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Jimin sits up, his heart racing and his breath frozen in his lungs. His waking up hadn’t happened in steps like crawling out of a pit, but suddenly and all at once, every cell in his body on high alert.
Something’s wrong. He knows this like he knows the scent of his own skin. Something is wrong. It hangs in the air like an electric current, the hair on his arms standing to attention. Pressure builds at the base of his neck like someone or something has hold of him, pinning him in place.
He glances around the room. The room is dark and still—Hoseok must be working still—but it’s not quiet. Jimin’s ears pick up the sounds of muffled, labored breathing and footsteps. They shuffle across the floorboards, like the person attached to them is trying too hard not to make noise.
“H-hello?” There’s a beat of silence. Jimin starts to think he’s alone after all, that perhaps he’s just reeling under the effects of a nightmare.
Then Jeongguk materializes from the shadows.
“Hyung.”
His presence does nothing to ease Jimin’s anxiety. Jeongguk looks in bad shape, hunched in on himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso like he’s trying to keep from flying apart. Even from here, Jimin can tell he’s a hot, sweaty mess, his hair spiked across his forehead and a fire in his eyes like he’s burning up from the inside.
Jimin’s immediately at his side, helping Jeongguk walk to his bed. He pushes him down on it and hovers over him, hands fluttering as he tries to think of what to do.
“Jeongguk, what—”
“Hurts,” Jeongguk pants, pain contorting his features. “Hot.” His fingers scrabble at the loose shirt he’s wearing, fumbling with the hem. Jimin rushes to pull it off for him, balling the fabric up and using it to mop at Jeongguk’s wet forehead.
“Do you feel sick?”
Jeongguk exhales a little sigh and pushes into Jimin’s touch, his eyelids fluttering closed. “No. Just...hurts.”
“What hurts?” Jimin coos, carding his fingers through Jeongguk’s soaked hair. He’s shocked when Jeongguk whimpers and convulses, eyes snapping open to pin Jimin with a pained and desperate glare, the edges of his pupils bleeding a faint gold.
“Hyung.” His voice is low, gravelly, rumbling through his chest like a warning. Jimin’s fight-or-flight response is going haywire, half of him ready to cower, while the other wants to put this pup in his place.
Jimin takes a deep breath and counts to ten. This is Jeongguk, his boyfriend. And a beta. He poses no threat to Jimin, and Jimin cannot punish him when, clearly, Jeongguk isn’t in his right mind.
Jeongguk is still bristling, his breaths coming shallow and quick, growl still rolling like thunder. Jimin shushes him and gentles his touch, moving slowly so he doesn’t spook him further. He caresses Jeongguk’s forehead and cheeks, dipping down past his jaw to rub his neck and shoulders. Under his touch, Jeongguk relaxes, eyes closing again, his breathing slowly evening out.
Jimin remains by Jeongguk’s side, eventually moving to lay next to him. He wants to hold him, but his instincts keep him away. He keeps a critical eye on Jeongguk, watching the emotions play across his face. Even in sleep, Jeongguk can’t seem to escape whatever is bothering him. There’s a crease between his eyebrows and his lips are turned down in a grimace. Every so often, he shudders and whines quietly in the back of his throat.
Jimin is stumped. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Jeongguk is entering a rut, but that’s impossible. Only alphas have ruts. It must be something else, some Lycan sickness they’ve never come across before. He’ll speak to Namjoon about it in the morning. For now, he can only focus on keeping Jeongguk comfortable.
The rapid rise and fall of Jeongguk’s chest is worrisome, and he’s still too hot, sweat beading his brow. Jimin mops it up as best he can with Jeongguk’s already soaked shirt. He really ought to get him some water, and some wet towels to cool his skin, but Jeongguk has him trapped. He wraps himself tightly around Jimin like an octopus, long and heavy limbs pinning him to the bed. It’s uncomfortable and sticky, but the contact seems to soothe Jeongguk. His pinched expression softens and his whines taper off, so Jimin allows it.
He falls back to sleep slowly, lulled by the steady inhale-exhale of Jeongguk’s breathing, and the subconscious petting of his hands gliding across Jimin’s hips and abdomen.
-----
Jeongguk is gone in the morning, leaving behind only rumpled sheets and a damp spot on Jimin’s pillow. He pushes both away in disgust, the air thick with Jeongguk’s cloying vanilla scent.
In the bed across from him, Hoseok rouses, his tousled head lifting off his pillow as he sniffs the air. He pulls a face, turning to stare at Jimin accusingly. “Smells like Christmas in here.”
Jimin rakes one hand through his hair and sighs. “Jeongguk felt sick last night. He came in for some cuddles.”
Hoseok’s expression softens. “Is he okay?”
Jimin shrugs. “It was weird. Like he was going into rut or something.”
“Impossible,” Hoseok scoffs. “He’s a beta.”
“I know, hyung, it was just—” Jimin shakes his head. “Like I said, it was weird. I’m going to talk to Namjoon about it.”
Hoseok nods, thoughtful. “Probably for the best. He knows more about this stuff than I do.”
Jimin snorts. “He knows a lot more than you, period.”
Hoseok tackles him to the bed, going straight for Jimin’s ticklish spots and attacking them viciously until he chokes on his laughter and tears stream down his cheeks.
-----
It’s a rare day off, everyone free to do their own thing. Jimin doesn’t see Jeongguk for the rest of the day, him being holed up somewhere, probably at the gym or studio. The others disperse, too, leaving Jimin alone at the dorm.
He spends the better part of the morning lounging in bed, but, eventually, hunger draws him out. He grabs something to eat then takes advantage of the quiet to get some work done. He settles on the couch with his laptop and resumes the project he’d started a few days prior, some snippets of a melody he hopes he can string into a more cohesive instrumental. He becomes so engrossed in what he’s doing, he spaces talking to Namjoon, forgetting everything other than musical theory.
What must be hours later, if the grey haze of twilight filtering into the room is anything to go by, he registers the sound of a door opening and closing and Timbs stomping on wood. Sweet vanilla fills the dorm, almost choking Jimin with its potency.
Jeongguk’s home.
Everything comes back to him at once. Jimin curses, angry at himself for being so negligent. He closes the lid of his laptop and sets it aside, reaching for his phone and shooting a quick text to Namjoon, asking him to come home so they can talk. He says it’s urgent. He hopes that’s enough to get Namjoon to come home early, instead of spending all night in his studio.
He stands and stretches, working out the kinks in his lower back. They loosen with a satisfying pop and Jimin sighs with relief.
There’s a noise behind him like a cut off gasp for air. Jimin looks over his shoulder to find Jeongguk standing behind him, watching him intently. His gold-tinted eyes are glued to the strip of skin exposed where Jimin’s shirt rides high on his waist. There’s a spike of heat in the air, Jeongguk’s vanilla scent suddenly headier, spicier, like cardamom and nutmeg and cinnamon. Jimin is drowning in it.
His skin begins to tingle again, danger prickling at his senses, his heart rabbiting in his chest.
Jeongguk takes a slow step forward, muscles coiled like he’s about to pounce. Jimin drops his arms slowly, carefully, and turns completely to face Jeongguk head-on, squaring his feet and shoulders. Jeongguk growls and takes another step forward, his nostrils flaring as he scents the air, Jimin’s fruity scent rolling off him in waves as his adrenaline surges.
Run a small, scared little voice whispers through Jimin’s mind, but he refuses to. He’s never been very good at self-preservation, curiosity or pride always winning out in the end. Jimin may be an omega, but he’s not about to let this pup, this beta, cow him into submission.
“Jeongguk,” he says firmly, staying put even as Jeongguk comes closer, like a predator stalking prey. “What are you—”
“Hyung.” Jeongguk’s voice is low and pained, like the word has been scraped from his throat. “You need to leave. Please. I can’t—” Jeongguk looks like he’s about to cry, his eyes squeezing closed as a tremor rocks his body. His steps falter and he falls to his knees with a low whine. Tremors continue to wrack him, his whole frame spasming as little whines continue to fall past his lips, his fingers clutching the wood of the floor so hard, Jimin can see where it’s beginning to splinter.
Every instinct of Jimin’s is screaming at him to get as far away from Jeongguk as possible. Instead, he rushes forward. He places one hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder to steady him while the other cradles his face. “Jeongguk, are you—”
Jeongguk’s snarl rips through Jimin’s heart, and suddenly he’s being manhandled onto his back, Jeongguk looming over him. “I said, leave,” he pants, even as he grabs Jimin’s wrists, as he puts all his weight into pinning Jimin to the floorboards with body and gaze alike, his eyes bleeding gold.
Jimin is properly scared now. He struggles against Jeongguk’s hold, but Jeongguk is steadfast, digging his fingers harshly into the skin of Jimin’s wrists, forcing his arms back and above his head. Jeongguk dips down to sniff and scent Jimin’s neck, growling against his skin. Jimin whimpers, his body at war with itself. He’s desperate to get away, but the urge to submit is too strong. He can feel himself falling into subspace, the fight slowly draining from his limbs.
“Alpha,” Jimin whispers, his head slowly falling to the side, baring his neck as he goes slack. Jeongguk’s pleased growl vibrates through his chest as he presses his fangs to Jimin’s jugular, twin pinpricks of pain registering through the haze clouding his mind.
There’s pain and then there’s nothing, just a flash of black cloth—and then Jeongguk’s flying across the room. He hits the wall hard and falls to a heap at the base, blinking up at the ceiling, momentarily stunned.
Hands grab Jimin, pulling him roughly to his feet and shoving him towards the hall. “Get out of here,” Namjoon says, chest heaving with labored breaths. “Go to your room and lock the door.”
Jimin looks over his shoulder at Jeongguk. He’s recovering from the hit, kneeling on the floor with his eyes trained on Namjoon, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. He looks so small there, so scared and angry, like a pup who doesn’t understand anything about the world, what’s going on around him or inside him. He can only react as his instincts tell him to.
It makes Jimin sad. “Will Jeongguk be—”
“Go!” Namjoon shouts as Jeongguk regains his bearings and pounces, their bodies colliding with a hard smack.
Jimin does, slamming his bedroom door behind him and turning the lock. He collapses on his bed with a sob, burying his head under his pillow to block out some of the noise from the fight. It does no good. He can hear every growl, every thump on the floor, every blow as it lands. He lays there, shaking like a leaf until it’s over. He hears Jeongguk’s defeated howl and the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut. He remains there until Namjoon knocks on his door and calls his name softly. Jimin stands up on shaky legs to unlock the door.
Taehyung pushes into the room. He scoops Jimin into his arms and brings him over to the bed, holding him tightly, running his hands through Jimin’s hair and over his neck. He does this until the shaking stops and Jimin falls into a fitful sleep, his dreams filled with gold eyes and moonlight glinting off sharp teeth.
-----
Three days. That’s how long it takes for Jeongguk’s rut to burn through his blood. Three days of listening to Jeongguk howling Jimin’s name, of his fingernails scratching at the frame of his door, of his heavy footsteps as he paces his room like a caged animal. Only Namjoon and Seokjin go to him, to make sure he’s not injuring himself grievously, and to bring him food and water. The others stay far away, frightened and worried, but knowing there’s nothing they can do to help.
Three days. It’s hard on everybody but it’s hardest for Jimin. The barely-there bite heals and the wounds on his wrists close but Jimin can still feel all of it, still remembers the weight of Jeongguk’s body and the press of his teeth and how he’d submitted so easily. He’s angry at himself for being weak, but he also wonders what it’d be like to do it again, to open his legs and his heart to Jeongguk and let him in.
He doesn’t sleep much those three days.
They know it’s over when Jeongguk falls completely silent. Namjoon and Seokjin collect him from his room, dragging him down the hall and into the bathroom to bathe. Jimin wants to help, wants to be there for Jeongguk, wants to hold him against his chest and whisper sweet words to him like he used to when Jeongguk was young and afraid.
Now, Jimin is the one who’s afraid. Of Jeongguk, of what’s going to happen, of what this means for them and the relationship they’d been building over the years.
Jimin feels like his whole foundation has crumbled beneath him. He doesn’t know what to do next. Should he go to Jeongguk? Should he stay away and let Jeongguk come to him? Should they confront each other at all?
The decision is made for him when a hesitant knock falls against his door. Jeongguk steps into the room like he’s going to his own funeral, eyes sad, a frown tugging at his pretty mouth. “Hi, hyung.” His voice is barely above a whisper, his throat too torn to let much sound escape. He looks in rough shape, multiple cuts and bruises marring his skin from where he’d battered himself against the walls. He looks exhausted, like just standing there is taxing his energy, swaying gently on the spot and his eyelids drooping.
His eyes, though, are blessedly clear. Jimin can see the warm brown he’s come to love so much. Jimin had missed him. He chokes on a sob and before he’s even aware of what he’s doing, he’s across the room and in Jeongguk’s arms, burying his face in his strong chest and inhaling his scent. It’s new but still so familiar.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispers through his tears. Jeongguk’s arms wrap around Jimin slowly, like he’s afraid to touch him. Jimin won’t have it—he presses closer, practically climbing Jeongguk’s torso. “Please just hold me,” he says against Jeongguk’s ear. “I don’t care about anything else; we’ll fix it later. Right now, I need you.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk says quietly and picks him up gently, carrying him over to the bed. They lay next to each other, legs tangled with legs, hands running through hair, down necks, across backs. Each grounding themselves, each rediscovering the other.
Nothing and everything has changed.
“Alpha.” Jimin tastes the word on his tongue, testing the weight of it and deciding he likes it. Jeongguk growls and his hips kick forward before he can stop himself. He pulls away from Jimin with an embarrassed gasp, a flush sitting high on his cheeks, looking both turned-on and scared. Jimin can’t stop himself, can’t hold back the mirth bubbling in his gut. “This would happen to you,” he crows through his laughter, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
Jeongguk glares and buries his face in Jimin’s pillow, turning his face away from him, but Jimin doesn’t miss the pleased smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.