Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Seonghwa's POV:

Solitude was Park Seonghwa’s oldest friend. He knew exactly when it had crept into his life, rolling over him like a shroud of slow poison. It didn’t judge, it didn’t touch. He thought it was safer. If no one got too close, his past remained buried six feet under where it belonged. But while being alone kept his secrets buried, it also carved him hollow. And though Seonghwa would never admit it aloud, it was killing him. Inch by inch, breath by breath.

It was late in the evening, silent in Seonghwa’s shared dorm aside from the occasional whisper of sound from the busy streets below. His roommates, Mingi and San, had left for dinner what must have been hours ago. Their invitation to join was gently denied with the excuse of a headache, leaving the eldest with the place to himself.

Tucked into the ledge of the living room window that overlooked the city skyline, Seonghwa sat motionless as a statue, glassy eyes glued unblinkingly to the starless night sky as he lost himself to memories he’d much rather forget. Nothing significant had happened to bring them on. Running from the past wasn't always the most effective method. And this particular evening, it had caught up with the soft-spoken male and dragged him under, into a sea of memories and emotions that threatened to drown him entirely.

Seonghwa had always strived for perfection. On stage, at home, as a member of his pack, there was no room for error. Mistakes were unacceptable, though much to his dismay, not entirely avoidable. A few slip-ups at dance practice, a voice crack in his vocal lessons, taking too long to understand a joke Wooyoung had made. One by one, each mistake in his day sent him careening down the same familiar slope, spiraling into the dark corners of a mind trained to see flaw as failure.

Perfection wasn’t a choice. It was survival.

_________________________________

In Jinju, a small rural town hours from the nearest major city, the antiquated ways of pack hierarchy and subgender expectations had never faded. Even as the rest of society had progressed and left them behind, his community clung to its beloved, outdated beliefs. In Jinju, Alphas were born to lead, to dominate. Betas were born to support and serve their pack. But omegas? Omegas were told they were precious, but only if they stayed quiet, submissive, and untouched. A disobedient omega wasn’t just scandalous. They were dangerous. Seen as lustful creatures meant to tempt poor unsuspecting alphas. And a male omega? Unthinkable. Their scent’s sweeter, more tempting. Male omegas were a rarity, and in the ever-traditional town of Jinju, an abomination.

If there was one man who loved their traditional ways more than any other, it was Seonghwa’s stepfather.

Lee Jiyoung, the beloved school principal, an alpha on the town council. A man who was endlessly charismatic and charming, the golden boy of their town. At least, that was the image he’d carefully crafted over the years. And no one was the wiser, not even Seonghwa himself.

When he was seven, his father had made the long drive home from his work at the hospital in the next town over, only to be slammed into by a large truck whose driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel. After a week in critical care, surgery after surgery, the loving family man had succumbed to his injuries, leaving behind his wife, Eunji, and their young pup.

Eunji, his mother, was a soft-spoken woman. Fragile in all the wrong ways. She needed to be loved more than she needed to be safe, clinging to the alpha in her life like a lifeline. The loss of her mate broke the woman, leaving her desperate to find someone to fill the hole left behind. Four months after Seonghwa’s father had passed, she met Jiyoung at a town council meeting. Within a season, they were mated, bringing him into their once quiet life forever.

And at first, he was everything a grieving boy could ask for. He was good to them, on the surface. He praised Seonghwa for his excellent schoolwork, took the boy to his first ball game, and taught him to ride a bike. The picture-perfect image of what a father should be. But Seonghwa had always been a bright child. Observant. He’d noticed the strange way his stepfather’s jaw tensed when the rice was too soft. The way his knuckles whitened around the handle of his beer glass when the boy was too loud playing his games. The way the warmth left his voice when Seonghwa failed to answer him quickly enough.

So he’d adjusted. Eager for the man to accept him, desperate for approval from the only father figure in his life. He was quiet, earned impeccable grades, never skipped a chore, never talked back when the alpha would berate him for the smallest of slip-ups. Seonghwa refused to be anything less than flawless. But it didn’t matter. Nothing could have changed what came next. Because some things, no matter how hard you try, you can’t outrun. Especially fate.

No more than a few weeks after his sixteenth birthday, Seonghwa was wrenched from his peaceful sleep to a wave of searing pain that writhed under his skin like wildfire. Like his blood itself had caught fire. He gasped for breath, each attempt more ragged than the next. He was at a loss for what was happening to him. All he knew was he needed help. Desperately.

Mind clouded with pain, his body wracked with aching tremors, Seonghwa barely had enough strength to sit up, let alone stand from the bed where sweat-soaked sheets clung to his body. The young teen was unaware of the addictively sweet scent now permeating the air around him, sugared vanilla and soft amber radiating from his newly awakened scent glands. He had barely managed to claw himself up into a seated position when the door to his room was slammed open so roughly it crashed into the wall behind with a sharp bang that rattled his shelves.

There, in the dark doorway, stood his stepfather. Pupils blown so wide his eyes had been engulfed in a sea of sinister black, nostrils flared, a sneer contorting his lips.

“I thought I was imagining it. I caught small whiffs over the past few days, but I was sure it was impossible. There was no way Seonghwa... my perfect little Seonghwa, could possibly be an omega.” The word left his lips like a filthy curse, his tone low and menacing. He shook his head slowly, approaching the edge of the bed in a slow prowl, like a predator on the hunt.

“But it’s true. You’re one of them. A male omega.” He spat, eyes raking over the vulnerable boy's form with a look of pure rage, tinged with something far darker. Almost… lustful.

Seonghwa trembled against the headboard, fingers clutching his sheets like a lifeline. The terror that consumed him then seemed somehow worse than the agony that continued to course in his veins. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Frozen in place as he awaited Jiyoung’s punishment for the great ‘sin’ he’d committed. But punishment never came. At least, not that night.

Jiyoung had circled the bed, monologuing in an eerie tone all the ways Seonghwa had ruined their lives. How dare he tempt him with his scent? How dare he not be the proper alpha he was raised to be? He snipped and snarked at the shuddering young boy, cursing his very existence for nearly an hour before something shifted.

His stepfather stepped in close, a sinister glint flashing through his eyes as he reached out, ever so gently stroking a finger along his jawline and whispering, “It’s not your fault, my darling boy. You can’t help that you’re an abomination.”

He left a lingering kiss on Seonghwa’s forehead and slipped from the dark room without another word. Seonghwa’s gut twisted and churned with unease, the newfound silence in his bedroom growing suffocating. His body still shook, chest heaving with weak, shallow breaths, body drenched in sweat. The look in his stepfather's eyes… he would never forget. It branded itself in his mind, permanently seared in his memories. When he left the room, his stepfather’s gaze was no longer filled with rage. No, it was something far worse. The alpha looked… hungry.

On trembling legs, the newly awakened omega had dragged himself from the mattress and stumbled towards his bathroom, each step more difficult than the last. He practically collapsed into the cool tiles of the shower, bottles rattling and tumbling off the shelves as he blindly reached around till his fingers found purchase on the shower handle and twisted the knob. Sheets of icy water crashed down over his feverish form, the boy curling up into a ball on the shower floor, writhing and panting as he begged the moon goddess above to end his suffering.

It was there that he remained until morning, shivering and sniffling under the freezing stream of water as he unsuccessfully attempted to wash away the filth that felt like it was curling under his skin. By the time the sun rose, the faux heat that came with presenting had faded away. But that feeling of disgust and shame? That never would.

In the days that followed, Jiyoung’s behavior transformed. The anger remained, but it had twisted into something new. Something worse. He had always been a demanding man, sometimes bordering on cruel. But now… he smiled. The kind of smile a predator offered something small and helpless when it knew it had the upper hand.

He started offering lingering touches to the small of his back any time he brushed past, pressing too close in the kitchen when they were gathering their respective meals. Called him his sweet boy with a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Over breakfast one morning, when Eunji was out shopping, his stepfather had leaned in close and taken his wrist in an all too gentle grip. “Your first heat is coming soon, you know,” The man had murmured, his tone sickeningly sweet. “You’re going to need someone to help with that, little dove. Someone who knows what they’re doing… to keep you safe, you know?”

Seonghwa nearly vomited right there on the kitchen table.

What followed made everything before feel like mercy. Every mistake, whether it was spilling water on the floor, forgetting a chore, or stuttering through an answer, was met with a rage colder and more deliberate than before. Jiyoung would slam him into walls by the throat or backhand him with a flick of his wrist, each strike delivered with a horrifying ease that spoke of routine.

“Acting like a useless omega already.” He’d scoff as Seonghwa would scramble back in fear. “Can’t even manage simple tasks. There’s only one thing you’re good for, little dove.”

All the while, his mother never stepped in, never defended her own son. Too devoted to playing the perfect housewife, too committed to serving a man who broke what she should have protected. The school nurse blamed his exhaustion on stress. The teachers turned a blind eye to the bruises blooming across his skin.

Seonghwa learned quickly that he was alone. No one was coming to save him.

Seonghwa quickly learned not to flinch. Not to speak unless spoken to. Not to cry. He scrubbed himself raw in the bath, masked his scent with stringent lavender soap until he could barely smell himself at all. And wore heavy scarves on the days his scent grew stronger. He skipped meals to keep his body small and unnoticeable.

It was abundantly clear what Jiyoung wanted from the young omega, what he was planning. The continual hints of being there for his first heat, of being the one to care for him, flooded the boy with a permanent sense of paranoia. He knew, without a doubt, he could not let his stepfather near him. He was not as naive as the alpha deemed him to be. The boy was well aware of precisely what his stepfather was planning for him. And there was no world where he would survive the experience with his sanity intact.

The night his heat arrived, a storm hit hard and fast, smothering the warm summer evening with walls of rain and snarling thunder. The sky was pitch black, save for the brief flashes of lightning that lit any room like camera shutters. It was the kind of night when anything could slip through the dark unnoticed. Or in this case, anyone.

It had been small at first, hardly noticeable. A slight shift in scent, a flush beneath his skin. Until suddenly it was everywhere, inescapable. It burned through Seonghwa, thick and suffocating. And Jiyoung had noticed. The way the man looked at him that night, eyes too bright, voice too kind, the perverse excitement in his gaze? It had triggered something primal in Seonghwa’s gut. Told him it was now or never. He had to get far away and fast.

So Seonghwa ran. Without a plan, without preparation, the teen had slipped out his back door the moment Jiyoung turned his back. He didn't think, didn’t wait, he just ran. Barefoot and trembling, not risking so much as going back for shoes or a coat, the omega raced out into the pouring summer rain. He was soaked in an instant, his thin t-shirt clinging to his feverish skin as he ran as fast and as far as his struggling legs could take him.

By some miracle, he made it to the far edge of town, past the dark tree line where the sharp gravel under his feet turned to muddy farmland. And there, tucked within overgrown grass and trees swaying in the storm winds, sat an old and abandoned barn, weather-worn and forgotten. Seonghwa collapsed in the doorway, shivering, breathless, and caked in mud from his journey. The air was thick with the scent of hay and mildew, the room filthy and forgotten. It was barely shelter from the storm, but it was enough. And just in time, as the first true wave of his heat crashed over him, unfurling over his body so heavily it felt as though he could not breathe.

His body burned, his skin begging for touch, for comfort. His instincts raged against his environment, agonizing over being surrounded by nothing but broken beams, rusted tools, and the suffocating pulse of need thrumming through every nerve. He dragged himself into a corner, curling up in a shivering ball, clutching at his soaked clothes like a lifeline. He had no food or water, no nest. No one. Yet again, the omega was all alone. And he was quickly learning it was better that way.

For days, he writhed in agony. His body betrayed him, over and over again. Aching, desperate, begging for relief that would never come. Every cell screamed for touch, for an alpha that wasn't there. But worse than the need was the shame. The scent of his heat curled around him, filling him with nothing but shame and guilt. He didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. His mind frayed at the edges as the hours dragged by. He hallucinated footsteps. Whispered voices. A hand brushing his cheek, only to wake up and find it was just the wind. He bled into the hay. Clawed at his own skin. Bit into his sleeve to muffle his cries.

By the fourth day, he was barely conscious. The heat had burned itself out, but left him nothing but a hollow shell. Starving, shaking, and covered in filth. He lay there staring at the slats in the ceiling until the rain began again. Only then did he crawl to his feet, half-blind with exhaustion, and began the slow, aching walk back towards home.

He shouldn’t have gone back. He knew that instinctively. But at only sixteen, with no money, no resources. It was his only choice. He set foot in his front yard, clothes stiff with dried sweat and caked in mud, legs barely keeping him upright, and all he could think of was the warmth and safety of his bed. A hot meal and loving embrace from his mother. But instead, as he pushed open his front door, he was met with Jiyoung’s rage.

There was no concern, no relief over his return, just anger so sharp it could cut him open and bleed him dry. And that it did.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” The man snarled, dragging him inside by the arm. “You think I don’t smell it on you?”

Seonghwa barely got a word out before he was on the floor in a flurry of rough fists and steel-tipped boots. Ragged screams caught in his throat. He didn’t even have the strength to cry, too wrung dry from the past few days. He could only curl in on himself and take it. With each accusation, another blow landed to punctuate it.

“Whore!” A punch to the gut.

“Slut!” A swift kick in the ribs.

“You ran off to get fucked, didn’t you?” A jab to the cheek.

“Who was it? Some stray alpha? Some filthy beast in the woods?”

Eunji stood frozen. Silent. As always. Not stepping in to shield her suffering son from her mate’s inferno of rage. Only when the alpha had burned through his anger and stopped his assault on the omega’s trembling frame did she pull him aside and let out a shuddering gasp. Seonghwa lay unresponsive on the hardwood floors, bloodied and bruised. She shook him, begged for him to open his eyes, but he did not. For the first time in her adult life, Eunji acted like a mother should. Demanded that Jiyoung carry him to their car to take him to the hospital.

The car ride to the hospital was a blur. He faded in and out, crumpled in the backseat like a rag doll. It was nearly an hour away, the closest one to their rural town. His parents fed the nurses who rushed to their aid a lie. Said Seonghwa had been mauled by a classmate gone feral during his first heat. Told them the poor boy hadn’t known better. Made themselves look like victims, too.

But one nurse didn’t believe it.

She was older, with tired eyes that spoke of the full life she had lived, and gentle hands that understood his fear of being touched. She changed his bandages with care, brought him extra broth when he slept through mealtimes, and sat by his side so he would never be alone. She never asked questions, at least not directly. But somehow, she knew. And she knew Seonghwa could never go back.

One night, she slipped an envelope under his pillow. Inside the envelope lay 100,000 won, and a note.

Go. Tonight, when they discharge you, before your family arrives. Run like hell and never look back.

So Seonghwa did precisely that. He ran again. Only this time, he didn't stop till Jinju was nothing but a ghost left far behind in his past. Used some of his limited funds to catch a bus into Seoul, a city where anyone can get lost amongst the crowds.

The streets were louder than Jinju, but somehow no lonelier. Seonghwa learned quickly how to disappear. He lied about his age, kept his voice low and polite, scrubbed his scent gland raw with perfumed soaps any chance he got, so no one would catch on to the sweet scent that betrayed his true and rare nature. He called himself a beta. People trusted betas, didn’t ask questions when they said they had nowhere to go. He slipped between shelters and half-lit corners of the city, washing dishes for scraps, sleeping with his shoes on. It was outside a bar in an alley where he first heard the word blocker.

He followed the whisper. The woman who sold him his first scent patches didn’t care about legality. She took his money, didn’t ask why his hands shook. She gave him something more substantial than anything on the market. The kind that left chemical burns if you wore too many.

He wore four at a time.

Then came the suppressants. Black market pills, unregulated and dangerous, but highly effective. They made his heats vanish into a dull ache, muffled his pheromones, blurred his biology until even he could forget for a while what he truly was.

The hunger faded with time. The exhaustion didn’t.

He got a job cleaning after hours at a strip club. Fell in love with the sound of music, with the way bodies moved freely when no one was watching. It reminded him what living was supposed to feel like. From there he worked his way up. Got a job as a barista, took free dance classes at the community center. Joined a small dance crew.

When the scout from KQ Entertainment handed him a card after a community center dance recital, he didn’t dare believe it. But when he made it through auditions, he knew one thing for sure: no one could ever know. If they found out what he was... what he had been? It would all be taken away. So he crafted the perfect beta persona. A neutral scent of fresh linen that came from a bottle, lean muscle from hours of exercise, and days of hunger. He buried his truth beneath layers of blocker patches, excessive pills, and discipline. No nesting, no slipping, and no letting anyone in to see the signs. Never again would the truth see the light of day.

From then on, Park Seonghwa was a beta.

_________________________________

“Hwaaa, we brought home leftovers!” The front door opened with a gentle thud, San’s warm voice echoing through the dorm as he and Mingi strolled in, startling Seonghwa free from the memories he’d been imprisoned within.

Seonghwa jolted, nearly smacking his forehead against the window before him. He squinted as the apartment lights flickered on. San’s head peeked around the corner, his bright smile faltering as he took in the state of the elder where he sat.

“Hyung… you okay?” The young alpha tilted his head, brows furrowing with concern as he stepped closer to check on his packmate, the plastic takeout bag still dangling from his fingertips. “Why were you sitting in the dark?”

Seonghwa pressed his hands together, a subtle attempt to still the trembling of his fingers. He took a deep breath and adopted a calm expression, disguising the turmoil churning beneath his skin.

“I’m just… thinking.” He brushed off the concern with an easy smile, rising to his feet. “Don’t worry Sannie. Everything’s fine.”

The look on San’s face made it clear he wasn’t convinced, but before he could press further, Mingi rounded the corner and interrupted.

“San, where’s the… oh Seonghwa!” A smile spread over the tall man’s lips as he looked over the elder. “Have you eaten? I ordered extra, didn’t know if you’d have the energy to cook for yourself if you’re not feeling so hot.”

The care in his eyes filled Seonghwa’s chest with warmth, but he shook his head in dismissal regardless. “I’ve already eaten, but thank you, Mingi. That’s very sweet.” As he brushed past to leave the living room, he gave Mingi’s arm an appreciative pat, the most open affection he allowed himself to display on days like this.

Of course, he hadn’t eaten. But with their comeback quickly approaching, he couldn’t afford to let himself slip. Before practice, he’d had a bowl of rice with his morning coffee. It was enough. It had to be. Maintaining the lean muscles that helped him pass as his faked subgender was hard enough with his biology working against him. Anything he ate always went right back to filling out the softness his body was designed to maintain. His sharp jawline, his lean muscles, and angular features— they were all thanks to the necessary sacrifice.

Over time, the gnawing hunger had faded into a quiet ache he could usually ignore. The same way he ignored the burning sensation of his scent blockers stacked along his spine. It was just a part of life. He’d accepted it.

Seonghwa softly wished them both a goodnight and slipped away from the duo as they watched their packmate disappear to his room with furrowed brows.

The omega closed his door behind him and let out a soft sigh of relief, itching at his back where the scent patches left tingling sensations against his raw skin. His eyes scanned his bedroom, perfectly organized and tidy, not a speck of dust in sight. Nor a scrap of comfort. Only a pillow and a thin blanket draped over his simple sheets. Nothing that could tempt him to nest in a moment of weakness.

Trudging to his bed, Seonghwa slumped down against it, curling into a tight ball against the cool sheets. His palms pressed to his eyes, as if that could block out the darkness creeping in on the edges of his mind. Fuck. He was running low on his suppressant pills, down to his last bottle, and as much as he wanted to pop an extra for the day, to crush the way his instincts were rearing their ugly head at the moment. The way his inner omega was begging for a nest or to simply be held… it made him more nauseous than he already was.

So Seonghwa did the only thing he could when his instincts battled for control. He cleaned. Dragged himself from his bed and went over every inch of his already immaculate bedroom. Scrubbed the hardwood on his hands and knees, ran the vacuum over his rug, changed his already clean sheets. But it wasn’t enough. So he moved onto the kitchen.

The main room of the apartment was dark again, his roommates having settled in their respective rooms for the night. Seonghwa flicked on the kitchen lights and pulled a caddy with his favorite cleaning supplies from under the sink, getting straight to work. The omega fell into a quiet trance as he scrubbed the counters, wiped out the microwave, polished the stainless steel fixtures in the room till they sparkled like new. He cleaned anything and everything to curb the ugly feeling twisting in his gut. To cleanse his mind.

The omega was seated on the floor in front of the open fridge, the contents cleaned out and reorganized already. The man was working on scrubbing up a spill on one of the shelves when a startled yelp interrupted him. Seonghwa flinched, eyes darting up to the source of the sound.

“Seonghwa? Fuck. You scared the shit out of me—”

A bleary-eyed Mingi leaned against the doorway, shirtless, his broad shoulders relaxed. Black sweatpants were slung low on his hips, the sharp lines of his toned torso and arms catching the dim kitchen light. His dark hair fell in tousled waves over his forehead. He blinked down at his roommate, confusion tugging at his features. “I was just getting some water… are you cleaning the fridge?”

More alert now thanks to the shock, the alpha’s gaze swept around the kitchen, taking in the spotless counters, the gleaming floor, the lemon scent of disinfectant still lingering in the air. Utterly baffled, his eyes returned to the ‘beta’ on the floor.

“It’s two in the morning, hyung… was this really that urgent?” There was no judgment in his tone. Just quiet concern.

“I-“ Seonghwa was frozen in place, color rising in his cheeks. From shame, mostly. And possibly a flicker of heat from the flustering sight of a half-dressed Mingi in front of him. Not that he’d ever admit as much, even to himself.

He hadn’t considered that one of the boys might wake up and catch him in the act. “I couldn’t sleep… thought I might as well be productive,” The lie slipped out all too easily. He had plenty of practice these days.

Mingi hummed softly, looking him up and down with quiet scrutiny before reaching out and offering his hand. He didn’t push the subject, and Seonghwa was grateful for it. “Why don't we make you some tea? It might help you relax enough to rest. Works for me.”

Seonghwa stared at his outstretched hand, hesitating for a moment before giving in. Cautiously placing his hand in Mingi’s, he let himself be pulled to his feet. “I guess it won’t hurt to try. Let me just-“

He was interrupted by a soft tut.

“Uh-uh. You sit down, Hwa. Let me do this.” Mingi’s voice was deep and steady, with a tone that left no room for argument. He ushered the elder male into a stool at the counter before he could lift a hand to help, turning away to put the kettle on.

Seonghwa took a seat with furrowed brows, hands twitching in his lap with the urge to get up and do it himself. But by the look on the alpha’s face? He couldn’t convince him if he tried. So he conceded. Watched Mingi shuffle through the kitchen with a quiet focus, like a man on a mission. Albeit a very sleepy man.

Seonghwa parted his lips to ask for the lavender jasmine blend, his favorite, but stopped when he saw it already in Mingi’s hand, paired with his favorite mug, too. Something about it made his chest ache with the feeling of being... seen.

Mingi’s expression brightened as he set the tea down in front of him, the steam curling between them. His eyes met Seonghwa’s and softened, pupils still blown wide from sleep... or something else. His gaze was steady, grounding. “There. Drink up hyung.”

Seonghwa lifted the mug to his lips, his hands trembling with emotion.

Somehow, that simple gesture? The tea, the silence, the support... it soothed something deep in Seonghwa’s chest. His instincts, always frayed and straining, finally settled. After hours of scrubbing, of obsessively wiping and reorganizing, this was the only thing that had helped.

And it was infuriating.

Infuriating how easily Mingi had managed to soothe his instincts, when he’d been trying all fucking night. With a single act of care, the alpha had done it in minutes.

For once, Seonghwa allowed himself to linger for a while. Perhaps it was selfish, but deep down, he knew he needed it. And by the look in the alpha’s eyes, it seemed as if he needed it too. His fingers curled around the warm mug, soaking up the heat it radiated as he drew in a long sip. Across the counter, Mingi busied himself with rinsing out the kettle, though he kept sneaking glances toward Seonghwa. Not with questions. Just a quiet kind of attention. There was something pleased in his posture, in the easy way he moved now. Like some quiet, instinctual part of him was satisfied with what he’d done.

For a moment, the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was soft. Whole. Safe. And that scared the hell out of him. Because safety was never permanent. Comfort came with consequences. And letting his guard down even once could unravel everything he’d worked so hard to keep hidden. He took a quick sip of the tea, using the motion to gather himself.

“I should probably try to sleep,” he said softly, already sliding off the stool.

Mingi straightened up from leaning his weight on the counter, eyes flickering over Seonghwa’s form. “You sure?”

Seonghwa avoided his gaze, nodding. “Yeah, I think the tea helped. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Hwa,” Mingi said, his voice gentle, something unspoken lingering in the air that Seonghwa didn’t have the energy to unpack.

He simply turned on one heel and slipped away, still clinging to the floral mug. He could feel the man’s heavy gaze on his back as he departed. Watching him go. And Seonghwa hated how badly he wanted to turn back.

Tomorrow, he’d put more distance between them. He had to. But tonight? Tonight, he fell asleep with the now-empty mug clutched in his grasp, a lone tear rolling down his cheek.

The morning light slipped through the blinds in thin, pale stripes that warmed the skin on his cheek. Seonghwa stirred under the weight of sleep, heavy and reluctant, his body still buzzing faintly from the emotions of last night. For a moment, he lingered under the covers, letting the quiet wrap around him like a blanket. The omega quietly groaned and tried to reach for his phone, but it was then that he felt the cool porcelain handle of the mug still clutched in his fingertips.

A strange ache in his chest, sweet and unsettling, made him twist slightly under the covers, eyes staring at the ceiling as the light moved across the room. Fuck. The memory of Mingi and his sweet gesture of making him tea resurfaced in his mind. He was so lovely... and Seonghwa didn’t deserve it.

With a soft sigh, he pushed himself upright and sat the mug aside, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The apartment was quiet, the faint hum of the city outside his window the only sound. He rose slowly, stretching carefully to ease the tension in his muscles, mindful of the lingering soreness from yesterday’s scrubbing and the relentless choreography practice that awaited him.

Seonghwa quickly dressed in his workout clothes, opting for something simple and easy to move in. A loose white hoodie and a pair of grey joggers, the fabric soft and worn from countless washes. Practical, quick, and comfortable. Quintessentially beta. His reflection in the mirror showed pale cheeks and freshly brushed silver hair. His eyes were sharp, alert. A practiced mask of readiness he wore every morning. He moved to the kitchen for a quick protein bar and water, his motions precise, automatic.

By the time he slipped on his sneakers and slung his bag over his shoulder, the two alphas he lived with had joined him to leave. Both dressed in easy workout clothes, both swaying and leaning on each other as if they might fall back asleep at any second. Seonghwa looked them both over and let out a soft laugh, taking an arm in each hand and ushering the two out of the door into the fresh morning air.

The van waited outside, engine humming, ready to ferry them to the studio. As Seonghwa climbed in, he found his thoughts already shifting, preparing for the intense hours ahead. Dance practice. Music. Choreography. His perfectionism, his need to move, to flow, to keep control... it would keep the ghosts at bay, at least until the day ended.

The air in the practice room was thick with heat and exhaustion, mixed with the smell of sweat and frustration. The suppressants Seonghwa took left him unable to notice his group mate’s scents, but even he could tell how bitter the air had become.

They’d been running the same section of choreo for over an hour now. Somehow still not perfect enough for the standards of their choreographers or themselves.

San sat on the floor with a towel around his neck, his shirt long discarded into some corner of the room, with a red-faced Wooyoung sprawled out at his side, panting heavily. Yunho’s shirt had soaked through with sweat, clinging to his chest as he held a hand fan to his face. All together, the group already looked beat.

Seonghwa was still standing in his last position, repeating the same move in front of the mirror on repeat over and over, till he’d perfected it. His icy blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, the thin hoodie he’d donned that morning clinging uncomfortably to his body. He was just as exhausted as the rest of the group. He could feel it in the hollow ache of his arms, the way every breath felt as though it was scraping his throat raw. But his team needed him at his best. And he refused to let them down.

Finally satisfied with the way he had run through the movement, Seonghwa paused to take a look around at the state of his pack. The way Mingi was slumped on the floor with an arm over his eyes, and how Jongho quietly struggled to catch his breath in the corner. The tension in Hongjoong’s shoulders as he and a red-faced Yeosang discussed something with their choreographer.

Without thinking, Seonghwa jumped into action. Adjusting the studio fan towards the members who had congregated towards the center of the room, cracking open a couple of water bottles, and passing them to Wooyoung and San on the floor. Wiping down the bench and nudging Jongho towards it to take a break for a moment.

If anyone noticed Seonghwa’s behavior, they didn’t say anything. It was who he was. Their silent caretaker. The anchor that kept them from giving out, whether the team realized it or not. And right now, it was clear they needed his care.

With so much attention on them after a very successful comeback earlier that year, the pressure was on for their next. It needed to be just as good, if not better. Their manager had used words like “intense stage presence” and “flawless execution” as if they were encouragement, rather than subtly disguised threats. If they weren’t satisfied with the results by the end of the practice day, Ateez would lose a week’s worth of momentum.

Soon, they were all being gathered back up by their choreographer and ushered to their starting positions. Seonghwa nodded and complied as always, like it was nothing. Like the pressure wasn’t weighing on his mind, fraying the edges of his composure. Instead, he put on his game face and centered himself. He could break down later (not that he’d let himself). For now, he had to push through.

They all did.

The music started back up, and the group resumed as if they weren’t drowning under the weight of exhaustion. Like the professionals they were.

They made it through another four full run-throughs.

Barely.

When the final beat faded out, Seonghwa held his pose for an extra few seconds as if it were a real performance. Just as he’d been trained to. Only when the rest of the room dispersed into low chatter did he allow himself to exhale and drop his trembling arms to his sides.

Around him, the others collapsed back into their various corners of the room, chests heaving and foreheads dripping with sweat. They all looked wrung out. Wooyoung had slid down to the ground with a dramatic groan. Yeosang joined him, flopping face-first against the cool hardwood planks.

Seonghwa didn’t allow himself to stop, even for a second. He was already moving, handing Yeosang a protein shake, folding discarded towels into a neat pile, passing a fresh one to a drenched-looking Hongjoong who had already locked into watching a replay of their last run on his laptop.

His instincts pushed him to keep going until every member of his pack had been taken care of. And even beyond that, checking the speaker’s battery and collecting empty water bottles. He couldn’t stop, even if he tried. Unaware that all the while, his hands were shaking. His face pale.

He didn’t realize anyone was watching until Jongho’s voice cut through the overlapping voices that filled the room.

“Hyung, why don’t you take a seat?” The younger asked calmly, nodding his head towards the open space at his side. “We’re done for now. It’s okay.”

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa murmured dismissively, his hands not stopping from stacking the pile of scattered choreo notes he’d collected.

“You’ve been standing since we came in.” Jongho pointed out, brows furrowed.

“I’m used to it.”

Jongho didn’t answer right away, continuing to watch Seonghwa move around with an unreadable expression, a towel hanging loose around his shoulders like he was waiting for something.

It was unsettling to be watched so closely. He could still see the young alpha from the corner of his eye. Observing him with a particular kind of intensity that left his skin tingling with heat.

He bent down to realign the stack of folded towels. A useless task, they didn’t need fixing. But he did it anyway, needing something to distract from the unrelenting gaze.

“I just like staying ahead of the mess,” he murmured, voice too light to be casual. “If I sit now, I’ll get stiff.”

A soft hum came from behind him. Jongho didn’t press him, but the silence he left behind felt heavier than if he had.

Jongho wasn’t one to be easily fooled; Seonghwa knew it. And worse, he kept watching. Not with judgement... or even pity. Just care. Quiet, patient care. The kind that made Seonghwa feel a bit wobbly on his feet, like the ground might give out beneath him if he stood still for too long.

So he didn’t. He moved towards the fan, fiddling with the settings and turning it towards the center of the room where the rest of his pack congregated at Hongjoong’s side, watching the computer screen replay their last run through. Any little act of care he could manage.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Vocal training, a stage outfit fitting that ran long, a rushed lunch break with everyone, save for Seonghwa, cramming food down their throats before hurrying off to the next thing. It was a packed schedule, with no time to breathe or think. The pressure of it all had grown suffocating. Like his head was trapped under water, the world around him moving slowly, muffled. Heavy.

And all through the insanity that was the music group’s day, Jongho stayed close.

Not obtrusively. He didn't hover or nag. Just stayed near. Always within arm's reach, always a step behind or beside him. Always watching with those hypnotizing dark eyes.

He could feel him even when he wasn’t looking. Like he was there, ready to catch him if he so much as stumbled. But Seonghwa didn’t want to stumble. He didn’t want to be seen slipping up.

So he kept going as he always did. Kept handing out snacks, ushering everyone along to keep on schedule. Smoothed over the tension when Yunho and Wooyoung butted heads over where to sit in the van, placing himself between them as a buffer. He was efficient at what he did, with four years of wrangling the dramatic pack under his belt.

But by the evening, as they finally made their journey home, all piled in the van half asleep and burnt out, the buzzing in his head had grown sharp. Persistent and impossible to ignore. The edges of his vision had grown hazy, his body running cold. Dehydrated and exhausted, probably. He’d had a few sips of water after rehearsal. But even by Seonghwa’s standards, he hadn’t had much to sustain him. Not even a protein shake.

He’d meant to... but it was so easy to forget when he was so occupied with keeping the rest of his pack afloat. And he didn’t regret that. Not even for a second. It was a thankless job, but Seonghwa didn’t do it for the recognition. If anything, he preferred that his actions go ignored. He needed to do it. To soothe the biological need to care. In a way that didn’t make his nature obvious. And besides that, he loved his pack. Each of the alphas and betas held his heart in the palm of their hands and didn’t even know it. He would do anything for them. Anything to keep them together. And he knew that if the truth were exposed, it would destroy everything they’d built. Bring down scandal and shame, and they would never forgive his betrayal.

So he served them, quietly. Gave the pack everything he had without letting them close enough to notice. And that was enough.

By the time they made it to the apartment, the sky outside had shifted into a muted array of pinks and violet, a crescent moon peeking through the clouds as the sun sank. The whole pack had gathered at Seonghwa’s shared apartment with the promise of dinner after a long day. They were all strewn across the living room. Half of them watching TV, the others scrolling on their phones.

Seonghwa stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled, standing over the stovetop. He fought the urge to sway on his feet as his vision grew spotty. His body begged for a break, for rest. But with a whole pack in the other room, waiting to be fed, he didn’t have a moment to stop.

He moved on autopilot. Pressing start on the rice cooker, stirring a pan of sizzling vegetables. His limbs ached, but the sensation was distant now, having already been ignored this long. He was reaching for a stack of plates from the cabinet when he heard Jongho’s voice beside him, cutting through the haze.

“You should sit down, hyung.”

Seonghwa flinched, just slightly, but still didn’t turn to face him.

“I’m fine, Jongho. I just need to finish dinner first.” He glanced over his shoulder, feigning a smile. “You should go rest, you worked hard today.”

“You’re not fine, Hwa.” Jongho insisted, though his tone was gentle. “You’ve been on your feet since sunrise.”

“I don’t mind,” Seonghwa murmured. “Everyone’s hungry. I can’t keep them waiting.”

“You’re hungry too.” Jongho pointed out, matter-of-factly.

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment, long enough to notice the tension in his fingers. The way his legs trembled under the strain of his weight. But he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when dinner wasn’t finished. Not when—

A strong hand reached out and gently wrapped around his wrist, pulling it away from the stovetop.

“Jongho-”

“Sit down,” Jongho said again, softer now, but still firm. Leaving no room for debate. “I’ll finish it. Just... sit. Please.”

Seonghwa stood frozen in place, hyper aware of the way his skin heated beneath Jongho’s gentle grip. The urge to argue bubbled up in his throat. He needed to do this. Needed to care for his pack like a good omeg— wait.

Maybe he was truly at his limit for the day.

He didn’t move for a good, long beat. Then slowly, reluctantly, he stepped back.

Jongho’s hand carefully moved away from his wrist, instead finding its way to the small of his back and guiding him to the stool at the counter’s edge.

“I’ll take care of it, Seonghwa. Just rest.”

As Seonghwa sat at the counter, his aching frame finally at rest, it was his turn to watch. Jongho picked up right where he left off, as if he’d been paying attention all along. He turned off the stove, scooping the rice and plating everyone’s dishes neatly and efficiently.

He poured a glass of water and set it in front of Seonghwa, staring expectantly until the eldest had finished every drop. Only then did he offer a satisfied smile and allow him to help carry the plates to the dining table.

The table filled quickly.

Hungry and impatient hands reached across the surface, reaching for the side dishes and rice, chopsticks clattering against their ceramic plates. San and Wooyoung bikered over the last spring roll. Mingi sat half asleep as he lifted food to his lips. Yeosang scrolled on his phone between bites, as did Hongjoong. Yunho, slouched in his seat, had already shoveled half his plate into his mouth before even looking up.

None of them said a single word. Not so much as a thank you. Not that Seonghwa noticed, he was merely pleased that he had cared for his pack. He sat at the far end of the table, picking absently at his plate, taking a few tiny bites of plain rice between glances around at the people he loved most.

Jongho, however, seated once again at Seonghwa’s side, watched the scene unfold with thinly veiled irritation. Even with his dulled senses, Seonghwa noticed it. The discontent. The young alpha’s sharp gaze cut across the table, jaw ticking. Then, without warning, he jabbed his elbow to his left. Hitting Yunho square in the ribs.

Yunho grunted, looking up with a glare. “What the hell, man?” He hissed, setting down his chopsticks.

Jongho just nodded towards Seonghwa once, pointedly. Yunho followed the motion to the older beta who sat quietly at the head of the table, still absentmindedly pushing his food around the plate.

Yunho’s disgruntled expression dropped, replaced with furrowed brows and a soft frown. A look of guilt. “Shit- Hyung. Thank you. For dinner. It's great, all of it.”

There was a silent pause as Seonghwa lifted his head in surprise. A quiet ripple of other thanks that followed, sheepish and soft.

Seonghwa gave them all a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The attention on him was uncomfortable, even if it was well-meaning.

The group devolved back into chatter, speaking amongst themselves in overlapping conversations. The longer they sat there, the more the room started to tighten. His heart was beating too fast. Too loud. The pack was exhausted. The energy in the room grew tense. Words began to snap across the table. Playful at first, but quickly turning sharp. A jab about someone’s timing in rehearsal, a muttered complaint about stage outfits.

The alpha pheromones in the room thickened. He could feel it, see it in the tension in Hongjoong’s jaw, the way Yunho’s fists tightened around his glass. How Mingi’s leg bounced under the table like he was trying to shake off frustration.

They weren’t doing it intentionally; it was just their nature. But it didn’t matter. It was all too much.

Too much for an omega running on no food, no rest, three scent blockers, and a heat suppressant attacking his system. His instincts were fraying. He could feel the warning signs prickling against his skin. The itch just below the surface. Panic, fear. Terrified of the emotions running high in the room. His scent glands ached with the urge to fill the room with a soothing wash of his own scent, to calm the tension. But he couldn’t afford to do that. Not here. Not ever.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” he said suddenly, voice soft and strained as it cut through the heated energy in the room. “Long day.”

The bickering paused.

“Everything alright?” Wooyoung asked through a full mouth of food.

Hongjoong had taken enough interest to finally lift his head from his phone, where he’d been answering emails, watching with the observance only a leader could.

“Of course.” Seonghwa nodded with a practiced smile, waving him off as he stood and pushed his practically untouched plate aside. “I’m just tired. Goodnight everyone.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his clenched fists as he slipped from the room before anyone else could ask another question. He felt Jongho’s eyes on him again as he left in a hurry, glancing over his shoulder and regretting it.

Jongho stared at him with an intensity that spoke of understanding. Like he knew more than he let on. And that was terrifying.

Seonghwa escaped down the hall, past San and Mingi’s doors, to his room at the very end. The door shut behind him with a click, and he locked it for good measure. Only then did he let himself collapse into his bed.

His scent blockers were barely holding. He’d foolishly only applied two that morning, hoping to give his sensitive skin a break for once. A dumb move. Between the stress of the day, the oppressive alpha pheromones filling the air with frustration, and Jongho’s clinging to his side, they were holding up by a tenuous thread.

With a heavy sigh, Seonghwa reached into the drawer of his bedside table for the box of patches, tugging his sweatshirt up so he could apply one to his side. Then another. And another.

Three fresh patches. Three extra layers of protection. His system screamed under their oppressive weight, but it still wasn’t enough. The rattle of the pill bottle echoed in the quiet room as Seonghwa tipped one out and popped it past his lips, swallowing the blue pill down dry.

Now, he could rest. His scent was safely locked away, his urges and instincts buried under another dangerous dose of chemicals.

The omega lay in his bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over his eyes to block out the light of the lamp he had no energy to get up to turn off. The muffled sounds of the pack outside bled through the walls, allowing him to fantasize in his exhausted mind that he was with them. Smiling, laughing, and bickering as if he were just part of the team. Instead of an outsider who played a perfect part just to fit in. It was a comforting image that he let lull him into a fitful sleep.

__________________

Yunho's POV:

The chaos from dinner had finally quieted down into a calm lull, with only the sound of the TV playing and the gentle clatter of dishes being washed in the kitchen to fill the air. Most of the pack had filtered out already, heading back to their dorms for the night to get some much-needed rest.

Jongho hadn’t spoken a word to any of them once Seonghwa had left for bed, but the scowl on his lips as he finished his meal and washed his plate said plenty. If that wasn’t enough, his scent did the rest of the talking. A normally grounding blend of cedar wood and smoky vanilla had become bitter with frustration. Like a campfire was burning right at their dining table.

By the time he left out the door with Wooyoung and Hongjoong for their apartment a few floors above, he had calmed down just a touch. He’d stepped aside with Yeosang to have a quiet conversation by the window, and it seemed to balance out the bitterness he was carrying, enough that he did speak to say his goodbyes before leaving. Even if he did it with a disappointed glare.

Yunho couldn’t blame him for his anger. He’d had felt ashamed of himself from the moment his mistake was pointed out. They’d all had an exhausting day, but Seonghwa had done more than the rest of them by far. Any pause in their hectic schedule, he’d been there. Feeding them, passing them water, murmuring words of encouragement. The beta hadn’t stopped for even a second. And then still found it in himself to cook an entire meal for his pack. And none of them so much as smiled in gratitude before descending on the meal like ravenous animals. Until Jongho called them out on it.

Yeosang, his roommate, was gathering his things from the coffee table and placing them in his bag when he looked up at Yunho with a raised brow.

“You ready to go?”

The alpha shook his head gently, offering a half smile. “Nah. Mingi wants to get a couple of rounds of this new game in. I’ll be home in a bit.”

Yeosang nodded, perfectly content with his answer. The quiet beta was always more than happy to have the place to himself. “See you then.”

Yunho waved, waiting till the door had swung shut behind him before moving off to the kitchen. Seonghwa had worked so hard on dinner, the least he could do was finish cleaning up before the obsessively clean beta snuck back in to finish the job.

After half an hour, the kitchen was spotless once more. The dishes were washed and put away, counters scrubbed clean, and leftovers neatly packed in the fridge. Yunho could hear Wooyoung and San’s playful bickering through the walls of San’s room, bringing a soft smile to his lips.

His eyes flickered down the hall to Seonghwa’s closed door. No light shone through beneath it, no sound came from within. A frown curled over his lips. Something wasn’t right with the eldest packmate. The way he’d left dinner with a fake smile and an untouched plate had left a bitter taste in Yunho’s mouth. He couldn’t scent any distress in the air, at least not over the overpowering clash of all the cranky alphas in the room who were too tired to even notice and rein in their scents.

Still, something was off.

So with everything in the kitchen wrapped up, Yunho filled up a glass with water and nabbed a few lemon honey candies for the throat Seonghwa loved before tiptoeing down the hall towards the man’s door.

He knocked once. No answer.

He waited a beat, then knocked again. “Hwa?”

Still, silence.

Yunho tried the handle. It wasn’t locked. He cracked it open, just enough to peek his head in.

It was dark inside, not even a speck of light peeking through the drawn curtains. He could barely make out the outline of Seonghwa’s body, curled up on the far side of the bed. On top of the comforter, facing the wall.

So he stepped inside slowly, quietly, careful not to startle the resting beta. From the sound of his steady breathing, he must have been sleeping.

“I’m just gonna leave these here,” Yunho whispered, gently setting the glass and candy down on his nightstand. He was just about to leave when something hit him... or rather, didn’t.

He couldn’t smell anything.

Yunho had always had a particularly sensitive nose. He’d always been overly attuned to the scents of the world around him. It used to be overwhelming, as a young pup, wandering around with a million different pheromones drifting around the air, giving him impossible headaches. But he’d adjusted over time. He was used to it. But he could always pick up on even the slightest changes in his packmates' scents.

Except for Seonghwa.

He could never sense when he was happy, or sad, or scared. There were never any changes, though he always chalked it up to the beta’s impeccable sense of control. He could always catch onto at least a hint of something, though. Freshly washed linen, notes of lemon. Subtle, soft. It was never powerful, but it was always there.

But now? Nothing. Not even a hint. It was like the room had been scrubbed clean. Sterile.

Yunho’s brow furrowed. He took a half step closer, breathing in quietly again just to be sure. But still, not even the faintest whiff from the sleeping beta. That wasn't normal, it was-

“...Yunho?” A soft voice cleared away the silence.

He turned, his eyes falling to the bed. Seonghwa had shifted slightly, rolling onto his side and blinking up at him with round, bleary eyes.

“What’re you doing?”

Yunho swallowed, a sheepish smile curving over his lips. The elder looked so soft and small in his big bed, the sudden urge to grab the blankets and tuck him into them filling his chest... which he ignored.

“Uh... I brought you water,” he whispered. “And the throat candy you like. I noticed you didn’t eat much at dinner.”

Seonghwa blinked at him and tiredly rubbed at his eyes, groggy and confused, but not angry with him. If anything, he looked more vulnerable than Yunho was used to seeing him. His heart ached in his chest, and he wasn’t even sure why.

“Thank you,” he murmured, carefully pushing himself to sit up.

Yunho shook his head with a sad smile, passing the beta the full glass. “Nah, don’t thank me. You’re the one who bent over backwards looking after all of us today. It’s about time someone took care of you for a change.”

Seonghwa’s expression faltered, a fleeting look of pain flashing across it before being wiped away so quickly he could’ve sworn he imagined it.

“That’s not necessary. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but-“ A frustrated sigh escaped Yunho’s lips as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. “We’re your pack, Hyung. We need to take care of you just as much as you care for us.”

Seonghwa just smiled, one easy and practiced. It didn’t reach his tired eyes, and something about that made Yunho’s gut twist with unease.

“It’s okay, Yunho. I’m fine. Really. I like taking care of you all. God knows you boys need the help.” The elder chuckled, evidently trying to deflect with humor.

Yunho wasn’t convinced. But he respected Seonghwa’s discomfort and backed off from the subject. He forced a weak laugh, nodding along. “You’re right. What would we do without you, Hwa?”

“Live in your own filth like your wolf ancestors.” Seonghwa teased, the tension that had gathered in his shoulders easing, his fingers relaxing in his lap.

“Hey!” Yunho huffed, playfully nudging his shoulder. “I’m not that bad. I think you’re talking about Hongjoong here.”

Seonghwa shuddered. “Ugh. I don't even want to think about how bad his room is right now. I’ll have nightmares.”

“Well we can’t have that, now can we?” Yunho murmured with an endearing smile. He spared a glance at the clock on Seonghwa’s nightstand. “Shit- it’s past midnight. I should really let you get some rest, hyung. You’ll be dead on your feet tomorrow if you don’t get enough sleep.”

Seonghwa hummed in agreement. “Mmm… I might be. But so will you.”

Yunho grinned, reaching out to ruffle the elder’s already sleep tousled hair. “Nah, I’ll be just fine. I’ve got a redbull in the fridge waiting for me when I get up. But you can lean on me during practice. I’ll keep you upright when Hongjoong starts droning on about boring shit.”

“My hero.” Seonghwa dryly mused, a hint of a genuine smile tugging at his lips.

Yunho felt the tight knot in his chest ease. He’d made Seonghwa smile. Actually smile. His inner alpha purred in his chest with satisfaction.

“I mean it, Hwa,” He insisted more seriously as he got up to leave. “You can lean on me. Anytime. I’m here.”

It was silent for a moment, though he was able to pick up on the shuddering sigh Seonghwa let out as if he was struggling to accept Yunho’s words.

“Goodnight, Yunho,” finally came the beta’s reply, a soft whisper. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Star,” Yunho murmured, the nickname slipping off his tongue for the first time. But it felt right. Seonghwa was a star. His star. A beautiful shining light in a sea of darkness.

With soft steps, Yunho padded through the dark room back to the door. From the sound of his evened-out breaths, steady and gentle, Seonghwa had already fallen asleep once more. He spared one last glance over his shoulder at the sleeping male. While he was resting, he looked so... peaceful. Something, he realized, that was rare to see on Seonghwa.

So, as Yunho finally slipped away from the beta’s room and made the short journey home to his dorm just a floor below, he made a decision. He would always be there for Seonghwa to lean on. To give him something he, for reasons unknown, could never seem to find. Peace.

Chapter Text

Seonghwa’s POV:

When Seonghwa woke the following morning, the sun hadn’t risen in the sky yet. Just a hint of light peeked over the horizon, bathing his bedroom in cool shades of grey. It was both dismal and beautiful in its own way. His body ached, deep in his muscles, his joints, his bones. Overexerted and drained dry. But it was something else that pulled him entirely from his groggy state of mind. 

Before he could so much as sit up, it hit him. It was faint, but for someone who very rarely could perceive scents, it stuck out distinctively. Warm, masculine. Familiar somehow. 

Yunho. 

Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat as he sat up slowly, blanket falling away from his chest. The scent clung faintly to his pillow, his sheets, his space. The alpha had been there last night. He remembered it now. But in all the time he’d known any of his pack, he’d never been able to detect more than a hint of their scents. He couldn’t even begin to guess what they really were. Between his suppressants and the scent blockers, his ability to detect pheromones was nonexistent. But this early in the morning... when the blockers had worn thin and the suppressants had faded, he was finally able to catch the lingering essence of sandalwood and honey. 

It felt natural and warm, like early morning sunlight caressing his skin amongst a towering forest of trees. Safe and comforting, even as faint as it was. 

He could still hear the ghost of Yunho’s voice as he had been drifting off. 

“Goodnight, star.”

Star. 

A beautiful name. Precious. Whispered so gently. The memory sent a warmth through his chest that flickered and spread—

And then he noticed his own scent. Rising against the weakened patches that itched against his skin. 

A decadent blend of whipped vanilla and cashmere, with underlying notes of toasted almond. The rush of it over his senses was warm and comforting. And terrifying. If he could smell it... what were the chances his alpha roommates might be awake to notice it? 

Shit-

Shit shit shit. 

Seonghwa scrambled from his bed in an instant, gathering up a change of clothes, and raced into the bathroom. His heart pounded in his chest, ears ringing as he threw himself into the shower. The water was scalding, steam billowing like smoke as he took a bar of soap and scrubbed his skin. Scrubbed and scrubbed till no trace remained. He gave every gland his focus. Neck, wrists, inner thighs, lower back. Kept going till he was red and raw, till the sting of sensitivity calmed the panic that churned beneath the surface. 

His hands trembled as he dried off and tugged open the drawer. Two more pills, washed down with cold water that did nothing to quell the bitter taste. Then the patches, one after another until he was shielded in them like armor. Then the final step, the spray. A mist of artificial pheromones to replace what he had stripped away. To replace him. Faint notes of fresh linens and a touch of lemon. 

As the drugs began to work and the spray settled over him, he stood still in front of the mirror. His skin was marred with a slew of sensitive red splotches from previous patches that had irritated his flesh, the bags under his eyes heavier than they’d ever been. He looked like a hot fucking mess, but it didn’t matter. Not when the suppressants dulled his emotions and the blockers masked any feelings his scent might have betrayed. He was a blank slate. Invisible. Safe. 

Seonghwa’s racing heart rate calmed down to a more manageable patter in his chest. It spiked for just a moment more when he considered if his roommates had noticed the sweetness in the air. But at five in the morning, the chances were the men were both dead to the world in their beds, so he let the fear go. Returned to his room and stripped the sheets from his bed to chuck in the wash. Swept, mopped, scrubbed, and wiped until any traces of his or the alpha’s scent were erased. 

He moved on with his day like nothing had happened. Dressed himself in a matching baby blue set of joggers and sweater, covered his dark circles with a bit of makeup, and fixed his hair. As he worked on breakfast, the alphas in the apartment finally made an appearance, groggily stumbling from their rooms, summoned by the aromas that drifted in the air as Seonghwa stood at the stovetop with a pan of sizzling eggs. 

“Morning, Hwa.” San greeted him in a raspy, sleep soaked tone that sent a shiver down his spine he’d deny until the day he died. His eyes were barely open, moving through the kitchen with all the grace of a drunken elephant as he got the coffee maker going. 

Seonghwa hummed softly, turning off the stovetop and brushing past San to reach for a few plates from the cabinet above him. “Morning, Sannie. Did you sleep well?” 

His hands barely met the dish before an arm banded around his waist, dragging him away from his task and into the firm embrace of the sleepy alpha, his back flush to the man’s firm chest. “San-“ 

“Mm… you’re so warm,” San grumbled as he buried his face between the elder’s shoulder blades, holding him close like he was a teddy bear. “Just wanna go back to bed.”

It was clear by the way the younger man wobbled on his feet that he was still half asleep. Not conscious enough to notice the way the male in his grasp was panicking. 

It was nothing new that San was insatiably touchy this early in the morning, but over their time living together, Seonghwa had gotten rather good at skirting around his attempts for affection. He was clearly off his game today. The chaos of the morning had left him scatterbrained. He hadn’t seen it coming before it was too late. 

But then came the real danger.

San swayed, pressing closer until the tip of his nose skimmed the curve of Seonghwa’s neck, slow and searching. He drew in a slow, content breath like it was the most natural thing in the world. Was he-

Shit. He was. 

The groggy alpha was trying to scent him.

Seonghwa went stiff, a sharp inhale rattling through him. None of his pack had ever attempted to scent him.  They’d never needed to, or wanted to, he assumed. He wasn’t touchy with them, never gave them an opening to. And his false scent was always even, unreadable. Never distressed enough to trigger the instinct to soothe. 

Now, though… San was close enough that Seonghwa could feel the ghost of his breath against his skin. If he let this continue, San would notice something was wrong. The blockers in his system would ruin the exchange. His scent wouldn’t shift in response... and San might start asking questions Seonghwa couldn’t afford to answer.

His mind raced to find an exit.

Just in time, a bleary-eyed Mingi came stumbling into the kitchen, hair sticking out in every direction as he grumbled to himself something about ‘stupid mornings’. Relief washed over the omega in a dizzying flood.

“Mingi!” Seonghwa greeted all too brightly. He hurried to extract himself from San’s arms, twisting free and practically shoving him at their roommate, eliciting a disgruntled huff from the sleep-deprived man. “San started the coffee, and breakfast is ready. Dig in.”

He was already out of the kitchen door before Mingi’s mind was even able to wrap around the rapid sequence of events. “Wow- thanks hyung,” a sweet smile began forming on his lips... just to falter. “Wait, aren’t you gonna eat with us?”

“I had a protein shake!” He called over his shoulder quickly, which was true for once. “I’m good. I’m gonna grab my shit for practice.” 

“You got up early just to make this for us? You’re heaven sent Hwa.” San said, his warm voice echoing down the hall as Seonghwa made it back to the safety of his bedroom. Like a siren call that tempted him to turn back. But it was too late for that.

As the door fell shut behind him, he slumped against the hard surface, using its solid weight to ground himself. His fingers reached up to brush over his neck, along his scent gland where San’s nose had lingered. A shiver wound through him. Deep down, every cell in his body had wanted to melt back into that hold. To turn and bury his face in San’s chest, to let himself be kept. But he had his rules for good reason. They kept him safe. So he cleared the memory from his mind and grabbed his bag, packing everything he’d need for another hectic day. 

The KQ building was busier than ever, comeback preparations whipping the place into a frenzy. The group shuffled into their practice room, buzzing with caffeine and adrenaline. Everyone was wide awake... everyone except Seonghwa. He’d been up for five hours already, and the exhaustion gnawed at him. Still, he refused to slow down. He wouldn’t be the weak link in a pack this talented.

The first few run-throughs of the complicated choreography were easy. Even exhausted, Seonghwa lived to dance. It was what drew him to being an idol in the first place. There was nothing quite like being able to clear your mind and simply give yourself to the music. There, he could find sanctuary.

By the fourth run, however, his body was protesting. Usually he could go for at least a couple of hours before wearing thin, but the meager protein shake he’d drunk, combined with only a few hours of sleep, was getting to him. Not that he was letting it show. He kept moving, passing out protein bars in the pauses where their choreographer gave his notes, refilling waters, anything to help,

He was in the middle of helping Wooyoung tie back his long black hair to keep it from his eyes, when something cold and plastic nudged his elbow. 

He glanced over his shoulder, blinking curiously. Jongho stood behind him with a water bottle in hand, an expectant look filling his round eyes. He didn’t say anything, just waited till a very confused Seonghwa accepted the water and took a sip before nodding in approval. Wordlessly, he returned to his position, shooting Seonghwa a soft smile. 

Odd. 

Not long after, Seonghwa found himself alone in the center of the room. The rest of the group had vanished into the showers, scrubbing away the sweaty results of a difficult practice before they were herded off to hair and makeup. He busied himself with small, aimless tasks. Folding towels, straightening papers. Anything to give his hands purpose while he waited for the changing rooms to clear. His shoulders sagged, his body rocking on his feet as the weight of another rough night began to pull at him.

The omega wanted nothing more than to collapse into a hot shower and let the warm water wash away all the filth that he could feel clinging to his sweaty skin. But he’d learned rather quickly during his time with Ateez that sharing the changing rooms during showers wasn’t an option. Not when one prank or careless glance could reveal everything. From the welts left behind by his aggressive scent patches, to the anatomy that marked him as unmistakably, inescapably omega. So it was either hurrying to shower first or sneaking in at the very end. And in some emergency cases, finding a lockable bathroom where he could scrub down with wipes and rinse out his hair in the sink. 

He hated it. Hated the secrecy, the constant vigilance. There were other male omegas in the world, sure, but they were rare enough that he’d never met one face to face. He’d never seen one in the public eye, either. There was no one to ask questions or take guidance from. As an idol, his only social interactions were limited to his pack and other idols. Opportunities to meet someone like him were... unlikely. But despite how deeply he craved that connection... as an omega? He couldn’t trust anyone. 

He’d learned that the hard way.

His gaze drifted to the corner of the room where an old mop bucket sat forgotten, the metal handle bent and rusted. The lingering scent of disinfectant suddenly more noticeable in the air.

And just like that, his chest tightened.

No—

No no no.

He never let himself think about those days. Never opened the box of deeply buried memories from the time before he’d discovered how to disguise his true identity. Especially not in such a weakened and tired state, when he couldn’t fight them off. The edges of his vision darkened, and suddenly he wasn’t in the practice room anymore.

The strip club’s service hall came back to him in vivid pieces. Flickering fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The air was thick with the sour mix of sweat, stale perfume, and disinfectant. A young Seonghwa, no more than seventeen, knelt on the floor in one of the empty rooms designated for private dances. His rag was soaked, his hands chapped from bleach as he scrubbed up a spilled drink.

That was when he’d heard him. Heavy footsteps on the sticky hardwood, slow and deliberate. The confident walk of a predator approaching its prey. 

“Hey there, pretty little thing,” a sickening voice drawled from behind the omega.

Seonghwa distinctly remembered the way his heart had sunk in his chest, the ice-cold sensation that had filled his veins as he caught the putrid scent of the man. A cloying musk combined with cheap, overpowering cologne. Unmistakably alpha in the worst ways. 

He glanced over his shoulder, looking the stranger over. He loomed over him, a hulking figure with broad shoulders and a sinister smile. 

“Th-This is a private room, you...you can’t be back here,” He stammered out, frozen with fear. He couldn’t even bring himself to move away, stuck in place. 

The alpha let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slowly. He entirely ignored Seonghwa’s protesting, taking one step closer. “I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, little omega.” As he looked the trembling boy up and down, he tsked softly. “It’s a shame they’ve got you wasting those pretty hands on a rag. I can think of much better uses for them.”

Seonghwa shuddered with disgust, fighting off the sudden wave of nausea that rolled in his stomach. He could feel the man move closer till the heat of his body pressed against his back. His smell was thick and intrusive, filling his senses and flooding the young omega with a terror he was unfortunately all too familiar with. A hand reached out and brushed the back of his neck, light but unmistakably possessive. He flinched, knocking over his spray bottle in the process and popping it open. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled the air, cleansing his senses of the debilitating pheromones the alpha was releasing. 

The young omega jumped to his feet in a panic, stumbling back from the man who did nothing but laugh. “Where do you think you’re going, huh? Don’t you wanna have some fun?”

“No... I don't,” Seonghwa shook his head and tried to brush past him. “Please! I-I just... I need to get back to work. Just let me—”

The alpha caught him in a bruising grip before he could slip away, tugging him forward till they were face to face. Seonghwa nearly gagged in revulsion as he was met with the stench of liquor on his breath. “Oh, don’t play innocent little omega. You want this. Lured me in. You can’t blame an alpha for... responding, when you smell so sweet. We can’t control it.”

Seonghwa vehemently shook his head, squirming in the stranger’s grip. “No! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t—”

A harsh slap cut off his sentence, the sheer force of it making his vision blur. A soft whimper tumbled from the boy’s lips before he could stop it. 

“Quiet.” The man hissed, his voice as sharp as steel. And then he smiled, as if this was all a joke. As if it were nothing. He backed Seonghwa up till he was flush with the wall. The boy’s heart thundered in his chest, ringing in his ears. But just before he could make another move, a high-pitched feminine voice interrupted.

“Are you lost, sugar? This sure as hell ain't the lounge, and he sure as hell ain’t a dancer.” 

Vivian, one of the club’s most popular ‘dancers’, stepped into the room. Her pink hair was clipped away from her face, and a matching robe was tied snugly around her slender waist. Clearly, she was on a break from working the floor. And just in time. 

The alpha cleared his throat and took a step back, shaking his head lightly as if amused. “I must be. This sweet little thing was just helping me find the way back. Weren’t you?”

Seonghwa stood there silently, shaking like a leaf and staring at the man with glassy eyes. He couldn’t manage even a single word in response, every thought stuck in his throat. But to his sheer luck and relief, Vivian stepped in for him once more. 

“Out the door and straight down the hall. You can’t miss it,” She offered a tight smile, arms crossed firmly over her chest. 

Luckily, the creep got the message, stepping back from the omega with one last lingering glance before shuffling from the room. The moment he was out of sight, Seonghwa collapsed to his knees and let out a silent sob. Vivian was quick to follow, wrapping the young boy up in her arms and pulling his head to her silk covered chest.

“It’s alright, sweetie. It’s all gonna be alright,” she whispered soothingly, rubbing small circles on his back. “You’re safe now.”

As Seonghwa’s cries died down and he was helped to his feet, he came to an understanding. He’d seen it time and time again, but foolishly, it took this for him to learn his lesson. When it came to being around an omega, no alpha could be trusted. They always ended up wanting the same thing. Jiyoung, the ones at the shelter, the alphas there at the club... the moment they caught on to the male omega in their midst, they couldn’t be trusted. 

“-hwa... Seonghwa?” 

A voice cut through the haze like a blade. The thumping bass dissolved. The stink of stale beer and sweat slipped away, replaced by the clean tang of lemon disinfectant and the shocking fluorescence of the practice room lights.

Hongjoong stood a few feet away, a towel slung loosely around his neck. Damp strands of shaggy black hair clung stubbornly to his temples despite being pushed back in messy waves. His almond eyes, sharp by nature, were softened with concern. Their dark depths scanned the frozen male, as if looking close enough would provide him with all the answers he needed. 

“You alright there?”

Seonghwa took a labored breath in, blinking rapidly to clear away the lingering fog from his unwanted trip down memory lane. 

“Uh... yeah. Sorry,” he awkwardly cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I spaced out. I was up late reading. But I’m fine, really.” 

The lie slid out smoothly, second nature at this point. His mouth shaped the words automatically, the way it always had. And, just like always, they were believed.

The tension in Hongjoong’s expression faded. The alpha nodded in understanding and took a step back. “Been there. But if you want to get a shower in, I’d hurry. The stylist team is already getting ready for us on set, we’ve gotta be at the van in twenty.”

“I’ll be quick,” Seonghwa promised, watching as the alpha turned away and disappeared into the next room to gather his things. Only when he was entirely out of sight did Seonghwa let his shoulders drop, the ghost of the stranger’s voice from his memory still clinging to the edges of his thoughts like a parasite.

Shaking off his unease, the omega tried to focus on the task at hand. He slipped into the changing rooms, grateful to find them empty, and stripped off the sweaty gym clothes that clung uncomfortably to his frame. He stepped under the hot spray till he was rinsed clean. In practiced order, he reapplied his scent patches, spritzed his pheromone spray, and dressed. On autopilot, just like every other day. By the time the man had made it out to the van to join his group, it hadn’t been any more than fifteen minutes. Quick, just as promised.

As the vehicle peeled away from the curb, he slumped in his seat, his cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, eyes half lidded. He tuned out the sounds of the pack as they chatted and bickered amongst themselves, focusing on trying to clear his mind. With every steadying breath he took, he shoved the memory back down into the deep dark recesses of his mind. Locked up in an imaginary coffin, buried safely with the rest of everything he refused to revisit. He was sure therapists everywhere would have a field day with him. Call it repression, or emotional avoidance. Seonghwa preferred to call it survival. 

The group arrived to set with shuffled footsteps and quiet murmurs. They were all still a bit damp from their showers, the cool blasting ac sending shivers across their skin. When it was Seonghwa’s turn, he all but slumped into the makeup chair, the plush cushion swallowing his weight as his artist swooped in without missing a beat.

“I’ve been needing more and more concealer every time I see you, Seonghwa.” His makeup artist, Jia, chided softly. She dabbed the soft brush beneath his eyes, fussing over the dark circles that only ever seemed to grow darker. Jia was a petite woman with a curtain of pin straight black hair and thick-framed glasses that always sat perched low on her freckled nose. She was a beta close to their age, if he had to guess. Tattoos curled up her arms. Moons, constellations, abstract linework, like her skin was a personal star chart. She was the kind of person who was far too astute for their own good, which was terrifying, really. She always noticed when he wasn’t resting well... which was most of the time.

Sleep had been evading him lately, an unfortunate result of his out of control instincts. His inner omega was desperate for any form of comfort in his room. Plush blankets, soft stuffed animals. Safety of some kind. But with the risk of building a nest in a moment of weakness, he denied himself those things. And no amount of cleaning or showering or distracting himself with hours of animal crossing brought him the rest he desperately desired. Nothing could cut away the bone deep weariness the omega had grown accustomed to.

It didn’t help that the unwelcome flashbacks in the practice room, not but an hour earlier, still weighed heavily on his mind. Thick and suffocating.

Seonghwa quietly contemplated how to respond to her observations, his lip catching between his teeth. “I… uh-“ the omega cleared his throat, a forced smile forming. “It’s just insomnia. You know how stressful comebacks can be.” 

“Mhm...” Her agreement was slow, her gaze still locked on him, still assessing every word. “Tried anything for it? Tea? Melatonin?”

Sure he had. Tea, meditation, melatonin, drinking till his head swam, going for a run until his legs gave out and he crashed into a fitful sleep. 

Seonghwa snorted much louder than he intended at his own thoughts, garnering a few curious glances from his pack mates in the chairs around him. He sank lower in his seat, cheeks warming. “Yes, I’ve tried them. I’ve tried a lot of things. It’s okay, really Jia I just... I have a lot on my mind.” He tried his best to give her an honest smile. One that would convince her everything was fine. 

But she was not so easily fooled.

The makeup artist huffed softly, fingers deftly tapping in the concealer below his eyes as she added a final layer and nodded, clearly deeming her efforts successful. “Your soul is so heavy love. I can feel it. Have you been speaking with your pack? They’re there to share the burden dear, it’s what a pack is for.” 

There she went again, sounding much too old and wise for her years. 

Seonghwa’s fingers twitched against the metal arms of his chair, feeling the urge to scratch at his own skin as if that would help purge the uncomfortable feelings bubbling beneath the surface. This topic was dangerous territory; he needed to divert to something else and fast. 

But with the day he was having… and the way Jia looked down at him with nothing but genuine concern in her eyes… all of the lies that usually slipped from his tongue were suddenly lost. And he was faced with the raw, ugly truth. It tumbled out before he could stop himself.

“I can’t talk to them.” He whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking under the weight of his distress. “Not about this.”

Jia’s dark eyes studied him for a moment, so piercing he could’ve sworn they saw directly into his soul. After a few quiet moments, with no more than the soft sweeping of her brushes against his eyes to distract him, she spoke. “I’m always here for you Hwa. And if you need me to put a hex on somebody, I’m your gal.”

A watery laugh broke free from Seonghwa’s lips. “I’m set on hexes, but thank you. Really.”

Jia cracked a smile and nodded, resuming her work. “Well... in that case, we’ll just focus on making you look drop dead gorgeous for these photos.” 

“Sounds perfect.”

The rest of his time in the chair was spent in comfortable silence as the woman wrapped up his makeup and quickly styled his hair. Once finished, she sucked in a breath between her teeth. 

“I outdid myself, honestly.” She said, holding up a hand mirror and angling it towards him. Taking in his reflection, a dazzling smile spread over the man’s lips. 

She made him look… well, fucking hot. Smoky and smudged eyeshadow with faint red shimmer, a glossy crimson tint on his lips that gave the effect that they’d been thoroughly bitten. His silver hair had been swept out of his face, with a few loose strands artfully framing his forehead. Seonghwa felt beautiful in a way that he usually avoided. But if this was a concept approved by the company, he refused to protest it. He’d take the chance and run with it. Just once, he’d allow himself to be a bit selfish.

“Oh my god. Jia, you did amazing.” He marveled, tilting his head from side to side to take it all in. “I love it.”

“I always do amazing.” She mused in a dry tone, a smug grin painting her lips. With a flick of her hand, she shooed him away from his station. “Now go get dressed, and knock ‘em dead, Hwa.” 

Seonghwa returned her smile and hopped up from the chair, tugging her into a grateful hug before he could second guess himself. It earned him an endeared chuckle from the makeup artist, who patted his back before nudging him towards the pre-sectioned racks that held their outfits for the promo shoot.

Seonghwa ducked behind a partition, changing quickly with practiced precision, not wanting to undo the incredible artistry on his face. A stylist hovered beside him when he stepped free from the barrier, helping cinch and slide everything into the perfect position. Only when the last piece of fabric was smoothed into place did he step in front of the mirror for a look. 

His breath caught in his throat, amazement dancing in his eyes.

He looked as though he had stepped out of a fairytale. A dark one to be sure, matching the vampiric concept, but no less magical. His shirt was a deep wine red silk with flowing sleeves that billowed with every movement, edged with a black lace trim along the cuffs and deep neckline. A black leather corset sculpted his slender figure with a dangerous elegance, cinched tight in a way that made his already slim waist look impressively small. High-waisted black trousers that flared at the ankles hugged his hips, flowing like dark shadows as he moved. The stylists had paired it all with heeled ankle boots that made the man taller than he already was. And perfectly perched against his throat sat a velvet black choker with a blood red gem. 

He might as well have been looking at a stranger. Beautiful and dangerous. It was everything. 

His manager’s voice cut through the spell, bringing him back to reality as he called him for his turn on set. Seonghwa exhaled slowly, giving his reflection one last fleeting look before departing from the room.

The click of his boots on the polished floors announced his arrival before he even came into view, catching the attention of the staff and the few members who had just taken their turn for solo shots. Seonghwa emerged from the changing rooms and into view, looking like a vision under the soft mood lighting that matched the gothic set. He fidgeted with the gem dangling from his choker, unaware of just how much attention he’d attracted. 

He was oblivious to the way Hongjoong’s hand faltered in lifting his to-go cup of coffee to his lips. Didn’t notice the way San, who was sprawled out on a chair in the corner, had gone rigid as he took in the view. Or how Yunho let out a low whistle of appreciation, just to be elbowed in the ribs by Mingi at his side. He was completely blind to the way his mere presence had made a tension coil in the air like a bowstring being drawn tight. 

The omega strode up to their photographer, Ian, ready for instruction. The man was an impressively tall and muscular alpha with an unruly mop of black curls and sprawling tattoos that covered every inch of visible skin. Not what you’d first expect from a professional photographer in Korea, but the man was undeniably skilled. For that very reason, this wasn’t their first time working with him. But it was Ateez’s first time using him as the lead photographer on a promotional shoot. It was a rather big deal.

As he stepped up to the man, he was met with a dazzling grin that had his heart stuttering in his chest. 

“Seonghwa~ you look utterly incredible,” Ian said, not shy about the way his gaze swept over the idol from head to toe. “Ready to get to work?”

Heat rose in Seonghwa’s cheeks, but he did his best to behave unfazed, managing an enthusiastic, steady nod. “Very ready. Where do you want me?” 

Without missing a beat, Ian placed a hand on the small of his back and guided him over to the fully decorated set the team had concocted; a faux lavish study that looked like it belonged in a vampire’s mansion. Flickering candelabras, dark fabrics draped over crushed velvet sofas, a fake fireplace constructed with dark stonework. 

“Right here is perfect, just stand there.” Ian murmured, positioning Seonghwa right in front of a few candles and tapestries. 

The photographer backed up a few feet and lifted the camera dangling around his neck on a strap, snapping a couple test shots. “Oh this is going to be fantastic.” He said, grinning from behind the lense. 

Seonghwa could feel the heat crawling up his neck at the intensity of the man’s gaze as he switched through a few poses. After years of photo shoots and comebacks, he knew what to do in front of a camera. What expressions and angles worked best for which concepts. And Ian seemed to be eating it up. With every change in position, or shift in pose, the praise kept rolling in. Unabashed and enthusiastic… intoxicating really. It was a heady feeling. One he more than welcomed to distract him from the darkness that remained on the fringes of his mind.

“Tilt your head just a bit more… gorgeous. Yes, just like that.” Ian praised, the shutter of the camera clicking in rapid succession. “Shift a bit to the… yep you got it already! Beautiful. You were made to be on camera darling.”

As the photoshoot continued, Seonghwa kept his focus on the camera, unaware of the ripple effects the photographer’s words were having on the room. He had no time to notice the way Hongjoong had stopped looking at his emails to scowl, or how Yunho’s jaw had grown more and more tense with every ‘beautiful’ that left their photographer’s lips. 

“Let your lips part ever so slightly— good. Very good.” Ian said, stepping closer to the eldest group member to capture a tighter shot. In that moment, Yunho looked as though he was going to shoot forward from his seat, only to he stopped by San’s gentle hand on his wrist. 

Ian finally lowered his camera after what seemed like forever, but could have been no more than thirty minutes. He smoothly stepped up to Seonghwa and slid an arm around his waist, steering him towards the monitors that now displayed his work.

“Look at these,” Ian urged him, his palm settled on the small of Seonghwa’s back. The touch was placed high enough that the oblivious boy could see it as casual and professional, while the other alphas in the room saw it as anything but. The pheromones in the room had grown tense, borderline hostile. Not that the omega could notice, even if he tried. He simply nodded along, looking through the pictures on the screen, his wide doe eyes glimmering with amazement. 

“Holy— that’s me?” He looked to Ian with raised brows. 

The photographer chuckled softly, his tone laced with pride. “Of course, that’s you. You’re already gorgeous, doll. All I had to do was capture it. Easiest job in the world. You did fucking amazing.”

Praise wasn’t something Seonghwa often heard outside of fan comments, and it hit him like a balm on his wounded heart, coaxing a flustered smile to his lips. Seonghwa’s gaze diverted to his feet as the tips of his ears burned red. “I-I… wow. Thank you, Ian.”

Ian’s grin sharpened as he stepped behind Seonghwa to observe the monitor with him. As the last shot flicked past, he leaned in close to murmur in his ear, “You can call me hyung Seonghwa. We’re close enough for that now, aren’t we?”

The redness in Seonghwa’s cheeks grew darker as he looked up to meet the alpha’s surprisingly heatefd gaze— an expression he hadn’t seen directed his way in ages. And oddly enough, it didn’t send fear racing through his veins.  He nodded timidly. “Okay… hyung-“

“It’s time for duo shots, isn’t it?” A sharp voice broke through the private moment, a full-body flinch sending Seonghwa stumbling back into Ian’s strong frame. The photographer gripped his waist to steady him, waiting til the man had found his footing again before letting go. 

A cranky looking Hongjoong stood before them, arms crossed over his chest impatiently. For the first time since entering the room, Seonghwa got a proper look at the man, and suddenly his heart was thudding in his chest like it was trying to break free. He hadn’t been paying attention when he entered, too distracted by the task at hand and Ian’s flustering behavior. But if he had… he was sure he would have tripped over the heels of his boots.

Their leader looked immaculate. His styling looked like something pulled from a vampiric aristocrat's wardrobe. Black, tailored trousers with a sharp crease, tucked into polished knee-high boots. His shirt, which hid beneath his folded arms, was black silk; the collar undone just enough to reveal a silver pendant dangling on a chain, rested against his collarbone. Over it, a long fitted coat in deep charcoal velvet, lined with dark, blood red fabric. His shaggy black hair had been styled up and back, a few loose strands intentionally framing his forehead, the faint smudge of kohl at his eyes deepening the intensity of his gaze. 

Holy fuck. 

He glanced around the room, as if searching out the rest of the present members to see if they too looked just as incredible. And, of course they did. Each of them was draped in silks and crushed velvet. Tailored slacks and shimmering silver jewelry that made them look both enticing and dangerous. 

His attention flitted back to the shorter alpha who had somehow managed to tower over the omega and the photographer with his sheer presence alone. His eyes wandered to the sliver of exposed skin where the collar of his shirt hung loose, and it took everything the man had not to stare like a hungry animal. He couldn’t even remember what Hongjoong had said.

Luckily, Ian broke the temporary silence for him with an easygoing smile. “Yeah, it’s definitely time. Let me figure out who I want to pair-“

“That’s not necessary.” The leader interjected firmly, “Seonghwa and I are always together. Aren’t we?”

“I- Uh…” Seonghwa froze under the two sets of eyes that now looked to him for confirmation. “R-Right, yeah, it’s usually us.”

Ian kept a casual expression. He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by how the shorter man had suddenly inserted himself into their conversation. If anything, he looked amused. The photographer let out a soft chuckle and nodded towards a corner of the set with an ornate vintage sofa in front of the faux fireplace. 

“Of course, we can start with you two. Why don’t you stand over there behind the couch Hongjoong. Seonghwa, you can sit in front of him.”

Seonghwa followed instructions and strolled over to the sofa, still mulling over Hongjoong’s odd behavior. He was usually too busy with emails or jotting down ideas to even look up when it wasn’t his turn on set. And now here he was, volunteering to go next? 

The eldest gracefully lowered himself onto the sofa, hands clasped in his lap, awaiting further direction. As he shifted into position, he could feel the weight of the alpha’s presence behind him. The man’s hands had settled on the edge of the couch’s backing, caging him in on both sides, his rings glinting under the studio lights. 

“Perfect,” Ian murmured, circling them with his camera. “Let’s try a few where you’re just… relaxing.” His gaze lingered on Seonghwa a moment too long, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Just focus on the camera. Focus on me.”

Seonghwa nodded, cheeks flushing as he fumbled slightly with the hem of his corset before steeling his expression and doing his best to look up into the lens casually. 

Hongjoong shifted behind him, and Seonghwa felt the faint brush of warm air as the man leaned closer. “Relax your shoulders,” he murmured, his voice low but commanding, almost a growl only Seonghwa could hear. His hand hovered near Seonghwa’s shoulder for a moment, just enough that the younger’s skin tingled with the ghost of a touch. He had always been far too aware of Hongjoong’s presence. It was as if his senses were specially attuned to him.

Seonghwa followed the instruction obediently, stretching a bit and letting his hands rest softly on his knees. He glanced up to meet Hongjoong’s eyes and was immediately overwhelmed by the intensity. There was something in his eyes he couldn’t quite name, but he accepted it without question. 

“Hold that,” Ian said, crouching slightly to get a better angle. “Now, Seonghwa, look up at him like… like he’s the only person in the room.” 

The omega blinked, confused, but obeyed. Not catching on to the mischief that danced in the photographer’s eyes. He tilted his head, giving Hongjoong the soft, reverent gaze he’d been trained to offer in front of fans. He had no idea how much tension it created. Couldn’t tell just how sharply Hongjoong and all the other alphas in the room’s scents had spiked. 

Behind the camera, Ian’s chuckle was almost imperceptible. He adjusted the lens as Hongjoong leaned just a little closer, letting his hand brush Seonghwa’s back again. It was innocent, professional. At least that's what he told himself. But Ian noticed. Every photographer knows the language of subtle touch, and this one was intentional, territorial. But he didn't let that defeat him. If anything, the alpha was enjoying toying with the man, putting them in intimate poses while Seonghwa remained utterly oblivious.

“Now, let’s get some standing shots,” Ian said, stepping back and gesturing toward the fireplace. “Seonghwa, stand in front of him, just like before. But… maybe lean into him a little.”

Seonghwa complied, standing slowly in front of Hongjoong. He smoothed the front of his corset absently, trying not to think about the heat pooling in his chest at Hongjoong’s proximity as he pressed back into him, or the way Ian’s gaze lingered on him a beat too long.

Hongjoong shifted behind him again, one hand brushing over his back, near his hip. Subtle, silent claiming. Seonghwa tilted his head to the side, adjusting his stance slightly without realizing he was caught in the crossfire of pheromones, dominance, and professional competition.

“Perfect,” Ian said, snapping a few quick shots. “Now… a little more tension. Imagine something forbidden, just between the two of you.”

Seonghwa froze, unsure how to interpret the direction, but instinctively tilted his chin toward Hongjoong, letting his gaze grow dark and sharp. His heart beat a little faster, feeling as if a hummingbird had been trapped in his chest.

Hongjoong allowed his hand to linger against Seongwa's waist, meeting his gaze with a matching one of his own. Heated and heavy, and utterly mesmerizing. The hint of a smirk curled over the corner of his lips. Ian, behind the camera, leaned closer. Letting his presence press against the omega just enough to remind him he was an object of attention here too.

Seonghwa blinked, growing almost dizzy pressed between the two. He was entirely absorbed in the moment, blind to the simmering storm of silent rivalry.

It wasn’t long before the click of the final shots echoed softly through the studio. Ian lowered his camera with a satisfied hum. “And… that’s a wrap,” he announced, his grin easy and slightly mischievous. “Honestly, you two killed it.”

Seonghwa offered a timid smile. “Thank you hyung…” 

Ian shifted closer, lowering his voice so only Seonghwa could hear. “Seriously, you’ve got a natural way of connecting on set. Makes my job way too easy.” He gave the omega a playful nudge against the shoulder. “We should grab coffee sometime. I can give you some tips on posing, or angles... or maybe we’ll just talk.”

Before Seonghwa could respond, a shadow fell across his line of sight. Hongjoong’s voice cut through, casual but commanding. “Seonghwa, come on. We’re done here, its the rest of the team’s turn.”

At the same moment, Yunho stepped in from the other side out of seemingly nowhere, hand lightly braced on Seonghwa’s elbow. “Yeah, we need to head out. The driver won’t wait for long.”

Seonghwa froze, torn between Ian’s lingering attention and the insistent pulls from his pack. He glanced between the three of them, uncertainty flickering across his face. Ian quirked an eyebrow, amused, clearly noticing the subtle competition but letting it slide.

“Next time,” Ian murmured with a wink, “Don’t make me chase you.”

Seonghwa’s pulse quickened, but before he could answer, Hongjoong gave his arm a gentle tug. “Come on, lets go.”

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be guided away, walking between the two alphas. He couldn’t help but feel the lingering warmth of Ian’s presence, but he quickly shoved the thought aside as Yunho steered him towards the changing rooms to undress from their outfits before heading to the van waiting outside.

By the time they reached the parking lot, Seonghwa had settled into the rhythm of the easy conversation of the packmates who were also done with their turns, laughter and chatter filling the space around him. Yet even as he smiled and replied, a small, guilty feeling lingered in the pit of his stomach. Ian’s gaze still burned brightly in his mind. Though he’d never admit it, it had felt good to be so openly desired. He wasn’t exactly interested in the alpha. Wasn’t exactly capable of pursuing romantic interests as an idol either, especially not queer ones. And definitely not with so much to hide. But the lighthearted flirting still left him feeling noticed in a way he didn’t realize he’d been craving. And as he looked around at the men by his side, that craving only intensified, which made the guilt nearly crippling. 

Seonghwa slid into his seat in the van with a relieved sigh, slumping back against the leather still warm from the sun peering through the windows. Once more, he was flanked on either side by Yunho and Hongjoong, with San and Mingi claiming the back seat. The chatter had faded away as adrenaline faded and exhaustion set in. 

Hours later, the pack was back in Seonghwa’s living room, the place that had become their unspoken headquarters. The space had this... natural soothing energy. Soft lamplight that cast a warm glow on the lightly decorated walls lined with an array of the omegas’ potted plant collection. Plenty of space on the comfortable sofas and armchairs to fit the eight of them, and a never ending supply of their favorite snacks and drinks. All of the above, courtesy of Seonghwa. He never thought much about it. And perhaps the others didn’t either. But whether they realized it or not, he was their hidden star. Unaware of his own brilliance, and the way he drew the men into his orbit by a pull they could neither name nor resist.

The sinking sun on the horizon alerted Seonghwa to the fact that dinner time was quickly approaching. Like he always did, the omega slipped away from the group who’d been watching Mingi and Yunho battle it out in one of their favorite games, sneaking off to the kitchen. But as he approached the fridge and reached for the handle, a broad frame stepped in front of it, blocking off his access. 

Jongho. Arms folded across his chest, jaw set with determination. 

“No, hyung.” He said, his voice low and unyielding. “You look like you’re about to pass out. There’s no way you can cook like this.”

“Pass out? Oh don't be so dramatic, I'm just a little sleepy.” He forced a light laugh, though the edges of his sight blurred and speckled from the simple effort of staying on his feet.

"Uh-huh," Came Jongho's flat reply, still refusing to budge. 

“Seriously, Jongho, I feel great. I can handle—”

Suddenly, the room was tilting, violently lurching sideways. His vision swam, the air ripped from his lungs, knees crumpling under his own weight before the final word could so much as pass his lips.

Firm hands caught him before the floor could, strong arms wrapping around his waist and hauling the omega upright as if he weighed nothing at all.

“Shit-” Jongho cursed, worry sharp in his eyes. “You still wanna tell me you’re fine, Hwa?”

Seonghwa’s lip caught between his teeth, cheeks flushed as he realized just how close he was pressed to the man. His fingers tightened reflexively on his bicep where they’d found purchase, acutely aware of how solid the muscle felt beneath his touch. Heat flickered over his senses, but he quickly blamed it on frustration. Not... anything else.

With an awkward chuckle, he carefully unwound himself from the younger’s grip, only letting go once the world felt steady beneath him again. His head dipped in quiet defeat.

“Okay... maybe just this one time. I just... didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.” He forced the excuse out with stubborn insistence, praying Jongho wouldn’t press further. 

Thankfully, Jongho only answered with a triumphant smirk. Far too busy basking in the satisfaction of coaxing his packmate into rest to consider that... what Seonghwa truly needed ran much deeper than a nap

“I already ordered takeout.” Jongho chuckled, retrieving a water bottle from the fridge and pressing it into Seonghwa’s hand. He then placed a guiding palm on the small of the man’s back and steered him to an armchair in the living room, pushing him down to sit.  “Now- sit here, drink this, and wait for the food.”

The stern tone that the young alpha gave him left no room for debate. And somehow... it had the omega complying as if it were nothing. He sat there, clutching the plastic bottle tightly in his hand and wondering to himself why the fuck his instincts were practically preening with delight over being commanded by the younger man. No resistance given in the slightest.

Amidst their interaction, the room had gone quiet. Not completely, but enough that Seonghwa noticed the shift. Conversations had thinned, boisterous laughter softened. Like the pack was collectively holding its breath. He looked up, met with far too many gazes now directed his way. “What?”

Wooyoung, who'd been curled on the arm of the couch, sat up with a teasing grin. “Seonghwa, blink twice if the maknae’s holding you hostage!” A soft snicker left his lips, though a flicker of something unreadable crossed through his gaze. 

His teasing earned a ripple of stilted laughter from the group, though Jongho didn’t so much as flinch. He simply crossed his arms, steady as stone. Like Wooyoung’s jab hadn’t touched him at all. Somehow, that calmness landed harder than any denial could have.

San snorted under his breath, but there was an edge to it that didn’t feel entirely amused. Yunho offered a smile before glancing away, jaw ticking ever so slightly. Even Yeosang’s usual mask of serenity was cracked by a raised brow. The room felt charged, thick with something unspoken. Little did the omega know that the simmering feeling he couldn’t find the name for was jealousy.

Hongjoong’s voice cut through the tension, wry and teasing. “Well. At least someone’s finally making sure Hwa relaxes.”

The tightness in the air loosened, laughter spilling out in uneven bursts. But Seonghwa couldn’t quite shake the weight of their eyes lingering on him.

He tried for a laugh, but it came out thin. “Very funny.” 

Jongho didn’t even bother with a response. He just remained at Seonghwa’s side like a personal bodyguard, his attention unrelenting until Seonghwa finally unscrewed the water cap and took a sip. Only then did he ease back, sinking into his spot on the couch with the quiet confidence of someone who knew he’d won.

No more than twenty minutes later, the doorbell announced the arrival of the food. The pack gathered at the dining table and spread out their meal, descending on it like a pack of well... wolves. They devoured the Chinese takeout like their lives depended on it. Even Seonghwa had eaten a bit, though it was once again because of Jongho. The alpha had sat at his side, nudging food his way every so often and not looking away till the elder had taken at least a few bites. And as disgusted with himself as he felt over the extra calories, the pride that glimmered in Jongho’s eyes as he finished even a small portion made it all worth it. 

After the meal was finished and cleared away, the pack gathered their things and settled back onto the couches for a movie night. The space was warm, a gentle glow from the floor lamp casting soft shadows across room. The smell of dinner lingered faintly, mixed with popcorn and the faint aroma of one of Seonghwa’s many candles. San and Yunho bickered over what movie they should watch, as the rest of them laid out snacks and gathered blankets, getting comfortable in their chosen spots. They were all tucked in so close, so happy to be with each other. Even Hongjoong was present, taking a shocking break from his studio to stick around after dinner. Something that rarely happened. 

Seonghwa had just finished rinsing off the last of the dishes and found himself hovering awkwardly at the edge of the living room, unsure of himself. Should he sit in the available armchair, separate from them all... or find a spot somewhere in-

Wooyoung’s sweet voice broke through his silent spiral, the first to notice him stuck at the edge of the space. “Hey, sit here!” He carelessly shoved San’s shoulder to get him to make room, before patting the now empty space between them. San merely laughed and returned to his discussion with Yunho, unfazed by his best friend’s behavior.

Seonghwa froze, caught between longing and restraint. His instincts screamed at him to throw himself into the warmth and comfort being offered. But his mind, a constant calculating barrier, urged caution. He hesitated at first. Then, with a slight, almost imperceptible nod, he allowed himself to shuffle into the room. He sank down beside Wooyoung as Yunho hit play on their selection for the night, some action-packed film they’d all been meaning to watch for a while.

The moment Seonghwa was settled at his side, the younger beta immediately wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him in close without hesitation. He was never one to shy away from touch. His thumb rubbed absentminded circles against the omega’s hip; the motion familiar and safe, like a whispered reassurance. Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat. He hated how easy it was to relax into a closeness he rarely permitted. But Wooyoung had always found his way around Seonghwa’s walls. His affectionate behavior made getting him close to him a little less daunting. No one would think twice about his behavior when it was their most touchy member at his side.

From the corner of his eye, he caught subtle shifts in the others. Hongjoong’s head tilted, gaze tracking the point of contact like he was filing it away. Jongho’s eyes flicked up briefly from his drink before he leaned back, arms crossing in a motion too casual to be unintentional. Yeosang, from his place on the floor, glanced back at them once, expression unreadable but lingering. It was odd. But he didn’t think much of it. Ignorant to the way the room hummed with the quiet ache of craving something that wasn’t theirs in that moment.

The opening credits rolled. Seonghwa fixed his gaze on the screen, prepared to pay attention to the film. But then Wooyoung shifted, his thigh pressed to his, knees brushing. The warmth spread across his chest, making it hard to keep his breathing even. It grew worse when San settled in close, draping his blanket over Seonghwa’s lap to share. A sweet gesture that left his heart doing backflips. He tried to remind himself over and over- ‘don’t give in. don’t give in’.

But with every gentle brush of Wooyoung’s hand on his waist, and the way San tucked himself into his side, it grew more impossible by the second. 

Trapped between them, Seonghwa’s pulse climbed. His rational mind screamed at him to stand up, to find an excuse to leave. But his body... his traitorous, starved for contact body... it soaked in their presence from both sides with pleasure. 

The movie droned on. The low hum of the dialogue from the film mixed with Wooyoung’s soothing touch dulled the sharp edges of his anxiety. His eyes grew heavy despite himself, the warmth of his packmate’s bodies enveloping him like a cocoon. 

When sleep pulled him under, it was without permission, but also without a fight.

When he woke, the room had gone still. The TV was paused and dim from lack of use, the lights in the room all shut off, shrouding the space in shadows. And he was warm. Pleasantly and perfectly warm.

The groggy omega took proper notice of his surroundings now, bleary eyes scanning the room. Half the pack had gone home, leaving only a few behind, passed out on the couch with them, comfortably sprawled across each other. His head was pillowed against Wooyoung’s shoulder, the beta’s arm still around his waist. Slack but secure. His legs had been drawn up into San’s lap, tucked under a blanket, with the man’s hand resting loosely on his thigh. Both of them were fast asleep, their chests steadily rising and sinking with even breaths.

It felt utterly safe between them. Like he belonged there. For a split second, he absentmindedly soaked up the feeling of resting there between them, relaxed and unguarded, without a worry in the world.

But as the remnants of sleep cleared from his mind, reality catching up with him, panic began to rise in his throat.

How? How could he have been so stupid? Falling asleep right there in front of all of them? There were too many ways it could have all gone to shit on him, but he’d been selfish. Careless. Let himself drift off without considering the risks. It had just felt so… good. But he could feel just how weak his patches were, scent glands beginning to tingle with that familiar ache that never meant anything good. 

Seonghwa began to carefully unravel himself from their tangle of limbs, cautiously peeling back the blanket and tucking it over San, sliding his legs off his lap. The sleeping alpha let out a disgruntled huff, trying to reach back out for the weight that had been taken from him. The omega bit his lip and slowly rose to his feet. He nudged Wooyoung, who slept like the dead, into his grasp. Giving the alpha what he was seeking.  

Only when the two settled comfortably into each other’s clutches did he let out a relieved sigh and slip away. He didn’t dare look back as he snuck through the hall without making a sound, retreating to his room like he was fleeing the scene of a crime. His pulse pounded in his ears, guilt twisting and churning in his gut. 

Stupid. Stupid stupid omega. 

He scolded himself as his bedroom door clicked shut behind him. His hands curling into tight fists at his sides, nails cutting into his palms as if punishment could erase the mistake. The ghost of their warmth still clung to his skin, reminding him of everything he couldn’t have. And god did he hate it. Hated how that was the best sleep he’d gotten in years. How it felt... right, waking up with two men he cared so deeply about wrapped around him. Because if they knew who he truly was, all of the secrets he carried... he was certain they would hate him for it. And despite how he was barely hanging on as it was, he knew he would never survive that.

Seonghwa’s alarm clock blinked the time at him, mocking him with the hours he still had before he needed to move again. Too much time. Time to feel everything pressing in. His pulse had gone thready and erratic, guilt churning in his gut so heavily he felt as if he could puke.

His skin crawled with disgust, the sensation tight and suffocating, like he was a prisoner in his own body. The spiraling omega couldn’t stop himself. He needed something, anything, to quell the all-consuming feelings of... wrongness. His fingers raked over his wrists, nails scratching at the delicate glands there until the flesh grew raw. The sensations only grew worse, spiraling up his arms until they centered at his throat. His hands followed, clawing at the tender skin of the scent glands there as if he could scrape away the source of all his problems. His identity. 

His ragged breaths came too fast, shallow and frantic, each inhale never seeming to fill his lungs quite enough. He clawed and scratched with a desperate fervor, marring his own flesh with the jagged track marks of his own nails. Only when numbness had begun to spread across his limbs in place of the sickening crawling sensation, did his hands finally sink to his sides. Seonghwa folded in on himself, curling up on the thin sheets in a tight ball, wishing for nothing more than to disappear. Tremors wracked his frame as he spiraled deeper into a pit of shame and self loathing that he couldn’t seem to escape on his own, with nothing but the ringing in his ears to keep him company.

But despite the all consuming storm raging within the omega’s psyche, it would never be strong enough to drown out the devastating truth of his reality. That he was cracking beneath the weight of what he hid. The years of lies, pills, and isolation chipping away pieces of him he was certain he would never get back. And yet… he couldn’t let them see. Couldn't let them close enough to be there, to know the shameful truth and share the burden. Because knowing the truth... the extent of his betrayal? It would break them. Destroy everything they had worked so tirelessly to achieve. Seonghwa could never do that to them. Never. 

The omega would happily shatter into pieces, just so his pack could stay whole. 

Chapter Text

Wooyoung’s POV:

Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered open into a wash of pitch-black, the living room swallowed in shadows. He smothered a yawn with his palm, groggy but oddly content. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep there. The beta had planned to head back to his own dorm after the movie ended, hoping to grab a shower before going to bed. But Seonghwa had drifted off half-way through the film, curled up between him and San like he belonged there, the faintest snore slipping past his lips. It was rare enough for their hyung to let them close at all. But for him to fall asleep in their arms? The opportunity was far too precious to pass up.

So the two men stayed put, even as the rest of their pack filtered out when the movie ended. They didn’t dare move even an inch, not willing to risk breaking the fragile, unspoken trust Seonghwa had given them by drifting off there. Wooyoung had turned on his favorite drama to fill the silence, and the duo had passed the rest of their time chatting back and forth over the elder’s sleeping form in soft whispers. They must have drifted off without realizing, comfortable and content as they soaked up Seonghwa’s warmth. 

While Wooyoung’s eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, he turned aside to steal another peek at the man he was wrapped around, wanting to revel in every moment they had with him. But as he focused on the figure, his arm curled tightly around them… he noticed rather quickly that the man was much too broad and bulky to be the slender beta. He blinked, taken aback. Seonghwa wasn’t the man he clung to. It was San, slumped comfortably into his side, hugging his waist like he was another one of the alpha’s stuffy collection. 

Where the fuck was Seonghwa then? 

Brows furrowed, Wooyoung shifted cautiously, not wanting to wake his snoring best friend as he patted around the cushions in search of his phone. Device in hand, he squinted to adjust to the bright light glowing off the screen. It was half-past two in the morning. Wooyoung remembered pressing pause on the last episode an hour before, at most. The eldest couldn’t have been gone long. 

Frustration prickled in his chest as he sat up, raking a hand through his tangled hair. Of course. Of fucking course he was gone. Seonghwa never lingered. Never stayed long enough to let Wooyoung bask in his presence. Always sneaking away, always leaving him craving more. Because that’s what it felt like. A craving. Capturing any affection from Seonghwa was as addictive as any drug, a habit he couldn’t break even if he wanted to. And the scraps he’d been getting for the last few years weren’t cutting it anymore. 

He knew he had more luck than the rest of their group when it came to the elusive man. Occasionally, he could tempt the eldest into a hug or a moment of cuddling during a movie when Seonghwa was too sleepy to protest. But it was never long before he was sneaking away with excuses of needing to do something ultimately unnecessary. And every time, it left an ache in his chest that couldn’t be filled by anything... or anyone else. 

In that moment, his mind was made up, his resolve as solid as stone. No more silent longing. No more waiting around. He was tired of watching Seonghwa slip away, of surviving on fleeting touches and half-smiles. This time, he knew what he wanted. What he needed. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t going after it.

Heart thudding with determination, Wooyoung padded down the quiet hall, already rehearsing the way he’d persuade Seonghwa back into his arms. He could envision it so vividly in his mind. How he’d tease Seonghwa with his usual mischievous charm, coaxing him into letting him stay. The way Seonghwa might sigh with feigned hesitation before giving in, drawing back the blankets for him. How he’d then crawl under the covers and curl around him, holding him tight until morning greeted them both. A simple fantasy, and though he’d never experienced it for himself, he craved it with a desperation he couldn’t quite explain.

As Wooyoung reached the end of the hallway, standing before Seonghwa’s closed door, hope surged in his chest, his heart racing with excitement. But the moment he twisted the handle and cracked the door open, the fantasy he’d envisioned in his head shattered.

Seonghwa wasn’t peacefully asleep, or mindlessly scrolling on his phone like Wooyoung had expected. Instead, the sight he was met with sent a rush of terror flooding through his veins. 

Hunched over on the edge of his mattress was Seonghwa, desperately drawing in ragged gasps for air. Fighting for every breath as though his lungs refused to expand. His fists were tangled so tightly in his hair, Wooyoung swore he’d tear it right out, his body wracked with violent tremors. The thin tshirt he wore clung to his skin, drenched with sweat.

Wooyoung’s heart sank in his chest, his stomach lurching with a wave of nausea. He stood paralyzed in the doorway, unable to do anything but take in the horrific scene before him. A scene he never could have anticipated.

“Hyung?” His voice cracked, sounding far too loud in the silent space. A million questions swirled in his mind, each more frightened than the last.

 Did something happen? Had he gotten hurt? Was he sick?

Pushing through his own panicking thoughts, he forced himself into action. Seonghwa needed help now. His spiraling would have to wait.

The young beta rushed forward, cautious yet frantic as he sank onto the edge of the mattress, feeling it dip beneath his weight. “Hyung? Hey- it’s me. It’s okay. Just breathe,” he whispered, reaching out with shaking hands to brush against his back, desperate to soothe him. “Can you tell me what's wrong?”

No response came. Not so much as a flicker of recognition. Seonghwa didn’t look up or react to the questioning voice. It looked as though he’d gone catatonic, entirely unaware that someone had joined him on the bed. 

“Fuck—Hwa, can you look at me? I just want to help, honey.” Wooyoung pleaded, reaching to ease Seonghwa’s hands away from his hair before he hurt himself any worse. The beta flinched away from the touch, the first sign that he was even aware of his surroundings. His arms wrapped around himself, nails digging crescents into his sides. Wooyoung had to stifle his gasp.

“Oh no- no, don’t do that. Please look at me, honey. Tell me what’s wrong. Talk to me.” He begged, his voice raw with hopelessness as he pried Seonghwa’s wrists away from his sides. The touch immediately sent the elder into a thrashing frenzy, fighting against Wooyoung’s grip like he was being attacked.

“Sorry! Shit- i’m sorry. Its okay—you’re okay.” Wooyoung dropped his hands in an instant, scrambling back to give him some space. The moment Wooyoung’s touch disappeared from his skin, Seonghwa’s limbs slackened, all the fight in him evaporating in seconds. The beta slumped back into the bed, no longer clawing at his sides. Unfortunately, nothing else about his condition improved. The trembling had only grown worse, his breathing still a ragged mess.

It was then that Wooyoung finally saw his face. His skin was a ghostly pale, and those beautiful brown eyes that were usually so full of life looked up at him blankly. Glazed over and glassy, trapped within whatever horrors were happening within his head. 

“Fuck-” Wooyoung cursed again, swallowed by a wave of helplessness. Seonghwa had never been the type to let anything show. Not when he was exhausted after practice. Not when he sprained his ankle before a big performance. Never. So seeing him like this... so fragile and exposed? It was completely uncharted territory. 

For one dizzying moment, he felt as though he might crumble under the pressure. But as he looked down at the struggling man he would do anything for, he willed himself to stay strong. To push through.

Still, he knew he couldn’t do this on his own. He needed help, and he needed it now.

Maybe the roommates had faced this before? This couldn’t be the first time Seonghwa had struggled with something like this, not when he was reacting so severely. Wooyoung could only hope they’d know what to do, scrambling off the bed and racing down the hallway like his feet were on fire. 

“San!” He cried out, skidding to a stop in front of the sleeping man on the couch, nearly tumbling over his own feet. “San, wake up!”

The alpha, dozing against the arm of the couch, flinched awake at Wooyoung’s desperate shout. His catlike eyes snapped open, brows knitting in confusion.

“Fuck- Woo, what’s going on?” he rasped, pushing himself upright, his raven hair a tousled mess sticking out in every direction.

Wooyoung fought back tears, furiously wiping the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t fall apart, not now. Not when Seonghwa needed them. “Hwa—he… something’s wrong. I—I think it’s a panic attack, but… fuck. I don’t know what to do. He’s not responding.”

The alpha leapt to his feet in an instant, eyes wide with disbelief. “Seonghwa? Shit, really?” All the remnants of sleep had slipped away from his face, leaving him sharp, alert, every muscle coiled to spring into action.

“Yes, really!” Wooyoung huffed, pacing back and forth in front of the man. “Is there… something you guys usually do? He’s—he’s completely blank. He was shaking, pulling at his hair… I don’t know what to do.”

“No—no, I’ve never even seen him cry,” San said, biting his lip. “He’s… he’s Seonghwa. He’s always so… steady. You know?” It was difficult to picture the man in such a state. But he believed Wooyoung’s words. Determination filled his gaze as he squared his shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and forced calm into his voice. “But it’s okay. We’ve got this. We can figure it out.” He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself, as much as Wooyoung.

“I sure fucking hope so.”

Without a second to waste, Wooyoung rushed back to Seonghwa’s room with San on his heels. The beta hadn’t moved from the bed, still trembling like he was breaking apart from the inside out. His nails were dragging along his arms, scratching desperately as if trying to claw something free. The crack of light from the hallway revealed the full extent of his panic. Mussed hair, pale skin, a litany of angry red scratches that marred his arms and throat. 

“Holy shit.” San froze in the doorway, just as Wooyoung had, taking it all in. The look of sheer horror on his features reflected exactly how Wooyoung was feeling. This was Seonghwa. Unshakeable, steady Seonghwa. And yet here he was, unraveling before their very eyes.

Thankfully, San recovered much quicker than Wooyoung had, rushing to Seonghwa’s side with swift urgency. He settled on the edge of the bed, prying Seonghwa’s hands away from their self-inflicting damage. The beta fought against him, squirming and twisting, battling to free himself like he had before. Too lost in his own head to recognize the man holding him.

“Hwa. No- it’s me. It's okay. You’re safe.” San promised in a soft voice, but his grip on the writhing beta was iron. Unlike Wooyoung, he refused to let go. It took a few moments, but under the firm hold, his thrashing limbs slowly went limp, subconsciously surrendering. Still, Seonghwa didn’t answer. His breaths stayed shallow, eyes glazed like he was trapped miles away. 

San let out a shuddering breath and eased his grip, looping his arms around Seonghwa’s waist and pulling him flush against his chest. It was unnervingly easy. Normally, Seonghwa would wriggle free and offer excuses, doing anything to put space between them. But now? He didn’t move. He sank back against the alpha, slack and unresistant, like a weightless doll

The alpha dipped his head down, nudging his nose against Seonghwa’s neck in hopes that scenting him would calm his panic. His pheromones spilled out in waves, a rich blanket of smoky vanilla and dark roasted coffee laced with sandalwood, steady and grounding. San willed it to bleed into the air, his instincts urging him to comfort and protect his beta. He rubbed his palms up and down the male’s sides and nuzzled his throat, rocking him side to side. Frustratingly, his efforts to scent the elder seemed to have no noticeable effect. But that didn't stop him. “You’re safe, Hwa. You’re safe.” He repeated the phrase over and over, like a vow. 

Wooyoung’s lips curled downwards in a frown. The scenting should have worked. Or at the very least, done something. Their biology was built for it, a method for soothing that was written into the essence of their very being. But Seonghwa didn’t respond. He didn’t relax even a fraction, not the way he should have. The grounding scent didn’t reach him, passing over him like it was nothing. Powerless.

A flicker of unease twisted through Wooyoung’s chest, sharp enough to make him draw in a breath. All that met his nose was the comforting blend of their own pheromones, a faint and sickly sweet scent that was unfamiliar to him, and the muted echo of Seonghwa’s usual simple scent. Disturbingly, not a single trace of anguish tainted it like it should have. As he thought it over, the beta realized he should have caught wind of the man’s distress long before stepping into the room. It should have suffocated the very air they breathed, blocking out everything else. The absence of any emotion within the simple notes of linen and citrus spoke volumes. Something was very wrong here. Worse than they had already gathered. But with Seonghwa still catatonic between them, the priority was clear. The questions and the unsettling dread forming a pit in his stomach would have to wait.

Wooyoung eased himself onto the bed beside them, fingers slipping into Seonghwa’s hair, combing through the strands in a steady rhythm meant to soothe him. He whispered soft words of support and encouragement, smoothing his mussed hair and giving soothing squeezes to his shoulders. San rocked him gently, pressing his scent into the boy again and again, refusing to stop even as it drew no response. It felt like both an attempt to soothe Seonghwa and a desperate reassurance for himself. That he was still helping, still doing something in the only way instinct allowed. Neither of them knew what they were doing. They were at a loss for what words would calm him, or what touch could anchor him back in reality. All they could do was hope it would be enough to pull him back from wherever he’d gone.

Neither Wooyoung nor San knew how long they stayed like that. Seconds or centuries, it didn’t matter. Time had lost all meaning. All they could measure was the cadence of Seonghwa’s shallow breathing as it echoed in their ears, each uneven gasp cutting through them like glass. It was torturous, but a welcome reminder that at least he was still there, still fighting with them. 

After an eternity of waiting, it finally happened. Seonghwa’s chest expanded in a deep inhale, as if drawing life back into his body. The first full breath he’d taken since they found him. Both men froze, hardly daring to exhale, as if their relief might scare him back into himself. Wooyoung bit down hard on his lip, stifling the whoop of excitement that threatened to break free. 

The recovery was agonizingly slow, but every second was a small victory in Wooyoung’s eyes. Each ragged inhale grew steadier than the last, Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling with a fragile rhythm. His eyes blinked rapidly, unfocused and glassy, but no longer the hollow voids that had haunted them moments before. Tremors that had wracked every muscle softened, leaving only the faintest shudder running through him. His fists, once balled tight enough to draw blood into his palms, slowly relaxed, fingers uncurling at his sides. 

A strangled whimper clawed its way out of his throat, raw and pitiful, but it sent relief tearing through the two men so intensely it nearly knocked them over. It was proof that he was fighting his way back. Vulnerable and shaken, fragile in a way they had never seen him, but there. Present.

“Seonghwa… there you are,” Wooyoung breathed, tears he hadn’t noticed pricking his lashes. His forehead pressed to Seonghwa’s temple, voice cracking. “God… hyung, you scared the shit out of me.”

San exhaled a long, heavy sigh, the tension coiling in his shoulders finally loosening. He eased his hold, lifting Seonghwa from his lap with careful precision, not wanting to overwhelm him in his fragile state.

Wooyoung bit his lip, mind racing. A torrent of panicked questions wanted to spill out, but he forced himself to stop. Instead, he started small. “How are you feeling, honey? Do you need anything?”

Seonghwa’s hazy eyes flickered between Wooyoung and San, recognition warring with confusion, like he couldn’t quite piece together why they were there with him. His teeth sank into his lower lip, a strangled whimper breaking free as he fought against a rising wave of tears.

“Oh... Seonghwa. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” San murmured soothingly, hesitating for a heartbeat before reaching out to run a hand along his arm. “Just let it out. We’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Seonghwa blinked once, twice, and then the dam broke. Tears poured down his cheeks as though they’d been waiting to all along. He slumped forward without warning with a wrecked sob, collapsing into both of them like every muscle in his body had failed on him.

Wooyoung instantly caught him in a tight grip, arms wrapping around him in a fiercely protective hold. He rocked Seonghwa back and forth, whispering soft reassurances in his ear. San pressed in from the other side, his arm curling across Seonghwa’s back, closing them in on all sides. Between the two of them, he was caged in, held together while he came apart, bawling so hard they couldn’t imagine what he was feeling.

Between their combined warmth and steady support, Seonghwa’s breathing finally evened out, shaky but stable. His sobs had faded into broken sniffles, the shivering of his weary body easing. He lifted his head just enough to glance between the two of them, eyes ringed with red, lashes glistening with unshed tears as his lower lip trembled. “I-I... I’m sorry,” he hiccuped, voice thick with exhaustion and remorse.

The sound of his distress cut Wooyoung to pieces. His chest tightened, sharp and aching. Sorry? What the hell did Seonghwa have to be sorry for? 

“Honey, no- absolutely not. Don’t be sorry,” Wooyoung said instantly, the words leaving him with fierce sincerity. His heart cracked in his chest, hearing the genuine guilt that filled Seonghwa’s voice. How long had he been struggling in silence, ashamed to share with them? “Never be sorry for this. You’re always so fucking strong for all of us. The least we can do is take a turn.”

San hummed low in agreement and leaned close to press a gentle kiss against Seonghwa’s temple. The touch made Seonghwa flinch. Just barely, so quick it could’ve been missed, but he didn’t pull away. San’s hand lingered, steady against his arm, and he met Seonghwa’s watery gaze with quiet devotion. “Do you need anything?” he asked softly. “How about some water?”

The beta released a shuddering exhale, hesitating for a moment before offering the tiniest nod. Wooyoung felt his shoulders sag with relief. This was good. This was progress, no matter how small. He was letting them help, thank god.

“I’ll be just a minute.” San murmured, giving him a gentle squeeze before releasing him and slipping away from the bed.

With the two of them finally alone, Wooyoung wasted no time in pulling Seonghwa even closer. He shifted backwards until he met the headboard, cradling the older man securely against his chest. One arm curled protectively around his waist while the other traced slow, steady lines along his back, his fingers skimming over of his spine. Wooyoung grimaced, noting how distinct the ridges were beneath his palm. Too sharp, too prominent. The realization lodged in his throat, but he swallowed it down, forcing himself to file the concern away for later. This wasn’t the moment to pry. Right now, Seonghwa needed safety, not questions.

“We’ll always be here for you, hyung,” he murmured into the pale strands of hair brushing his jaw, his voice a quiet vow. “Always.”

Seonghwa sniffled, reaching up to clumsily wipe at his eyes. The sigh that slipped from him was heavy, dragging with it the weight of confessions he didn’t dare say out loud. He didn’t reply. The struggling boy just gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod before letting his body sink into the warmth of Wooyoung’s chest. Wooyoung deemed that a victory in itself, the pressure easing from his chest. Some day, soon, he promised himself he’d earn the right to Seonghwa’s trust. He’d earn the privilege of those secrets so he could share the burden with him.

San returned moments later with a plastic water bottle in hand, cracking it open and holding it to Seonghwa’s lips before he could protest. The elder stared up at him, blinking in surprise, but obediently took a few small sips. San grinned like he had just won the lottery, and Wooyoung couldn’t help but snort at him.

Seonghwa swallowed hard as the bottle was lowered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his trembling hand before clearing his throat. “You guys can leave now... i-it’s okay now. I’m fine.” The words came out thin and unconvincing as he shifted upright, fumbling to free himself from Wooyoung’s hold. But the younger’s arms only tightened around him, tugging him firmly back down against his chest.

“We’re not going anywhere, hyung.” Wooyoung said, shaking his head vehemently. 

“But—” Seonghwa began, voice raw.

“Nope.” San cut him off, tone firm despite the soft pout tugging at his lips. He folded his arms across his chest with a deliberate stubbornness, eyes glinting with determination. “You’re stuck with us tonight. I’m not gonna sleep a wink unless I know you’re safe. And the best way to make sure of that-” he leaned closer, gaze locking on Seonghwa’s, “-is if I’m right here with you. Okay?”

Seonghwa’s lip caught between his teeth, clearly conflicted. Uncertainty pinched at his features. But exhaustion won out in the end, the defensiveness in his expression softening. He let out a shaky sigh and sagged back into the mattress. “Alright... just this once.”

San didn’t give him the chance to reconsider. He bolted from the room, only to return moments later with what looked like half his linen closet in his arms. “Move over,” he muttered around the pile, tossing down blanket after blanket until the bed looked more like a nest than anything else. Once he was satisfied with his work, San curled under the mountain of blankets and flopped down on the other side of them. The alpha wormed his way close without hesitation, pressing in until he was curled around Seonghwa’s side, his body heat seeping through the layers of fabric. 

Wooyoung huffed a laugh against Seonghwa’s hair, tightening his protective hold on his waist as the alpha also wrapped himself around the beta. “There’s no escape for you now, hyung.”

Seonghwa’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two men now caging him in on either side, his brows still knit as if he wanted to argue. With a subtle shift, he attempted to protest one last time. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, though his voice had gone soft, slurred with weariness as he fought the heaviness tugging at his eyelids.

Wooyoung gave him the faintest squeeze, nose brushing through his hair. “You don’t have to be fine right now. Just rest, hyung.”

A shaky breath left him, caught somewhere between resistance and surrender. He laid there rigidly for a few moments more, shoulders tense like he might still pull away- until San shifted closer, his steady warmth pressing in at Seonghwa’s back. Surrounded on both sides, his apprehension finally faltered.

His eyelids lowered, lashes fluttering once, twice, before slipping shut for good. A tiny sigh escaped him, the stubborn lines on his face smoothing into something unguarded, peaceful. The overwhelming events of the night caught up to him like a tidal wave of exhaustion, as he was dragged under into the safe embrace of sleep.

Wooyoung and San exchanged a glance over the top of his head, both of them reading the same unspoken truth in the other’s eyes. That night night had shaken them, and they were still rattled with worry. But threaded through it all was the fierce, undeniable love they carried for the man nestled between them.

Without a word, San shuffled in closer, draping an arm over both of them. Wooyoung pressed one last kiss to Seonghwa’s hair before letting his eyes slip shut. Wrapped up in each others warmth, the three of them finally let exhaustion pull them under, the storm of the evening fading into the steady calm of shared sleep.

______________________________

Seonghwa’s POV:

Seonghwa stirred with a soft hum, his body fighting to stay under as consciousness tried to tug him awake. Morning sunlight crept in through the curtains, pale gold and gentle, tickling across his face. He wrinkled his nose against it, but even that faint annoyance couldn’t shake the heavy lull pulling him back down. He was so warm, heat pressed over every inch of him, wrapping him up like a cozy cocoon. Comfortable pressure weighed on him from every side, but he thought nothing of it. For a few drowsy moments, he simply let himself float there. Half-asleep, weightless, and swaddled in sunlight and warmth. But it didn’t take long for the haze in his mind to fade away, reality setting in. Bit by bit, the memories of the night before filtered back in, reminding him of the precarious situation he’d gotten himself into. The shock struck him like a splash of cold water, and he froze.

He wasn’t alone.

Wooyoung lay practically melted into his chest, head pillowed against his shoulder, his breath ghosting across Seonghwa’s collarbone in soft puffs. One leg had hitched itself possessively across his thigh sometime during the night, and his fingers fisted in Seonghwa’s shirt, like he’d been afraid of letting go. At his back, San was draped against him, his firm arm looped tightly around Seonghwa’s waist, chin resting snug against the crook of his neck. The steady rumble of San’s slow breathing vibrated through him, the warmth of his chest bleeding through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

The realization stole the air from his lungs. They weren’t just near him. They were entirely wrapped around him, pinning him in place in the most intimate cage imaginable. And worst of all, his body… liked it. 

A sharp flush rose up his neck, heat crawling over his ears. This was- he shouldn’t... he had no business enjoying this. He should want out, he should untangle himself and run before either of them noticed. But when he shifted a mere inch, Wooyoung made a soft noise of discontent, clutching at him tighter. San’s arm flexed around his waist. It was as if even in sleep they both refused to let him go.

Instead of fighting it, his muscles slackened further, betraying every ounce of pride he had left. His treacherous body went pliant between them without complaint, sinking deeper into the cradle of their bodies before he could stop it. It was humiliating how good it felt. How natural. Their warmth seeped into his very soul, filling up places he’d kept cold and empty on purpose. His inner omega, usually muffled and caged behind suppressants, purred contentedly. Drunk on the intimacy as it soothed a part of him that had been starving for years. The longer he lay there, the harder it became to remember why he’d ever fought this.

But then, it hit him. 

Seonghwa’s throat tightened. The night before came rushing back into mind at the worst possible moment. Memories of how pathetic he’d been, unraveling in front of them, too lost in his own panic to even recognize he’d been caught. They’d witnessed it all. Every second of the horrific display of his emotions for anyone to see. And there was no way they hadn’t caught on to the angry scratches marring his arms. He’d found them when he snuck to the bathroom to reapply his blockers and pop a few suppressants before falling asleep. One glance in the mirror and he’d nearly collapsed with shock. After everything the two had seen, he knew he should feel sick with shame. And he did feel it, prickling in his chest. But underneath, muffling the edges of his self-loathing, there was something else. 

Because there, pressed into their warmth, buried under blankets and tangled up in their embrace, the ache that had gutted him the night before felt muted. Silenced. And in its place, a soft, dangerous warmth swelled. It was overwhelming and steadying all at once, and some traitorous part of him ached with how good it felt. How good he felt. And how badly he never wanted to give this up. 

Never before had he woken up feeling so at ease. No anxious static buzzing beneath his skin, no heaviness from a night of terrible sleep. For once, his body felt rested, his chest light. A kind of peace he’d never dared to think was possible. Even with the faint ripple of fear curling at the edges, he couldn’t help wondering... was this what it felt like to let someone in?

No. No, no. He shut those thoughts down hard. He couldn’t afford to drift down that path. Not when he’d already been careless- so damn careless. His patches had nearly failed before he snuck away to change them. He’d been on the very edge, his scent right there, threatening to seep into the air. To wrap itself around them. Around San. An alpha.

The realization hollowed his chest.

The results would have been catastrophic. A male omega’s scent didn’t bring safety. It didn’t attract affection or comfort. It was a provocation, a curse. Something he’d learned the hard way. He knew it as deeply as he knew how to breathe. His scent had never inspired gentleness or kindness. It only ever sharpened the edges of alpha men, coaxing out something darker, uglier. That was what had been carved into his memory. The entire reason he’d begun to mask his scent. Why he smothered it under layer after layer of chemicals and shame until he could pretend his subgender was nothing to him. Like he didn’t crave everything comforting and soft. Like he didn’t need connection or kindness. 

San’s kindness was the most dangerous part of all. More than anything he wanted to trust that it was genuine. That San could be trusted, a safe space in a sea of endless darkness. But he knew better. He’d seen how fast an alpha’s tenderness could curdle once they realized an omega was near. He’d lived it. The shift was always inevitable. Warmth turned sharp, gentleness corrupted into aggression. No matter how kind San was now, Seonghwa dreaded what could happen if his identity came to light.

So he laid there, torn between comfort and fear, letting them hold him while he braced himself for the inevitable. He would eventually have to push them away again, block them out and rebuild his walls. Because if they found out? If the affection in their eyes soured into the same wary disgust he’d seen before? 

Seonghwa’s chest tightened with the thought, breath catching as the spiral threatened to drag him deeper.

But then, as if summoned by his thoughts, San stirred behind him with a groggy groan. The man drew him in close, his arm cinched around Seonghwa’s waist like he was hugging on to a stuffed animal. His hips lazily rolled forward until they settled flush against the older man.

That was the moment he felt it. The stiff length now pressed up against his ass. Hot, heavy, and impossible to ignore. His body went rigid with the realization, a tiny, strangled sound slipping past his lips before he could stop it. That was—he was... holy fuck. His ears burned as his thoughts scattered into white noise.

San might not have been very awake in that moment, but the hardness pressing insistently into his flesh certainly was. Seonghwa desperately tried to reason with himself. It wasn’t like it was San’s fault. Of course not. Men just… reacted in their sleep sometimes. It was biology and nothing more. It didn’t mean anything. But his entire body ignited with heat like it did.

San, of course, remained blissfully unaware. He sighed against the panicking omega’s neck, his warm lips brushing against it as he nuzzled closer. Half asleep and perfectly content. 

“G–Good morning,” Seonghwa squeaked, the words bursting out far too high-pitched. Maybe if he could just jolt San awake and catch his attention, then the situation might resolve itself. Which was a long shot really. He knew from experience, San was no better than a zombie until at least a full mug of coffee in his system. Still, he had to try.

Much to his dismay, yet unsurprisingly, San only hummed in response to the man’s greeting. The sound sent a deep and content vibration against the crook of Seonghwa’s sensitive neck. San’s grip grew even tighter, which only made the ‘issue’ worse. His erection ground against him, as if begging for attention. The omega bit back a yelp, a dizzying heat surging over his senses. The desire rising within his chest left him both panicked and humiliated in a way that had him wishing he could sink into the mattress and disappear.

Seonghwa was about two seconds away from combusting when movement on his other side rescued him. A perfect distraction him from the matter at hand.

With a stifled yawn, Wooyoung’s head lifted from his chest, eyes fluttering open. Bleary at first, then instantly sharpening the second his gaze landed on Seonghwa. Relief and disbelief flashed brightly across his face.

“You… you’re still here?” Wooyoung whispered, like he had to confirm it wasn’t a dream.

Shy and pink-faced, Seonghwa barely managed a nod, too flustered to use his voice. 

Wooyoung looked him over, his amber eyes scanning over the elder, taking in the view of him in the morning light. “How are you feeling? Are you alright? That was… well- it seemed like you were having a rough night, Hwa.” 

Seonghwa gnawed on his lower lip, a thready exhale slipping free. “Um… I-I’m fine. Really. I just…” he struggled to come up with a good explanation for the state they’d found him in. One that wouldn’t unravel all of his secrets. “I just… I get panic attacks sometimes. It’s nothing. Probably just... had a nightmare that set it off.” 

He forced his voice to remain steady, focused on maintaining a calm and collected expression. He silently begged the curious boy would buy into the lie he barely believed himself.

Thankfully, the wariness in Wooyoung’s eyes faded, though the concern was still clear. “You sure? We can talk about it hyung, if you need to.”

“I don’t need to!” Seonghwa blurted out, quickly denying the offer. An awkward laugh bubbled up from his lips. “It’s okay, it looks more serious than it is. I promise.”

“If you say so…” Wooyoung murmured, voice drowsy but unconvinced. Still, he seemed willing to accept Seonghwa’s word, at least for now. Which was a start. With a contented sigh, he nestled closer, chin tipping just enough to catch a glimpse of Seonghwa’s face.

His lips quirked up, a hand lifting to ruffle the elder’s hair. “You know… this is the first time you’ve ever let us sleep in here.” He dramatically placed his hand on his chest, dipping his head in a mock bow. “I’m honored.”

Seonghwa let out a mortified groan and buried his face in the pillow. Honored? Honored he’d let him sleep there? How ridiculous. Especially while San was still... oh god. How could he have forgotten? San’s hips were still pressed right against him. He was going to die right there. Death by embarrassment.

As if the universe was intent on ending him, it was in that moment San stirred just enough to press a lazy kiss against his shoulder. His voice, thick with sleep and drowsy warmth, rumbled against his skin. “Mm... wanna keep him all day.”

Seonghwa flushed from head to toe, lips parting in surprise. “S–San…”

Wooyoung perked up immediately at that. “Actually, wait- that’s perfect! It’s our rest day.” His grin widened, mischievous delight dancing in his eyes. “We can go on a Woosanhwa date!”

Seonghwa lifted his head from the pillow with a slow blink, bewildered by the strange suggestion. “What the fuck is that?”

“Woo-san-hwa,” Wooyoung repeated slowly, as if it was obvious. “Us three. Fans came up with the name, but I’m kinda obsessed with it.” He rubbed his hands together as if plotting something nefarious. “We can take you out today, just the three of us.”

“No, no- I couldn’t possibly-” Seonghwa began, already shaking his head.

San let out a wide yawn, too drowsy to even lift his head, “It’s fine, Hwa… we can vlog it. Atiny will love it.”

Cornered by their sleepy logic and Wooyoung’s bright pleading eyes, Seonghwa let out a helpless sigh. The younger looked so hopeful. And... it was for the fans, after all. How could he say no to that?

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

Wooyoung’s grin spread, slow and wicked. “Oh, that’s definitely a yes from him. Which means-” he sat up, delight filling his voice, “we’re taking you out today!”

Seonghwa dropped his head back down on his pillow, letting out a defeated sigh. There was no getting out of this. Wooyoung was nothing if not persistent, and with San at his side, the two were a force to be reckoned with. 

“I can’t with you boys.” He rolled his eyes, beginning to wriggle and twist till he successfully pried himself free from the vice-like grip the two had on him, careful not to bump against San’s very inconvenient ‘predicament’. He ignored their whines of protest, all but tumbling to his feet, clutching a blanket around his shoulders.

“Just let me shower first, okay? I’m all gross.” He grimaced, making a beeline for the bathroom. Both to get himself ready, and to put some much needed space between them all. 

“Sure thing,” Wooyoung’s playful voice called after him, the delight at his victory evident in his tone. “Just be ready to go in an hour!”

Seonghwa froze mid-step, a hand on the bathroom doorframe. God- he was really doing this, wasn’t he? A date. A ‘Woosanhwa’ date apparently, whatever the fuck that meant. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t a real one. They weren’t dating. It was just a friendly outing with his pack mates. But with the way his heart was thrumming in his chest, it clearly didn’t seem to get the memo.

He knew better than to do this. It was dangerous to let himself sink deeper into their time and attention. To get used to their warmth and companionship, and to let them get used to his. But as he glanced back at San’s form still buried in the blankets, and Wooyoung planted at his side, rubbing at his eyes as he scrolled through his phone... the tension in his chest loosened. 

Just this once.

After the disastrous day before, and the way he’d broken down so brutally, the omega decided he deserved this one little thing. Even if it was all temporary. One day of living in fantasy land. Pretending like he wasn’t an abomination in disguise, just a normal man spending time with his pack, like he belonged there. Just this once, he’d give himself this selfish gift. Soak up every moment, however brief, before hiding back away behind the lonely walls he knew all too well.

Seonghwa spared one last longing glance at the duo, his chest aching with a bitter longing. Then, with quiet resignation, he slipped away into the bathroom to prepare himself for their outing. Both physically and mentally.

An hour later, Seonghwa sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers fidgeting in his lap as he fought off a wave of panic. His shower had done little to calm his frayed nerves, and it didn’t help that he’d spent twenty minutes going back and forth on what he should wear. In the end, he’d settled on an outfit he hoped was casual enough for the occasion. 

The omega had picked out a loose cream colored sweater with sleeves that hung down over his fingertips, purposefully long enough to hide away the visible scratches left on his arms from the night before. It slipped off one shoulder without meaning to, exposing the prominent lines of his collarbones and the delicate silver chains he’d draped around his neck. He’d tucked the sweater halfway into flowing black slacks that hugged his hips, and a pair of Chelsea boots in the same shade. His hair, still a little damp from his shower, framed his face in loose silver waves. 

The outfit was much nicer than the usual baggy attire he wore that swallowed his frame. Still, Seonghwa thought it wasn’t much. It was comfortable, a safe choice. But to anyone else… it was devastating. Effortless elegance, and a delicate beauty he was entirely unaware of. 

The omega had just swallowed down his heat suppressants for the day when a sharp knocking rattled his door, followed by Wooyoung’s singsong voice.

“Hyuuung~! Time’s up! Are you ready, or do I have to drag you out myself?”

Seonghwa startled, the pill bottle slipping from his hands and hitting the floor with a soft thud. The younger’s timing was infuriatingly precise, as though he’d been counting down the minutes since he first told him they’d be going out.

Before the omega could stoop to scoop up the bottle, the door swung open wide without warning. Wooyoung strolled into the room like he owned the place, too impatient to wait for the elder’s response. In a panic, Seonghwa lightly kicked the dropped pills aside and stepped forward, blocking them from view. 

Wooyoung surged towards him like a man on a mission, excitement dancing in his eyes. However, his steps quickly faltered as once he took in the view, his gaze sweeping over Seonghwa from head to toe.

For one breathless moment, the beta said nothing. He remained shockingly quiet, for the first time in his life, his mouth falling open. The usual teasing remark he would give was trapped on the tip of his tongue, expression softening into something almost… reverent. 

Seonghwa fidgeted under his unwavering stare, tugging at the hem of his sweater. He hadn’t seen the pills... had he? 

“What?” he muttered, much sharper than he intended. 

That was all it took for Wooyoung to snap out of his haze, shaking off his distraction with a click of his tongue, his usual mischievous attitude returning. “Well, damn, hyung.” He drawled, waggling his brows. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of a hoodie when we’re not at work. And just for us? We’re not worthy.”

“Oh shut up-” Seonghwa grumbled, cheeks heating under the attention. At least he could rest easy knowing the illegal suppressants on the floor remained unnoticed. “We’re vlogging for atiny... I just wanted to look nice.” 

A smirk tugged at the corner of Wooyoung’s lips as he crossed the room, draping an arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders and drawing him in close. “You look more than nice, honey. You look stunning. I’m just jealous I didn’t do the same. Now everyone’s gonna be too busy staring at you to even notice me!” 

Seonghwa scoffed as he finally took the chance to glance over Wooyoung’s outfit for their ‘date’. He looked incredible, as always. A black denim jacket hung off his shoulders, unbuttoned to expose a plain white tee and silver cross necklace dangling around his neck. Black ripped jeans hugged his muscular thighs in a way that had Seonghwa’s heart leaping in his chest. A black distressed baseball cap hung low over his sharp eyes, and a silver ring glinted against his lower lip. Wooyoung looked both polished and dangerous in a way only he knew how. Just one glimpse was enough to leave the omega’s knees trembling. 

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that, Youngie.” Seonghwa said lightly, schooling his face into cool indifference despite the war his heart waged on his rib cage.

“I’m serious!” Wooyoung insisted, tightening his grip around the man’s shoulders and dragging him from his bedroom. Which wasn’t too hard. Seonghwa was more than happy to get away before the beta decided to take a closer look around. 

“Sannnn! Sannie! Tell him I’m right!” Wooyoung demanded as they reached the hallway, though the man was nowhere in sight.

As if summoned by the universe, San’s door clicked open at that exact moment. The alpha in question came stumbling out of his room, still fussing with the collar of his shirt like he’d only just gotten dressed.

Seonghwa’s breath caught in his throat. Where Wooyoung looked sharp and styled within an inch of his life, intentional and confident, San was his perfect opposite.

The man was ruggedly handsome in such a casual, unintentional way. As if he’d just rolled out of bed and landed himself on the cover of a men’s health magazine by accident. San wore a fitted henley, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the fabric stretched snug across his broad chest like it was clinging on for dear life. Dark jeans sat low on his hips, paired with well worn sneakers that were scuffed to hell. His dark hair was mussed, not styled. As if he’d just run his hands through it on his way out, maddeningly effortless. All of it was, like he hadn’t thought twice about any of it. 

And maybe he hadn’t... but that only made its effect on Seonghwa’s poor sanity worse. Fuck. 

He couldn’t do this. He couldn't spend a whole day with just the two of them, on their little ‘date’. Whether it was for the fans or not. Maybe he should fake being sick and go back to his room... or-

“Seonghwa-” San’s shocked murmur derailed his train of thought. The man had stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes caught on Seonghwa, a dumbfounded expression washing over his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna look like that?” His gaze flicked down, then back up, lingering in a way that made Seonghwa’s pulse spike. His lips jutted in a soft pout, as though the idea of anyone else seeing Seonghwa like this was somehow offensive.

Wooyoung, of course, cackled at the display, clapping San’s shoulder like he’d just scored a point in a game only he knew they were playing. “See? Even the dumb alpha agrees. Face it, hyung, you’re dangerous today.”

Seonghwa, caught between Wooyoung’s teasing and San’s unexpected sulking, could only sputter, his cheeks burning. Dangerous? No. He felt like felt more like prey. Pinned under two very different kinds of stares, neither of which he knew how to handle. 

The alpha joined him at his other side, the two bracketing him in like a pair of bodyguards. Seonghwa could do nothing but roll his eyes, releasing a heaving sigh. 

“Okay okay. Cool it with the teasing, boys. Let’s just go.”

By the time they stepped outside, the air was buzzing with something Seonghwa couldn’t quite name. The sun poured down over the city streets, infusing the beautiful day with life. He found himself with his wrist trapped in Wooyoung’s hand, San hovering at his back like a protective shadow. It felt safe… almost exciting. 

Their “date,” as Wooyoung shamelessly called it, unfolded like something out of a slice-of-life movie. They caught the subway down to a bustling street market, going from one food stall to the next, sampling everything their hearts desired. Wooyoung kept his camera dangling from a strap around his neck, filming occasional snippets of their time, but more than anything, he prioritized capturing photos of Seonghwa. His shy smiles, the way his round eyes sparkled with delight when he tried something particularly delicious. 

From the market, the trio wandered along a riverside path, taking in the scenic view while chatting and laughing about the most random of things. They found themselves passing an arcade at some point, and it didn’t take much for Wooyoung and San to convince Seonghwa they should go inside.

San won every strength-based game without trying, naturally. Meanwhile Wooyoung attempted to pick a fight with an infuriating claw machine, shouting at the metal box that had failed to give him his prize until Seonghwa had no choice but to step in and drag him away. And Seonghwa, despite himself, couldn’t stop laughing through all of it. Not just the polite usual chuckles he usually gave either. Real, genuine, unguarded laughter. The kind that had the corners of his eyes crinkling, his chest light. 

By the time they reached their final destination for the evening, a cozy rooftop restaurant, Seonghwa couldn’t believe how quickly their adventure had gone by. How easy it had been to get lost in spending time with the two endearing men. His cheeks ached from how widely he’d been grinning the entire day. 

The sunset washed over the rooftop; the skyline swirling with streaks of pink and violet. Seonghwa had left the table to lean against the railing, chin tilted toward the horizon as he soaked in the view. His dark eyes reflected molten gold under the glowing light, lips curved into a smile. The only word that could describe him in that moment was radiant. 

Wooyoung and San came up on either side of him, their shoulders brushing up against Seonghwa’s like it was the most natural thing in the world. He could feel their intense gaze lingering on him, as heated as the sunlight itself. 

Brows furrowing, Seonghwa looked away from the skyline to glance between them. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Wooyoung huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No—we just... I don’t think we’ve ever seen you smile this much.”

Seonghwa scoffed, heat creeping up his neck. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not exaggerating!” Wooyoung insisted, grinning so hard it must have hurt. “San, back me up here. Have you ever seen him like this? I swear he’s glowing.”

San hummed, lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. His voice was low, almost reverent when he finally answered, “No. I haven’t. And it’s beautiful.”

“Oh... god. Shut up-” Seonghwa huffed, though he sounded amused more than upset. 

He turned away and headed back to their table, too flustered to keep standing there under their stares. But for once, he didn’t try and hide away the happiness that lingered in his expression. He didn’t bury it beneath restraint or polite detachment. He let them see it. Let himself bask in their warmth as the last of the sun dipped behind the city and they continued their dinner, shamelessly reveling in their company. 

The last of the daylight had long since faded when the group finally arrived back at their building. Their walk home had been light, filled with Wooyoung’s endless chatter and San’s steady, grounding presence. They bumped shoulders, teased each other, giggling like schoolboys. For one night, Seonghwa felt like he belonged to something whole. He never wanted it to end. 

Wooyoung was quick to invite himself into the apartment San and Seonghwa shared with Mingi when they reached their floor, strolling inside without a second thought. He and San trailed after Seonghwa like a pair of love-sick puppies, all the way to his bedroom, unwilling to part from his side for even a moment. 

Wooyoung flopped onto the elder’s bed without hesitation, making himself right at home on the mountain of blankets that had been left behind. Though not without being folded first of course, courtesy of Seonghwa. “So... movie night tonight? No, you don’t get a choice in the matter honey.”

San leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head with an amused chuckle, but didn’t disagree. “I'm in. We'll tie you up and hold you hostage if we have to.”

Seonghwa, still caught up in the afterglow of the evening, didn’t notice the danger until it was too late. He merely smiled, moving past the doorway. “I suppose a movie isn’t a bad idea. If you let me pick the film, that is.” 

He was halfway across the room in search of his DVD collection, when Wooyoung suddenly sat up straighter. His head tilted, sharp eyes catching on the small orange bottle lying forgotten on the floor by the nightstand, glinting under the lamplight.  

“What’s this?” Wooyoung asked, fishing an arm off the edge of the bed to scoop it up. “New vitamins? What, are you secretly eighty years old, hyung?”

Confused, Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of the very suppressant bottle he’d dropped to the floor earlier. He’d forgotten all about them in his haste to usher Wooyoung out of his room, too worried the younger might spot them. His heart plummeted in his chest as he realized just how badly he'd fucked up.

“No!” His voice cracked as he surged forward, snatching the bottle out of Wooyoung’s hand before he could take a proper look at the label. “It’s nothing.”

Wooyoung blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his behavior. “Okay! Jeez, I was just—”

“Don’t touch my things,” Seonghwa snapped, the words coming out much harsher than he intended. His pulse was racing, palms slick around the smooth plastic as he held it to his chest, as if hiding it could erase it from their minds. How could he have been so reckless? So... so stupid?

San straightened from the door, eyes narrowing over the sudden tension emanating from the elder. His brows furrowed as he took a step forward, reaching out a hand for Seonghwa, hoping to soothe him. “Hyung, it’s okay...”

Seonghwa flinched, taking a stumbling step back. “Please. Get out,” he pleaded, his voice much softer than before. Almost broken.

For a long, painful moment, the room was frozen in time. None of them moved. None of them spoke. They just stared, each afraid to break the silence. 

Then, Wooyoung finally shifted. He reluctantly climbed off the bed, exchanging a confused look with San before moving toward the door. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. Seonghwa’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the sight. 

“I... I’m sorry.” Wooyoung murmured weakly, sparing one last longing glance at the man.

San, at his side, remained staring intently at Seonghwa, brows knit with concern. He lingered for a moment, lips parting as if he wanted to say something. But they pressed shut once more, only a troubled sigh escaping as he turned to leave with Wooyoung.

Seonghwa didn’t look up to watch them leave. He couldn’t bear it. The door closed behind San with a soft click, and the silence that followed was deafening. All the omega could hear was his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

He hurried to tuck the bottle into the bottom of his nightstand drawer, his hands trembling so violently the pills rattled against the plastic. The omega took a step back, and then completely froze. He was still haunted by the ghost of their presence. The air was still thick with laughter, their voices echoing in his head. The warmth of Wooyoung and San’s presence clung to his skin like smoke, drifting around him, clouding his senses with guilt.

He’d been so fucking foolish.

He’d let himself forget, just for a day, what he was. What he had to hide. He’d smiled, basked in their affection, let them close enough to catch a glimpse of the parts of him no one was meant to. A stupid, selfish mistake. 

Seonghwa sank down onto edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, face buried in his shaking hands. He drew in a calming breath, forcing every memory of the beautiful day from his mind, every flicker of hope from his heart. His smile, once so bright it startled even himself, was gone without a trace. Brick by brick, he rebuilt his walls, sealing away his fragile heart where no one could reach it. Where it was safe.

When he finally settled back against the pillows, he was a fortress again. Detached, impenetrable, and standing alone. Exactly as he was doomed to be. He couldn’t let anyone in. Couldn't let them close. Every door he opened for someone became another exit for them to leave through, every hand he reached for only left him grasping at air. Loneliness cut deep, but loss cut deeper. Carving away pieces from his soul until he was raw and hollow. That night, Seonghwa was reminded of the truth, like an old wound sliced open.

It was much better to bleed alone, than to watch someone walk away with the pieces of him still in their hands.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

As Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered open into the quiet darkness, the first thing that struck him was the ache. Low, pulsing, and alive within his chest. Like it had been waiting for him to wake.

It wasn’t painful. At least, not at first. More of a slow, haunting pull that started deep in his chest and spread outward, flooding every inch of him with an insistent need for something he couldn’t name. A void that demanded to be filled. With warmth, with touch, with anything. Like an addict desperate for a fix, his body begged while his mind lagged behind, too dazed to understand why.

Seonghwa tried to sort out his disoriented mind as his eyes adjusted to the blackness surrounding him, but it was pointless. Every attempt to formulate a full thought was scattered, sinking back into nothingness the moment it arrived. His head was clouded over by a thick fog too dense to navigate.

He wasn’t entirely sure where he was. Instinct told the man he should recognize it. The space held a familiarity that itched at something deep in the recesses of his mind. But in his muddled state, he couldn’t quite name it. All he could tell, was it was missing something. Something he needed. It was too quiet, too... empty.

The omega struggled to adjust to his surroundings, quickly growing overwhelmed by the overload of sensations that wracked his body. The sparse blankets scraped against his skin, every brush of fabric like sandpaper against his flesh. His nerves felt as though they’d been flayed open, left raw and exposed. His skin prickled with feverish heat, flashing to bitter cold, then back to heat again. Over and over in waves that left him trembling. His scent glands burned beneath the patchwork of blockers littering his flesh. They pulsed angrily beneath the adhesive, begging to be let out to breathe.

It was dizzying, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. His thoughts slipped from his grasp like drifting smoke. The only thing that remained was the ache. The incessant, all-consuming need for something. For anything.

Instinct rose up and took control, flooding through him and drowning out what little reason he had left. Sending it back down into the murky depths of his half-conscious psyche. Seonghwa’s body moved on its own, shifting restlessly, dragging the blankets tight to his chest. He drew in a deep breath, searching for something. But he was met with nothing but the sterile, useless scent of detergent. The emptiness of it infuriated his baser senses. A thin, weak, keening sound broke free from his throat.

Need... need more. Need alpha.

The words were barely thoughts. They were nonsensical, barely conscious fragments. Fueled by instinct and desperation, driven by the body’s demand for relief.

He buried his face in the pillow instead, rubbing his cheek against the fabric in a futile, frenzied attempt to find what he was seeking. The scents of the men he needed. The scent of safety. Of home. Even if he couldn’t consciously put a name to it. But panic began to curl in the hollow pit of his stomach as he found nothing. A cold, creeping feeling settling over him.

There wasn’t a single trace of them to be found.

He inhaled again, harder this time, the effort shaking his body. As if sheer willpower could summon something that wasn’t there. But as the air hit his lungs, devoid of anything but the lavender detergent he’d always used, it filled his veins with ice. The shadows in his empty room pressed in around him, mocking him. Laughing at his isolation.

Why—why am I alone? Where are they?

A flicker of memory cut through the fog then, so fleeting it dissipated as quickly as it arrived. But the impact it had lingered all the same. The echo of it’s sting slipped through the cracks.

The anger in Hongjoong’s voice, the hardness in his eyes. His dismissal. His rejection.

There's no one here because they don’t want you. They’re not coming.

His fractured mind latched onto the thought. Accepting it as the cruel answer to its searching. He wasn’t alone by accident. It was earned.

Because he wasn’t wanted. He wasn’t enough.

The realization settled over him like a thick cloud of poison, sinking in deep and smothering any hope his broken instincts had for the comfort they sought. His body responded immediately to the fact.

A pulse of heat rolled through him, sharp and agonizing. His breath began to leave his lips in short, ragged bursts, like he couldn’t quite draw in enough oxygen. His skin crawled; every thread of fabric against his flesh too tight, too suffocating. He tugged at his shirt, at first just to loosen it, but as it fell back against his fevered chest, it was too much. He tore it over his head and let it fall somewhere beside the bed.

The air hit his skin and made him shiver, but the relief was fleeting. The ache in his glands burned hotter, his distress breaking down the chemical mask of the blockers, till the patches clinging to his skin began to fail. With so many littering his skin, it was a slow process. Bleeding through bit by bit till the faintest trace of his real scent drifted into the room.

However, it wasn’t the usual warmth and decadence. The vanilla was scorched and bitter, the underlying amber acrid and smoky. Corrupted by the omega’s terror and confusion. The pheromones fed on his panic, but they spilled out into nothing. Because there was no one there to scent him back. No one to answer.

Somewhere beneath the panic, instinct whispered what it wanted. It pleaded with him to gather warmth, softness, safety. To surround himself in comfort until the fear went quiet.

Nest. I—I need a nest.

But he’d never built one. Never dared to. His room was bare by design, stripped of comfort, a denial of the thing he was. There was nothing here to burrow into, no familiar scent to bury himself in. No pillows or stuffed animals or mountains of blankets. Only thin sheets and cold air.

It was hopeless.

Seonghwa curled in on himself, arms wrapping around his ribs as if he could hold himself together, prevent himself from unraveling fully. But it was far too late for that. Soft, broken whimpers escaped before he could stop them, as defeated tears rolled down his cheeks. His body began to tremble, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

He didn’t know when the trembling turned to shaking or when the whimpers turned into sobs. The edges of the room blurred, his mind slipping further and further from the surface. He was a prisoner to his own biology, to the need clawing at his chest for his pack. For their comfort and warmth. The desperate craving was all his inner omega knew. The only thing it cared about. The only thing it needed.

But no one was coming.

Soft whines tumbled from his throat as he accepted his fate. The sickness had already sunk its claws in, burrowing deep and taking root. There was nothing left to fight, nothing left to save. His body curled into a tight shivering ball beneath the thin sheets, as he surrendered to the mindless haze of instinct. Slipping beyond reach.

There was no Seonghwa here anymore. Only an omega, all alone, breaking apart in the dark.

————————————

Mingi’s POV:

Mingi couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone a whole day without worrying about Seonghwa. It was instinct by now. The gnawing, unshakable fear that the older man was wearing himself thin again. It was always lingering in the background of his mind. Especially after weeks of seeing the beta work himself into the ground.

But tonight... that fear had gone from the back of his mind, to front and center. Ever since he strolled into practice, just to take one look at Seonghwa and immediately know something was off. He was pale. Well, paler than usual. Bags weighed heavily beneath his eyes, though artfully covered with concealer. And as he stood to join everyone on the floor, his legs trembled ever so slightly before steadying. He was not okay; it was obvious.

Well... obvious to Mingi, who’d spent years cataloging his every movement.

So he spent the whole practice watching Seonghwa like a hawk. Ready to step in at a moment’s notice. And when their final rehearsal finally wrapped, instead of resting like he should have, Seonghwa went straight to the kitchen. No pausing to take a breather. Just straight into motion. Rolling his sleeves, hair falling into his eyes, jumping right into cooking before Mingi had a chance to stop him... or even talk to him.

The dining table had vanished under heaping dishes, all neatly arranged. Far more than was necessary. But that’s just who Seonghwa was. Always going above and beyond to feed their ravenous pack of eight grown men. But as they settled around the table and dug in, Mingi’s stomach twisted. Not because it didn’t taste incredible—that was just a given. But because Seonghwa didn’t eat. Barely touched the plate he’d made for himself. He just sat back with that faint, tired smile and told them to enjoy while it was hot. Happy, just to see them fed and content.

So it didn’t come as a surprise when the elder announced he was going to take dinner to Hongjoong, who’d locked himself away in his studio again. Because of course he would. That was Seonghwa through and through: bleeding himself dry to make sure everyone else was taken care of. But... knowing the state Hongjoong was in, it felt like a recipe for disaster.

Still, Mingi couldn’t bring himself to stop him. As desperately as he wanted to follow, he knew how badly Seonghwa hated being hovered over. Especially by alphas. He’d always been cautious not to smother him or make him feel fragile, despite constantly wanting to throw him over his shoulder and drag him back to his room like a fucking animal. To hide him away, where he could keep him safe.

Which is why, when the beta said he’d handle it, he forced himself to trust him. To respect him. It was a short, well-lit walk. And while Hongjoong might have been a bit... tense at the moment, he could never hurt him. Seonghwa would be alright.

Even though every instinct screamed otherwise.

So Mingi stayed. Cleaned up after dinner till the kitchen was spotless, the way he knew the elder preferred. Yunho had eagerly jumped in to help as the rest of the pack dispersed. And as they stood side by side washing off the dishes, his best friend had been off. Oddly tense. Glancing back at the door over his shoulder, almost as often as Mingi did. Like he was waiting for Seonghwa to come back. But when Mingi pressed as he saw Yunho to the door shortly after, he was met with a response that had him regretting not chasing after Seonghwa like he’d desperately wanted to.

“Something just isn’t right, Min. It’s not really my place to say what happened. But... I’m worried.” Yunho sighed. He shook his head, a weak laugh escaping him. “You’ve got that creepy sixth sense when it comes to him, man. Just... use it tonight, yeah? Make sure he’s okay for me.”

The request had struck a chord with Mingi, even if he’d laughed it off at the moment. He couldn’t exactly deny just how true it was.

An hour later, after Yunho had left, he found himself restlessly pacing his room back and forth. He hadn’t even changed out of his workout clothes from practice, still wearing the same baggy tee and sweatpants. He was too wound up to settle down, constantly fighting the urge to go hunt down the beta just to make sure he’d made it home safe. But every time his hand reached for the doorknob, it froze mid-air.

The last thing Seonghwa needed was a paranoid alpha tracking him down because he was too overprotective to let him walk back alone. And he certainly wasn’t going to be thrilled if the second he arrived home, he was bombarded by questions.

So when he heard him finally return around eleven, the soft shuffle of footsteps, the faint click of his door shutting soon after, he faltered. Relief and worry tangled tight in his chest. He wanted to check on him, to make sure he was really alright, but he had no good reason to be knocking on his door this late. No excuse that wouldn’t sound like hovering.

He’s tired. Just let him rest. Don’t make him feel like you’re watching his every move.

He told himself he’d wait a little. Give Seonghwa the space to unwind, to shower, maybe fall asleep. Meanwhile, he sat on the edge of his bed, attempting to lose himself in a show, while every part of him strained to hear any sound from down the hall. And all the while he apartment remained still and silent. He told himself that was a good sign. Seonghwa must have been exhausted and simply crashed the moment his head hit the pillow.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was a little bit after midnight when Mingi finally ran out of his last thread of restraint. His leg bounced restlessly against the floor, the show on his laptop long since reduced to meaningless background noise. That ‘creepy sixth sense’ Yunho had teased him about was going haywire. An insistent, nagging that burned in his chest and refused to quiet.

He’d promised he’d pay attention to that feeling, and right now it was begging him to move. To run to Seonghwa’s side and check on him. To make sure he was safe. Or at the very least, sit outside his door for a while and keep watch. It would help soothe the restlessness clawing at his chest.

Not that he’d done that before or anything…

Multiple times a week.

Like a fucking stalker.

Mingi huffed out a low breath, raking a hand through his hair as he pushed up from the bed. The floor felt cold under his bare feet, the silence heavier now as he crossed his room. He hesitated only a moment more before finally reaching for the handle. And this time, he didn’t stop.

He left quietly, padding down the dark and silent hallway. He passed San’s room first, which was empty, thank god. Their roommate had gone to crash with Wooyoung for the night to binge another one of their unhinged dramas. A perfect scenario, really. There was no one home to catch Mingi loitering outside of Seonghwa’s room like a pathetic, lovesick guard dog. Sparing him from the merciless teasing that would inevitably follow.

The alpha exhaled softly as he finally came face to face with the elder’s door, struck with a sudden wave of hesitation. He just stood there, awkwardly debating what to do. Should he knock? Or listen for movement? Or—

His wandering thoughts were cut short.

A whimper echoed from within the room. It was weak and muffled through the door, but unmistakable. A soft, broken little sound that was like a knife to his chest.

Something snapped inside him. There was no rational thought behind the way his hand flew out to twist the handle and his shoulder slammed the door, expecting it to give way. It was pure, animal instinct. Driving him to reach the boy. To help him. But he was met with a stubborn click of resistance. The door didn’t budge. Locked tight.

Another faint whimper reached his ears. Softer this time, closer to a sob. Every muscle in Mingi’s body tensed, a growl bubbling up in his throat with frustration. His instincts were howling in his ears. Get to him. Now!

But just as he pulled back, ready to throw his full weight into the door just to get it open, a sliver of common sense cut through his desperate haze.

Breaking the door down and barreling in there was no way to help. If anything, it would make whatever was happening to Seonghwa infinitely worse. He needed to take a breath. Think. Be smart about this.

Mingi took a step back, nervously running his fingers through his hair. He mulled over his options until he remembered something small and ridiculous he’d tucked away months ago. A tiny, flat-head screwdriver that was perfectly sized to fit right in the pinhole end of the lock from the outside. He’d hidden it away in his dresser, just in case he ever needed to get inside one of their rooms. Well... more importantly, Seonghwa’s room. For a moment just like this one.

He felt both absurd and utterly relieved. For once, his obsession was paying off. Did it make him a borderline insane stalker, having something on standby to unlock Seonghwa’s door? Probably. But it didn’t matter. If being a stalker meant he could get to the man he’d burn cities to the ground for, he’d wear that label with pride.

He was gone and back in a flash, returning with the screwdriver in hand. He crouched down and slipped it through the tiny opening, carefully wedging the flat end of the metal under the inner latch, gently wriggling it against the metal mechanism inside.

The lock finally gave with a soft click.

Mingi froze, his pulse thundering in his ears. Despite everything in him that screamed for him to throw the door open and charge right in, he forced himself to move carefully. Cautious and slow, no sudden movements. Dropping the tool carelessly to the ground, he eased the door open, just wide enough for a sliver of hallway light to cut through the dark.

He quietly slipped inside, immediately noticing how the air inside the room felt heavy and thick... and utterly wrong. It was too dark to see a thing. But as he reached to his side and flicked on the floor lamp by the door, it revealed something he could have never prepared himself for.

Right in the middle of the bed, curled up in a ball that made him look impossibly tiny, was Seonghwa. Half tangled in the sheets, his body trembling with shallow, uneven breaths, his skin ghostly pale and slick with sweat. The soft, broken sounds spilling from his throat hit Mingi like a physical blow. Weak, pleading whimpers. The kind that didn’t belong to the perfectly composed man he knew. His fingers clawed at the fabric below him as he writhed and shuddered, trying to grasp for something that wasn’t there.

“S-Seonghwa?” Mingi’s voice cracked, barely reaching above a whisper. He could hardly breathe, hardly speak.

Never in his life—not in all his watching and memorizing and cataloging—had he ever seen the beta look so... helpless. So broken. A thousand times worse than every worst-case scenario he’d spent the last few hours concocting in his mind. This wasn’t the elegant, carefully collected Seonghwa he knew. This was something far worse.

It completely erased any remaining shred of hesitation the alpha carried. He crossed the room in three quick strides, his heart pounding in his chest, driven by the instinctive need to do something.

“Hwa? Darling, it’s me. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He kept his voice steady and even as he hovered at the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently brush a trembling hand over his shoulder, desperate for some sort of acknowledgment

The man flinched, hard. Lurching away from Mingi’s hand like it was a threat and curling in tighter on himself, a strangled noise breaking free from his lips. His ragged breathing quickened, growing heavy with panic.

Fuck. He knew he’d been hoping for a reaction, but that broken sound was like a knife straight to the gut. Still, he tried again, softer this time. “Shh, you’re safe, it’s just—”

Anything else he had to say vanished from his lips as his gaze settled back on the man.

In his frenzy to lurch away from the alpha’s touch, Seonghwa had twisted onto his stomach, the sheets slipping away to reveal the bare, ridged curve of his spine. Far too thin, evidently malnourished in a way Mingi had suspected of him for ages. But... far worse than that were the angry red welts that bloomed over his flesh. Littering every inch of available skin that wouldn’t be revealed under the cover of clothing. Along with four...no, five scent-blocking patches. The exact ones Seonghwa had attempted to explain away only a couple of weeks earlier.

Mingi’s hand clasped over his mouth, the sudden urge to vomit across the floor creeping up his throat. The excuse Seonghwa had given him hadn’t sat right with him since the moment he heard it. But never in a million years had he expected to see... this. He could barely wrap his head around what he was seeing. What it all meant? But, he couldn’t sit and spiral over it. Seonghwa was suffering right in front of him.

Get it together. Just take deep breaths and focus. He’s all that matters.

Mingi nodded to himself, dropping his hands to his side and drawing in a deep breath. Hoping to calm the churning wave of nausea in his gut. But what it did... what it revealed? There was no coming back from.

He’d meant to steady his breathing, to ground himself so he could get to work helping. But the second he drew in air, the world beneath his feet tilted.

The scent he discovered was faint, to be sure. Enough that he wasn’t even certain where it was coming from. But even the lightest traces of it pierced right through him, impossible to ignore.

Vanilla, he realized first. Gentle and warm. But there was something darker coiled beneath it. A rich, golden amber, the hint of its spice balancing out the honeyed sweetness. It should’ve been beautiful. Comforting, even. But it wasn’t.

Everything about it was wrong.

The scent was burnt at the edges, every gorgeous note completely singed through by fear. Any sweetness once there had been tainted, corrupted into something acrid and bitter.

Mingi’s body reacted before his brain did. A low, almost primal sound rumbling in his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears. His alpha stirred awake in a way it never had before, frantically clawing at his senses. Desperate to reach out, to protect, to comfort. To calm the distress radiating from the scent that clouded over his senses.

He staggered back a half step, eyes wide, chest heaving as he fought to steady himself and calm his wild surge of instincts. What the hell kind of scent would—

Oh.

Oh fuck.

The cruel realization came together slowly. The painful pieces clicking into place, one after another, as his eyes flicked back down to the beta on the bed, forming a picture he could have never been prepared to see. That scent... it wasn’t coming from outside. It wasn’t coming from the lingering trace of a candle, or a detergent, or anything manufactured. Nothing that could be easily explained away and rationalized.

It was the kind of scent that came from a person. And not just any person.

It was coming from Seonghwa.

Every muscle in Mingi’s body went stiff, the blood completely draining from his face. For one suspended heartbeat, he simply forgot how to exist. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, the world itself shifting on its axis. His vision tunneled, the edges of the room blurring, until all that remained was him... and that impossible, haunting scent curling through the air.

A quiet, broken noise crawled up his throat as he staggered backward a step, shaking his head as if that could make the devastating realization he’d come to any easier. His knees buckled, crashing against the floor with a heavy thud that barely registered over the roaring in his ears.

All he could do was stare. Stare at the barely recognizable man curled up in front of him, his exposed skin mottled with angry welts and glistening with sweat, shivering like he’d been plunged in ice.

For all his watching, for all his obsessive need to know Seonghwa—that had easily reached the point most people would consider stalking—he’d missed the most important detail of all. He’d spent years committing everything about him to memory. The way he smiled when he was hiding his exhaustion, how his voice softened when he was being sincere, the steady rhythm of his breathing while he slept. And all this time, the truth had been right in front of him. But he’d been too blind, too naive, to see it. To see what the beta was suffering through.

Because Seonghwa—his Seonghwa. The center of his universe, the one he’d tear the world apart for, the one he worshiped like something holy—wasn’t a beta at all.

Seonghwa was an omega.

And he’d been hiding it. All this time.

Reality crashed over him with brutal clarity. All the signs he’d overlooked, all the details he’d brushed off. The constant exhaustion, the aversion to touch, the patches he tried to explain away, his desperation to always be perfect. He always showered last, always gave till it broke him, kept them all at arm's length so they never saw the cracks... it all connected at once, burying Mingi beneath the weight of understanding.

The truth he’d been hiding. Years of carefully crafted lies.

But what gutted him the most wasn’t Seonghwa’s deception. It was knowing that he’d been hurting, breaking, all alone. And Mingi hadn’t been there to help him.

Hadn’t even known he needed to.

It was that thought that cut through the haze of wallowing he’d allowed himself to sink into. Seonghwa might have carried this burden alone for years, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him now. Not anymore. Things had to fucking change.

Mingi scrubbed a trembling hand over his face and tried to steady his breath, but it was useless. The elder’s distressed scent suffocated his senses, his alpha clawing at his self-control, pacing in his chest like a caged animal. He didn’t know what this was. Had no idea what had driven Seonghwa to this state, didn’t have the faintest clue how to fix it, but that didn’t matter. He’d do anything and everything within his power to help him.

Pushing up from his knees, the alpha carefully lowered himself onto the bed beside Seonghwa’s curled up form, his chest feeling as though a knife was being driven through it with every broken cry that continued to pour from the man’s lips.

“It’s gonna be okay, Hwa.” He whispered, his voice far from steady. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Mingi reached out again, tentative at first, brushing his fingertips through the sweat slick mess of Seonghwa’s hair plastered to his forehead. Miraculously, the man didn’t twitch away like before. Though... maybe that wasn’t the best sign. The heat rolling off him was unreal. His skin was burning up beneath his touch, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Mingi let out a shuddering exhale, a rising tide of panic flooding his chest. God, he was in way over his head.

“Can you... can you look at me? Please? I—I just need to know you’re in there, darling.” He gently pleaded, letting out a soothing wave of his own scent in hopes it might comfort him. A thick wash of spiced mahogany and warm leather stretched out over the space as he brushed his thumb over Seonghwa’s temple, desperate for some sign of recognition.

The omega flinched away from the touch with a soft whine, his eyes flickering beneath half-closed lids, glassy and unfocused, his lips shaping soundless words that never quite made it out. It was like he didn’t even register that someone was with him. Whatever was happening, he was buried deep beneath it. Trapped, deep within his own mind.

“Shhh—shh darling, it’s okay. It’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Mingi tried to soothe him, his heart cracking in his chest as he voiced the words aloud. He tried to reach out again, leaning in closer, stroking his cheek. “Hwa, I would never hurt you. You’re safe. I promise.”

Seonghwa’s body couldn’t seem to make up its mind over the contact. His breath hitched every time Mingi’s hand drifted over his skin, yet when it left, he whimpered softly, like he both wanted to chase the comfort of touch, and yet couldn’t stomach when it was near him. He just kept writhing back and forth, shifting from one side to the other, sniveling and clawing at the sheets.

Mingi bit back a groan of frustration, his gaze flitting over the suffering man in search of... something. Some idea of what could help. And as his eyes settled on the patches along his back, something clicked within his mind. There was no chance that many blockers were doing anything but adding to his suffering. Wearing one was a pain in the ass on the rare occasion the alpha needed them. And there Seonghwa was, covered in five.

Getting rid of them might not fix everything, but fuck if it wasn’t a start.

Cautiously, Mingi shifted closer to the boy. He reached for the first patch with trembling fingers, hesitating only a heartbeat before carefully peeling it back. The adhesive pulled softly at the skin before it gave, causing Seonghwa to twitch. But he didn’t pull away.

“God, Seonghwa. How have you been doing this, all this time?” He muttered beneath his breath, still struggling to wrap his head around it all. Each piece of the puzzle just made their entire past make more and more sense. Something twisted low in his gut, part anger, part heartbreak. Even this little detail explained so much. How Seonghwa always kept his composure when the rest of them butted heads, how he seemed so untouchable whenever tension ran high. He hadn’t just been calm; he’d been cut off. Blind to the clashing scents that raged around him.

It was all coming together now... painting a picture that he wished he’d seen sooner.

Mingi swallowed hard, pushing down the bitterness rising in his throat, and moved on to the next patch. Then the next. Continuing till all that was left on his skin were the angry welts of red burned there.

The change had been gradual. With each he’d removed, the scent he’d been catching only hints of before had grown thicker. Stronger. It rolled over him in waves, sweet at its core but twisted with exhaustion and pain. Like vanilla left too long on a burner, bitter around the edges. It was warmth turned sour, spoiled by grief.

Mingi’s breath caught in his throat, head spinning as his senses were suffocated by the intensity. His alpha instincts flared so violently it nearly knocked him back; his body wanted to move, to shield him, to fix everything and soothe him. All the while, his heart flipped in his chest. Because beneath all the noise of distress and confusion and fear, there was something achingly familiar. Seonghwa. The real Seonghwa. The one he’d memorized, the one who smiled through his weariness, who carried everyone else’s pain until it hollowed him out.

Still, his scent wasn’t supposed to smell like this. Not broken. Not burning. No ones ever was. It only highlighted how things were so much worse than he could have ever imagined. Mingi pressed a shaking hand over his mouth, holding back the urge to sob.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered hoarsely, voice breaking under the weight of it. “You don’t have to hold it in anymore, okay? You don’t have to hide.”

He wasn’t sure if the words were to comfort Seonghwa... or himself. But he meant them all the same.

The rawness of the pheromones continued to flood the room. Years of suppression unraveling all at once, wild and uncontained. As if enjoying it’s first taste of freedom in... god knows how long. It was everywhere. On the sheets. In his lungs. Clinging to his skin. He could feel his alpha pulling at the leash, desperate to anchor the smaller man, to pour comfort through scent and touch until the panic faded. But how could he, when Seonghwa’s body was still trembling like it didn’t know whether to reach for him or run?

Though... maybe without the patches blocking his senses off, he could try again?

Mingi moved slowly this time, reaching out with shaking hands, fingers finding their way back into Seonghwa’s hair. He brushed through the damp strands carefully, almost reverently, whispering low under his breath. “It’s okay, Hwa. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

He let his body relax, brows knit in concentration until his own scent began to bleed into the air. The grounding notes wrapped around Seonghwa in soft, invisible waves, a steady stream of comfort that he hoped would calm him in a way words couldn’t.

And for a moment, it worked.

The tension in Seonghwa’s shoulders loosened, just slightly. His body eased under Mingi’s touch, his breathing evening out, the small tremors quieting as if his instincts recognized the comfort before his mind did. Mingi’s heart clenched at the sight. At the way Seonghwa leaned into his scent, chasing the warmth like he’d been starving for it.

But then Seonghwa inhaled.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then locked on Mingi’s face. For a heartbeat, Mingi was relieved. Finally, Seonghwa was recognizing him. Coming back into himself. But that relief vanished almost as quickly as it came when he realized just how wrong he was.

The softness had bled out of Seonghwa’s expression, replaced by raw, animalistic terror. His pupils dilated wide, body going rigid as clear panic surged through him.

“Hwa?” Mingi’s voice cracked as Seonghwa recoiled from him, scrambling back until his spine hit the headboard. His breaths came in quick, shallow bursts, eyes wild and glassy. There was no understanding there, no trace of recognition or familiarity. Only raw, unadulterated fear.

“No, no, no, it’s just me darling. Hey, it’s me!” He reached out, desperate to soothe him again, but Seonghwa’s reaction only grew more terrified, a strangled sound ripping from his throat. There was no Seonghwa behind those eyes. Just a nearly feral omega, terrified of the alpha in front of him.

Mingi instantly froze, his hands flying up to show he meant no harm. The scent of fear burned sharp in the air, and every fiber of his being screamed to fix it, to pull him in close and promise everything was going to be okay, but he didn’t know how. Not when the elder was staring at him like he was a threat.

“Please,” he begged frantically, voice cracking under the weight of his own panic. “Please, don’t look at me like that.”

Seonghwa’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his gaze shifting from side to side, as if caught between fight or flight. He pressed his back harder against the wooden frame, wrapping his arms tightly around his bare chest, nails digging into his sides.

But before Mingi could make another move or figure out what in the hell he was going to do, a sudden knock on the door cut into the silence.

Mingi’s head snapped toward the sound, heart slamming against his ribs. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. A low, snarling growl rumbled in his chest. The instinctive reflex of an alpha guarding his wounded omega.

A warning to whoever was on the other side of the door.

To back. The fuck. Off.

———————————

Jongho’s POV:

The first thing that had hit him when he entered the apartment was the scent.

From a distance, it had been faint. Just a whisper of something sharp and wrong. But with every step that brought him down the hall, it grew stronger. He’d slowed down, muscles tensing, as he breathed it all in. This wasn’t the usual blend of neutral pack musk. It was distress. Pure, suffocating distress.

By the time he reached Seonghwa’s door, it was almost overwhelming. The kind of scent that pressed down on the lungs, that made his instincts shift with unease. It poured through the cracks like smoke, bitter and broken, threaded with panic and something else beneath it. Something warmer, sweeter, that made his stomach churn. Because sweetness like that... it only came from one source. An omega.

Which could only mean one thing.

The resident of that room... had been keeping a massive secret from them all.

Jongho pressed a palm to the wall beside the door as the strength seemed to slip away from him, drawing in a ragged breath. His throat felt painfully tight, his heart hammering in his chest. It was gut wrenching, heart breaking. But at the same time... fuck. It made sense.

Jongho couldn’t even pretend he hadn’t had his suspicions. Well, not exactly that Seonghwa wasn’t the beta he claimed to be. But he was holding back something monumental. Something life-altering and possibly dangerous if exposed. He’d pushed those thoughts down for ages, trying to ignore the way his gut told him to look closer. Didn’t want to scare him off by digging too deep, and breaking the fragile trust between them.

So as he put the pieces together... while it was utterly crushing to consider how heavy a burden this secret must have been, carrying it alone all this time, he almost wasn’t surprised.

He’d grown up with two sisters, both omegas, both his whole world. And Seonghwa... he’d always carried striking similarities. Even if he did everything within his power to bury them. The way he stared longingly at beautiful clothes in shop windows, how he glowed on the rare occasion he accepted affection, and looked absolutely miserable the second he pushed it away. All the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, bit by bit.

What didn’t make sense, though, was how bitter and curdled the scent drifting through the air was. Like something was incredibly wrong. In a way that had his normally impeccably controlled instincts snarling in his chest.

No matter how fast his thoughts spun, trying to piece together the cruel realization, this wasn’t about him. And to try and make it that way would be selfish.

So he lifted his hand to the door and knocked.

He didn’t even get the chance to knock twice before a sound answered him from inside.

A growl. Low and deep. The kind that came as a warning.

Jongho froze, brows furrowing. That definitely wasn’t Seonghwa. And with San back at his place, raising hell with Wooyoung, that left only one option. Mingi.

He should have been relieved. When he’d marched his way over here, determined to check on Seonghwa after hours of restless worry, of knowing in his gut something was wrong after the way he’d been acting all day, he’d been most worried about the boy being alone.

But to hear such an animalistic reaction from the alpha that was currently closed in with the eldest member of their pack... it couldn’t mean anything good.

Jongho ignored the warning entirely. Mingi might have sounded all big and scary, but to him, the man was little more than an overgrown puppy with too much bark and not enough bite. So he wrapped his hand around the handle and pushed the door open.

The moment he stepped into the room, the intensity he thought he’d been catching before was nothing compared to now. Seonghwa’s scent practically slapped him across the face. It was heavy, distorted with distress and confusion. So strong it made the air hard to breathe, crawling under his skin until his alpha was screaming he needed to get to him. But he easily pushed it down, the way he’d gotten good at. He needed to focus.

The moment Mingi saw him, another growl tore from his throat. Louder this time, more raw. He shifted automatically, trying to put his body between the intruder and Seonghwa, to protect him. His broad shoulders squared, eyes hazy but blazing with a clear warning. Do not come closer.

But Jongho had already caught a glimpse of him before it was too late.

Fuck.

Sweet, gentle Seonghwa was curled in on himself, tangled in damp sheets, trembling and wild-eyed. The sound that escaped his lips him was gut-wrenching. A soft, broken keening that twisted something deep in Jongho’s chest. Between his condition, and the overwhelming scent clouding the air, it was no wonder Mingi had lost it.

Jongho lifted both hands, palms outstretched, keeping his voice steady and even. “Hey, relax big guy. I’m not here to hurt him.”

Mingi’s chest heaved, nostrils flaring, pupils blown wide as his instincts battled with logic. He looked borderline feral in the dim lighting, his muscles wound tight with the fierce need to protect the omega behind him. But Jongho could see the panic beneath it. The helplessness. It wasn’t like Mingi to be so aggressive towards... well, anyone. It was evident, especially with the haze clouding the man’s eyes, that he had gotten a bit scent drunk off the unfiltered pheromones saturating the space. It had thrown his instincts completely off balance.

“Oh stand down, you overgrown puppy.” He took a step closer, lips quirking up into a wry smile, hoping to diffuse the tension. “I just want to help, but you’ve got to get it together. He’s not gonna calm down if you don't.”

Mingi hesitated, throat bobbing hard as he forced a deep breath, conflict warring over his features. But slowly, the tension wracking his frame began to relax, the sharp edge of aggression fading away to reveal the panic hiding beneath.

“I—” His voice cracked, fingers raking through his hair. “He... Jongho, he’s an—” The older alpha couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence.

Jongho exhaled weakly, relieved to see the man coming back to himself. “I know, man. I know.” He headed towards the window first, cracking it open to clear out some of the oppressive scent drowning the air. Then, he finally turned his attention to the shuddering omega on the bed.

“Hey there, sweetheart...” Jongho murmured as he approached, keeping his pace slow and steady, not wanting to spook him worse than he already was. He cautiously settled at the edge of the bed beside him, holding back his own scent. The poor boy was plenty overwhelmed as is.

The omega shrank away from the man, clutching the sheets to his chest, his eyes glassy and unfocused, lost somewhere far away. The sight made Jongho’s heart sink right into the pits of his stomach. Because he knew that look.

He’d seen that look before.

And it meant nothing good.

“Mingi.” He spoke quietly, but the graveness in his tone was loud. “This is rejection sickness.”

Mingi sat up straight, eyes widening. “Rejection sickness... you mean like, omega drop? I—how do you know?”

Jongho let out a heaving sigh, shaking his head slowly. “You can see it in his eyes.” He nodded towards Seonghwa, whose breathing had gotten heavier, his pupils blown wide. “His omega is completely in control. Trying to protect him. It’s what happened to my sister when she found out her mate was cheating. Though she never got this bad. He... this is really fucking dangerous, Mingi.”

Mingi’s brows furrowed. “But isn’t that only when something serious happens? They don’t drop over just anything. Something had to set him off.”

“Yeah,” Jongho said quietly. “I’m guessing something happened when he went out tonight. But usually something triggers it after the body’s been forced past its limit. Whatever he’s been doing to hide what he is, it’s finally breaking him down.”

Admitting the truth aloud, that Seonghwa had been hiding this from them all along, left a bitter taste on his tongue. If he had just trusted him, confided in him, Jongho would have moved heaven and earth to keep him safe. But now... he didn’t know if they were too late.

A gasp broke free from Mingi’s lips. “The patches—”

Jongho’s gaze snapped toward him, sharp and demanding. “What patches?”

“The scent blockers! One of them fell off in my bed a few weeks ago. He said they were just mild ones, to make it easier to handle all the alphas in the group. But when I got here, he was covered in them. And they weren’t fucking gentle. His skin...” Mingi’s voice faltered, guilt shadowing his features.

Jongho swore under his breath, his calm veneer cracking for the first time. “That explains it. Long-term use of just one blocker is dangerous. Let alone multiple. His body’s probably been screaming for relief.”

Mingi stared at Seonghwa’s trembling form, his voice barely a whisper. “So this… this is his body giving out?”

“Worse,” Jongho said, his tone low but firm. “It’s his instincts collapsing. His system’s in shock. His omega thinks it's been rejected. Abandoned. If we hadn’t found him tonight—” He didn’t finish the sentence, jaw tightening. “This is serious Mingi. This is really fucking serious.”

Mingi swallowed hard, every muscle in his body locked tight. “What do we do? Tell me what to do.”

Jongho met his eyes, steady and unflinching. “We act fast. Get him stabilized and calm before he spirals any further. He’s probably dehydrated, feverish, and his instincts are in overdrive. If we don’t ground him soon... fuck. You don’t want to know.”

“Then tell me how,” Mingi said, already moving closer. “Whatever he needs, I’ll do it.”

Jongho took a deep breath, grounding himself regardless of the cloying scent that smothered the air. He needed to keep his cool, or he’d be useless to the omega. And he’d already let him down for far too long.

The young alpha glanced over at the man who hovered beside him. “Alright. We’re going to do this carefully, and we’re not leaving him alone for a second.” he said firmly. “Go to the kitchen, get ice packs. Frozen vegetables, compresses, doesn’t matter. Just anything cold. We need to get his temperature down before his body burns itself out.”

Ming nodded quickly and leaped to his feet, scrambling towards the kitchen without another word. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Jongho let out a soft sigh and turned his full attention back to Seonghwa.

The elder cowered on the furthest corner of the bed against the headboard, knees tucked to his bare chest, shaking so hard it looked as though his bones were rattling. His pale skin glistened with sweat, his breathing shallow, his pupils blown wide. There was no Seonghwa behind those beautiful, pained eyes. Only his omega, taking the reins after years of suppression. The horrifying sight made Jongho want to drop to his knees and sob till his lungs gave out.

He could still remember what it was like when his sister had dropped. His mother had coached him through it back then. What to do, what not to do. How to anchor an omega to reality and pull them back from the brink. The knowledge from that experience was useful now, but... as he watched Seonghwa, he feared it might not be enough. His sister had been miserable, but still coherent. Never reaching the point where the drop turned into total rejection sickness. She still recognized their voices, still clung to the comfort his family had offered. She hadn’t lost faith that her pack would be there for her.

Just one glance at the omega told him that wasn’t the case here. Seonghwa was far, far beyond that. His omega was completely convinced he’d been abandoned. That he was unwanted and alone. He was buried so deep inside his own mind, hiding away from the pain and agony of the rejection he thought he was experiencing.

Jongho wanted to grab him by the shoulders and scream just how untrue that was.

Jongho had never planned on growing so attached to... well, anyone really. He’d joined the company to follow his passion, not to get distracted. He hadn’t expected to be so drawn to him. But... Seonghwa was a force to be reckoned with. Stubborn, quick-witted, and strong. Yet impossibly gentle and kind at the same time. Jongho had always admired him for it. Envied it even. And that admiration turned into something more before Jongho could stop it.

He’d spent ages keeping his emotions on lock down. Walking beside Seonghwa like a shadow. Never pushing, never asking too much. He’d respected his space, honored the boundaries he didn’t understand, offering whatever silent acts of care he could manage without scaring the boy off.

But now? Seeing Seonghwa so... broken, all because he was convinced no one wanted him? He couldn’t regret the decision more. He should have pushed, should have been more obvious about his affection. Maybe then, the struggling boy wouldn’t be in this dangerous position. Maybe then, he would have trusted him enough to tell him sooner.

But wallowing in regret wouldn’t save him. All Jongho could hope to do now is fix his mistakes. Prove to the boy that he was safe. Loved. Bring him back from wherever he’d been lost, and spend the rest of his life protecting him the way he should have been all along.

Without wasting another moment, Jongho got to work.

He shifted closer, one inch at a time. With each small movement, Seonghwa tensed up. But if he waited a beat, he eased. It wasn’t much. But it was progress. This wasn’t a process that could be rushed. What Seonghwa needed right now was patience. Luckily for him, Jongho had it in spades.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He murmured, keeping his voice gentle and calm, his scent reined in. Seonghwa had finally stopped flinching as the gap between them closed, something that Jongho took as a point of pride. “I know you’re scared right now. I know you’re confused. But you’re not alone. Okay? We’re here for you, and we’re not going anywhere.”

The omega stared at him blankly, though his shaking had calmed to light tremors.

Jongho exhaled through his nose and pressed forward. If words couldn’t reach him, touch was the only way he could prove to the man he hadn’t been abandoned.

“I know you’re not gonna like this, Hwa,” he murmured. “But it’s gonna be okay. I would never hurt you.”

His hand hovered just above Seonghwa’s trembling arm, hesitating for a split second before finally making contact. Just the faintest press of his fingers against his feverish skin. The heat was alarming, but he didn’t pull back. Even when the panicked rhythm of Seonghwa’s breathing spiked. Instead, he traced soft, slow circles against his arm, not stopping till the elder relaxed into the simple touch.

“Good… very good, Hwa.” Jongho’s voice dropped low, filled with warmth. Pride swelled in his chest. It was a small improvement, but it felt like a monumental victory.

The omega almost seemed pleased by the praise, some of the tension easing from his tightly coiled muscles.

Encouraged by the progress, the young alpha kept going. He brushed his palm fully against the omega’s skin, running it up and over his shoulder. This time, Seonghwa didn’t tense up. Instead, he melted into it, the faintest hint of trust flickering behind those beautiful but wild eyes. Hope bloomed in Jongho’s chest. This just might work.

Then the door burst open.

Mingi came stumbling back into the room, arms overflowing with supplies. Ice packs, towels, food, and water. Anything and everything he could have gathered from the kitchen.

The sudden noise instantly startled Seonghwa, just as he’d begun to settle down. He lurched upright with a strangled cry, eyes growing wide and panicked. But by some miracle, instead of retreating in the opposite direction, he shot forward. Crashing right into the youngest alpha’s chest.

Jongho’s arms flew up without hesitation, catching Seonghwa and drawing him close, protective instinct overriding rational thought. He shot Mingi a piercing glare over the boy’s shoulder, scolding him in a way that needed no words.

“Shhhh. It’s okay sweetheart. You’re okay,” he soothed, shifting his hold to cradle the shivering body against him. “I’ve got you.”

Mingi froze in the doorway, guilt flashing across his face. Jongho softened in response, though just barely. He tightened his grip around Seonghwa, feeling the searing heat of his feverish body against him, the uneven breaths ghosting his collarbone. Maybe the interruption had been what Seonghwa needed after all. A push that sent him seeking comfort and safety, finally offering a shred of trust.

“Fuck.” Mingi whispered harshly, regret filling his eyes. “I’m sorry, I—” He trailed off mid-sentence, eyes sweeping over the scene in front of him. Shock flickered across his features, quickly followed by something close to relief. “He... he’s letting you hold him?”

“He is now,” Jongho muttered, faintly amused despite the tension. He kept his voice low, careful not to disturb the omega pressed against his chest. Seonghwa was still trembling, soft whimpers breaking free every few breaths, his fingers clutching weakly at Jongho’s shirt like it was a lifeline. The younger alpha ran his palm soothingly up and down his back. “Bring those over here.”

Mingi nodded quickly and hurried over, though much quieter now, not wanting to startle the omega yet again. He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed beside them, lowering his haul of supplies onto the sheets.

“I brought... well, everything,” he said, nervously rambling on. “All the ice packs I could find, meds for the fever, water bottles, snacks. He... he hasn’t really eaten since practice.”

“Good.” Jongho gave a small nod of approval, shifting his weight until his back rested against the headboard, Seonghwa still cradled close against him, settled into his lap. The omega’s breathing hitched now and then, but the worst of the panic seemed to be calming down under the grounding comfort of physical touch. “Everything’s good, Mingi. You did the right thing.”

Mingi’s shoulders sagged with visible relief, though his frame still trembled. “I’m sorry. I’m so lost here,” he apologized again, his voice quiet, almost defeated.

Jongho could see the self blaming spiral beginning to take root behind his eyes, and he couldn’t allow it. Was this whole situation incredibly fucked? Oh absolutely. But none of it was Mingi’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s. Jongho just happened to have a bit of experience in the matter, but he couldn’t do this alone. He needed Mingi. And he needed him present. Focused.

“Hey—” Jongho whispered, freeing one hand long enough to smack the back of Mingi’s head. It wasn’t hard, just enough to make him yelp in surprise. “Snap the fuck out of it dude. He needs you too, just as much as me.”

Mingi blinked up at him through startled eyes, brows furrowing in bewilderment. “Did you just—”

“Yes,” Jongho deadpanned, his tone flat but eyes glinting with humor. “And I’ll do it again if you start up on some stupid monologue about how useless you are. You’re not. Now get your gangly ass up here and help me.”

Jongho didn’t do soft or sentimental. His version of offering comfort was a well-timed reality check and maybe a hand on your shoulder, if you were lucky. His particular brand of care was practical, efficient, but undeniably sincere.

He didn’t do the whole warm and fuzzy thing. Except, apparently, when it came to one person.

The same one currently melting into his arms.

A shaky breath of laughter escaped Mingi. It was small, but it was something. “Fuck... yeah. You’re right.” He moved quickly to follow instructions, climbing up onto the mattress, settling at their side.

Jongho allowed himself a faint, fleeting smile before turning his attention back to Seonghwa. “I usually am.”

Together, they worked in quiet rhythm.

Under Jongho’s instruction, Mingi gently pressed a cool compress to Seonghwa’s forehead, the slight tremor in his fingers betraying his nerves. The omega whimpered at the icy touch, his head turning weakly away in protest, but Jongho’s hand was already there. Cupping his cheek and meeting his panicked gaze as his breathing grew ragged with fear.

“I know, baby. I know.” He said, his tone warm and reassuring as he went as far as to nudge his nose against his throat, daring to scent him for the first time all night. “It’s gonna be cold, but it’s gonna make you feel better. I promise.”

As the grounding notes of pine and fresh rain washed over his senses, Seonghwa went pliant, his resistance fading away. His pupils dilated, muscles relaxing. Allowing Mingi to hold the compress against his forehead, soothing the fever burning beneath his skin. A smile broke free on Mingi’s lips over his success, some of the worry easing from his knit brows.

After a while of cooling him down with the ice packs, Jongho reached for one of the bottled waters. He cracked it open, holding it to the omega’s lips patiently. Seonghwa’s eyes flitted up to look at the alpha, still wild and distant, but full of nervous trust that had the man’s heart doing back flips in his chest. He took a small sip, and then another. Continuing on till the half the bottle had been drained. He let out a contented sigh, settling his head back down against Jongho’s shoulder.

Never in his life had Jongho felt so proud. His lips brushed Seonghwa’s temple with the ghost of a kiss. “You’re doing wonderful, sweetheart,” he murmured, warmth filling his tone.

He glanced up for just a moment, catching sight of the way Mingi stared at them. His dark eyes were full of quiet longing, clearly wishing he was in the same position. To hold the omega was a privilege rarely granted. Something they both knew all too well.

But Jongho hadn’t been lying earlier. Seonghwa needed both of them right now.

So without a word, Jongho carefully adjusted his hold on the elder, lowering him into the space between their two bodies on the bed. Seonghwa whimpered in protest for a moment, a sound that pierced right into his heart. But it didn’t last. Within moments, the protest faded. Instinct recognized what reason couldn’t. He settled easily between them, drawn to the heat, the safety, the steady heartbeats enveloping him on either side.

Mingi’s features instantly softened as he saw the way Seonghwa calmed between them. The tremors wracking his body faded away, his rigid frame melting between their combined heat and scent, like this was everything he’d needed and hadn’t known how to ask for.

Mingi carefully pressed in closer to the omega’s side, brushing his fingertips through his icy blonde strands. “It’s helping... he’s calming down.” He whispered, voice full of awe and disbelief.

Jongho could feel it too. The distinct shift in the air, the sharp sting of panic beginning to dull.

“It is,” he said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “He just needs to know we’re here. To feel that he’s not alone or abandoned.”

Little by little, Seonghwa began to improve. It wasn’t perfect, of course. He was still too far gone for that. But anything was better than the terrified state they’d found him in. His breathing had gone from ragged to soft and steady, his body instinctively leaning into the heat surrounding him. The wild panic in his eyes dulled to a hazy confusion, the kind that spoke of exhaustion more than fear. It was as if his omega was slowly remembering. Recognizing that the two men at his sides were safe. That it knew them. Trusted them. And with every shallow breath, it drew in their mingled scents, soaking up the relief that came with it.

But soon enough, just the drifting scent wasn’t enough for the omega. It craved more. Needed it. His instincts began to respond before his mind could even catch up. Keeping a firm grip on the reins.

He shifted quickly, turning toward Mingi with a faint whimper, nestling in close until his forehead rested against the alpha’s collarbone. He drew in a deep breath that sent a visible shiver through him. Then another. Dragging Mingi’s scent deep into his lungs like he couldn’t get enough. Like he couldn’t breathe without it.

Mingi’s entire body went still, terrified that even one small move would scare him off. His eyes shot to Jongho in a panic, wordlessly begging for direction.

“It’s okay,” Jongho said softly, reading the panic in his eyes. “This is a good thing. He’s not pushing us out anymore. You’re doing good, just... trust your instincts.”

Mingi let out a shuddering exhale, nervous and uncertain, but willing to do whatever was needed. He drew the omega into his lap, smoothing his palms along his sides as he dipped his head to the column of Seonghwa’s throat. He moved slowly, almost reverently, as he thoroughly scented him. Brushing his nose along the omega’s throat, shoulder, and jaw. Not stopping until the omega was completely wrapped in his scent. Enveloped in the grounding notes of leather and mahogany.

Which seemed to be exactly what he had needed.

Seonghwa melted against his chest as Mingi pulled back, the frantic tension completely wiped from his features. In its place, a content smile curved over his lips. Followed by something neither of them could have anticipated.

It started low in Seonghwa’s throat, barely audible at first. But then it grew stronger and steadier, till it was unmistakable. The soft, sweet sound of purring. Something Jongho never would have even dreamed of hearing, even just a few hours before. But now? He wished it would never go away. 

Jongho and Mingi exchanged a look, eyes wide in disbelief, but neither dared to speak. Even the smallest sound felt like it might ruin the fragile peace Seonghwa had found. They just sat there, silent, breathing in the miraculous moment between them.

But as the silence stretched, Jongho began to notice something else. A shift.

The scent in the room that was once thick with distress, smoky and bitter, began easing. Clearing away like the last of a storm. And in its place came something unexpected.

“Fuck.” Jongho rasped below his breath, his heart skipping a beat in his chest.

It was beautiful.

Sugary sweet notes of whipped vanilla washed over his senses. So decadent it nearly made his mouth water. The sweetness was chased by hints of spiced amber, overflowing with a vibrant, glowing warmth. It was intoxicating. And beneath it all, it was so familiar. So... Seonghwa. It felt like everything he’d ever needed. It felt like coming home.

His alpha surged to the surface of his senses, practically smug with satisfaction. Their omega was content. Happy. He couldn’t fathom going another day without breathing this in. Without drowning in Seonghwa’s true scent. He wanted... no, needed, to have it all over him. Clinging to his clothes, his skin, his sheets. Following him everywhere he went, reminding him of the beautiful boy it belonged to.

One glance at Mingi told the man they were in exactly the same boat. His pupils were blown wide, nostrils flared, chest heaving as he struggled to keep himself contained. His arms had tightened around the omega, who was none the wiser. He was happily curled against his chest, eyelids drooping with exhaustion. That beautiful, soft purr rumbling in his chest hadn’t stopped, but it had softened. Turning slow and sleepy.

“Holy shit. Is this—this is a good thing, right?” Mingi asked incredulously, eyes flitting between the omega in his lap and the young alpha at their side.

Jongho stifled a laugh. Some of the heaviness in the room had finally begun to lift. The scent in the air was still damn near suffocating, their instincts running a little wild. But they were grown men. They could handle themselves without acting like fucking animals.

“Yeah man, it's really good.” He said, voice threaded with relief. “I mean... this isn’t over. Rejection sickness isn’t exactly cured in a day. But I’d say this is fucking great progress.”

Mingi let out a pleased sigh, pressing a kiss to the top of Seonghwa’s head. Clearly more than happy to be the omega’s teddy bear. “You’re doing so good, Hwa.” He quietly praised.

Seonghwa only answered with a soft yawn, blissfully unaware of the adoring attention fixed on him. He simply nuzzled closer, resting his cheek against Mingi’s chest, lashes fluttering with slow, drowsy blinks as his fingers curled into the fabric of the man’s shirt.

And goddamn. It was quite possibly the cutest, most precious thing Jongho had seen in his entire fucking life. If he wasn’t so genuinely relieved to see Seonghwa comfortable with touch again, he might’ve been jealous that it wasn’t him.

...Who was he kidding? Of course he was jealous.

“Is there anything else we can do?” Mingi questioned, tracing his fingertips along Seonghwa’s spine in slow circles.

It was honestly a relief that they were on the same page. Both desperate to do anything, everything, for their beloved hyung. But options were a bit limited at the moment.

Jongho sighed, reaching to draw the sparse comforter up over his sleeping body. “For now? We let him relax. God knows he needs to. And maybe some more blankets? I have no fucking clue how to build a nest but, maybe we can just pile them up around him.”

“I have a shit ton in my room,” Mingi said with a breathless laugh, gesturing helplessly to the omega clinging tightly to him. “But uh, I’m a bit stuck.”

Jongho chuckled softly and nodded. “I’ve got it. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He hurried off, retrieving the mountain of plush blankets Mingi had stockpiled in a basket by his bed. He really wasn’t kidding when he said he had a ‘shit ton’.

Returning with the entire basket in hand, Jongho wordlessly got to work. He scented each individual one before draping them over the bed, tucking the softest ones directly over Seonghwa’s back and smoothing out the rest. He was so focused on his little project that he didn’t notice the shift in the room until he’d settled back on the bed beside them.

One glance at Mingi told him something had changed. The alpha’s shoulders were tense again, guilt clouding his eyes. A complete one-eighty from just minutes before.

Jongho frowned, nudging the tall alpha’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Mingi bit at his lower lip, hesitating a moment before he finally met Jongho’s gaze. “Do you think he’ll be lucid again any time soon? I just...” he exhaled shakily, “I feel bad. Knowing Hwa, he’d hate this. He’d hate himself for acting like this. It almost feels like... taking advantage.”

Jongho’s lips pressed into a thin line as he contemplated the idea. Mingi wasn’t wrong. Seonghwa wasn’t exactly in control of himself right now. His omega was. The real Seonghwa would rather die than let someone so much as hug him for more than a few seconds.

“I hope so.” He sighed. “And it’s sweet of you to worry about his boundaries. But, he needs this. The fact that he dropped in the first place says it all. He’s been shoving down his instincts for so long, I suspect that’s the reason he wouldn’t let us close in the first place. I mean, look around.”

He gestured around to the room they were in. It was bare of any comfort, even by a beta’s standards. “He hasn’t just been blocking his scent. He’s been depriving himself of everything. No soft blankets, no pillows, not even decoration. He hasn’t just been keeping this from us, Mingi. He’s been keeping it from himself.”

Mingi nodded slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. “But... why? Why lie about it in the first place?”

Jongho bitterly chuckled, shaking his head. “Have you ever seen a male omega in the industry? Ever?”

“I... well, no actually. They’re so rare, I guess I just never thought about it.” Mingi said, his expression growing tense as realization began to dawn on him.

“The idol world isn’t exactly progressive,” Jongho said quietly. “There’s still a lot of prejudice. A shit-ton of discrimination. If companies knew he was an omega, he wouldn’t have made it through the first round of auditions. They would have shut him down before he could even open his mouth.”

Jongho had grown up as the only alpha in a household full of omegas. With his beta father as the only exception. From a young age, he’d been taught to never let his alpha nature consume him. To be better than the stereotype society expected of him. Not domineering, not impulsive, and never aggressive. He’d built his life around maintaining self-control. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. His family had taught him that strength wasn’t about dominance. It was about restraint. About respect. That no sub-gender held more value than another.

But that belief wasn’t shared by everyone. And it sure as hell wasn’t shared by the industry. The entertainment world was still decades behind. Male omegas were seen as walking temptations. Sweeter, more potent, impossible to resist. Putting one in a group full of alphas? Unthinkable. How could grown men possibly be expected to control themselves?

Fucking stupid, backward, geriatric assholes.

Mingi clearly agreed with that sentiment, based on the way his jaw ticked with irritation.

“That’s fucking ridiculous!” He hissed, trying to keep his voice low not to disturb Seonghwa, who’d grown rather drowsy in his arms. His breathing slowly evened out, head slumped against his collarbones. “They’d just turn him away at the door, just for his fucking biology?”

Jongho sighed. “Yeah, pretty much. They’d think he was too much of a distraction.”

Mingi bit his lip, visibly wrestling with the anger that rose in his chest. The sharp edge of it bled into the air before he could rein it in. Seonghwa stirred at once, a soft whine slipping past his lips as his heavy eyes blinked open, catching the spike in Mingi’s scent.

“Fuck… I’m sorry, darling.” Mingi’s voice cracked with guilt. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” Regret flickered across his face as he realized he’d upset him. He gathered Seonghwa back against his chest, holding him close, cradling him like something fragile.

Jongho leaned in, rubbing slow circles between Seonghwa’s shoulder blades, his touch steady and grounding until the omega quieted again. They stayed like that in silence, waiting, watching, until the tension bled away from Seonghwa’s features. His eyes fluttered shut with a soft sigh, his body going slack. A sign that he’d finally drifted off to sleep. No surprise there, he must have been exhausted after everything his body had put him through.

When his breathing evened out and the lines of tension melted from his features, they managed to carefully unravel him from Mingi’s arms. They tucked him between them once more, drawing the blankets over his chest. He looked... peaceful. Lips parted with slow, easy breaths.

Only then did Jongho speak again, voice low enough not to disturb him.

“I get it, honestly.” He said, earning a bewildered look from Mingi. “Not the distraction thing. Obviously. I mean — I get why he lied. Why he pretended. If I was in his position, where something completely out of my control was preventing me from chasing my dream? Keeping me from singing? I’d do the same in a heartbeat.”

Mingi hummed softly, understanding settling in his eyes. “Yeah... you’re right. I don’t blame him even one bit. I just hate that he was ever put in such a fucked up position.” He hesitated, teeth catching his lower lip. “What I don’t get is why he was too afraid to tell us. We’re a pack. We’re supposed to trust each other.”

Jongho exhaled, lifting his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I wish I knew. But whatever his reason was, if it drove him to this?” He gestured between them to the sleeping boy, his frame far too thin, his torso mottled in red welts. “It had him fucking terrified. I don't think it’s as simple as just trust.”

He could tell Mingi had seen it too over the past few weeks: the way Seonghwa had been running himself into the ground, starving himself of rest and comfort, or even things as basic as a proper meal. That kind of behavior didn’t come from mere mistrust. It was born of something deeper, something darker. Something neither of them yet understood.

Mingi ran a hand through his hair, the fight bleeding out of him. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone. “Whatever it is. Whatever is driving him to this? We’ll figure it out.”

Jongho nodded, gaze fixed on the faint rise and fall of Seonghwa’s chest. Simply needing the reassurance that he was there. That he was okay.

“Yeah. We will,” he said quietly. “We’re not letting him face it alone for even one second more. That shit's over with.”

The words seemed to settle something between them. Slowly, they eased down on either side of Seonghwa, careful not to jostle him. The air was heavy with warmth and scent as adrenaline faded away and exhaustion caught up with them.

For the first time in weeks, Seonghwa looked completely at peace. Safely tucked between them, like he belonged there.

Silence stretched across the room, though not uncomfortably. Just... peaceful. Then, after a while, Mingi let out a nervous little laugh.

“We, uh… have a performance to leave for in what, twelve hours?”

Jongho huffed out a tired smile, eyes slipping closed as he sank into the pillow. “Yeah,” he said. “But we’ll figure it out in the morning.” His voice softened, a promise more than a plan. “And this time, we’ll figure it out together. But we’re no good to him if we’re delirious and running on no sleep.”

Too exhausted to muster a response, Mingi only chuckled softly, nodding before burying his face in the pillows. His arm draped protectively over Seonghwa’s waist, holding him close.

Jongho pressed in from the other side, eyes fluttering shut. His mind refused to relax, even in the peaceful moment. It was still racing, sorting through the wreckage of everything he’d learned.

It felt like a bomb had gone off inside the life he thought he knew, leaving only debris and questions. He’d have to pick through it all piece by piece. Deciding what was real from what had been part of the carefully crafted mask.

But one thing remained certain.

The relief he felt.

Because finally, he could be there for Seonghwa. The way he deserved. Even if the omega hadn’t purposefully trusted him with the truth, Jongho would protect him with his life. Prove, with everything he did, that he could be trusted with this secret.

That Seonghwa would never have to face the world alone again.

Little did they know just how deep the truth ran. Or how dark. It had never been only about trust. Not really. Seonghwa hadn’t been waiting for the right moment to tell them; he’d been choosing to face the world alone. Out of fear. Out of shame. Out of the belief that if they ever saw the abomination he truly thought he was, they’d turn away.

He didn’t think he deserved their help. Or their love.

But he was going to get it, whether he liked it or not.