shit?” 

The yell from down the hall, unmistakably Changbin, broke him out of the moment and away from the sparkling hypnotism of Jisung’s round eyes. He turned toward the stove and the forgotten pan of rice, now smoking and ruined. 

“Oh fuck!” 

Chapter Text

During one of his last years at public school back home in Sydney, they had just begun to study the Great Depression and how the fall of the American Stock Market affected not only the United States, but every major nation that traded with them. 

In one of his history books there had been a page that compared and contrasted images of the Depression from around the world. Understandably, the images of Australian citizens lining the streets, tattered and downtrodden as they waited for their susso rations, had caused an uncomfortable pang of sympathy in Chan’s chest, but the one image that had really stuck with him was from the American side of things. It featured a woman, face turned away from the camera in shame, and four pups sitting on the steps of a Chicago home. A cardboard sign was staked into the thin stretch of grass that read ‘4 Pups For Sale - Inquire Within’. 

It had stuck with Chan, a distressing image of poverty and hopelessness during a world-changing economic crisis. His heart had ached when he first saw the picture, not able to imagine what the woman could be going through. He had found himself wondering about her. Who was she? Their bearer? Was she their omega mother? A beta pack member? Their alpha sire? Regardless, the choice to literally sell one’s children had to be excruciating, but surely the role one played in their pack would change the way that hurt affected their very soul. A bearer who physically carried those pups inside her body, a beta pack member who’s very existence was meant to provide balance and ease the pressures of everyday life, an alpha sire who failed as a provider. 

For a young Chan who had yet to present, he couldn’t really wrap his head around it - the roles of each dynamic were works of fiction to him, something that adults worried about, roles that characters in books and television shows and comic books played out before him. It was hard for him to place himself in the shoes of the woman and imagine what it would be like to have to literally sell his own pups. 

But right now, ohhh, Right Fucking Now Chan was wondering if he might be able to  get away with loading Jisung into a cardboard box and setting him out on street corner with a sign that said ‘Free To A Good Home’.

He was sure Hyunjin wouldn’t mind- he’d probably even help Chan write the sign.

And why wouldn’t anyone want Jisung? 

He never caused problems, not ever. 

Like that morning. 

It was on one of their rare days off, yet it was being wasted because the trainees had all been taken to task and ordered to clean the biohazard that their dorm had become over the last couple of months. 

Their manager had politely said it was ‘lacking an omegas touch’,  which Chan had understood was clearly code for ‘disgusting and you’re all animals’. 

Chan begrudgingly agreed with him. 

Clothes and belongings covered nearly every surface, even the floor was buried, filled with unidentifiable stuff shoved out of the way to form rudimentary walkways. 

Admittedly, it could probably use some help. 

Everyone had been tasked with waking up early to spend the day cleaning, organizing and purging. Some of the things shoved into dusty corners had long been abandoned- like the set of hand weights that Chan was pretty sure Jackson had left there and that now were home to at least five spiders. It was supposed to be a team effort, so when Seungmin went to wake a still-sleeping Jisung, Chan thought little of it and continued to work on scrubbing out a stain of… something on the hardwood in the hallway. 

What finally got his attention was Jisung’s indignant “Yah!”, still muddled by sleep. He looked up just in time to see something fly from inside the room, managing to bounce nearly perfectly off Seungmin’s forehead where he stood dumbfounded in the hallway before thumping to the floor. It was a perfect shot- almost comical in how well it was aimed.  

Chan and the young beta were silent for a moment, both seeming to absorb what just happened. 

“Did he just throw…” Chan started, standing up and stripping off the elbow length rubber gloves he had been wearing. 

“A wallet…” Seungmin answered, still staring Jisung down. When Chan got to the doorway he spotted Jisung, half out bed like he had just fallen, frozen in place. His teeth were bared, but not in an aggressive way. More like the wide-eyed oh fuck way he got when he knew he was in trouble. Again, it was almost comical. 

“A wallet?” Chan repeated, looking at their feet where a Digimon wallet lay unassuming on the wooden floor. 

“His wallet.” Seungmin confirmed, taking a deep breath. Chan winced, carefully reaching a hand to stop the beta from moving forward. 

“Please don’t kill him” 

“I’m not gonna kill him.” Seungmin said evenly. 

Chan glanced between the two of them, stepping back slowly, releasing Seungmin. Seungmin took one slow step, as if testing his new freedom. And then another. 

Jisung scrambled to his feet, taking one step back, and then another, mirroring the beta. The two paused, like a rabbit being stalked by a dog for one heavy moment until Jisung bolted, vaulting over one of the beds and out the door. He booked it down the hallway, shrieking in what was either amusement or fear. Chan had learned the sounds sometimes sounded the same coming from Jisung. 

Seungmin took off after him, silent and determined, the sound of scuffling and panicked squeaking from the other room signaling a successful hunt. 

Chan snorted, walking over to Seunmin’s bed to continue folding the clothes he had been working on, humming along to the sounds of giggles, shrieking, and Changbin’s squawks of indignation at all the noise in the background. 

Later that evening, after the chaos had settled and the last of the laundry had been folded or hidden in places it didn't belong, the dorm returned to its usual state of buzzing quiet. The scent of soap and disinfectant still clung faintly to the air, but beneath it, the familiar undercurrent of home was unmistakable. Chan was content, despite knowing that in mere days the dorm would begin its inevitable decay towards unspeakable once more.

With summer quickly approaching, the sweltering heat of Seoul settled in with a humid sort of stickiness permeating the halls of the dorm and company alike. It made everyone slow and quick to anger, scents buoyed up by the muggy heat. 

Chan woke up early one morning to the sound of shuffling outside his bedroom door. There was a low muttering of voices trailing down the hallway. He glanced at the clock - five am was far too early for anyone who wasn’t him to be awake. Gently, he shifted Jisung off his chest, rolling his eyes fondly at the way he whined and tried to cling to him. Chan ended up scooping him up instead, depositing him across the room in Changbin’s bed so that the pup could curl up with the other alpha. He did so immediately, nose seeking out the curve of Changbin’s neck. 

Changbin barely stirred, curling around the smaller boy, but neither opened their eyes. 

Chan smiled indulgently, idly wishing he had grabbed his phone to snap a picture before making his way silently to the door, bare feet chilly against the hardwood floor. 

The hallway was dark, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the weak light coming from the living room. Once they did, he could see that Seungmin was outside the heat room, carrying what looked to be an empty plate and water bottle. The scent of spiced cedar and the dusty, papery scent of old books leaked into the hallway briefly before he closed the door behind him.

Chan blinked in surprise at the unfamiliar, very alpha scent.

“Who-“ Chan had started, the door closing with a click as Seungmin backed away. 

“Jeongin, he woke up last night whining and in rut, so I got him settled. I didn’t think you guys needed to get woken up, he was pretty docile.” Seungmin said, turning towards him where Chan stood half-hidden in the dark,. 

Chan observed the young beta, nonplussed. There hadn’t been a true beta around since GOT7 left. While Sungjin, Wonpil and Jae were definitely betas, they had always firmly remained in Younghyun’s orbit. The other beta trainees here and there, and they simply never took that step forward, never pushing themselves to Chan’s side to help take on duties in what was essentially Chan’s pack. 

Chan felt a sort of unexpected warmness building up inside his chest, unmistakable pride at how well Seungmin handled the unanticipated situation. It was perfectly done, textbook even. 

Reaching out, Chan dragged Seungmin into a hug, ignoring the offended squeak the beta gave as he rubbed his cheek against Seungmin’s, smearing himself with Seungmin’s spruce-scented beta smell and leaving his own eucalyptus and smoke in heavy streaks against Seungmin’s skin. The little wisps of paper and spice that still clung to him from Jeongin made Chan’s heart ache with enamoured satisfaction at another one of his fledgling trainees settling into their presentation. 

Ever since BamBam left the dorms, Chan had found that he wasn’t as forward or clingy - well, with anyone who wasn’t Jisung - but Seungmin’s selfless act triggered that little voice in him that screamed pack, the part of him that looked at the squirming beta and dared the world to try to take him away from Chan.. 

“You did perfect, such a good beta,” Chan praised with a smile, finally releasing the flailing boy who stumbled back a few steps and raised his arms in a comedic kung-fu like pose of self-defense. The threat didn’t quite work, what with the way his fluffy hair was mussed and sticking in all directions and his cheeks were painted red, but Chan raised his hands in submission none the less. 

Seungmin huffed, taking a minute to smooth down his hair the best he could, though he could do nothing about the flush of his cheeks. 

“Thank you, hyung, I just wanted to help.” He finally said, shyness coloring in his tone no matter how hard he tried to hide it. 

“You did help, I’m sure Innie felt much better having you there with him.” Chan said, as they made their way quietly to the living room. “Have you been up all night?” 

“Yeah, I napped a little, but not much.” Seungmin admitted with a shrug, sitting on the couch next to Chan. 

Chan hummed, scooting over to the end of the couch and patting his lap. “Take a nap then, the others won’t be awake for a little bit longer, and I can always have one of the others make breakfast. You deserve it.” 

Seungmin complained, claiming he didn’t need it, but when the others came out of their room half an hour later, Seungmin was curled up on his side with  his head resting on Chan’s thigh, hands squished adorably up under his cheek, and Chan’s nails scratching against his scalp soothingly.

Chan shushed them as they exited, laughing quietly at  Jisung’s whispered, 

“Oh my god, he’s like a puppy,”

Jisung looked thrilled at the picture the two of them made together, taking a snapshot of the sleeping boy with a delighted giggle. Changbin and Jisung seemed to be unbothered by how they woke up together, and Chan briefly wondered if it had happened before, like when Chan was at the studio or during one of his and Jisung’s spats. He felt a little prickle of jealousy and decided that now wasn’t the time to dwell on it, filing it away in the back of his mind for later.

Changbin produced Chan’s phone from his pocket where he had retrieved it from his bedside table, slipping it into his hand before leading the group of pups into the kitchen for a breakfast toast, since he still hadn’t won back his egg privileges. 

Chan settled back against the couch cushions, superficially checking in with his group chats but not really waiting around for any kind of reply. He would call the company later, explain the Jeongin rut situation, and get him and Seungmin the next few days off, but for now he let the phone rest at his side and continued the soft scratching of his little beta’s hair, content to stay like this for however long he could get away with. 

Chan pressed his palms against his eyes, feeling a throbbing headache creeping up on him. In the weeks since Jeongin’s presentation, everything seemed to be moving both too fast and far too slow. His commitment to dragging Jeongin with him all the way to debut had only doubled, so he spent a lot of extra time with the baby alpha, helping build up his confidence and special skills, adding more to his plate, on top of everything else that he was already doing. 

The screen of Chan’s laptop seemed to blur from the long hours he had spent staring at it. The lines of music that made up the new track he had been determined to make some progress on looked nearly incomprehensible. Chan sighed, pushing away from his workspace as he decided to take a short break in an attempt to refocus his mind. 

A knock at the door caught him before he could stand up. He spun his chair around just in time to see a manager open it. 

“Hey, hyung. What’s up?” Chan asked, itching to reach out and check his phone to see if he had missed a text or email. 

“Hey, Channie-ah.” Manager Junghan, a polite beta man, greeted him. “ I have a favor to ask,”

Chan smiled, 

“Sure, hyung. Happy to help.”

“Can you show him around?” Junghan asked, gesturing behind him vaguely at some unknown person in the hall. “He’s new and… well, you’ll understand in a minute.” Junghan sighed, stepping out of the way so that Chan could see their guest. 

He was a small boy, thin as a whip, a scattering of freckles tossed across his cheeks, framing some of the biggest eyes that Chan had ever seen, which was saying something, because he knew Han Jisung. Chan couldn't stop a smile from tugging at his lips. The pup was adorable and Chan felt an  immediate urge to bundle him up. He tried to push down the feeling immediately, getting attached to new trainees too soon was a good way to get your feelings hurt when they inevitably left when they couldn’t hack it after a first month of brutal training. 

“Hello! It’s nice to meet you. My name is Felix.” The pup said in heavily accented Korean. The words sounded unsure and unfamiliar, like he had only just learned them. Chan was surprised at the depth of his voice, his brain already rewiring songs in his head to utilize that colorfully deep tone for a pup his age. 

“Chan, Felix is from Australia, he’s not very good at Korean yet. I was hoping you could show him around?” Junghan asked, gently pushing Felix a step forward by the hand on his shoulder. 

Chan beamed, hopping out of his chair and hurried to save the files. He didn’t bother closing everything down, Changbin and Jisung would be by later anyways. 

“Yeah! Of course, mate! Let me grab my stuff.” Chan said in English, shoving his things into his pockets, ready to take over the tour for the other boy in only a few seconds. 

“Alright, let's go!” He grinned, stepping past Junghan and leading Felix back out into the hallway. Outside of the dim studio lighting, Felix looked even smaller. “Hey there, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Chan- or Chris, whatever works!” Chan smiled, holding his hand out for a handshake. 

“I’m Felix, thank you for taking care of me!” Felix rattled off in Korean, a phrase that he had clearly memorized. Chan was reminded so starkly of when he had first gotten here that he couldn’t hold back the fond smile, patting the pup on his shoulder. 

“Relax, you can speak English with me.” Chan winked, “I’m sure they told you that you shouldn’t and that you should only speak Korean so you can pick up on it faster, but I remember what it was like to hear a familiar language when I first got here.” Chan laughed awkwardly, “And, I mean, as for taking care of you - that’s what I’m here for!” He wiggled his fingers in a sad imitation of jazz hands, immediately feeling lame, asking himself why he did that. He raised one of his hands to the back of his neck, rubbing it bashfully. “Anyway, let’s get you all settled!” He said, starting down the hallway, Felix scurrying behind him with wide eyes. 

“So, you’re Chan?” Felix asked, suddenly, “I’ve heard a lot about you already.” Felix said, seeming to grow more comfortable with each step they took. Chan’s brow arched, looking sidelong at him as they walked. 

“Good things, I hope?” He joked, holding open the door to the cafeteria. 

Felix hummed, giving him a once-over before nodding. 

“You’re not as scary as they said you’d be.” He finally settled on, heading into the cafeteria ahead of Chan. Chan spluttered, letting go of the door in surprise and almost dropping it on a disgruntled Ryujin. He apologized, bowing quickly before following after Felix. 

“Who said I was scary?” He laughed. Feix chuckled  in that deep tone that Chan was sure would take him weeks to get used to. 

“The managers said there was a senior alpha trainee who everyone should listen to, that he was basically in charge of the trainees and he could be really strict, so stay on his good side- that has to be you, right?” Felix explained, looking around the cafeteria with wide eyes as if some bigger, scarier alpha was going to materialize and chastise him for not standing up straight or something.. 

“I guess that’s me. How did you know?” Chan asked, leading Felix towards the small cafe. 

“You’re a trainee, but you have your own studio, and you’re an alpha. It just made sense.” Felix shrugged, and Chan was struck with how much smarter this pup was than he had thought at first glance. Not that he thought Felix was dumb, he just looked so…innocent - but he was beginning to grasp how clever he really was. 

After they grabbed some quick snacks, Felix followed close behind Chan as he led him around the building, rattling off location for every door they passed- vocal rooms, dance studios, practice halls, each one layered with his own anecdotes and advice. Chan had been at this company for nearly as long as he had lived at his last house in Australia, it was familiar to him in a way he hadn’t quite decided if he liked or not. 

Felix hung on his every word, absorbing each new piece of information like it was gospel. It reminded Chan a little too much of himself during his own first few weeks at the company, bright eyed and stumbling over an unfamiliar language. 

His chest twisted uncomfortably, already wanting to both send Felix far away from the hurt this building could bring and tuck him against his chest so he could shield him from the brunt of it.

By the time they reached the dorms via a short trip on the bus, Felix was practically bouncing. 

He paused just before stepping in, glancing at Chan with a nervous excitement.

“Will I meet the others?” he asked.

Chan smiled. “You will, but fair warning - they’re a lot. Loud. Messy. Curious.”

“I think I can handle that,” Felix replied, with more confidence than his wide eyes conveyed.

Chan opened the door to the sound of laughter and the distant thud of something hitting a wall echoing down the hallway. Someone - probably Jisung - shouted something unintelligible, followed by a very clear, “Yah, that was my sock!”

Chan winced affectionately. “Told you.”

Felix giggled, even though he probably had no idea what had been said, and just like that, he stepped through the doorway into the chaos. His new world opened up before him with the same messy, overwhelming enthusiasm that had welcomed them all home for the very first time. 

Chan’s smile was bittersweet.

Felix fit into the structure of the core group of trainees as if there had always been a little Australian sized hole in their ranks. 

Jisung loved him, and the decibels the rowdy pup had reached when he found out they were almost birthday twins would surely have gotten a noise complaint if their neighbors weren't already so used to it. 

“You know,” Jisung had said ecstatically, “Because of, like, timezones,” He made and all encompassing gesture into the air between himself and Felix, communicating in the stilted English he had learned during his time in Malaysia, “We could have been born on the same day, actually. Maybe even the same time.”

One of the other English speaking trainees, Seokhwa, snorted, “I don’t know if the math really adds up-” 

Chan quickly shushed him, “Just let him have this,” He whispered. 

Seokhwa rolled his eyes, going back to the video game he had been playing against Hyungseok. 

What surprised Chan, though, was the way Felix seemed to bridge the gap between Jisung and Hyunjin. The two were more tolerant of each other when Felix was between them, choosing to dote on Felix instead. They bickered less, spent more time together and seemed to even find some common ground. Chan and Changbin were equally surprised, having always assumed that those two would remain the human embodiments of oil and water.

Felix had only been there for a couple months, but he was already irreplaceable to their little group. Everyone loved him. They fussed over him like he hung the very stars in the sky. 

Chan, however, couldn’t help but feel tense. 

Felix was so behind in so many things. He needed to learn Korean and learn it quickly, and he currently, though he was an amazing dancer, needed a lot of training when it came to singing and rapping. 

So Chan pushed.

He pushed Felix during practices, making him repeat the steps over and over again, making him do vocal runs five more times than everyone else. His heart ached every time he told Felix to go again, the hurt looks the pup would send him made Chan want to bundle him up and smother him in affection, but affection wouldn’t push Felix past the next set of evaluations. Holding his hand wouldn’t keep the instructors from singling him out, it wouldn’t stop the way Chan would have to advocate for him, and it wouldn’t keep him from having to refuse to translate their teachers’ harsh words into English for the younger boy to hear. 

So Chan pushed and pushed and pushed some more. He pushed Felix more than he had pushed anyone, ever. 

Jisung was already talented enough to debut. Hyunjin was a natural dancer and rapper, and his vocal lessons were going smoothly. Changbin could probably put out a mixtape now and make himself a career if he wanted to. Seungmin and Jeongin needed training but the vocal coaches already saw them as the companies golden boys, the little beta and alpha constantly exceeding all expectations. 

Chan needed Felix to be more and he needed to be there fast. The others helped where they could but they were too soft on the pup, coddling him, brushing his hair back during practices and giving him little sips of their water and Chan almost wanted to scream. He felt this itching under his skin, in a way he had never felt before. Even the thought of someone taking Felix from them made his hackles rise and the others just didn’t understand that he needed to push Felix. 

Felix, to his credit, took it like a champ. He tilted his chin up and followed every order, every demand for repetition and different pronunciation that Chan and their mentors threw at him. 

And when Chan backed away after practice, wary of Felix as if Felix would be scared of him, Felix drew Chan back in. The way Chan drove Felix was hard on him, Chan could tell, but Felix was strong. The strain was getting to Chan and the others, though. Chan could tell that the other trainees, even those in his inner circle, gave him a wider berth. Jisung still bundled into Chan’s chest at night, but now he seemed to be almost holding him down, pinning him to the bed like if he didn’t, Chan would get up and work them all through the night and into the next morning

Yet still, Felix would come to him. He would sit next to him at dinner, or join him on the couch on the rare evenings when the others coaxed Chan into joining them for a movie night.

“Chan,” Felix whispered one evening as they were all watching Spider-Man: Homecoming. 

“Hm?”

“Is it okay if I call you Chris?” Felix asked, “I know you said I could before, but it felt sort of, I dunno, rude when everyone else was calling you Chan,” He snuggled closer into Chan’s side before he said the next part, “But I think that I want to now, if that’s okay with you. I think it would make me feel… less homesick.”

Chan considered it for barely a moment before he was saying yes.

“Of course you can, mate.” He replied, playing up his accent to sound more Strine, at which Felix giggled.

“Alright,” Felix sighed, “Thank you, Chris.” His head dropped onto Chan’s shoulder and Chan almost gasped at the sharp pang in his chest at hearing his given name in that softly spoken deep timbre. 

“You’re welcome, Lix.” He whispered back, his arm tightening around Felix’s waist.

It was a cool evening, the trainees all piled into the dorm for the night and milling around aimlessly, listlessly trying to find excuses to stay as close to the space heaters as possible. Everyone was exhausted, but they all seemed to be waiting for an acceptable time to sleep. Training had been brutal for everyone that day, the Choreographer was in a mood and no one - Chan included - had escaped her wrath. The living room smelled like dejection, Changbin sprawled across the couch with  a few other boys littered here and there, not even bothering to turn on the TV for some background noise. 

Chan felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned around to see Felix standing behind him. 

“Hyung,” Felix mumbled, visibly exhausted. The choreographer had been harder on him than anyone else. Even though Felix had got every move down, the language barrier had set her off, making him an easy target for her annoyance. Chan did what he could to deflect it, but there wasn’t much anyone could do. 

“What’s up, Lix?” Chan asked in easy English, the language familiar and relaxing for them both. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Felix asked, a yawn threatening to cut him off mid-word. He had already changed into a loose shirt and sweatpants that made him look impossibly small. Chan was surprised by the question, startled into speechlessness. He had never asked him anything like that before, keeping their snuggling to the couch or the floor of the practice room.

“Uh- I’d, have to ask Jisung?” Chan started, flustered by the small frown tugging at the corner of Felix’s lips. “Well, actually-  Jisung can sleep with Changbin tonight.” Chan decided, determined to say anything to take the pout off of Felix’s lips. 

“He can what?” Changbin shouted from the couch, voice raspy and confused. 

“Shut up,” Jisung scoffed, kicking his foot out from where he was lying starfished on the floor beside the couch. Changbin squawked, rolling to the floor, and a scuffle broke out between the two. 

Felix giggled, looking away from them and back up to Chan. 

“Alright!” He chirped, “Thank you, hyung!” He was practically beaming as he rushed past Chan to grab Jisung by the hand and haul him up off the floor, the two of them running to one of the rooms already occupied by Hyunjin, giggling as they shut the door behind them. 

“What was that about…?” Chan asked, dazed, as he sat down on the spot Changbin had just vacated. 

Changbin shrugged and clambered up on the opposite end of the couch, dropping his feet into Chan’s lap as he ignored the older man’s grumbled protest. “I have no idea, but it feels like you might be the target.” 

“Great.” Chan grumbled, and pinched Changbin’s ankle just to hear him yelp. 

Later, when he went to his room, Chan was surprised to find Felix already sitting on his bed, a bright smile on his face. 

Jisung and Changbin were in the bed opposite, Jisung shifting around with a pout, as he pushed and shoved Changbin into an appropriate cuddling position, eventually squirming between his arms and settling down with a content grumble. Chanbin looked a mix of confused and endeared, allowing Jisung to position himself however he liked. Maybe they hadn’t ever cuddled before Chan threw them together the other night.

Chan shuffled in, sitting down on the very edge of his own bed like he was the guest. 

Changbin snorted. Chan ignored it, pointedly. 

“So, Felix, how do you want to… like what… position?” 

Both forms in the bed across from him giggled this time. 

“Just lay down, hyung.” Felix smiled, and Chan obeyed immediately, laying like he would normally lay for Jisung to climb into his arms on instinct.  Felix didn’t hesitate to curl up half on his chest, shoving his face almost inappropriately into Chan’s neck, like he was seeking out his scent. Chan swallowed, suddenly nervous.

“Good?” He asked, shifting so his arm was half wrapped around Felix. 

“Perfect” Felix all but purred, closing his eyes like he was already asleep. 

Perfect, Chan thought, smiling to himself. Before too long, he actually managed to drift off.

Later that night, or rather, early that morning, Chan found himself lying in bed awake once more, like he often did. 

Felix’s head was heavy on Chan’s chest. His mouth lax and open as he laid against Chan, deep breaths escaping him as he slept. His head rested right over Chan’s heart, rising and falling with each breath Chan drew.

Felix snuggled up next to Chan, his body half draped across his - left leg is thrown over Chan’s knees as his left arm haphazardly laid across Chan’s chest.

Chan’s own arm was around Felix’s waist, encircling his small form, softly petting his back in gentle circles, creating aimless patterns. With his other hand, Chan gingerly traced the tip of his fingers along Felix’s forearm - back and forth, back and forth.

Chan tilted his head down to meet the top of Felix’s head, burying his nose in Felix’s hair. He breathed in, the puppy scent of his hair making Chan smile against him.

Felix blearily opened his eyes at the contact, his fingers tightening in the material of Chan’s shirt as he lifted his head from Chan’s chest, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the weak light from the streetlights outside.

“‘It’s just me, Lixie,” Chan soothed, rubbing a few more times down his back. Felix exhaled, nodding sleepily. He turned his face up towards Chan, a questioning look on his face, gravel coating his voice. 

“Have you slept? Like… at all?”

Chan chuckled guiltily,

“A little bit, earlier.” He admitted. “Been awake for a while now.” Chan brushed his thumb over Felix knuckles.

“C’mon, Mr. Top Trainee, you need some sleep. We have plans tomorrow.” Felix grinned.

Chan dropped his head back against his pillow. 

“Oh, that’s right. I promised you ice cream for passing your rap evaluations, didn’t I?”

“Mhm. And maybe some Tim Tams, if we happen to find some.” Felix laid his head back against Chan’s chest, adjusting himself so that his ear was right over Chan’s heart again - the steady thump-thump slowly lulling him back to sleep.

“Oh, so I’m taking you to the import store, then?” Chan laughed, Felix just smiled against his chest and nodded sleepily. “Absolutely I will, little one.” Chan said, the endearment slipping past his lips without his permission, but he was too tired to really care. He could be embarrassed about it in the morning, if Felix even remembered. Chan tilted his face back down until his lips touched the crown of Felix’s head once more, pressed against the messy sweet smelling strands.

“G’night, Chris,” Felix mumbled, a sigh escaping his lips as he settled his weight on top of Chan more completely.

The arm Chan had behind Felix’s back pulled him closer, rubbing a few last times up and down his spine. “Goodnight, Lix-ah,” he whispered.

It was overwhelming to him, really. 

Felix was theirs. They got to keep him. 

They were seeing the effect that Felix had on all of them now more than ever. How he tried and succeeded at most everything he tried, even if it took him a few more attempts than everyone else. How he waited for their little group at the door of the practice room, their spirits instantly lifting just at the sight of him. Even when Chan was at his harshest, Felix would still come to him most nights for a quick hug, and Chan couldn’t help but admit that he was over the moon at the fact that the pup seemed so willing to forgive him. So willing to push through and to try and reconcile with him. And whether in the end he did or didn’t, it wouldn’t change anything. Chan would still carry him through to debut. He would wait until the ends of the earth, until time itself stopped, for Felix to forgive him. He would wait until every star burned out in the sky. He would wait until his very last breath.

Because Chan firmly believed that Felix belonged at their sides. 

Forever.

It was close to midnight and Chan had just returned to the dorms from a late night at the studio. He was just finishing up in the bathroom, splashing water on his face after applying a myriad of products to his acne-prone skin prescribed by the JYP approved dermatologist in hopes of quelling the pimples he could feel brewing, the unmistakable threat of a break-out. 

Chan tossed his damp washcloth onto the growing pile of towels next to the hamper, resigning himself to laundry duty tomorrow after practice. 

The apartment was quiet, moonlight spilling over the hardwood floor like a second blanket. Chan left the bathroom, dreaming of his bed. Halfway down the hallway he was pulled from restless thoughts by a soft, unfamiliar sound- something between a breath and a gasp.

He turned around and headed back the way he had come, towards the living room, and found the slight shape curled up on the couch in the living room, a tangle of blankets clutched tightly around their frame. 

Felix.

Even in the dim light, something looked off, his skin was flushed, damp with sweat, and his chest rose and fell in short, shallow bursts.

Chan stepped closer, cautious. 

“Lixie?” He whispered. “Are you okay?’

Felix’s eyes fluttered open and locked onto him, wide, glassy, panicked. 

“Chris,” he croaked. “I… I don’t feel right.”

It was only then that the scent hit Chan. It was subtle at first. Wildflowers and cotton, something instinctive and intimate and raw. It unfolded like a blooming flower in the air between them, soft and yet undeniable. 

His instincts surged like a tidal wave, an alpha answering an omega’s call.

“Oh,” Chan breathed, realization dropping heavy in his gut.

Felix whimpered, folding inward. “I think I’m presenting.”

Chan crossed the room in two strides, crouching beside him. 

“Okay.” He said firmly, more to himself than to the newly presenting omega before him. “Okay, it’s alright. We knew this would happen, remember? You’re safe. This is a safe place.”

“I didn’t know it would hurt,” Felix confessed, voice trembling. “Like I know they said it would hurt but, like, everything is too much. I- I can’t- my skin feels wrong-”

Chan exhaled carefully, trying not to inhale too deeply on his next breath to keep his instincts in check. He would never hurt Felix, or any omega in heat, but he also didn’t want to accidentally push himself into an early rut, either. . 

“We have a room. It’s safe. I'll get you there, alright?”

Felix nodded, teeth biting into his lower lip, eyes pleading even as they cloud over, the haze in his head warring his ability to understand what Chan was saying to him.

Chan got him there, quietly and with no interruptions. No contact unless absolutely necessary. He opened the heat room, led Felix in, and made sure he had water, scent blockers, clean blankets. Checked the mini-fridge to make sure it was stocked up with snacks even though he knew one of the others would be in to check on the little omega as soon as they heard what had happened. Then he closed the door and leaned his forehead against the cool wall outside, trying to breathe.

Six hours later, Chan yawned. He cupped his hands under the kitchen faucet, slurping the cool, mineral-tasting water right out of his palms. He had slept fitfully, worried about Felix’s presentation. The omega was so small - sweet smelling and pretty. Chan was certain Felix would turn heads now that he had presented.

Chan splashed some of the water on his face, groaning into the sink and pushing himself up, resigned to go back to bed for a couple more hours before he had to rouse the others. He turned off the stream of water. He wandered back to their room where he had left Jisung in his bed and Changbin in his own, sleeping peacefully. 

Turning the corner, he bristled at the scent of heat. Not the slow, meandering start of a heat like he had encountered with Felix just a few hours before. 

This was thick, rolling. 

His eyes darted to the side, confirming that the heat room door was still tightly closed. It was still sealed, the padding beneath the door undisturbed. 

No, the scent was coming from the figure that was stumbling into his chest. 

Chan caught Jisung reflexively, holding the pup- no, the omega- to his chest for a moment before he pulled him back to make eye contact. Chan couldn’t stop the way his nostrils flared, pupils dilating at the overpowering smell of omega, heat, and slick that was assaulting his senses. 

His hands tightened instinctively on Jisung’s upper arms, the younger omega whimpering. Jisung’s head tilted slowly to the side to expose his throat, flooding the room with more of his sweet scent. Chan’s teeth itched with the urge to mark, to bite. He felt like he was out of control right now, his whole body tense, trying to stop himself from moving. 

He was like a live wire, like there was an electrical feedback loop from where his skin was touching Jisung’s. He knew he should pull away, but he just couldn’t. Jisung’s hands inched up Chan’s arms, cautiously feeling the muscles coiled under his skin and another whine wormed its way out of Jisung’s throat. It was a feeble thing, Chan wasn’t even sure Jisung was aware he was making the sound. 

Chan swallowed thickly, daring to open his mouth, trying to cope with the taste of Jisung’s scent on his tongue. His brain was blank, he knew he was supposed to do something, anything, but he didn’t know what. 

His answer came in the form of Changbin, sleep ruffled and determined. In one hand he had a bandana pressed to his face and in the other he held another one. He swooped in and shoved it against Chan’s face, covering his mouth and nose.

The sterile scent of scent neutralizer flooded his system, breaking the growl that had started to form in his throat when he first saw the other alpha. He was stunned enough to let his grip on Jisung slacken, one hand falling from Jisung’s shoulder to hold the bandana to his face, taking desperate gulps of the clean, filtered air that it offered to him like salvation. 

Changbin pulled Jisung away from him and Chan’s other arm fell uselessly by his side. He watched, stunned, as Changbin opened the heat room and shoved Jisung in, hearing a murmur from Felix before the door shut just as quickly as it had opened. 

Changbin and Chan stared at each other, trying to process what exactly had happened. Chan still felt tense all over, his muscles almost cramping with how much he had been restraining himself. His head was swimming even as Changbin sprayed the hallway down with scent neutralizer. 

”You okay, hyung?” Changbin asked carefully, all too aware of the potential clash that can come from two alphas around a heat-stricken omega. Chan shook his head to clear it, licking his lips. He still felt slightly shaky, a little out of body. 

Jisung was an omega. 

All the plans that the three of them had been making for a solid little trio to lead the pack seemed to fall away before his very eyes.

Chan stumbled back into the kitchen, back braced against the counter, the neutralizer doused bandana still clutched to his face. His heartbeat hadn’t slowed yet, still drumming against his ribs like a warning, a beat, a song he hadn’t written down yet. 

He’d known it could happen eventually. He hadn’t expected it to be like that.

Felix had barely been here a few months and already Chan’s instincts had gone into overdrive around him; but he’d rationalized that. Felix was vulnerable, still learning the language, still uncertain. But Jisung? Jisung had always been their constant. Loud, brilliant, dependable. Beta. Now Chan didn’t know what to do with the memory of Jisung’s scent, the tilt of his throat, the sound of that broken whine like it had been meant only for him.

And Felix had been in the heat room already. Like he was waiting, reeking of omega and wildflowers and laundered cotton. Chan squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. 

“Hey. You alright?” Changbin’s voice came again, softer this time, a little less cautious and a little more familiar.

Chan exhaled through his nose and nodded, finally lowering the bandana. 

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Yeah. I just... wasn’t ready.”

Changbin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

“None of us were.”

“Two omegas,” Chan murmured, shaking his head. “And they’re ours. How are we supposed to keep them safe? We’re just a bunch of trainees playing house- this isn’t…” He stumbled over his own words messily, feeling like he was fraying at the edges. 

“It is, though,” Changbin interrupted. “It’s messy and it’s weird and we’re figuring it out.”

Chan pressed his lips together, fighting down the shiver crawling along his spine. 

“I almost bit him,” He whispered, shame wrapping tight around his throat like a whip. “I didn’t even think…but I wanted to-”

“But you didn’t.” Changbin’s voice didn’t waver as he interrupted Chan once more. “You didn’t, hyung. You’re not a threat. You’re our leader. You stopped.”

Chan looked up, finally meeting Changbin’s gaze. “They’re in there. Together.”

“They wanted to be. I didn’t force anyone.” Changbin’s mouth twitched into a faint smile. “Jisung was halfway into the room on his own. He told me he was going before he left the bedroom.”

Chan looked away, jaw clenched. “We need to talk to them. Set boundaries. Rules.”

“Yeah,” Changbin said with a nod. “But not now. Not while they’re both in heat. Give it a few days.”

Chan scrubbed a hand down his face. “What do we do now? How do we- Jisung was supposed to be a beta. How is this going to work?”

“I think,” Changbin said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, “that we’re already making it work. We’re just finally seeing the bigger picture.”

Chan didn’t respond right away. They walked back into the hallway, where the scent neutralizer was already beginning to fade, and listened. There were no sounds from behind the heat room door. Just silence.

He didn’t know what tomorrow would look like, but for tonight, he was willing to believe in the people he’d built this strange little family with.

“Alright,” he said at last, turning back to Changbin. “I’ll call the manager before we head in for the day.”

The studio was quiet, dimly lit by a single lamp in the corner. Jisung sat cross-legged on the floor with his notebook open in his lap, tapping the end of his pencil against the page. The tip had long since dulled, and he hadn’t written anything in the last twenty minutes.

Chan sat a few feet away, back against the wall, a guitar half-resting on his thigh. He hadn’t played anything either. They’d been sitting in silence like this for a while now.

Eventually, Chan broke it. “You okay?”

Jisung looked up, blinking like he was coming out of a daydream. 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I think so.”

Chan set the guitar down carefully beside him. “You haven’t really... talked to me. Since.”

“I know.” Jisung’s eyes dropped to his notebook. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Chan offered, voice gentle. “But I’m still here. Still me.”

Jisung looked over at him, eyes wary, then searching. “Are you?”

Chan hesitated. “I think I’m trying to be. I didn’t mean to make you feel different.”

“It’s not you,” Jisung said quickly, but he hugged the notebook to his chest like a shield. “It’s me. I... I don’t know how to be this yet. An omega. It doesn’t feel like it fits.”

Chan nodded slowly, looking at him with something like quiet grief and love tangled together. 

“You don’t have to be anything all at once. No one’s asking you to change.”

“I feel like everyone’s watching me now. Like I’m suddenly made of glass or something.” He chuckled dryly. “And I think I’m doing the worst impression of a head omega in trainee history.”

Chan smiled faintly, inching closer. “Honestly? You are.”

Jisung’s mouth fell open in mock betrayal.

“You’re loud, and messy. And you never remember everyone’s schedules.”

“Hey!” Jisung tossed a pillow at him weakly. “That schedule is way too complicated. Who remembers which class Seungmin does alone on Tuesdays?”

Chan let the silence sit between them for a moment before speaking once more, softer this time. 

“You’re still you, Sungie. I promise. You’re still the person who beat me in Mario Kart five times in a row and then wrote a diss track about it.”

Jisung let out a snort, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

“I don’t want to lose that version of you,” Chan continued. “But I also... I don’t want you to think I’m scared of this version of you either. That you can’t trust me.”

Jisung’s breath hitched slightly, the air between them suddenly heavier, but not uncomfortable - just charged.

“I did trust you,” he whispered. “I still do.”

“Then let’s figure this out. Together.”

Jisung turned his head to look at him fully now, all the jokes stripped away, eyes round and honest. “What if I mess up?”

“Then we’ll mess up,” Chan said simply. “And we’ll keep going.”

The weight of everything, their past, their chaotic present, their looming future, their changing selves - it all settled over them like a shared blanket. Jisung scooted a little closer, just until their knees touched, and Chan didn’t move away.

They sat like that, content in the familiar quiet, letting the trust rekindle between them, not from obligation or instinct, but by choice.

All things considered, Hyunjin’s presentation was fairly unremarkable.

It started with a scent spike in the hallway, sharp and unfamiliar, wild around the edges.

Chan was in the kitchen, hunchbacked over a cup of tea, when the change in the air made him freeze mid-sip. He knew every scent in the dorm like the back of his hand. This one was Hyunjin, but not Hyunjin the way he’d always been. This was Hyunjin, presenting.

He set the mug down gently and followed the source, heart already picking up speed.

By the time he reached the entry way, the scent was suffocating- champagne and roses and confusion. He found Hyunjin crumpled in the corner between the shoe rack and the wall, fawn-like limbs too long to fold up properly, skin flushed and sweat dampened at his temples. His eyes were glassy, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend that this was happening to him.

And sitting cross-legged in front of him, looking like he’d wandered into a scene he had no business being in but was too stubborn to leave, was Jisung.

Chan hesitated, just for a moment.

Jisung had a hand on Hyunjin’s knee, tentative, but not quite confident, like he’d seen someone do it once in a movie. He was murmuring something low and even, his voice stripped of its usual color and chaos. It didn’t sound like Jisung at all.

“Okay, look, I know we’re not exactly best friends,” Jisung was saying, eyes flicking up briefly as he registered Chan’s presence. “But I’m here, alright? You’re okay. Your body’s just… doing what it does now. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hyunjin didn’t respond except for a weak sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sob. His scent shifted again, more vulnerable now, tinged with panic, like he couldn’t believe the indignity of it all.

Chan wanted to step in. His whole body was primed to, but there was something in the way Jisung that stayed, shoulders tense, jaw locked, that made him pause.

Jisung was trying.

Really trying.

Even if it didn’t come naturally to him. Even if his every instinct seemed to rebel against the softness expected of him now. He wasn’t the nurturing type. Not by default. He was the kind of omega who cracked jokes in tense moments and forgot appointments, who refused to ask for help and shoved his way through discomfort with bravado.

Yet he was staying.

Later after the initial panic had passed and Hyunjin was curled up on the bed in the heat room with a weighted blanket and a mug of warm tea, Jisung stayed at his side like it was his job. He didn’t say much that Chan could hear through the door, just sat there beside the newly presented Hyunjin, sometimes sending Chan an update text.

Chan processed it all from the other side of the door, his heart in knots.

Over the next few days, Jisung took on more and more of the roles that should’ve belonged to a head omega. It was subtle at first. Checking in on the others when they looked tired. Stocking the pantry with heat snacks without being asked. Taking longer breaks in practice to check on other trainees in the room when Chan got too distracted.

But he wasn’t good at it.

He forgot what he was doing mid-task. Mixed up who liked what snack. Got defensive when someone asked him a simple question that he didn’t know the answer to.

When Hyunjin grumbled about the wrong detergent being used, Jisung snapped, “Sorry, I’ll just magically remember everything you like.”

Later, Chan found him sitting on the bathroom floor, elbows on his knees, gnawing at the inside of his cheek.

“Do I look like someone who’s supposed to manage other people’s emotions?” he muttered without looking up. “I can barely manage my own.”

Chan sat beside him, not touching. Just close.

“You don’t have to be perfect at it,” he said quietly.

“I don’t want Hyunjin to think I don’t care,” Jisung admitted. “Even if he drives me insane. And I know what it felt like, when I presented. Everyone looked at me like I was a broken microwave. I didn’t know what I needed either.”

Chan nodded, throat tight.

Jisung wasn’t a natural at it, but he was trying. Failing awkwardly, messing things up, getting too loud, too sharp sometimes, but still trying.

Chan didn’t know whether to be proud of him or to take it all off of his hands and tell him to go back to being just Jisung - loud, chaotic, and unfiltered. It felt so wrong to see him shoving himself into a mold he clearly didn’t fit in just because he presented as an omega and not a beta.

Instead, he leaned over and lightly bumped their shoulders together.

“You’re doing more than enough.”

Jisung looked at him then, the mask of indifference cracking just for a second. 

“Yeah?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t the right fit. 

Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

But sometimes trying was the closest thing they had to being okay.

It had started small.

A manager’s suggestion that maybe it would be good for their image; strong alpha and newly-presented omega - long-time friends becoming something more official. It wasn’t a demand, not exactly. No one had said ‘you have to do this’, but they would say things like ‘think about it’, or ‘it makes sense’, and ‘fans love a mated pair in a new group’.

 The company hadn’t told them to get together, but they hadn’t not told them, either.

And Chan… Chan had always loved Jisung. That was never the problem.

So he leaned into it. 

He took Jisung to the café they used to go to before the weight of expectations the lead trainee stopped Chan’s social life cold, the one with the chipped green booths and the lemon bars he knew Jisung still secretly loved. He bought Jisung a keychain shaped like a tiny hamster and said, “Made me think of you,” like it didn’t mean anything, even though it did.

Jisung smiled, soft and a little confused. “Because I’m cute or because I’m probably capable of chewing through drywall?”

“Both,” Chan had laughed, heart lifting when Jisung leaned into his side and let the silence stretch between them, long and easy. Chan rested his head against Jisung’s and just let them be comfortable together as they were for now.

The dorm lights were low, the quiet hum of the air conditioner the only sound as they sat on the floor in front of the couch. Chan’s guitar lay forgotten against the wall, and Jisung was leaning into him again, not heavy, but solid and familiar.

They’d been talking about music, about the demo they were working on, about how Jisung’s voice cracked sometimes when he got too excited and how Chan never minded. How he loved it, actually. Said it gave the song life.

Jisung had rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “You always say that when I mess up.”

“I say it when you make things better.”

It should have been one of those moments they always had, soft, safe, easy. But something shifted in the silence after, like they both heard something that hadn’t been said out loud.

Jisung turned to look at him, and there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Still that trust, yes, but also something else, hesitation worn thin by time. A question asked over and over that still hadn’t quite been answered.

“Chan,” He said, voice low and a little rough. “Do you…”

Chan didn’t get to hear the end of the sentence.

Jisung moved before he could. Knees folded under him as he shifted forward and climbed into Chan’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he belonged there. Like he’d done it a hundred times already in his mind. His hands came up to rest on Chan’s shoulders for just a moment, before sliding up to bury themselves in Chan’s hair. Jisung’s mouth was firm, decisive when it met Chan’s, a kiss like a statement. Not testing, not questioning. Just there, full of quiet certainty and something that trembled at the edges like boldness despite the obvious inexperience. Chan’s hands rose to rest on Jisung’s waist automatically.

It wasn’t a long kiss, but it left Chan breathless anyway.

Jisung pulled back, just a few inches. Chan's exhale almost felt like it had been yanked out of his chest. 

“Sungie…”

“Stop,” Jisung whined, suddenly red and warm in his lap like he had been suddenly transported back into his body and was horrified by what it had done all on its own in his absence. He scrambled away from Chan, curling up against the edge of the couch into a pathetically small ball, scent soured. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. I’m so stupid.”

“No. Jisung, no.” Chan said firmly, tugging on Jisung’s wrists in an attempt to coax him out of the ball he had tucked himself into. Chan wasn’t sure what had set him off like this, but it was so wrong that it made his palms sweaty and his heart race. “Jisung, stop. You just surprised me.” Chan chewed the peeling skin at the corner of his lip until he tasted blood. “I didn’t know that- Jisung-ah, we never talked about this. I didn't know that- is that-” Chan took a shaky breath reaching up to shove a hand through his hair nervously. He sighed, cutting off his own nervous fumbling. “Is this what you want?” 

“I love you.” Jisung said, voice steadier than it had been moments prior, bottom lip still trembling as he looked at Chan. 

“I love you, too.” Chan said, and it was honest. He loved Jisung, truly. Despite the uncertainty and pressure, Chan really did love him. Because Jisung deserved that. Deserved more than soft touches and the weight of something unspoken. Deserved to be kissed like this meant something, like Chan was sure. When pressed into a corner and made to really think about his feelings, Chan realized that he was sure. He had serious feelings for Jisung, feelings that deserved to be explored, to be given a chance to breathe.

“Then kiss me.” Jisung demanded. 

Chan let out a soft chuckle and leaned forwards, watching the flutter of Jisung’s pretty eyelashes as his eyes closed, lips pouted out adorably, waiting for the kiss. Chan meant to do it, really. Instead, he found his lips connecting not with Jisung’s lips, but with the tip of his nose in a soft, playful peck. 

Jisung squeaked, adorable and flustered and Chan’s heart swelled with emotion. 

I’ll always love you, more than I’ll ever know what to do with.

“Goodnight, Jisung-ah.” He said, standing and retreating to his room, leaving a dopily smiling Jisung behind on the floor of the living room. He tried not to think about the ache still lingering in his chest. Tried not to think of the last boy he had kissed in this dorm, and the empty spot he had left. Bambam had turned Chan’s scent to smoke. He wasn’t sure of all the ways that Jisung could ruin him, and that was terrifying, but nonetheless, he believed this could be enough. This could be it. Jisung could be his.

Jisung was here with him right now, in the present, trusting Chan with his heart.

And Chan was going to try, really try, to be worthy of that trust.

Over the next month or so he really committed himself to his new role. He brought Jisung his favorite snacks after vocal lessons. He let his hand linger at the small of Jisung’s back when they passed in the halls. He offered him his hoodie before Jisung even asked, already pulling it over his head with the easy familiarity of years shared together.

“You’re courting me,” Jisung said one night, surprise coloring his voice as he laid curled up at the foot of Chan’s bed, his hair still damp from the shower.

Chan hesitated, a bottle of water half-raised to his lips. “…is that okay?”

Jisung shrugged, not looking at him. “Kind of. I mean, yeah.” He bit his lip, eyes darting towards the door to make sure no one else was coming in before returning to Chan. “ Just… I wasn’t sure you’d want me as an omega, you know, because I’m not a beta, and, like when you thought I was gonna be a beta you weren’t really into me, you know? So-”

“I was, though.” Chan interjected.

Jisung blinked at him. “Was what?’

“Into you.” Chan shrugged. “I just didn’t really know it at the time, because you were still a pup, you know? Had my paternal instincts all riled up.”

Jisung made a face, “That’s kinda gross, hyung, don’t make me think about my dad when I want to kiss you.”

Chan scooted closer to him and let his hand drop on Jisung’s knee. His thumb smoothed over the exposed skin just below the hem of his basketball shorts, he had only meant for the couch to be comforting, but Jisung flushed bright red anyway.

“I do want you,” Chan confirmed, but then he himself blushed and he rushed to say, “Uh, I mean, I want to court you. As an omega or a beta. You’re one of my best friends, Jisung-ah. Who doesn’t want to fall in love with their best friend?”

Jisung looked up at him, gaze open and soft in a way that made Chan ache. “I trust you.”

It was the kind of sentence that came with a thousand unspoken meanings. I trust you not to hurt me. I trust you to know if this is right. I trust you even if we’re both not 100% sure what we want yet.

And Chan, who as a personality flaw always wanted everything too much, all at once, nodded like it was easy. “Then we’ll try. There’s no pressure. We’ll keep it simple.”

Yet there was pressure. There always had been pressure. Pressure from the whispers in the practice room, from the way the trainers smiled when they stood close together. The world was already expecting something from them, and Chan was trying his best not to let that change the way he felt about Jisung. He didn’t want their relationship to feel forced. He wanted Jisung to know that he chose him, that the company had chosen Jisung for him.

He would never let them use Jisung. The thought made him sick. He loved him. He did. Maybe not in the way that left him breathless quite yet, not the pulse of something ancient in his blood like they talked about in those overly dramatic historical dramas full of palace intrigue and death, but in a way that mattered. Jisung was his best friend, his mirror, his constant.

That didn’t change the fact that Chan had no fucking idea what he was doing.

After they had their hidden conversation about courting, everything felt like it was going a lot smoother. They would sit on the floor of the dorm, knees touching, Jisung leaning against his shoulder, humming under his breath. Chan would card a hand through his hair and feel the way Jisung melted into it, trusting, pliant. He would think: we’re making this work. I could be good to him. We could be good for each other.

But then he’d dream of Bambam, of the first omega he thought of holding like this, peaches and white wine and an accent he could never truly shake. He had long since left those feelings behind, buried them under work and time and repression that would make a therapist see dollar signs. He wasn’t in love still- or maybe he was, maybe he always would be. But this new love blossoming for Jisung seemed to push the roots of that former flame back to the surface. Withered and dead, but not quite decayed enough to be unrecognizable- and maybe it would never be. It was a deep seated fear, one anchored in unintentional betrayal and unaddressed, one-sided tension. It was so, so easy to see that his relationship with Jisung was nothing like the one he had with BamBam, but that didn’t stop him from jolting awake at night and scrambling to see if Jisung was still curled up sleeping next to him.

The next morning after one of these nightmares, he would bring Jisung coffee and sit too close and smile too wide. Trying to replace shame with effort. Trying to earn the future everyone else had already written for them .Jisung never said anything. Just sipped his drink and rested his head on Chan’s shoulder like he was still choosing him, even if he didn’t know what they were choosing yet.

They weren’t official. Not really. But everyone knew.

Sometimes he worried that Jisung was just the safest place for his heart to land.

That was the thought that haunted him as he sat on the rooftop late one night, knees pulled to his chest, hoodie pulled over his head even though the spring air didn’t call for it. Their past perceived relationship had always made sense, hadn’t it? Chan and Jisung, an alpha and a beta, a pack leader and his right-hand, logic and chaos somehow made compatible. The jokes from their friends, the easy affection, the way Jisung followed him without hesitation. It was comfortable. Easy and expected. They’d find an omega to round out their trio and they’d be picturesque, unstoppable. It had never really occurred to them that being a mated trio with an omega was a sort of romantic relationship, he guessed they had always thought the omega would be a bridge between them. A partner that they shared. 

Jisung wasn’t a beta, though. Jisung was very undoubtedly an omega. 

No one had expected it, least of all Chan. 

Omegas weren’t traditionally so loud, weren’t so brash and bold, so confrontational and headstrong the way that Jisung was. But when Jisung’s first heat hit, suddenly everything changed.

He kept telling himself it was fine. That it was manageable. That Jisung was still the same Jisung who dreamed of building a pack with him before, that Jisung wasn’t suddenly going to decide he deserved more than Chan could offer, even though Chan knew without a doubt that he did. Jisung deserved the moon and stars and everything he wanted, and Chan could give him none of that. Chan couldn’t even promise him a career, if the trainers at the company really decided Jisung wasn’t meant to debut.  

Now that they had moved past that initial awkwardness, things were easy between them, natural. He wasn’t forcing it or pulling at feelings that weren’t already there. He loved Jisung so, so much and now he was just letting himself consider what they could be now that the dynamic had shifted. Letting himself be soft with Jisung in the quiet moments, talking late at night, offering grounding pressure when Jisung’s instincts got scrambled post-presentation. They were good together. Easy in the way long friendships often were. He could imagine it working, if he forced himself to stop imagining all the terrible reasons why it wouldn’t.

In all of these horrible imaginings, the reason they failed was never anything to do with Jisung. Chan knew if it came to it, he would be the breaking point between them. He would be the one who forced Jisung to leave him behind. 

Again..

He was trying so fucking hard, yet he still felt like he was messing everything up somehow. Jisung was happy. The pack was safe. Chan was, for the first time in a long time, so thoroughly surrounded by people that he loved and that loved him in return, and his every instinct was petrified.

He had this once before, or so he had thought. A pack, a future omega, warmth and love and even a pup on the way and it had all been ripped away from him by a company executive and a debut song without his voice in it. He knew how easily it could all happen again. 

Chan squeezed his eyes shut and let his head drop against his knees, letting the ache roll over him.

He didn’t know how long he could keep this up. He didn’t think being in a relationship with someone he loved was supposed to hurt like this.

Something was going to break soon and he was afraid it might be him

Even after the hallway had been scrubbed clean of the stink of their rapidfire presentations, Chan felt like something had shifted; like some gear deep inside him had caught and spun, irreversibly changing direction. He needed air. He needed distance. He needed normal - something outside the whirlwind of training, instincts, and aching responsibility.

He called Younghyun the next day.

Time with Younghyun had become a precious commodity in the past year or two, Chan realized as he stretched out on the Day6 dorm couch, trying to hold back a yawn that threatened to shake his whole body. He had weaseled his way out from beneath their manager’s watchful eye for the night, walking the half mile between dorms to spend an evening with Younghyun on one of their rare free days that managed to line up. It wasn’t often their schedules allowed them to spend an evening together, so when they did Chan almost always jumped at the chance. 

Chan’s leg was unceremoniously tossed from the couch cushion, Younghyun dropping down heavily to occupy the space, a bowl of popcorn in his lap. 

“Okay, now you can unpause it,” Younghyun said, letting Chan stretch for the remote and resume the movie they had paused while he made popcorn. 

It was some worthless action movie filled with actors Chan didn’t know the name of, but it was entertaining enough. He stretched back out, putting his feet in Younghyun’s lap as he sprawled across the couch. Younghyun grumbled slightly but adjusted, his hand resting warmly against the skin of Chan’s calf. Chan swallowed, trying to redirect his focus on the movie rather than the churning in his gut or the sliver of skin rising up on Younghyun’s waist from where his hoodie had bunched behind him when he sat down.

An hour or so passed of Chan and Younghyun making sarcastic quips, pointing out the plot holes or even rewinding to listen to the background music several times. Chan was enjoying himself but not because of the movie, but because being there with Younghyun felt like a vacation away from all the hard work he had to put in day in and day out. It was so nice to just… not be the hyung for once. 

Younghyun’s phone blared, snapping them from the disgustingly romantic mid-battle scene that they had been, at best, tolerating. Younghyun’s eyebrows furrowed and he seemed to debate on whether or not to pick up. Ultimately deciding to take the call, he paused the movie. 

“Younghyun here.” He answered, the scrunch of his brows smoothing out as the muffled voice on the other end spoke. “Oh, yeah? This early? Yeah, yeah I got it. I can be over in 30 minutes. Is anyone else with her?” 

The one-sided conversation confused Chan, sitting up uncomfortably, Younghyun pushing off his legs so he could stand as he finished the conversation. 

“It’s not an issue, I’ll head over now. Thanks for calling me.” Younghyun finished, ending the call and stuffing his phone into his pocket. 

“Who was that?” Chan asked, the movie long forgotten now. 

“Sori’s heat started early so she called me in.” Younghyun answered, already shuffling around for his keys and wallet. “Sorry to cut the night short, we’ll finish this another time, yeah?” Younghyun asked, an apologetic tone in his voice despite him rushing around, grabbing a bag, and heading to his room. 

Chan trailed behind him like a baby duck, watching as Younghyun stuff the bag with a few changes of clothes, spare underwear and, surprisingly enough, a box of condoms. Chan’s face heated at the sight, suddenly far too aware of what was happening. 

“Sori?” Chan asked, the name unfamiliar. 

“Yeah, from that duo, CocoSori?” Younghyun explained, zipping the bag up. 

“Since when were you a loan alpha?” Chan asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He was grown, an alpha of legal age, he could talk about loan alphas without getting flustered. 

“A few months now, I guess? I finished my registration a while ago but haven't gotten many calls, only a couple here and there. It takes a while to build up a good reputation.” Younghyun answered, leaving his bedroom to enter the kitchen, filling up a reusable water bottle and stuffing several plastic bottles and snacks into his bag. 

“Oh, got it.” Chan answered, dumbfounded. 

Loan alphas were not new to Chan, having learned about them in health class the same as everyone else. They were respectable alphas with good reputations and solid social circles, well known for being respectful, reliable, and discreet. In the past it had been easier for packs to pass around an omega in heat from member to member as each pack mate went about their day, but in modern times with modern work schedules, that method became more and more unstable. That’s where loan alphas stepped in- taking on other packs’ omega to help them with their heat, or keep them safe when their packmates were busy and couldn’t always be there. 

Sometimes it wasn’t even sexual. Chan had seen a loan alpha loitering backstage at a broadcast station once when he was there on a trainee tour. She had been accompanying a solo omega while her pack had business elsewhere. If anything were needed for an omega to feel safe and comfortable away from their pack, from heat partners to reliable escorts, a loan alpha would step in. 

It was unpaid - but heavily regulated - work. Frequent STD checks were subsidized by the government, and to even get a permit an alpha needed reference letters from at least five unrelated omegas. Reports of misuse of power or abuse would be processed and the permit could be revoked, and a former loan alpha could even face jail time. To avoid loan alphas claiming custody of pups that came from an assisted heat, any alpha holding a loan alpha permit had no legal right to pups born outside their pack, 

Chan knew of a few loan alphas, the information wasn't secret, it was a well-respected social status to be approved as a loan alpha. He knew Wooyoung-hyung in 2PM was registered, and he heard it mentioned that Minhyuk from BTOB had registered recently as well. 

But Younghyun?

Younghyun shouldered his bag, patting his pocket to confirm he had everything. 

“I’ll walk you down Channie.” He said, slipping into his shoes at the doorway. 

Chan nodded, grabbing his own stuff and stuffing his feet into his ragged converse, stepping out the door so that Younghyun could lock it behind them. 

The walk down was silent, Younghyun tapping away on his phone and Chan unable to get the weird haze out of his head from their conversation. His gut churned as he waved bye to Younghyu, then turned down the street to go back to his own dorm.

Chan was… bothered. 

He tried to chalk it up to having their night interrupted, but that wasn’t it. He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly opened Naver, typing in ‘Sori’. Immediately the search results were flooded with picture after picture of a beautiful omega woman. The knot in his chest tightened as he looked over her pictures with a furrowed brow. 

She was beautiful and petite, the textbook definition of an omega woman. And she was going to spend her heat with Younghyun. She must be Younghyun’s type, with how pleased the alpha had smelled as he got ready. 

Chan frowned harder, eyes scanning over every feature of hers, cataloging what was different from his own. Small waist, large chest, big eyes- he caught himself, stopping dead in his tracks. 

Why was he upset they were different? Obviously on a basic level she was a woman and he was a man. Not to mention their differing dynamics. So why was he bothered by the fact Younghyun’s potential type was so far away from him?

She was probably his type. If not he wouldn't have helped her out, right? Or maybe he was just that selfless- but no one was that selfless. Did Loan alphas only agree to help out omegas that they were attracted to? 

If he was attracted to her, does that mean he wouldn’t be attracted to Chan? 

Why did that thought bother him so much? 

Younghyun was an alpha and Chan was an alpha, he shouldn’t be bothered by who Younghyun was attracted to, but something in him seemed to scream with inadequacy at the very idea of himself not being one of those people. 

Was he attracted to Younghyun? 

That thought made him speed up, shoving his phone in his pocket and beginning to jog down the sidewalk like if he went fast enough he could outrun that particular train of thought. 

Younghyun was an alpha, Chan was an alpha. Chan knew he was attracted to Omegas- he was courting Jisung, and he knew how beautiful Hyunjin and Felix were. He couldn’t be attracted to an alpha, it just didn’t make any sense. 

He was attracted to omegas, not alphas. He knew some people were gay- and he knew attraction to ‘non-traditional’ dynamics within a pack was normal, what with how close packmates were and how much time they spent together. It was only natural to develop an intimate bond. But Younghyun wasn’t in his pack, and Chan wasn't gay. It didn’t make sense why he felt so off about Younghyun going and fucking some random omega woman he had maybe met backstage a few times, max. Chan frowned at the sidewalk as he picked up the pace once more.  

Things seemed so clear cut in his mind, his courting was going well with Jisung, he had a tentative pack forming around him, things made sense.

The tightening in his chest and flush on his cheeks when he thought about Younghyun with an omega didn’t make sense. Not at all.

By the time he got to the dorm he was tired of these thoughts, wanting to chase them away with a distraction to avoid thinking too long about things like heats and alphas, but the dorm was annoyingly empty when he arrived, trainees either out on their own adventures, visiting home or asleep. 

He took the steps two at a time, punching in the code with more force than necessary and stepping into the dorm, almost frustrated that his thoughts didn’t remain outside the door, like they were some ephemeral gay vampire that needed permission to follow him into his home. 

Chan groaned, kicking his shoes off and throwing himself onto the couch, a chip bag became pinned under him, crunching loudly in the relative quiet of the dorm. 

“That was dramatic.” Changbin commented from the kitchen, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Chan jolted up, ears red at being caught throwing a tantrum. 

“Weren't you supposed to be at YoungK-sunbaenim’s dorm? Did something happen?” Changbin asked, kicking Chan’s legs down so he could sit next to him, digging the chip bag from under him to save it from being crushed to dust. 

“He got called for an omega. He’s a loan alpha now, apparently. '' Chan grumbled, bringing his legs back up to rest in Changbin’s lap, a parallel to how he had been at Younghyun’s before the call. Changbin’s hand rested on his ankle, and Chan tried to not squirm at the contact, paranoid that it would seem suspicious and reveal his traitorous gay thoughts . 

Changbin, as always, caught on far too quickly for anyone’s own good. 

“So… you’re bothered that Younghyun-hyung went to spend time with an omega and didn’t decide to stay with you? Are you jealous?” He asked, squeezing Chan’s ankle tightly. Chan jolted, yanking his legs away. He sat up fast enough that he had black spots dancing in front of his eyes for a few dizzying seconds. 

“What are you talking about?” He snapped, voice too high to really play it off as anything besides panic. 

Changbin grinned, leaning forward,

 “It smells like you’re jealous.” He teased in an almost sing-song voice, his smile not fading when Chan shoved his face away. 

“Dude, why would I be jealous that some random omega gets to spend time with him?” He grumbled defensively, trying to avoid Changbin’s eyes. 

“I never said you’d be jealous of the omega.” Changbin pointed out slyly. Ice shot through Chan’s veins at the mistake. He was supposed to be jealous of Younghyun, wasn’t he? He was supposed to want to get to spend the night with the gorgeous omega. Chan swallowed anxiously, nails digging into his jean-clad thighs. 

“I just- I’m into omegas. You know that. Everyone knows that! I can’t be- it doesn't make sense,” Chan stuttered through his excuse, suddenly much more aware of the sharp scent of heated circuitry and sun warmed stone coming from the alpha next to him. Chan’s own scent permeated the room, uncertainty and nerves woven into the eucalyptus and smoke. 

“Dude, take a breath. It's okay.” Changbin started, reaching out his own hand to cover Chan’s on his knee to stop the nervous scratching Chan hadn’t even realized he was doing. 

“It’s not okay! What if I am attracted to alphas? What would I tell Jisung?” Chan groaned, pressing his face into his palms and heaving a sigh. “How can I stay with Jisung when I’m attracted to alphas instead-” 

Changbin cut him off with a laugh, pulling his hands down so he could see him clearly.

“Instead? Chan everyone knows you're attracted to omegas, what do you mean instead?” He asked, brows raised like Chan had grown an extra head. 

“Well- you know! You’re straight, you like omegas. But If I like alphas then-” Changbin snorted, cutting Chan off once more. 

“I’m not straight, hyung.” Changbin said plainly, watching the cogs turning in Chan’s head. 

“Wait… what?” Chan asked, dumbfounded. 

“I’m not straight. I like betas and alphas just as much as I like omegas.” He repeated, patting Chan’s thigh. 

“So you can…” 

“Like more than one? Yeah. It’s called being Bisexual, surely you’ve heard of it?” Changbin teased lightly. 

Of course Chan had heard of it, he didn’t live under a rock. He had just forgotten about it in the midst of his panic, the concept falling to the wayside compared to his doomsday internal monologuing. 

“If you like alphas, and Younghyun is a great choice by the way - then you’re probably bi, hyung. It’s okay if you are, you're not betraying Jisung or whatever you have going on in your head over there.” Changbin scolded gently, not releasing Chan’s hand just yet. 

Chan knew alpha attraction was considered to be taboo. Attraction and interaction with alphas within your own pack was a normal part of dominance structures within a pack, enough that if two alphas were… involved… it wouldn't be seen as anything besides pack hierarchy alpha bullshit. But Younghyun wasn’t his alpha- not really. Not in any way that justified this kind of attraction. 

Chan swallowed uncomfortably, looking over at Changbin, taking in his calm smile and relaxed scent. He seemed unsurprised and unbothered by this information, squeezing Chan’s hand a little in reassurance. 

“I… I guess.” Chan said lamely, frowning up at the ceiling like it had personally offended him. “How did you know you were… yaknow? Alpha attracted?” He asked, glancing out the corner of his eye to look at Changbin contemplatively. 

“I just kind of always knew, ever since I presented, that alphas and betas were interesting to me the same way that omegas are.” Changbin shrugged, like it was a normal question to be asked. 

Chan glanced between Changbin and his own lap, nerves chewing at the frayed end of his patience, pushing him to move without thinking. 

He leaned forwards, cutting off whatever explanation Changbin was gearing up to give with a kiss. Chan sloppily pressed his lips to the other alphas, more mushing their faces together than anything else. Chan didn’t have the experience Changbin did- he’d only ever kissed two people and one of them didn’t even count. 

Chan pulled back, heart in his throat, ready to apologize when Changbin chuckled, weaving a hand into the curls at the nape of Chan’s neck, sending a full body shiver through his frame. “That was sloppy, hyung. Try it like this.” He guided, pulling Chan into another kiss, slower and gentler than Chan’s first rushed movement. 

Chan let Changbin lead the kiss, lips moving together, shifting on the couch until he was pressed to Changbin’s side, soaking in the smell of flint and attraction coming off the younger alpha in waves.  

Changbin nipped at his lower lip and Chan breathed out, letting him slip his tongue into the space he created, falling deeper under the lure of the kiss, like waves breaking against the shore.

When they finally broke apart it was with a small gasp, Chan’s lips wet and tingling from the contact. His eyes were blown out, the whole living room smelling of aroused alpha, their scents batting up against each other, fighting for dominance even if they weren't themselves. 

Chan felt like he should have taken charge more- push off Changbin’s hold on his neck and dominate the interaction, show Changbin who his pack alpha was. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to fold himself into Changbin's side and soak in the warmth and loyalty pouring off the other alpha in waves. 

He knew, then and there, that no matter what their pack looked like in the future, Changbin would follow him without question. His loyalty was as reliable as the sunrise was. 

Chan smiled against Changbin’s lips, brushing them together unhurriedly, a simple touch of affection between them. 

“So?” Changbin asked, smug. 

“I think you’re right.” 

“I'm always right, hyung.” Changbin grinned, squeezing Chan’s thigh and making him jump, breath catching in his throat. 

The moment was broken by the door opening, reminding them both they had been making out in the middle of the living room, where anyone could walk in and see them. Chan flushed red, shoving Changbin off the couch in a panic as the chatter of the incoming trainees trailed off. 

Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin were at the door, trailed behind by Allen and Steven, the two betas snorting and heading to their room, leaving behind the pseudo-pack. 

Hyunjin and Felix were grinning, eyebrows shot into their hairline at the scene. 

“It smells like you two were having fun.” Hyunjin teased, kicking off his shoes. Seungmin cleared his throat, pointedly opening a window. 

Jisung looked flushed and confused, glancing between Felix’s smug grin and Changbin’s disheveled state on the floor. Chan’s stomach clenched, a sudden fear overtaking him. What if Jisung was upset- what if he saw it as a betrayal? It was obvious what they had been doing even if the room didn’t still smell. He opened his mouth to defend himself or apologize- he wasn’t sure which, when Jisung beat him to it. 

“I wanna watch it next time.” Jisung pouted. 

Felix and Hyunjin laughed, shoving Jisung over the bold statement, though notably they weren’t disagreeing. 

Chan flushed crimson at the implications, feeling his ears turn red under their combined gazes.

Chan didn’t know what he had started..

Jisung had been quieter than usual all day, which wasn’t saying much to anyone who didn’t know him all too well. But Chan did. He noticed the way Jisung hovered closer than usual, the way his jokes felt too rehearsed, too light, like he was trying to distract even himself. He noticed the way Jisung’s eyes kept finding his across the room. He knew when Jisung was thinking too hard about something, yet despite a million unsubtle checks of his scent throughout the day, Chan couldn’t figure out what.

By the time night fell, the others had gone out, or disappeared into their own corners of the dorm. Chan stayed behind. Instinct, maybe. Or something closer to hope.

Jisung knocked on his door once, then let himself in without waiting.

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there for a moment, arms wrapped tightly around himself, expression unreadable in the dim light. And then, with a quiet, breathless sound, he crossed the room and sat beside Chan on the bed like it was the only place he could think to go.

“I want to stay with you tonight,” Jisung whispered.

Chan reached out without thinking, brushing the back of his fingers against Jisung’s flushed cheek. “Okay.”

Jisung chewed his lower lip before nervously adding “Together. In the heat room.” 

It was like a dam had broken, now that he had spoken, and before Chan could get in a shocked word edgewise Jisung was rambling. “I just- my heat is coming soon and I don’t want my first time to be in heat but I want my first time spending my heat with someone to be with you and I thought maybe tonight we could- I mean, since everyone is out, but if you don’t want to!-“ 

Chan cut him off, stepping out of bed and walking with purpose to Jisung. Jisung didn’t flinch, didn’t fear for one second the alpha that was all but rushing him. 

Chan hugged him tight, unyielding and desperate. “It’s okay, Sungie. I want that, too.”

Jisung leaned into the touch. Just a little. Just enough. 

There was no plan. No script. They had talked about possibilities before, in abstract shapes and half-jokes. Never like this. Never with their hearts in their throats and the world narrowed down to a shared breath. They made their quiet way to the heat room, avoiding the creaky floorboards like they were trying to not get caught even though no one was home. Like children sneaking out of their parents’ house.

It wasn’t about giving in to  instinct, not really. Or maybe it was, but it was also shaped by something gentler. They moved slowly, like the moment might break if they rushed. Like they were afraid to ask each other for too much. Like this trust between them was something fragile and sacred.

Jisung trembled sometimes, caught in a strange place between pain and need. Chan held him through it, murmured steady things that didn’t need meaning, just presence. And when the space between them finally dissolved into something wordless and intimate, it was with hands that shook and eyes that never looked away.

Neither of them had ever done this before, not with anyone, not even close. The halting and messy kiss with Bambam, the more passionate ones with Jisung, the electricity shared with Changbin? It was nothing like this. It was clumsy and careful and frightening in the way only something important could be. Jisung pressed their foreheads together afterward, both of them too overwhelmed to speak. Chan breathed with him, heartbeat for heartbeat.

They stayed tucked away in the heat room through the night. He held Jisung close, wrapped around him in the silence that felt comfortable and warm. There were no promises made between them, at least not outloud, only the unspoken truth of their hearts in every glance they shared and every small kindness. This meant something profound to both of them.

And in the stillness of morning, when Jisung finally drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, Chan didn’t move. Just listened to the rhythm of his breathing and let the moment settle around them.

He arrived on a Wednesday.

It was late summer, too hot for the amount of trainees they’d crammed into the practice room, the AC wheezing against the windows like it wanted to give up. Chan hadn’t been paying attention at first, too focused on perfecting a transition that everyone else seemed to have already nailed, when the door creaked open.

And then Minho stepped in.

Handsome, broad-shouldered, calm in a way that didn’t read as shy so much as it did self-contained. His scent followed him into the room: something sharp and deep, rain and coffee, grounded and unapologetically alpha.

Chan felt it immediately, like pressure on the back of his neck.

A new alpha. A dominant alpha.

It shouldn't have bothered him. New trainees came and went. Betas, omegas, other alphas, none of them had shaken him like this. But this one… 

This one was different.

The room shifted as Minho introduced himself in a tone that held no arrogance, just quiet certainty. The others took to him quickly. He was charming without trying, quiet without being distant. And talented. Really talented. Even within just a few movements, Chan could see it. His frame carried years of dance training, there was control in every step, the kind of strength that didn’t need to prove itself.

He caught Jisung watching the new alpha, too. 

At first it was just curiosity. Chan told himself. Jisung was like that, always wide-eyed, always reaching toward the new and interesting. 

When they returned to the dorm that night, Chan and Jisung took some time for themselves in the heat room. Laying in each other’s arms afterwards, Jisung suddenly pouted. 

“What’s wrong, Sungie?” Chan asked, pressing a kiss against his temple.

“I don’t like him.” He sniffed haughtily.

Chan laughed, “Who?”

“Minho,” Jisung spat out the new alpha’s name like it was something that tasted particularly bad. “He’s too pretty. It’s creepy. Like, uncanny valley creepy, you know? And you can tell he’s stuck up. He knows he’s hot and hot guys are always jerks.”

Chan laughed, rolling his eyes at Jisung’s little tirade. He always managed to find something he didn’t like about the new trainees. Felix was the only person who had ever escaped his ire. Yet Chan couldn’t help but feel unsettled that the thing that Jisung had decided to be mad about was ‘too hot’. 

The next day at practice Jisung glared at the back of Minho’s head, pulling faces at him when he wasn’t looking, all the way up until Minho turned around and winked at him and Jisung realized that he could see him the entire time in the mirrors. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon hiding behind Chan every time they had a break. Chan laughed at him quietly, giving him little kisses when the teachers weren’t looking and patting him consolingly on the small of his back like a disgruntled baby. 

But over the next few weeks, Jisung's attitude changed. It turned from curiosity to unfiltered aggression to admiration. 

Then into something else. 

Something Chan recognized all too well.

Want.

The worst part about it was that it was clear that Jisung didn’t even realize that he was doing it.

The first time Chan saw them talking alone, it was by the vending machines. Jisung was grinning up at Minho, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, and Minho was leaning down, one arm braced casually against the wall. It looked like nothing, like a trainee asking another if they could borrow a piece of gum, but Chan felt ill just the same.

He stayed back, pretending to scroll through messages on his phone, pretending not to notice the way Jisung tilted his head like he did when he wanted to be liked. Chan knew all of Jisung’s tricks. He’d been on the receiving end of every one of them. He'd fallen for all of them.

When Jisung wandered back to the practice room, his scent was lighter somehow. Softer. Relaxed. Chan didn’t say anything. He just picked up the choreo again, heart pounding harder than it should.

“I like him,” Jisung said a few nights later, in complete contrast to the last conversation they had about Lee Minho. They were lying on the floor with his head in Chan’s lap, scrolling on his phone.

Chan hummed, running a hand absently through Jisung’s hair. “Yeah, he’s… good.”

“He’s funny,” Jisung added, grinning. “Like, kind of blunt. But in a fun way. And he learns choreo so fast, I swear it’s not human.”

Chan nodded, fingers pausing in Jisung’s hair. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately.”

Jisung looked up at him, blinking. “Is that bad?”

“No,” Chan said quickly. “Just… noticed, that’s all.”

Jisung tilted his head, like he was trying to read something in Chan’s face. Then he let it go. 

“He’s cool. We’ve got chemistry, you know?”

That stung more than Chan expected.

Chan tried not to pull away after that. He tried not to act weird, but it was hard, because every time Minho walked into a room, the air shifted. People stood straighter. Even Felix had stopped mid-joke once when Minho had entered, caught off guard by the sheer presence of him. Minho had taken to helping Felix with his Korean. Chan realized he should have done that weeks ago. 

Minho wasn’t loud. He wasn’t flashy. He just was… solid and magnetic, and Chan could feel the rest of the group orienting around him slowly.

Even Jisung.

Especially Jisung.

“I’m not trying to replace anyone,” Minho said one night after practice, when only the two of them were left stretching in silence. Chan hadn’t said anything to prompt it. But the tension must have been obvious.

Chan snorted. “As if you’d tell me if you were?”

Minho shrugged, not unkindly.

“I didn’t come here to step on toes.”

“Just happens naturally with you, huh?” Chan snarked uncharacteristically. 

Minho’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t rise to the bait. 

“Jisung loves you. You know that.”

Chan didn’t answer.

The worst part was he did know that, and Chan was ridiculously in love with Jisung, too. He had let his guard down entirely, started planning a future for the two of them together in his head. He looked forward to seeing him every day in a way that was entirely different from the way he had looked forward to seeing him when they were just friends. His touch was grounding. He was beautiful, he made Chan ache in so many ways, every time he saw him he wanted to sweep him up in his arms, kiss him, hold him, make him laugh. 

Chan loved him. Even now, when he saw how Jisung brightened every time Minho walked into the room. Even now, when Jisung’s scent softened for Minho in the way it used to only soften for him. Even now, when the quiet little smiles that had once been his were slowly being given to someone else.

What made it sting even more was the fact that Chan couldn’t even bring himself to dislike Minho. Minho was amazing, Jisung was right. He was funny, kind, thoughtful, and confident. It made sense why everyone was so enthralled by him.

Chan could feel himself losing Jisung, and he didn’t even blame him.

Minho was calm in ways Chan wasn’t. Controlled in ways Chan couldn’t always be. Where Chan’s leadership had been forged in desperation, Minho’s came from stability. It was easy to imagine Jisung choosing that kind of alpha. Easy to imagine Minho being better than Chan for Jisung in every conceivable way.

Minho didn’t reek of smoke and act like bondbreak was hiding behind every corner, like the inevitability of his life was to spend it alone. 

He was more steady. Less volatile. Less guilty.

“Is something going on with you and Minho?”

The question fell out of Chan’s mouth one night while he and Jisung were brushing their teeth side by side. The mirror reflected the flicker of confusion that crossed Jisung’s face.

“What? No.”

“You sure?”

“I mean…” Jisung spit, then glanced over. “He’s nice. And I feel good around him, but-”

“But?”

Jisung looked down. “I don’t know. It’s not like that. Not really..”

Chan nodded slowly, heart aching in a way he didn’t have words for.

Jisung looked at him again, carefully. “Why are you asking?”

“Just wondering.”

That was a lie, and they both knew it.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of practice, assessments, and long nights.

Jisung spent more time with Minho. Not always alone, but enough that Chan felt the shift in his gut every time he came home and couldn’t find him. He told himself he should be glad. Jisung deserved someone who made him feel calm. Someone who could help him figure himself out.

Someone who wasn’t still haunted by another omega’s laugh, another omega’s smile.

Because that was the truth, too.

Even now, even while his heart twisted watching Jisung drift, part of Chan still couldn’t stop thinking about what he had already lost. Those old memories of Bambam had reared their ugly head recently more than they had in months, years, even. Jisung was so present and here and Chan was…. still dreaming about something he couldn’t have, hadn’t even allowed himself to want, and maybe that was the real problem. He had everything he needed and wanted here and now, yet he still couldn’t shake the fear embedded in him from the last time he felt this way. 

Maybe Chan wasn’t whole enough to be anyone’s alpha right now.

Jisung didn’t leave him entirely.

He still flopped into Chan’s bed most nights, all knees and warmth and laughter. Still curled close, still let Chan press his nose into his neck and just breathe. Jisung still looked at him like he mattered, but it was different now. There was space between them.

Not a break, but just the beginning of one. A crack.

Chan let it happen. He decided one day, sitting in his studio alone, that he never wanted to know who else wouldn’t pick him the way Bambam hadn’t. 

So he took away the option. He would rather die than lose Jisung as a part of his life, and so he would never force Jisung to pick between himself and Minho, and it was only logical to take himself out of the equation. 

Because love wasn’t supposed to be selfish.

Even if it felt like it was tearing him in two.