Work Text:
I really like this scene that I wrote for post-love the unloved things but I don't think I'll be able to fit it into a fic in the future, so here it is.
Chan stares covetously at the big pot of bubbling tteokbokki where it sits on the stove. It smells amazing, but Minho fairly threatened them all not to touch it under pain of having to do the saucy, cheesy dishes by hand that night. That, and Chan is still on a recovery diet that forbids anything too heavy or with too much dairy until his stomach stops rebelling, and Minho's tteokbokki definitely counts.
Chan could do dishes. He could do dishes in his sleep. And surely just one little bowl wouldn't hurt...
In the end, he does get a small bowl at lunch, just rice cakes and sauce with no cheese, and Chan only grumbles a little about it not being real tteokbokki this way before he digs in ravenously. He tired himself out doing his physical therapy homework that morning, and plans to spend the afternoon sunbathing with a book, but he's starving. Hoseok and Yoongi say that's a good sign, and he should listen to his body telling him when he's hungry or tired, even if it's inconvenient. He needs fuel and rest to heal, is their argument, and while Chan does chafe at it some, he can't deny that he feels better after a nap most of the time.
Chan gets his nap in, falls asleep right there in the chair in the sun room with his book, but he wakes up feeling sick. He stumbles up, the book falls to one side, but bile is crawling up his throat, and he can’t keep it down. He makes it past a startled-looking Felix and out to the main area of the greenhouse, at least, before he heaves up half-digested tteokbokki into a planter full of ferns.
When he's done expelling the contents of his stomach, he groans and rests his temple against the brick wall, feeling his stomach roll. His legs feel like jelly, but if he sat down he doesn't know if he could get up again for a while.
Felix is the one who comes to his rescue. Of course. At least he’s the best at making Chan feel okay about needing help.
"Ah, Channie. Gimme a sec, I'll get you some water and a rag." Footsteps move away, then come back. Chan takes the damp rag first, to wipe his face of vomit and tears, then swishes his mouth out and spits into the poor abused planter. It's probably fine. It's home to hardy ferns that have already withstood plenty.
Oh well. It was almost worth it. It was really good tteokbokki.
"No more of that for a while, I guess. That sucks." Felix hums, frowning, as he takes back the rag and bottle. "Do you want chicken soup instead? I think we have some frozen still."
"Fucking- whatever," Chan mumbles petulantly. "Chicken soup. I guess."
“I’m sorry, Channie,” Felix coos. “Want me to make you something else?”
“No,” Chan grouses. “Can you just- my cane?”
“Oh, sure.” Felix is gone and back in a flash, and Chan leans heavily on his cane as he starts to hobble determinedly towards the sun room to grab his book. Felix stays by his side the whole time, stopping when Chan does to catch his breath. His stomach feels tight and achey, his mouth still smells like something died, and his knees protest when he kneels to grab the poor book, but Felix lets Chan do it himself.
At first they didn’t. Chan has to remind himself that he’s not where he used to be. Hoseok always says that.
I started writing this right after your beauty and your worth, but it was moving way too fast for that point and hitting some beats I didn't like so I just cut the whole thing. YMMV, probably the longest section of scrap I have.
Finally Minho waves to the receptionist for the last time and holds the door open for Chan, who ducks out as quickly as possible into the late spring heat. He stands there, still shaking, hands shoved into his pockets so he doesn't bite up his nails, until Minho comes up on his right and places a careful hand on his back.
"You're alright." he says simply. Chan takes strength from it, the physical contact warm and easy and somehow helpful when he tries to straighten up and square his shoulders. He doesn't quite get there, but he doesn't feel like crawling into a hole and hiding there forever anymore.
He nods jerkily. He's alright.
"Come on." Minho's hand doesn't leave him, just guides them both towards the car where Chan gets in and sits and starts to dissociate, because that's far more pleasant than the crash of emotions or the conversation he knows will be coming.
"Chan," Minho says, not starting the car just yet. "Are you in pain right now?"
Chan closes his eyes. Nods.
"Hey. You're not in trouble. I'm asking because I want to know, so that I can offer you the kind of help that's best for you. You don't have to take it, but it would make me and the others happy if you do. Now, is it your wrist or something else?"
Chan's brain is buzzing. Empty. He feels drained already. "No," he signs. "Headache." This one sits right behind his right eye, throbbing maddeningly with every heartbeat.
"Oh, Chan." Minho sighs. His cool fingers push back Chan's fringe, feeling his forehead, and Chan presses into it like a cat. "I know you're tired, but this is going to be a conversation we're going to have with Changbin, too, alright? He needs to know what's going on so he can help too. Your health is important."
Chan's eyes snap open. The instunctive urge is to say no, pull away, shut down any implication of an alpha having control over him.
It's also an excuse, Chan thinks, for whoever's at hand to shower him in affection and affirmations, but he doesn't really mind that part so much.
"Home," Chan signs. His throat feels full, blocked off again like it is sometimes. He doesn't know almost any sign words for this particular awful button of his, but maybe he can type it out. He's trying to get better with computers now that he's allowed to touch them. His alpha had one, but he deemed Chan too stupid to use it, and the shelter certainly wasn't going to shell out for them.
"Sure. Do you want to talk to anyone else about it?"
Chan considers, then shrugs. "You. ...Not sure who else."
"Okay, Channie. Thank you for telling me." They do that so often, thank him for talking about...anything and everything. But especially hard things, things that Chan hates. Minho is usually easiest for those, not being alpha and therefore threatening or omega and uncomfortably close to it. He's just...Minho.
The car ride is all too quick, and then they're inside the house and Chan can feel himself starting to spiral again.
It's a week post-heat and he feels- so strange. He can't believe it, sometimes. He keeps thinking he'll wake up and have Changbin's bite on his neck, or be shivering alone in the cold shelter kennel, or even be back bleeding out on the floor of his alpha's house.
Things that feel real aren't, and things that are real don't feel like it. Chan struggles with that more than he lets on.
But when he pokes his head into the office to see if someone's using the computer, there's Seungmin at the desk, writing in his notebook. Chan taps on the doorframe and waves, but it still takes Seungmin a moment to look up. He looks startled for a second, but then he relaxes into a smile, wide and gummy. "Channie!" he says. "I'll be done in a minute- did you want to look something up?"
Chan shuffles in place a little. Seungmin has always seemed so young and bright. Precocious, hardworking, and most certainly someone Chan wouldn't want to ruin. "Wanted to write something d-down."
"Oh, sure." Seungmin just blinks at him, slowly, a motion he definitely learned from Minho. "Do you want touch? Come sit?" He slaps his own thighs and rolls back a little, gesturing to the keyboard. "That way we can both get stuff done and I can scent you."
...Chan does like Seungmin's scent. But he's- unsteady, right now. Not sure what he needs. "We can try?"
Perching on Seungmin's lap is a little more awkward than he expects, but Chan manages to get his hands on the keyboard nonetheless. Seungmin sighs in pleasure and wraps himself around Chan's torso, chin on his shoulder and arms around his chest to hold his notebook. It's... okay. Chan doesn't find it particularly fulfilling, but he doesn't feel trapped either.
He does get distracted by the touch a couple times, but he also works hard pecking at the keys, spelling out what had happened to him in as detatched terms as possible. He tries to shield Seungmin from the screen, but by the tensing of his fellow omega's shoulders, he's not sure he succeeds.
When he's done, Chan sits back and sighs. His eye tends to start to hurt if he focuses on a screen too long, and he feels stupid since he doesn’t know all the proper terms for his own body and its difficulties, and he's just...tired.
Seungmin tightens his grip around Chan for a half a second, not long enough for him to panic, and presses his nose against his cheek.
"You're really strong, Chan." he says quietly. "I really look up to you. Does that make sense? You know what you want and you work hard to get it."
Chan just huffs. Everyone just seems so far ahead. Seungmin especially, with the schooling his parents paid for even after he presented. Sometimes it makes Chan feel so inadequate, when his best is so little, but it's nice to hear other people think it's not nothing.
It's nice, too, to sit here in Seungmin's arms and feel nothing but static in his brain until Minho comes and knocks. Chan looks at him and half-smiles, very aware of the ridiculous picture he and Seungmin make, but getting up seems like an impossible task, so he just scoots them back from the desk so Minho can see the screen with its damning words.
It doesn't take long for Minho to read through. He must know Chan's nerves are still raw, so he just kisses Chan's forehead instead of pulling him in for a hug.
"Your body is yours," he says quietly. "I told you that you get to choose, and I meant it. You never have to have sex or carry a pup if you don't want to. If you want it, we can look into sterilization along with the rest of your health care. We need to talk about that too, because that's also your decision, but not right now if you just want to rest."
"Okay", Chan signs. The words help his brain settle a little. "Later." He knows Changbin will probably be there, too, because he'll have to approve things, but he's good, these days, about not getting too close. Chan still shies away from him being within arm's length, and while he knows it hurts Changbin every time he doesn't know how to get over the fear. Jeongin remarked on it once, naively curious, and Chan didn't quite know how to answer other than signing a simple afraid. Jeongin still looked confused, but he just leaned in close again where they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch.
"You don't have to be afraid, even if I know why you are," he said at the time. "Changbin's been a good alpha to our family for as long as I've known him. Give him a chance to show you?"
So: giving Changbin a chance.
It goes okay at first, when he pokes his head out while Chan is curled up in the hammock on the back porch to read. Chan is struggling a little with the more obscure vocabulary, so it's a welcome reprieve, even, to be distracted from muddling his way through one of Hyunjin's crime thrillers. He sets the book aside after he marks his place and half sits up. "D-do you need me?"
"I'm going to start dinner soon, and I was wondering if you could help out? Minho's going to be hanging around too, so if you're okay to talk he said we needed to discuss a couple things."
Chan huffs a little, but he gets up willingly enough and trails Changbin into the kitchen. "Fine. What's the menu?"
"Hmm, we have chicken that needs to be used and Minho went to the farmer's market today so I was thinking lettuce wraps?" Changbin glances sideways at him. "Do you think you'd be okay with sweet chili sauce? I like it with plenty of honey."
Chan shrugs. He learned the hard way that he doesn't like the taste or the other consequences of the searingly spicy sauces some of the people in the house favor, but he's fine with milder flavors, especially cut with a little sugar. "We'll see."
Minho strides in while Chan is rummaging in the pantry to grab a few things, but he can still hear the way Changbin huffs with displeasure. It's pure instinct to freeze and make himself small.
"What did you and Chan talk about earlier? You sure you want to do this tonight?"
"We don't have to, but it's important, Changbin. He needs better healthcare, and we should have realized it much sooner. Where is he, anyway?"
"He's in the pantry grabbing stuff- Chan? You wanna do this now?"
Chan reluctantly emerges after taking a couple moments to breathe and remind himself that Changbin isn't upset at him, probably. Even if his stupid body is the thing making trouble.
He drops the honey, gochujang, and mirin on the table, wincing when Minho's sharp eyes dart to the wrist he's favoring. The exam, however gentle, aggravated it, but he can still use it for signing if he needs to. "Here. What did you want to talk about first?"
Minho's eyes soften a little. Chan is determinedly looking at him, since looking Changbin in the eye is still...uncomfortable. "We need to talk about how much pain you're really in day-to-day and if anything can trigger a flareup that we can avoid. You're very good at hiding it, I think, but in this house you don't have to. I wouldn't blame you for being uncomfortable around doctors, too, but proper medical treatment is also an option."
Changbin nods determinedly. "You wouldn't be the first omega I've taken in who needed more intensive care for a while. I won't say what happened, that's their business, but if you want to talk about it I can ask them."
Chan glances between them for a moment, biting his lip, but he does nod slowly. He thought- he thought once he was released to the shelter from the hospital that that was it. Well, apparently not.
"There's a lot wrong with me," he signs slow, careful. "I told you before I'm- broken. In a lot of places, not just up here." He taps the side of his skull just to hear Minho huff indignantly.
"It's not your fault other people decided to hurt you."
That makes him bark a rough laugh. Deep inside, he knows of course it's his fault for being bad, or really just for being omega in the first place. But saying that just makes everyone else sad, and it's not the point right now, so he shrugs instead. "My head- I get headaches that make me want to die, sometimes. My shoulders and hips click and get stiff. My wrist. My back. My heats just make everything hurt. I deal with it, though. I'm okay."
Changbin sighs again, this time with more resigned fondness than before. It eases the urge to hide, at least. "You've just been coping with all that? Why didn't you say anything? Never mind, that's a stupid question. Did you like the doctor you saw today? If you want, you can see her again to talk about fixing you up where we can and pain management where we can't."
Chan...isn't sure. He doesn't like doctors. He doesn't trust them on principle, and he's very aware of their ability to talk to his alpha and agree on something and lie to him about it. Changbin...he's giving Changbin a chance, sure, but that doesn't mean he's going to blindly let himself go in and wake up days later with some more convenient alteration.
"I don't know," he signs. "She was fine, I guess. She said- she said my wrist might need more than one surgery, to fix it." His hands freeze up and stutter, because he knows that's sure to be expensive, and he's going to be even more useless than usual while it heals. "I don't know. It's your decision, alpha."
"Chan," Changbin says sternly. "It's your body, first of all, and you're the one who lives in it, so it's your decision. You know I'm not hurting for money. I'm willing to meet you wherever you are, too, because I may be your alpha on paper but I'm nothing to you that you don't want me to be. I'm not your parent, or your caretaker, or your fucking owner. It's your choice."
Chan forgets himself and stares at him, wide-eyed. "You're my owner," he signs carefully. "You picked me to foster, didn't you?"
"Of course I did, Chan." Changbin's jaw is set, but Chan can't look away, no matter how old fear says alpha is angry at you, run, hide. "How could I leave you there? As soon as the paperwork comes through I'd like to adopt you, too, if you're alright with that. But in this house we're a family, not alpha and omega, and you're part of it. You're family. You're pack, if you want it."
Sometimes I attempt to make a character answer a question I don't know the answer to and it rarely works.
"Why do you cook so much, Chan? You know you don't have to, right?"
Chan raises an eyebrow at Minho before turning back to the stove, where he has a pot of noodles for japchae and a few strip steaks sizzling. Once he's flipped the steaks and stirred the noodles, he turns and signs "It's something to do. I'm useful. I like to feed my pack.' His hands still stutter over pack, but no worse than his voice's stutter.
"It's good that you like it, but you don't have to be useful. Wouldn't you rather do something else with your time? Changbin told me you're reading more, and he got you some art supplies?"
Chan shrugs a little uncomfortably. "I guess. Seungmin gave me his old tablet so I could read on it. I don't know what to do with the art stuff."
"We can get you a new tablet if you want. Seungmin's old one is pretty old." Minho takes a couple steps forward and places a tentative hand on Chan's shoulder as he stirs the noodles again and grabs a colander.
[gestures vaguely] idk where this came from. It just Is, I guess?
"No uncollared omegas," the man at the front desk of the shop grunts. He points to a sign on the wall. "Gotta keep your bitch on a leash. Especially if they're from a fighting ring, shit, you let that thing out in public?"
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Changbin says, cool. "You can't require omegas to wear collars. It's against the law."
"So sue me over it," the man leers. "I don't give a shit. Leash him or get out."
"I'm just here to pick up-"
"Leash. Him."
This was my first attempt at love the unloved things. It had potential but not enough, so I scrapped it.
The first snow of the year is always the worst.
By now, Chan is used to taking what he needs from the closet. He's got a set of things that he wears on rotation, does his own laundry now that he's learned how the washer works, and his things include a couple of soft sweaters and flannels and hoodies, appropriate for the fall chill. He layers them when necessary, and takes his painkillers if he misjudged and his joints get too stiff and crackly.
But the true frost comes on fast, early this year, and Chan watches snow start to fall one evening in late October with dread.
Fuck, everything in him protests when he slides out of bed the next morning. He's wearing the warmest pajamas he could find, but dressing for the day lets freezing air insinuate itself against his skin, and even crawling back into bed fully dressed doesn't make him warm immediately. Only when his full bladder and his growling stomach won't let him lie in his cocoon anymore does he get up properly.
Pain throbs through his wrist and hips and back every time he moves. He grits his teeth, resolving to ignore it. He's gotten this far. He and Changbin and the nurse- Seonghwa- are still at a standstill on the subject of surgery, and it's not pleasant to be at odds with pack, but it's better than the mind-numbing terror and humiliation that come along with any medical procedure more involved than a checkup.
It has to be better. He has to get through winter, and spring will come again. Just through winter.
~
"Chan," Felix says later that morning from the kitchen doorway, in that soft tone he has that makes Chan feel both hunted and safe. He’s too tired- too brainfogged- and too occupied with the mechanics of filling a water bottle at the sink as he waits for a pan to heat up on the stove to respond either in sign or with words, though, so instead he just grunts, hoping he doesn't offend Felix too much. His bad mood has to be obvious. He doesn't want to snap at Felix if the questions sure to come irritate him too much.
"Are you sure you don't want another painkiller?" is all he asks for now, at least. Chan shakes his head stubbornly. His pill bottle is getting low enough that he's rationing them to one a day, since getting more would require a doctor visit, and that would mean talking about the sources of his pain, and he doesn't want to do that. Everything in him hurts, that's it. His body is degrading, and it'll fall apart sooner or later and he'll die. Until then he enjoys having his pack as a place of rest when it gets to be too much for him.
Maybe if Felix will cuddle him the warmth will make him feel better. He had planned to do sign practice with Seungmin later, and his wrists and fingers will need some babying before then if he wants to get much done.
He takes a drink, sets the bottle down and twists the cap on slowly, in small movements. Felix's footsteps come closer, a little hesitant, but when Chan turns to him and signs "Are you busy?" he smiles.
"No, just looking for company. Want me to come sit with you?"
"Of course," Chan signs. Even in his blackest moods, Felix makes him feel a little better. He's hurting and bitter and tired, but his pack are his rock, and clinging to them is defiance as well as weakness. He takes Felix's hand willingly, nuzzling against his shoulder, and lets himself doze.
He almost smells the smoke too late.
Fire, thankfully, is not one of his fears. Living with Changbin and his burning-pine scent might be untenable if be were. He even likes watching a campfire or a fireplace; it's warm and calming and comfortable to sit and stare into the flames, and it doesn't make him think of anything Before. Still, smoke where there should be none is alarming. Chan sits up from where he'd been lying with his head in Felix's lap when he smells it, almost metallic and so unlike Changbin that the two could never be confused. His joints protest, especially the wrist he's leaning on, but he sniffs at the air a couple more times to confirm it's not normal smoke before struggling to stand. Felix is staring at him in confusion, but his brain won't cooperate, still full of fuzz, so he only spits "Stay," before going to investigate.
The smoke scent is coming from the kitchen, and Chan first thinks that someone's been cooking and is about to set off the fire alarm, but when he pokes his head in there's no one, just a burner on under a pan and a stack of teatowels next to it, scorched and starting to catch. By the time he's rushed to the other side of the room to turn the stove off and attempt to toss the towels into the sink, the fire alarm finally goes, and the sudden screeching triggers him to freeze just at the wrong moment. His grip on the burning towels spasms, and the pile of them drops onto his bare feet.
His yelp of pain gets lost in the noise, and he stumbles back, trying to kick them away and only half-succeeding. His bad back means that when he instinctively leans over to pick them up, he can't even get halfway down before his muscles lock up and he narrowly avoids falling. Really it's Felix, probably drawn by the sound of the alarm, that catches him, gripping one of his elbows and holding him up until he's steady.
"Fuck," Felix spits, snatching the towels away. Chan just stares down at where the tops of his feet and ankles are blistered red and white. It hurts, of course, but Chan's tolerance for pain means it's about on the same level as everything else that hurts right now. He's a little fascinated by the gruesome sight of it; he's never seen serious burns like that before.
The sink is running. Felix must be putting out the fire. Chan breathes and wonders absently how he's going to treat this. If he can.
"Chan," Felix says, very close. Chan hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes, but he opens them to see Felix kneeling in front of him, face pinched with worry. "Sit down?" he signs. "Let me look at your feet, please, they don't look good."
Chan has to lean back against the counter for support, but he gets down to a sit without twinging his back that much more. Fuck, the burns hurt more and more as he focuses on them, as Felix flutters his hands nervously, unsure. He has to grit his teeth and pant, trying to focus on anything else, even just dissociate to get away from the pain.
Felix bites his lip. "Is it okay if I call Seonghwa?" he asks tentatively. "I don't know if we can take care of burns like this at home."
Chan flinches back instinctively, making himself small as if he could hide. However kind Seonghwa had been when he was taking care of Chan's wrist, Chan doesn't know if he'll ever be over the fear of doctors that's so deeply ingrained. "...Just call him," he signs. "He can talk you through it."
Felix doesn't push, but he still doesn't look happy as he pulls his phone from his pocket just as Chan hears footsteps pounding down the hall. Chan shrinks in on himself further. Whoever else is in the house can't possibly have missed the alarm, and they'll come in and find Chan injured and they'll fuss.
Chan is too tired for fuss. The thought of it makes him want to retreat to his nest and never come out again.
~
Felix isn't stupid. He knows Chan has been worse, lately, even with the affection of their pack to support him. Chan is up later in the morning, picks at his food more, struggles more with speaking and signing. Felix knows he's only barely started on the path to healing, but he thought between the seven of them it would be enough.
If Chan is forgetting things like the stove, it's clearly not enough.
An alternative to the last part of the above cut scene.
He manages to toss most of the towels into the sink, even scooping up the one he'd kicked away before it could do too much damage and throwing that one in too. Cold water both smothers the flames and feels heavenly on his burns. His right hand got the worst of it; half his palm as well as the pads of his fingers are turning pink and shiny. It hurts, throbbing growing stronger even as he sticks both his hands under the flow.
"Oh, Chan." Felix has come after him at the sound of the alarm, of course, and he sounds anguished as he rushes up behind and grabs at Chan's wrists. "Lukewarm water- cold will make it hurt worse. What happened?"
The adrenaline of seeing the danger is starting to ebb. Chan shudders, hunching a little as he hears more sets of feet pounding down the hall. Whoever else is in the house can't possibly have missed the alarm, and they'll come in and find Chan injured and they'll fuss.
Chan is too tired for fuss. The thought of it makes him want to retreat to his nest and never come out again even as the new pain builds maddeningly and tears prick at his eyes. Felix, gentle and well-meaning, tugs at his left wrist just the wrong way to examine the burn, and Chan snaps.
"Let go," he snarls, half-turning and shoving Felix away hard. Felix, clearly not expecting it, trips backward into the island with a yelp, and Chan immediately regrets lashing out but he still hurts and it fuels his frustration to burn bright. "Don't pull me around," he signs, delicate with his injured fingers. "Hurts."
"Sorry," Felix says, eyes wide and remorseful. "Sorry. I won't do it again."
This... uh... well, what would happen in a world where Changbin was still his gentle self, but thought less of the concept of omega autonomy? This, probably. I think of the concept as forgetverse but it probably won't make a full fic.
Changbin hands the end of the catchpole to his omega, and Chan stares. He could pull away from the tiny thing with a fraction of his strength. He doesn't want to hurt them, but it's a very strange gesture of trust, when Chan is so clearly an unpredictable animal.
Felix doesn't yank on it, either. He holds it in both hands, but he's a gentle guide, careful not to strangle Chan or shove him into walls while guiding him through the door to the main reception.
"Come here, please, Chan." Changbin says from where he's filling out paperwork at the desk. Wary, Chan circles around Felix to obey, hands curled into fists. He may be muzzled, but he can still hit hard if Changbin wants to hurt him-
"I'm just going to touch your hair. No need to look so scared." Changbin says. He's still so calm, so unaroused, even when Chan backs up and growls.
"N-n-no."
"Chan, beautiful. I will not hurt you. I refuse to. But you're mine, and I want to be able to take care of you, and I can't do that if you won't let me lay a finger on you."
He sounds so reasonable. Chan hates him for it, how he makes it sound like Chan is going to give in when he sees reason. He stays right where he is, grumbling, until unexpectedly Felix tugs on the catchpole and Chan has to stumble forward, eyes wide with surprise. He berates himself for being so stupid as to let Felix stay in his blind spot- they aren't allies, Changbin owns him, too.
But the distance between Chan and Changbin is only a few inches now, Chan practically in his lap, and he raises a hand slowly. Chan flinches from it, struggling against the cursed loop around his throat, but Felix's grip is unexpectedly iron.
Changbin's hand lands on top of Chan's messy curls and strokes them. Once, twice, three times. Then the hand goes away, and he goes back on to flipping pages, signing each one. "Do you like having long hair?" he asks absently. "It looks a little choppy, but we can even it out."
Chan is thoroughly unnerved. Thankfully Felix lets him back away, looking between them warily. If he's too aggressive, the shelter workers might not let him leave, but this alpha... he must be lying, there must be a trick somewhere. There's no doubt in Chan's mind that he's thinking with his dick, like any other alpha who has a house full of omegas. Maybe he gets off on pretending that they actually want him, but Chan won't ever want him, so he'll dispose of Chan one way or another soon enough.
He wonders what would happen if he killed Changbin in his own home. If he could convince the other omegas to help him pretend that nothing was wrong, and they could live there by themselves. It's a thought.
He doesn't answer the question. His hair is just hair. Alphas seem to always have a preference about what to do with it, so surely that'll come up later. Felix's hair is dyed blond and half up in braids; it's elaborate enough that he's a little wary of how the alpha will get him to sit still long enough for it.
Changbin looks up at Chan again when he doesn't speak. His eyes feel like they see right through Chan to his black, dead heart, his apathy, his rage. It's unnerving.
"We'll talk about it at home, once you've earned the muzzle off." Changbin nods decisively, standing and pushing the papers to the other side of the desk. "For now, are you going to behave if I put you on a leash instead of having to lug that thing around?"
Chan stares at Changbin, startled, then glances at the guard, who has their hand on their stun baton. He nods quickly, biting at his lip as Changbin digs in his bag for a slim rope leash.
This clip is the contents of a doc I have titled "who needs therapy lol". I thought this line was funny but not that compelling.
Chan frowns. "I have a therapist. Hoseok has done a lot for me. He's very good at his job."
"There are other kinds of therapists," Jeongin says. "I used to see one, when I was a kid, after Changbin first bought me. My alpha, before him... she was very scary. I was really scared, all the time, no matter what. So Changbin found me the kind of therapist who could talk to me about what I was scared of, and how I could be sure that things like that wouldn't happen in my new home. He taught me a lot of stuff."
This is a scene cut from the de-aging fic still in the works. It's currently... pretty long... but it's still missing something so I'm giving it time to cook.
It takes some more quick talking over the phone before the appointment, but luckily Doctor Min's office does have a staff member that does health assessments for pre-presentation children. Hell, it'll be good baseline data to compare to the mess Chan's body became later. Was he always going to be prone to issues, or was it solely due to the damage his previous alpha had done?
When they get there, though, Chan isn't exactly on board. Changbin drives and Jeongin comes with, and Chan hides behind both of them at the reception desk and curls up as small as possible in a chair in the exam room. Jeongin looks sideways at him and says, "Scared, Chan-ah?"
"'m not scared." Chan says, muffled from where he's buried his face in his knees. He doesn't elaborate any further, so Jeongin leaves him to it for now.
Chan doesn't move when the pediatric doctor knocks and lets himself in. He takes in the scene, Changbin, alpha, trying hard not to smother his omegas, Jeongin, playing it cool, and Chan, who keeps hiding behind his knees but looks up with wide eyes at the tall, lanky man in a doctor's coat who enters the room.
"Good afternoon, I'm Kim Taehyung. You can call me Doctor Kim if you like, or just Taehyung. It doesn't matter to me. Is it okay if I call you Chan?"
Chan nods silently. After a minute, he opens his mouth, licks his lips, and says, "I already had my exam this year. They said there wasn't anything wrong."
"That's good to hear," Taehyung says warmly. "Kids your age sometimes need more than one exam a year, though. You know, sometimes kids start going through presentations as young as twelve, and it's good to keep an eye on anything your body is doing to make sure it's ready. So I'd like to ask- has anything been hurting lately? It doesn't matter if it hasn't been bothering you very much."
Chan hesitates again. He looks sideways at Jeongin and Changbin, flushing. "I, um. I dunno," he mumbles.