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Bad days happened.
Hoseok knew that, of course. Everyone knew that. Even the happiest people had bad days, even the most confident, the most loved, the most supported. Happy people could feel sad, confident people could feel self-conscious, loved and supported people could feel alone.
And he wasn’t necessarily the happiest or most confident, though he did, at times, feel almost overwhelmingly loved, but his bad days still hit just as hard.
This bad day felt worse than others (though every bad day tended to feel worse than the one before), maybe because there wasn’t an external reason. Nothing had happened to trigger so much anxiety, no one had said anything to cause so much self-doubt. It was just - all him.
He felt like people were watching him as he rode the bus home, though a cautious glance around proved everyone was absorbed in their own lives, their eyes closed or on their phones or staring out the window. Not a single pair was on him. But that didn’t matter, not really, not when his mind had been hissing mean thoughts interspersed with defeatist ones all day.
Poor omega, he imagined the ahjussi across from him thinking, thinking he’s something he’s not. Hopefully an alpha takes pity on him and reminds him who he really is.
Why the hell does an alpha smell like that? the teen next to him thought, an omega who looked so self-assured, like she would never need to question her subgender. Maybe something’s wrong with his scent glands. What kind of alpha smells so much like an omega?
He can’t be a real alpha, a beta a few rows down thought. Looking like that? Sad, isn’t it, how he’s playing pretend.
What is he? he imagined all of them thinking, a cruel question that made his eyes sting and his chest tighten. Not an alpha, clearly, not an omega, not a beta. Some fucked up nothing who doesn’t belong. Nothing more.
I’m an alpha, he thought to himself, his inner voice as commanding and stern as he could make it. But right now, it shook just as much as a scared little pup’s. I’m an alpha. I’m an alpha.
-
When he was finally home, back in his beautiful, comfortable, cozy den of an apartment, it didn’t stop.
Sure, he was away from the nonexistent stares of strangers, away from the constant external pressure of society at large telling him to be more, be less.
But he stared at the framed picture of him and Namjoon hanging right across from the door, cuddled up to each others’ sides, thighs pressed together, beaming at the camera. Namjoon was so handsome and chiseled, so muscular and built, so tall, so gorgeous, so perfect, and so much bigger than him. If anyone who didn’t know them looked at that picture, at the way Hoseok was so easily tucked under Namjoon’s arm, his body so smooth and lithe and gentle, both of them looking so utterly charmed and in love, he knew what they would say.
What a lovely couple. An alpha and his omega. Exactly how it should be.
-
Namjoon was singing when he came home, loud and off-key. He was so perfect that it made Hoseok cry harder. He tried to keep it quiet, he didn’t want to ruin Namjoon’s good mood, but, apparently, he didn’t quite manage. Namjoon went silent in the other room as he listened for just a beat before he hurried down the hall, opening their bedroom door and finding Hoseok sitting on the floor, pillows and blankets and sheets scattered haphazardly around him.
“Hey,” Namjoon said quietly, kneeling in front of him. He didn’t touch him, didn’t reach out, didn’t pressure Hoseok to cuddle up in his arms in case it wasn’t what he needed. Hoseok’s chest squeezed more. “What’d our nest do to you?”
Fresh tears stung at Hoseok’s eyes, his lip wobbling pitifully for a moment before he wailed, throwing himself into Namjoon’s arms. “Joonie—”
“Oh—” Namjoon breathed, holding him close. “Hobah, baby, what’s going on?”
Hoseok shook his head quickly, burying his messy sobs in Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon rubbed his back, his huge hand covering so much. Hoseok flexed his own hand on Namjoon’s other shoulder and it just made him sob again. His hand was so small. It could barely wrap around Namjoon’s wrist, much less cover the small of his back like Namjoon was so easily able to do to his.
He loved his own body. He loved what he could do with it; he loved how he could love with it; he loved how he moved and danced and smiled and touched. He could look at himself in the mirror happily, and even more happily see himself in Namjoon’s eyes, but sometimes - sometimes it felt like not enough. It felt like that more often than he’d like to admit.
He could push through it more often than not, though. He was an alpha, he knew that, he knew who he was, he loved who he was, everyone who loved him knew who he was and loved him for it and for so many other things. He was so lucky to have a community that supported him and friends who would kill for him as much as he would die for them.
But he was an alpha with a tiny waist and small hands and a gentle face; he was an alpha without a knot and he was an alpha that slicked up; he was an alpha who fit into his boyfriend’s lap as easy as the most delicate omega. He was an alpha who was adored by his family, but he was an alpha whose dam wistfully told you would have made the most lovely pups, Hoseokie, you would have been such a perfect omega. He was an alpha who had been an omega, once upon a time, before he realized that he wasn’t an omega at all.
“I’m an alpha,” he mumbled against Namjoon’s shoulder.
Namjoon’s arms tightened around him, understanding right away.
“You are,” he agreed firmly. “You’re an alpha. What, ah—did anyone say—?”
Hoseok shook his head, feeling exhausted and defeated all at once. “No,” he whispered. “Just—j-just—”
Namjoon kissed his hair, patient as he gathered his words.
“Just had a day, I guess,” Hoseok said finally, heart too heavy in his chest. “Just—felt like—like everyone was looking at me a-and judging me and thinking—thinking I’m something I’m not.”
“Fuck them,” Namjoon said quietly, confidently, assuringly. “I’m willing to bet no one was thinking anything like that, and even if they were—fuck them. What they think doesn’t matter. You’re an alpha, and a damn good one at that. You’re kind and patient and caring and bring out the best in everyone around you, me included. And it doesn’t matter what they think when they look at you, either. They can see what they want to see, but the fact is that they’re looking at an alpha.”
He was saying all the right things, and Hoseok desperately wanted to be soothed by it, but the remnants of the nest around them - the nest he build for them, for them to sleep in and cuddle in and fuck in - made his scent dim all over again. His clean, mild, floral scent. A scent any omega would be proud of.
“Alphas don’t nest,” he mumbled.
“Alphas nest. Plenty of alphas,” Namjoon countered. “I love nesting. I love nesting with you. You’ve given advice to other alphas who want to nest, too, remember? Nesting isn’t just for omegas.”
“Alphas aren’t small.”
Namjoon clicked his tongue. “Alphas are small and big and in between. There’s no size limit for anybody, is there? Not for omegas or betas, and not for alphas. You don’t look at Jungkookie and think ‘that’s not an omega, he’s too big.’ When have you thought something like that when you’re not talking about yourself?”
Hoseok sniffled. “Alphas don’t cry.”
“Hoseokie—” Namjoon’s voice softened and hardened simultaneously. He guided Hoseok out of hiding to cup his cheek, resting their foreheads together. “Alphas cry. Everyone cries. It doesn’t matter what subgender they are. And I know you know this, I know you know alphas nest, I know you know alphas can be small, I know you know that alphas don’t have to be anything. And I know you know that you’re an alpha. And guess what, baby? Trying to convince yourself that you’re not alpha enough won’t make you any less of one.”
Hoseok's eyes welled with tears once more, but he didn’t try to hide them. He stayed in Namjoon’s hold, leaning into his hand even though it dimly stung to remember once again that he was so much smaller. He liked being smaller, he thought weakly. He liked being small in Namjoon’s hold. He didn’t like when people saw him as small, but with Namjoonie, with his alpha—
“I’m an alpha?” he asked quietly, residual sadness still aching throughout his body, but his heart finally settling into something not quite so anxious.
Namjoon, exuding confidence, reassurance, the stability that Hoseok craved and needed, said “You’re an alpha,” and Hoseok believed him.
He let out a shaky breath and fell into Namjoon’s chest, resting his cheek against his scent gland and pressing his hand over Namjoon’s heart to feel it beat.
“M’sorry,” he muttered after a moment.
“Hush,” Namjoon said, holding him closer. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
Hoseok sighed, very much not believing it, but all energy had seeped out of him and his will to argue had disappeared. “Still sorry. I tore down our nest.”
“Ah, we can rebuild. Make it better than ever.”
Hoseok nodded once but closed his eyes wearily. “M’really tired, Joonie.”
“I can make it, baby. Build it around you. I know you don’t like sleeping out of the nest, I’m not gonna let you when you’ve had a tough day.”
Hoseok was tired of tears, but he had, apparently, not run dry. “You’re too good to me—”
“No such thing,” he said sternly. “D’you want to shower?”
Hoseok shook his head. He very rarely didn’t shower before getting into the nest, but he worried that just seeing his body would send him over the edge again. He loved his body, he thought sadly. He’d make up for neglecting that love tomorrow.
He didn’t know why he was surprised by Namjoon scooping him up in his arms and standing abruptly, depositing him heavily into the middle of their bed, but it shocked him just enough for that residual sadness to disappear. The glint in Namjoon’s eye made it clear that he knew, and Hoseok couldn’t keep the fond twitch of a smile from his face, even as he tried to glare.”
Namjoon kissed his nose, then his cheeks and forehead and chin and lips, before pulling back. “Get comfy, Seok-ah. Let alpha take care of you.”
Hoseok vaguely wished he was in the mood. He loved when Namjoon called himself alpha, when he took care of Hoseok, when he dominated him the way Hoseok adored. But this was good, too. Just as perfect. His big alpha taking care of his feelings and emotions and body in the softest, kindest ways.
“M’in love with you,” he mumbled belatedly as he watched Namjoon determinedly reconstruct their nest. It wasn’t like how Hoseok built it; Namjoon didn’t deliberate and readjust and rescent every little thing, but it didn’t scratch at Hoseok’s hindbrain. This was a nest his alpha was building for his alpha, and it was perfect. For now.
Namjoon paused to kiss him again. “I’m in love with you, too, Hoseokie. My perfect alpha.”
Hoseok smiled tiredly, but no new tears arose, no new anxiety, no new sadness. He was just tired, now. Ready to sleep and reset, to wake up in a new and better day.
He didn’t rush Namjoon’s nest-building no matter how much he wanted him on top of him, but it didn’t take long, anyway. Soon enough, Namjoon stood back and assessed the nest with his hands on his hips, squinting at it critically before nodding once, satisfied. When Hoseok opened his arms for him, Namjoon crawled into the nest, laying on top of him heavily.
“Love you,” Hoseok mumbled again, already fading.
He fell asleep to Namjoon’s gentle kisses, to his soothing touches, to his solid weight, to his promised of devotion and love.
-
Hoseok woke up in Namjoon’s arms, loud snores rattling in his ear and the morning sun bright in his eyes. It was a new day, a fresh start, and Hoseok breathed out a sigh of relief as he took stock of it all.
He was an alpha, he loved himself. He was an alpha, he loved his boyfriend. He was an alpha, he loved his body. He was an alpha, and he was small, and he nested, and he cried, and he was an alpha not only in spite of that, but because of it. He was an alpha, and the world was better, and his life was good.
Namjoon was drawn from sleep a while later by the smell of breakfast and Hoseok singing along to the radio, quiet and considerate but his voice so pretty that Namjoon wanted to listen to it forever. He made his way out to the kitchen and hugged Hoseok from behind, slumping on his shoulders and hugging around his waist.
Hoseok felt tiny in his arms, and he felt better for it.
He grinned, reaching back to pat whatever he could reach. “Hi, big boy.”
Namjoon mumbled something unintelligible, but it was likely wordless either way. He giggled when Namjoon’s sleepy kisses tickled his neck. He didn’t thank him, but he knew Namjoon heard his thanks no matter how silent it was, and he’d object to being thanked for something he needed to do and loved to do either way.
“Love you,” he said instead.
“Love,” Namjoon mumbled.
One thing that Hoseok would never, ever doubt, even in his most exhausted, tired, vulnerable moments, was that alphas could love alphas.