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The annual ISAC is much less a sports competition than it is a way for shifters from various companies to expend excess energy in a controlled environment. Winter is hard on the mind and body—many shifters suffer from cabin fever due to being cooped up for too long; and mating season is always stressful, taking its toll on everyone, hormones running wild, relationships made and broken and made again.
It’s supposed to be fun. It is fun—for everyone else, but not Jeongguk. He had been having fun, up until he lost the 110-meter hurdle to an omega.
Stupid body. He’d easily cleared that course the previous year, seconds ahead of everyone else, leaping over the hurdles like a gazelle. But that was when he was a beta. Now, he’s an alpha. He thought that would only make winning easier, but he’d been wrong. Instead, he feels clumsy in his new body, the weight of his muscles and the enhanced speed throwing his equilibrium off-kilter. He’d barely cleared the first three hurdles before his legs got tangled around the fourth. He’d fallen with a crash that shook his bones, scraping a chunk of his cheek off on the tar, and bruising more than his shin.
Jeongguk never thought he’d hate being an alpha, but suddenly, he wishes he could go back to when he was a beta. Life had made a lot more sense then, and in many ways, he’d been stronger.
Now, he’s no better than a toddler.
He just wants to go home. He can’t compete with a sprained ankle, so he’d had to drop out from the remaining competitions. The others aren’t finished, though, so he sits huddled on the bleachers, nursing his injury and glaring at everyone else as they have fun while he suffers.
A high, tinkling laugh catches his attention and he looks up as Jimin runs by, blonde hair glinting beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting. His race is almost over; he and Taemin are neck-and-neck, Jimin pulling ahead by just a hair. But it’s enough. He crosses the finish with a whoop, arms thrown high over his head, ribbon trailing behind him as he runs circles around Taemin. Taemin laughs and catches Jimin around the waist, pulling him into a tight hug.
Jeongguk’s dark mood blackens further, and he can’t quite keep down the growl trying to claw its way from his throat as he watches Taemin’s hands slide across Jimin’s back. Who does he think he is? That’s his omega…
Jeongguk blinks and Jimin is standing in front of him, a wide smile turning his eyes into crescents. “Gukie, I won!”
He’s nothing less than a dream with his flushed-pink skin, sweat glistening on his forehead, and a pretty, muted golden glow in his eyes. Jeongguk tries to smile, tries to match Jimin’s enthusiasm because he’s happy for him, he really is, and he wants Jimin to know that. He’s having a hard time focusing, though; rather, he can only focus on the way Jimin’s shirt still rides high on his hips, pulled there when he wrapped his arms around Taemin’s neck, and the scent of pine wafting off Jimin in little waves.
Jimin smells like Taemin and that’s…that’s not right.
Jeongguk feels like he can’t breathe, a little knot of tension growing in his chest like thorns wrapping around his lungs and squeezing all the oxygen out.
Jimin’s smile falters. He steps closer, leaning down to peer at Jeongguk. “Jeongguk, are you okay?” He lifts a hand to push Jeongguk’s hair out of his eyes.
Jeongguk jerks back, Jimin’s hand falling uselessly in the space between them. “I’m fine.”
Jimin sighs. “You’re clearly not,” he says gently. “Jeongguk, please tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m fine,” Jeongguk repeats harshly. His gaze flicks over Jimin’s shoulder, where he can see Taemin watching them with worry etched into the lines of his face. “Why don’t you go snuggle up to Taemin some more?”
Jimin huffs, his gaze turning cold. “You’re so stupid.” He spins on his heel and walks away from Jeongguk, fists balled at his sides as he mutters under his breath about ridiculous, possessive alphas.
The farther away Jimin gets, the more of Jeongguk’s sanity he takes with him, every step like a direct stomp on Jeongguk’s heart. It doesn’t matter that in some dark corner of his mind, he knows Jimin’s right: he’s being stupid. That rational side of himself is being drowned out by the chemical concoction of hormones telling him this is all wrongwrongwrong, that Jimin should be by his side and not over there, not with him; he should be in Jeongguk’s arms and not wearing the scent of another alpha. Jeongguk can still smell it in the air, the harsh scent of pine hovering around him like a physical reminder that he’s not good enough. He couldn’t win a stupid race, couldn’t prove himself a strong and capable alpha; and now, he’s driven Jimin away.
Jeongguk digs his fingers into the meat of his thighs hard enough to pierce the denim of his jeans. Get a grip, Jeon, he berates himself. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, holds it in his lungs for almost a full minute before releasing it on a long exhale. He needs to get out of here, needs some fresh air or something before he does something he’ll regret.
Laughter again, sweet and light, fills Jeongguk’s ears. He opens his eyes, immediately zeroing in on Jimin and Taemin standing off to the side, far enough from him so he can’t hear what they’re saying, but too close to each other. Jimin says something, gesturing in his direction, and Taemin nods, also looking at Jeongguk.
They’re talking about him. Gossiping. Jimin’s probably telling Taemin he can’t understand why he tethered himself to such a weak alpha. Taemin is probably telling Jimin to forget about Jeongguk, to take a chance on him instead. Taemin is a strong alpha, even smells strong, all pine and smoke with none of the cloying sweetness of Jeongguk’s scent.
The next few seconds happen in slow motion: Jimin leans in to whisper in Taemin’s ear and Taemin’s hand falls to the small of his back to steady him and Jeongguk is moving, leaping from the bench with a growl and running in their direction, limping on his bad ankle, his vision bleeding gold as his blood pulses with the urge to rip Taemin’s hands off Jimin. Maybe just off in general.
Jimin sees him coming. He jumps in front of Taemin, his arms outstretched. “Jeongguk, stop.”
Jeongguk can’t stop. He bears down on them with anger and sadness in his heart, lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl as he homes in on Taemin. “You son of a—”
Something sharp stings in his hip and he goes numb, collapsing to the turf with a gasp. Everything feels heavy: his body, the pounding of his heart, the press of air around him. He whimpers in pain and fear, struggling against the invisible bonds binding him, calling out for help. Jimin is there, crouching next to him, warm hand soothing on his clammy skin.
“Oh, Jeongguk,” he sighs just as Jeongguk gives in to the weight dragging his eyelids down, vision going dark as he succumbs to the drugs pumping submission into his muscles.
-----
He wakes up in his own bed, warm in his blankets and the press of darkness around him. He groans, twisting his body around to look at the clock on his nightstand. It’s past one in the morning. How long had he been out?
“You’re finally awake,” Jimin’s voice rings out loud.
Jeongguk jumps. He hadn’t even seen Jimin sitting at the foot of his bed, phone in hand. His skin glows eerie in the blue light of his phone, casting his face in shadow.
“What happened?” Jeongguk asks. “How—”
Jimin climbs the bed to be closer to him, gaze heavy like the ache in his muscles. “You freaked out. Tried to attack Taemin.”
Jeongguk grimaces. He looks away from Jimin, guilt and shame roiling in his gut. “I remember.”
Jimin cocks his head to the side, studying him like a specimen in a jar. “Why?”
Jeongguk shrugs miserably. “Just…dumb shit.” He doesn’t want to say any of it out loud. How he’d been upset because he lost the match, that’d he’d been injured. How he’d felt weak. How he’d been afraid Jimin would leave him. How he’d been jealous. In the dark of the night, in the quiet of his room, it all seems so stupid.
That’s all he is: a stupid, weak alpha who can’t control himself.
He closes his eyes against the sudden urge to cry.
Jimin tuts. “Well, that “dumb shit” got us suspended from ISAC.” Jeongguk cringes. “You’re lucky that’s all they did; the event organizers wanted to have you admitted until your hormone fluctuations evened out, afraid you’d try to hurt someone else. We talked them down.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk whispers. A couple tears escape the confines of his eyelids. “I ruined everything.”
Jimin sighs. Warm fingers beneath Jeongguk’s chin lift his head from the pillow. “Look at me.”
Jeongguk does. Jimin is captivating in the moonlight streaming in through the open window, skin glowing in the cold, silver light. His eyes, though, are warm gold and fond. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he says firmly once he has Jeongguk’s attention.
Jeongguk shakes his head. “I keep fucking up. I keep hurting you. I hate being an alpha! It’s all hormones and instincts and this itch under my skin that never quite goes away and—”
Jimin presses a soft kiss against his mouth, stopping Jeongguk’s angry flow of words. Jeongguk melts into it with a soft whimper, his frazzled nerves settling some as Jimin’s pear-and-freesia scent washes over him.
“You’re learning,” Jimin says as he pulls away. “Just give it some time.”
“It’s been weeks,” Jeongguk mutters. “I should be able to control myself by now.”
Jimin frowns down at him, his brow furrowed. “Do you remember when I presented? How crazy I was the first few months?”
Jeongguk nods. Jimin had presented soon after they debuted. The stress of his first heat and their hectic lifestyle as idols-in-training had been hard on Jimin, and he’d spent most of that time swinging from one mood swing to the next. He’d been aggressive then, too, lashing out at anyone who got too close.
“It’s hard on all of us,” Jimin continues, bending at the waist to kiss Jeongguk’s forehead. “But you’re strong.” His smile sharpens. “Though, next time, maybe tell me you’re having a hard time, instead of attacking one of my friends.”
Jeongguk groans and brings his hands up to bury his face in his palms. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just—”
“I know,” Jimin says gently. “I get it. Just…tell me next time, okay? Communication is important. And you need to apologize to Taemin.”
Jeongguk nods. “I promise.” He grimaces. “But how will I ever be able to face hyung again?”
Jimin laughs. “Honestly, he thought it was hilarious. And I,” Jimin’s gaze turns playful as he leans in to whisper in Jeongguk’s ear. “I have to admit, it was kind of hot.”
Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his chest. “Yeah?” He brings his hands up to hold Jimin’s waist as Jimin starts to rock against him.
“Yeah,” Jimin breathes. “I like it when you get all growly.”
On cue, Jeongguk lets a growl rumble through his chest as he pulls Jimin down, rolling them over so he lands on top, lips seeking Jimin’s. Jimin moans and arches into him, hands coming up to play with the ends of Jeongguk’s hair as he smiles into the kiss.
“I love you, stupid.”
Jeongguk’s so happy Jimin isn’t mad at him, he almost starts crying again. He hides his wet eyes in Jimin’s neck, breathing in his scent deeply as he trails gentle kisses over Jimin’s skin.
Jeongguk has a lot to learn about being an alpha. He’s too emotional, too hot-headed, too much sometimes as he struggles to find the balance between his human and wolf. But at least this he can do. At least he can make Jimin smile and laugh and press against him in search of pleasure. At least he can make Jimin happy, can make him feel good. Everything else will come in its own time, as Jeongguk matures. And he’ll have Jimin next to him the whole time, to guide him through it.