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Summary
"Hyung, hyung. Hoseok-hyung what's wrong?"
"I don't know. I don't know, Taehyung," Hoseok cries as he steals Seokjin's and Yoongi's pillows, Jimin's duvet, Namjoon's new quilt, Jungkook's old carrot plushie, and Taehyung's unwashed hoodie. Bringing the items into a pile on the closet floor and arranging them.
Taehyung watches his hyung in confusion. This can't be what he thinks this is. Hoseok is already 23, he's way past the age of presenting. He's a beta. He's been a beta for five years now, he can't be acting like an ome—but his scent, his scent is so delicious, like vanilla and custard, looking so breedable fussing over his little nest built from items taken from the beds of his alphas and—and Taehyung shouldn't be thinking like this. He shakes his head vigorously, hoping to get rid of the scent that wraps around his head like a siren.