Chapter Text
There is the road, and there is the story of where the road goes,
and then more road,
the roar of the freeway, the roar of the city sheening across the city.
Minho has always been a fighter. His fists have solved more problems than words ever could, and that’s what brings him to the mafia’s door, looking for a purpose, a place to belong. The boss, an old man who only goes by JYP and looks at Minho like he’s dissecting him with his eyes, takes one look at him, at the look in his eyes, the coiled tension in his stance, the stark alpha printed next to the question asking about his presentation on his resume, and nods approvingly. They need someone like him—muscle, they call it, but Minho knows it’s more than that. It’s a job that requires loyalty, ruthlessness, and a willingness to do whatever it takes.
“Kim,” the boss says, gesturing to the omega sitting quietly in the corner of the room. Minho hadn’t even noticed him, small and unassuming, a sharp contrast to the hardened men around them. “You’ll be watching over Kim for us when he works.”
Minho glances at the omega, expecting something—anything—that would suggest the omega belonged in this world of blood and shadows. But Seungmin only offers a small, polite nod, as if he’s being introduced to a new coworker at a regular nine-to-five job.
“Counterfeiting,” JYP explains. “He’s good with his hands and sharp with his mind. You’ll make sure he stays safe.”
This pairing, Minho knows, is more than a simple partnership. It’s a leash. A method the mafia uses to ensure no one steps out of line. It’s harder to run when someone else is tied to you, someone who shares your fate and will be punished for two if something goes wrong. And Minho isn’t stupid. He knows omegas are valuable—not just for whatever skills they have, but for the control they offer. The mafia doesn’t just want to protect Seungmin; they want to control him, to use him as leverage if needed. Use him for worse, probably, when he’s older. Minho’s role isn’t just about guarding a partner; it’s about ensuring that Seungmin stays exactly where the mafia wants him.
The omega stands, offering Minho a hand.
“Kim Seungmin,” he says simply, and Minho shakes it, feeling the softness of Seungmin’s skin, the slight tremor in his grip. But there’s a glint in Seungmin’s eyes, something that tells Minho not to underestimate him.
“Lee Minho,” he replies, firm and steady.
And that’s that. Seungmin is his and he is Seungmin’s, for better or for worse, while they are part of this group.
Despite Minho’s initial reservations about how soft Seungmin looks, he learns quickly that Seungmin is not just good with his hands—he’s a genius. The counterfeit bills he produces are flawless, indistinguishable from the real thing. His attention to detail is obsessive, and Minho finds himself impressed despite himself.
Their workspace becomes a haven of sorts, a small, dimly lit room tucked away from the rest of the operation. Minho stands guard by the door, always alert and watching for any sign of trouble, while Seungmin works, his head bent low over his task. It’s a strange kind of domesticity, one that Minho never expected he would find in a world like this.
“You know,” Seungmin says one day, not bothering to look up from the bills he’s working on, “You don’t have to stand there like a statue all the time, hyung, looming over me. You could sit, you know. Maybe relax a little.”
Minho snorts.
“I get paid to make sure you don’t get your pretty little head blown off by all those chemicals you’re mixing, not to lounge around.”
Seungmin huffs out a soft laugh, his focus never wavering.
“Aw, you think I’m pretty,” he pauses then, looking up to smile at Minho’s flushed cheeks, before continuing. “Suit yourself then, but you’re going to get stiff if you keep that up. Your old man joints aren’t built for standing all day.”
Minho rolls his eyes but doesn’t move from his post. Still, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. For all his quietness, Seungmin has a way of making him feel at ease, like the tension in his shoulders isn’t always necessary.
As Minho watches the omega work, he begins to notice things about Seungmin that he hasn’t seen before. The way his brow furrows in concentration, the way his lips curl up ever so slightly when he’s satisfied with his work, the way he hums under his breath when he thinks no one is listening. It’s all so normal and, if Minho is being honest with himself, cute. Almost painfully so.
“Why are you here, Seungmin?” Minho asks one night after they’ve packed up for the day and are walking back to their room. The question has been burning in his mind for weeks, and he can’t hold it back any longer.
Seungmin glances at him, surprised by the sudden question. He shrugs, leaning back in his chair.
“Why are you?”
“I asked first.”
Seungmin’s smile is small, almost wistful.
“I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have much of a choice. My parents needed money, made a bad deal with the wrong kind of people, died, and left me with their debt. And my skills are valuable here. More valuable than they’d be anywhere else and it’s a way to pay off the debt as an omega without resorting to anything more–” he pauses, searching for the right word, “unsavory.”
Minho knows what he means. He’s seen the omegas wandering the streets when the sun goes down, he’s lost friends to the seedier sides of the city, and something clenches deep within his heart imagining Seungmin out there.
“That isn’t the right place for you. This isn’t the right kind of place for you,” Minho says after a long moment, his voice surprisingly low, almost a growl.
“Neither should you,” Seungmin counters, and for a moment, Minho is at a loss for words. “But we’re here and you make me feel safe. So it’s okay.”
There’s a long, heavy silence between them. Minho feels a strange protectiveness welling up inside him, something he hasn’t felt for a long time. Seungmin shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be mixed up in this world of crime and violence. He’s too soft, too kind, too smart, too good. But he’s here, and that means Minho has to keep him safe.
They fall into a routine easily, the more time they spend together—Seungmin working quietly on his counterfeiting, Minho standing guard, and the two of them exchanging teasing banter in the quiet moments.
“You’re like an old mated couple,” one of the other mafia members comments one day, laughing as he passes by their shared workspace.
Minho bristles at the remark, but Seungmin giggles, shaking his head.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Minho mutters at Seungmin’s laugh, but there’s no real bite to his words. He’s grown used to Seungmin’s presence, to the way they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. It’s strange how quickly he’s come to rely on the omega’s quiet companionship.
One evening, as they’re closing up shop, Seungmin suddenly breaks the silence.
“Do you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t here?”
Minho pauses, caught off guard by the question.
“No,” he says after a moment. “Never really had a choice. I grew up in this part of the city and failed out of school. This is the best option for me.”
Seungmin hums thoughtfully.
“I think I’d be a teacher,” he says, surprising Minho even more. “Or maybe a writer. Something quiet, something where I could use my hands and my mind without–”
He trails off, gesturing vaguely to their surroundings.
Minho doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s never really thought about what his life could have been if things had been different. But hearing Seungmin talk about it, he can’t help but feel a pang of sadness. They all deserve better. Seungmin deserves that life, the one he’s dreaming about. Not this.
“You’d be good at that,” Minho says finally, and Seungmin looks up at him, surprised.
“You think so?”
Minho nods.
“Yeah. You’re smart. You’re good with people, even if you don’t talk much. You’d be good at anything you wanted to do.”
Seungmin smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that lights up his whole face and causes his eyes to crinkle. It makes him look even younger than he already is.
“Thanks, Minho.”
“Come on,” Minho says, shaking off the melancholy that’s settled over him. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they leave, Seungmin bumps his shoulder against Minho’s, a playful gesture that makes Minho’s heart skip a beat.
“You know, you’re not as scary as you look,” Seungmin teases and Minho rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.
“And you’re not as fragile as you look,” Minho shoots back, and Seungmin laughs, the sound bright and warm in the cool night air.
It’s in these moments, these small, quiet moments, that Minho realizes just how much Seungmin means to him. The protectiveness he feels isn’t just about the job anymore—it’s about Seungmin.
But Minho pushes those thoughts aside, burying them deep where they can’t cause any trouble. Seungmin is his responsibility, and that’s all there is to it. Minho keeps Seungmin safe, and he stays safe in return.
It’s an exchange. At least, that’s what he tells himself as they walk side by side, the night stretching out before them.
It’s supposed to be a routine day, the kind that Minho has come to expect. The air inside the mafia’s headquarters is tense, as usual, and the smell of cigarette smoke and stale coffee mingles unpleasantly with the underlying scent of fear that always seems to permeate the building.
They all wear scent blockers, and most of them are on some form of suppressant anyway, but fear is a hard smell to fully mask.
He’s returning from the cafeteria with food for Seungmin when a loud crash reverberates through the building, followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. The hallway explodes into chaos as men pour out of offices, shouting orders and drawing their weapons. Minho’s instincts kick in immediately, his hands dropping the food and flying to the gun at his waist. He doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate—he’s already moving, heading towards the source of the commotion.
But just as he rounds the corner, a flash of movement catches his eye. He turns, only to see one of the younger recruits, a beta, pale and wide-eyed, clutching a bloodied wound on her side.
“Rival group!” the recruit gasps, stumbling forward as soon as she locks eyes with Minho. “They’re inside! Seungmin is—”
The rest of her words are drowned out by the noise, but Minho doesn’t need to hear them. His blood turns to ice as the realization hits him. Seungmin. His Seungmin. Minho’s heart pounds in his chest, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He’s supposed to protect him, to keep him safe, but now—
Another explosion rocks the building, jolting Minho back to the present. He shoves the recruit aside and sprints down the corridor, his mind racing. He has to get to Seungmin. He has to find him before it’s too late.
The hallways are a blur of gunfire and shouting, bodies crashing into one another as they fight to regain control of the situation. Minho plows through the chaos, his focus narrowing to a single point: Seungmin.
Out of nowhere, a blinding pain erupts in Minho’s side. He staggers, his vision swimming as he tries to stay upright. Someone landed a hit while Minho was distracted, the knife slicing through his flesh like butter. Minho grits his teeth against the pain, his hand clamping down on the wound as he forces himself to keep moving. He doesn’t have time to deal with this. He has to find Seungmin.
Another figure appears in front of him, gun raised, but Minho is faster. He swings his arm up, safety already off his gun, and the gunshot rings out before his opponent can even pull the trigger. The man crumples to the ground, and Minho doesn’t spare him a second glance. There’s only one thing on his mind.
Finally, Minho bursts into Seungmin’s office. The scene that greets him is one of utter chaos. Seungmin’s meticulously organized room is trashed. The furniture is overturned, there’s shattered glass blanketing the floor, and blood is splattered across the walls. His eyes dart around the room, searching, and then he sees it.
Seungmin.
He’s on the ground, surrounded by a group of rival alphas. One of them has a gun pointed at Seungmin’s head, another holds a knife pressed to his throat.
Minho’s heart stops.
“Let him go!” Minho roars, his voice echoing through the room.
He raises his gun, aiming at the man with the knife. But before he can pull the trigger, one of the men grabs Seungmin and hauls him to his feet, using him as a shield.
“Drop it,” the man with the gun sneers, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Or I’ll blow his brains out.”
Minho’s hand trembles, his grip on the gun faltering. His mind races, searching for a way out of this, but every option leads to the same conclusion. If he shoots, Seungmin will die. If he doesn’t shoot, they’ll take Seungmin, and who knows what they’ll do to him.
“Please,” Minho whispers, his voice cracking. “Don’t hurt him.”
The man smirks, relishing the power he holds over Minho.
“Looks like we found this alpha’s weak spot,” he taunts, his smile widening, showing off the yellowed fangs he uses to scrape down the side of Seungmin’s throat. Minho wants to be sick. “Didn’t think you’d care about an omega like him. But don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him.”
With that, the man nods to his comrades, and before Minho can react, they’re dragging Seungmin out of the room, the omega’s feet kicking as he struggles. Minho surges forward, but another blast of gunfire forces him to dive for cover. By the time he looks up again, Seungmin is gone.
When Minho stumbles out of the wreckage, his body is battered and bloodied. He’s failed. The thought pounds in his head like a drumbeat, relentless and unforgiving. He was supposed to protect Seungmin, and now he’s gone. Minho can barely stand and he’s still losing blood from the cut on his side, but he forces himself to keep moving.
He stumbles into JYP’s office and is met with the cold, furious stares of the other high-ranking mafia members. JYP’s expression is twisted with anger. Minho barely has time to explain before the first blow lands.
“You worthless piece of shit!” the boss snarls, kicking Minho in the ribs, right where he’s been cut, causing Minho to cry out in pain. “You let them take him! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Minho curls into a ball, his arms wrapped around his head as the blows keep coming. His vision blurs and the pain is overwhelming, but he doesn’t fight back. He knows he deserves this.
“Get up!” JYP orders, yanking Minho to his feet. “You’re going to fix this. You’re going to find that omega and bring him back, or I’ll kill you myself.”
Minho nods, blood dripping from his mouth as he tries to stand upright. His body screams in protest, but he pushes the pain aside. He has to do this.
The next few hours pass in a haze of pain and determination. Minho tracks down the rival group’s hideout, his mind singularly focused on one thing: getting Seungmin back. It’s laughably easy. This group may have surprised them, but they’re woefully unprepared for retaliation.
The warehouse Minho finds them in is dark and abandoned. Minho moves silently, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.
Finally, he hears the sound of muffled voices coming from a room at the back of the warehouse. Minho creeps closer. When he reaches the door, he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. Then, with a swift kick, he bursts into the room, gun raised.
The sight that greets him makes his blood run cold.
Seungmin is there, tied to a chair, his face dripping in blood that pours from a deep cut across his brow. His eyes widen when he sees Minho, but there’s no time for relief. The men guarding him turn their weapons on Minho, but Minho is faster. He takes them down with precise shots, his mind cold and focused.
Within seconds, it’s over. The men are dead, and Minho rushes to Seungmin’s side, his hands trembling as he unties the ropes.
“Seungmin,” Minho breathes, his voice shaking. “Are you okay?”
Seungmin nods weakly, but his body slumps against Minho as soon as the ropes are gone. Minho catches him, his arms wrapping around the omega’s frame. He can feel Seungmin’s heartbeat, faint but steady, and it’s the only thing keeping Minho from losing his mind.
“We’re getting out of here,” Minho murmurs, his voice fierce with determination.
He helps Seungmin to his feet, supporting most of his weight as they make their way out of the warehouse. Every step is agony, but Minho doesn’t care. He would carry Seungmin on his back if he had to.
When they finally reach the car, Minho practically collapses into the driver’s seat, Seungmin cradled against him. He can feel the omega’s shallow breaths against his chest, and it spurs him into action. He drives as fast as he can, his eyes darting to Seungmin in the passenger seat every few seconds to make sure he’s still with him.
They make it back to the mafia headquarters just as dawn breaks. The sight of the familiar building should bring Minho relief, but instead, it fills him with dread.
He knows what’s waiting for them inside.
As soon as they step through the doors, they’re met with silence. The other members of the mafia part to let them through, their eyes pitying. Minho keeps his head down, his grip on Seungmin tightening as they make their way to JYP’s office.
He is waiting for them, his expression unreadable as Minho and Seungmin enter the room. Minho can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. He knows what’s coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.
“Sit,” JYP says, his voice cold and detached. Minho helps Seungmin into a chair before taking a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He stands at attention, his gaze fixed on the floor, every muscle in his body taut.
The boss looks them over, his eyes lingering on Seungmin’s battered face. When he speaks, his tone is harsh and unyielding.
“Minho, you failed.”
The words hit Minho like a sledgehammer, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s heard this before; he’s lived this before.
“You were supposed to protect him,” JYP continues, his voice growing colder with each word. “And yet, here he is, bruised and broken because of your incompetence.”
Minho’s hands clench into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t dare make a sound. He knows that any attempt to defend himself will only make things worse.
JYP turns his gaze to Seungmin, who is sitting silently in the chair, his head bowed.
“And you,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re just as guilty. You’re his partner, his responsibility, and yet you allowed yourself to be captured. You are nothing but a liability.”
Seungmin flinches at the words, his shoulders trembling. Minho wants to step forward, to shield Seungmin from the verbal assault, but he knows better. He knows that any display of emotion, any sign of weakness, will only lead to more pain.
JYP stands and walks around the desk, his movements slow and deliberate. He stops in front of Minho, his eyes boring into him.
“You know what happens next,” he says, his voice low and menacing.
Minho nods, his throat dry. He knows. He’s known from the moment he failed to protect Seungmin.
Without another word, the boss nods to two men standing by the door. They step forward, their expressions grim, and Minho braces himself.
The first blow lands squarely on his jaw, the force of it sending him stumbling back. He doesn’t have time to recover before the next hit comes, this one aimed at his ribs. The pain is sharp, radiating through his entire body, but Minho grits his teeth and takes it. He deserves this.
The beating continues, each blow more brutal than the last. Minho’s vision blurs, and he can taste blood in his mouth, but he forces himself to stay conscious. He won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break.
But then, through the haze of pain, Minho hears something that makes his blood run cold.
Seungmin’s voice.
“Stop,” Seungmin whispers, his voice hoarse and broken. “Please, stop.”
But the men don’t stop. Instead, they grab Seungmin, yanking him out of the chair and throwing him to the floor next to Minho. Seungmin cries out in pain as he hits the ground, and Minho’s heart shatters.
JYP crouches down in front of them, his expression cold and unfeeling, when he lifts their heads up by their hair to stare them both in the eyes.
“You both failed,” he says, his voice devoid of any emotion. “You know what that means. Do not try and stop this and do not let it happen again.”
He nods again, and the men move in on Seungmin.
“No!” Minho screams, his voice raw with desperation. He tries to reach for Seungmin, but he’s too hurt. He can only watch as the first punch lands on Seungmin’s face.
Seungmin doesn’t cry out. He doesn’t make a sound as the men beat him. All of a sudden, Minho realizes that Seungmin is used to this. He’s been in this group for years, much longer than the few months he’s been with Minho and he’s been punished enough that he’s used to this. Seungmin stays silent when he’s being tortured, but he speaks up when Minho is being hurt. Something inside Minho breaks.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the beating stops. The men step back, and Seungmin crumples to the floor, barely conscious. Minho crawls over to him, his body screaming in protest with every movement. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against Seungmin’s cheek, which is already swelling from the impact of the punches.
“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”
Seungmin’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at Minho, his gaze filled with a mixture of pain and something else, something Minho can’t quite place. But there’s no anger there, no resentment. Only understanding.
Minho’s heart aches. Seungmin should hate him. He should despise him for what’s happened. He’s hurt again because of Minho. But instead, he’s looking at Minho like he’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.
JYP watches them for a moment, then speaks, his expression unreadable.
“Your punishment is over,” he says, his tone final. “You’re dismissed. Get out of my sight.”
Minho doesn’t need to be told twice. He gathers Seungmin in his arms, ignoring the pain that flares up in his own body and carries him out of the office. Everyone they pass in the hallway between the office and their room averts their eyes as they pass, no one willing to acknowledge what’s just happened.
Minho doesn’t care. All that matters is getting Seungmin somewhere safe, somewhere he can tend to his wounds without the fear of further retribution.
They make it back to their shared quarters, and Minho gently lowers Seungmin onto the bed. Seungmin winces as his body makes contact with the mattress, and Minho’s heart clenches with guilt.
“I’ll get some ice,” Minho says, his voice shaking. He stumbles into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and filling it with ice before returning to Seungmin’s side. He presses the makeshift ice pack to Seungmin’s swollen face, his hands trembling as he tries to be as gentle as possible.
Seungmin doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and leans into the cold. Minho watches him, his heart breaking all over again. This is his fault. All of this is his fault.
“I’m so sorry, Seungmin,” Minho whispers.
“Stop,” Seungmin says, his voice barely audible.
He opens his eyes and looks at Minho, his gaze soft and understanding.
“It’s not your fault, hyung. I know the risks. This is just what happens.”
They sit in silence for a while, Minho tending to Seungmin’s wounds with a gentleness that belies the violence they’ve both just endured. The ice pack eventually melts, and Minho carefully cleans the blood from Seungmin’s face, his touch light and tender.
Seungmin watches him, his expression soft.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.
Minho looks up at him, his heart aching. “For what?”
“For coming to get me,” Seungmin replies, his gaze unwavering. He raises his hand to Minho’s cheek and Minho realizes absently that he’s crying.
Minho closes his eyes, leaning into Seungmin’s touch. The pain, the guilt, the fear—they’re all still there, but at this moment, with Seungmin’s hand on his cheek and his soft words in his ears, they don’t seem as overwhelming.
Minho stays in the room until Seungmin falls asleep, then slips out quietly, heading for the infirmary to steal some thread to stitch the wound in his side closed.
The medic staffing the room is new. He’s a pretty omega, all long blond hair and small hands, and he introduces himself to Minho as Felix from Australia in accented Korean when Minho asks for a thread. Felix from Australia offers to stitch Minho up and the way he shuts the door behind him when Minho accepts has him raising his guard.
Felix is quiet as he carefully works on Minho’s side, until he leans in close to Minho’s ear while he ties the last knot and whispers something that makes Minho go cold, despite the throbbing heat on his side.
“I heard them talking earlier, the higher-up people. They don’t like how close you and Seungmin are and they want to do something about it. They were talking about sending Seungmin down to Jeju to be mated to some alpha down there who runs an art counterfeiting job in order to separate you.”
Minho looks at Felix, wide-eyed, when he pulls back to tape gauze around Minho’s cut. Minho has heard stories about that alpha. He’s old, older than even JYP, and not particularly kind to the people that he works with. Seungmin would never make it there.
Felix won’t make it here if he stays this kind. Minho prays for whoever is partnered with him.
“I don’t care about Seungmin,” Minho says, his voice flat. “What the boss decides to do with him is none of my business.”
“Be more convincing,” Felix responds quietly, before moving to open his door. He continues louder as if to prove they weren’t talking about anything suspicious. “And don’t get your stitches wet for the first few days. Come see me if the site turns red.”
Minho stands, thanks Felix, and makes his way back to their room.
The sight of Seungmin, bruised, but sleeping peacefully, scares Minho. He has to protect Seungmin and if that means distancing himself from the omega, then he’ll do it.
It’ll hurt and Seungmin will be sad, but he can take care of Seungmin like this. He has to.
Minho doesn't sleep that night. He sits on the edge of the bed and stares at Seungmin’s sleeping face as his thoughts rage inside him. Seungmin’s safety is the most important thing, and if that means Minho has to push him away, then so be it.
When Seungmin stirs awake the next morning, Minho is already up, dressing quietly in the corner of the room. He can feel Seungmin’s gaze on his back, but he doesn’t turn around.
“Hyung?” Seungmin’s voice is soft and hesitant, and it cuts through Minho like a knife. “Are you okay?”
Minho doesn’t look at him. He can’t. If he sees the concern in Seungmin’s eyes, he’ll break, and he can’t afford to do that. Not now.
“I’m fine,” he replies, his voice colder than it’s been in months. He busies himself with his shirt, straightening the collar even though it’s already perfect.
Minho can hear the sheets rustle as Seungmin sits up and he almost turns around when Seungmin whines as his injuries are jostled.
“Hyung, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Minho clenches his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, still not looking at Seungmin. “Don’t worry about it.”
There’s a pause, and Minho can almost feel the confusion radiating from Seungmin. He knows Seungmin isn’t stupid. He knows Seungmin can sense that something is off. But Minho can’t explain. He won’t.
“Minho hyung,” Seungmin tries again. “Please, talk to me.”
Minho finally turns around, but he keeps his expression neutral, distant.
“I have to go,” he says, ignoring Seungmin. “I’ll meet you in your office later for work.”
Seungmin’s face falls and Minho hates himself for it, but he forces himself to remain detached. He picks up his jacket and heads for the door without another word.
As he leaves the room, Minho hears Seungmin call out to him one last time, his voice tinged with desperation.
“Hyung–”
Minho’s heart twists painfully in his chest, but he keeps walking, forcing himself not to look back. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the building and into the cool morning air, where he finally allows himself to take a deep breath. It feels like his chest is being squeezed by a snake, but he pushes the feeling aside. He has to be strong.
The next few days are a blur of routine and forced indifference. Minho keeps himself busy with tasks around the base, anything to avoid spending time with Seungmin. When he has to guard Seungmin while he works, he stands at the door, his back facing the room, and doesn’t entertain Seungmin’s attempts at conversation. When they return to their shared room at the end of the day, he wraps himself in his blanket and faces the wall.
He barely eats, barely sleeps, his mind constantly replaying Felix’s warning in his head. Every time he sees Seungmin he forces himself to look away, to act like he doesn’t care. It’s killing him inside, but he knows it’s the only way to keep Seungmin safe.
Seungmin tries to reach out to him several times, but Minho shuts him down each time, keeping his responses short and curt. He sees the sadness in Seungmin’s eyes, the confusion and hurt that his coldness is causing, and it tears him apart. But he reminds himself that this is for the best. Seungmin is better off without him, better off not being seen as a weakness that can be exploited.
One afternoon, as Minho is making his way to the infirmary to check on his stitches, he catches sight of Seungmin sitting alone in the cafeteria. The sight of him, head bowed, shoulders slumped, breaks Minho’s heart all over again. He wants nothing more than to go to him, to apologize, to pull him into his arms, and promise that everything will be okay.
But he doesn’t. He forces himself to turn away, to keep walking, his steps heavy with the weight of his own guilt.
When Minho reaches the infirmary, Felix is there, as usual. The omega looks up from his paperwork and smiles when he sees Minho.
“How are the stitches holding up?” Felix asks, his tone light and conversational as he gestures for Minho to sit on the examination table.
Minho shrugs, pulling up his shirt to expose the stitched wound on his side.
“They’re fine,” he mutters, his voice flat.
Felix examines the wound carefully, his fingers gentle as they probe the area.
“Looks like it’s healing well,” he comments, his tone casual. But when he glances up at Minho, there’s something serious in his eyes. “How are you holding up?”
Minho knows Felix isn’t just asking about the stitches. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.
“I’m doing what I have to do,” he replies.
Felix nods, his expression softening.
“You’re doing well.”
The words should comfort Minho, but they don’t.
That night, Seungmin tries again to break the stony silence Minho has enforced in the room.
“Hyung,” Seungmin says suddenly. “Do you ever wish you were partnered with someone else?”
The question catches Minho off guard. He turns around in his bed to look at Seungmin, who’s staring at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.
“Why would you ask that?” Minho’s voice is gruff and defensive.
He doesn’t want to think about what Seungmin is implying, doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth that’s been gnawing at him since the day they were partnered.
Seungmin shrugs, but his shoulders are tense.
“I don’t know,” he says, voice low. “Sometimes I wonder if you’d be happier if you didn’t have to be stuck with me.”
Minho’s heart hurts, but he knows what he needs to do.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “This is just a job. We’re partners because we have to be. It doesn’t mean anything.”
The room is dark, but Minho can see the way Seungmin tenses up.
“Right,” Seungmin mutters. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
The omega shifts in his bed to face the wall and Minho pretends he can’t hear the soft sounds of Seungmin crying as Minho tells himself that this is the right thing to do. He repeats it like a mantra in his head, over and over and over again.
It’s the right thing to do.
But no matter how many times he tells himself that, the pain in his chest doesn’t lessen. If anything, it only grows, spreading like poison through his veins, reminding him of what he’s lost and what he’s still losing.
Minho is sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the blank wall in front of him, when Seungmin tells him he’s being sent to Italy to supervise a deal and Minho won’t be the alpha to accompany him. He’ll be going with Hyunjin, an alpha who specializes in defense and explosives. Minho whips his head around to look at Seungmin and the omega is standing in the doorway, shoulders hunched and staring at the floor.
Minho has been good, has kept his distance, has played the part he needed to play, but Seungmin is still leaving.
Something inside Minho snaps. He can’t let Seungmin go without saying something, without doing something. As Seungmin turns to leave, taking Minho’s silence as the dismissal it’s been for the past week, Minho reaches out, grabs his arm, and pulls him into a hug. It is desperately tight like he is trying to hold on to something that is slipping through his fingers.
Seungmin freezes in Minho’s arms, his breath hitching in surprise. For a moment, neither of them move. Then Seungmin slowly wraps his arms around Minho, returning the embrace with a gentleness that makes Minho’s heart ache. He doesn't deserve it.
“I’ll be back soon,” Seungmin whispers, his voice muffled against Minho’s shoulder.
Minho can’t bring himself to say anything in response. He just holds on tighter, memorizing the way Seungmin feels in his arms, the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart. He wants to believe Seungmin’s words, but the fear that has been gnawing at him since Felix raised his voice in the infirmary refuses to be silenced.
When Seungmin finally pulls away, Minho lets him go, his hands dropping to his sides as he watches Seungmin walk away. The door closes behind him with a soft click, and Minho is left standing there, alone in their room.
The moment Seungmin is out of sight, Minho’s emotions shift from fear to anger. The anger surges up inside him like a wave, crashing over him and he storms out of the room, his mind set on one thing: Felix.
Felix told him to distance himself from Seungmin, to protect him by pushing him away. Minho has done exactly that, and now Seungmin is being sent into danger, alone with another alpha who can’t possibly care for him the way Minho does.
Does Hyunjin know that Seungmin likes soft music while he works, but that the lyrics can’t be in any language he knows in order for him to focus and not get too caught up in the meaning of the song? Does Hyunjin know that Seungmin drinks coffee like water and needs to be cut off after lunch or he won’t sleep that night?
Does Hyunjin know that Seungmin is so talented and just so damn good that he needs to be reminded to think of himself, to put himself first every once in a while because he’ll burn himself into the ground to protect the people he cares about, to be useful?
Nobody knows this. Nobody but Minho and he’s stuck twelve hours away on the wrong side of the world.
When Minho reaches the infirmary, he barges in without knocking, startling Felix, who is in the middle of restocking supplies.
“You said distancing myself would protect him,” Minho snarls, his voice low and dangerous. “You said they wouldn’t target him if I stayed away. So why the hell is he being sent overseas?”
Felix’s eyes widen in surprise, and he quickly sets down the supplies he is holding, turning to face Minho.
“They did what?” Felix gasps.
“They took Seungmin away from me and sent him to Italy with Hwang Hyunjin for the next week.”
“Minho, I swear, I don’t know what changed. I didn’t know they were going to send him away.”
“You told me to stay away from him and I listened. And now they’ve taken him away!” Minho yells, his chest heaving.
Felix flinches at Minho’s tone, his expression pained. He raises his hands in a sign of submission. If anyone was allowed to express their scent, Minho would bet Felix would be releasing calming pheromones.
“I didn’t know they were going to do this. I promise I was trying to help you. I thought it would keep him safe.”
“Then why isn’t he safe?” Minho’s voice cracks, the anger in his chest giving way to fear.
Felix doesn’t have an answer. He just looks at Minho with big, sad eyes.
“Hyunjin is a good alpha,” Felix says quietly. “He’ll take care of Seungmin.”
“I should be with him,” Minho mumbles and Felix doesn’t have any more words for the alpha.
Minho leaves the infirmary in a haze. Days pass, each one dragging on longer than the last, and the silence in the headquarters only intensifies his growing dread. He tries to stay busy, tries to focus on anything other than the fear that has taken root in his chest, but nothing can distract him from the feeling that something is about to go terribly and horribly wrong.
A week after Seungmin left, the tension in the headquarters is at an all-time high. Everyone is on edge, conversations in the cafeteria are short and no one seems willing to make eye contact with anyone. Minho can feel it in the air. Something is coming, something bad.
The call for a meeting comes late in the evening, and Minho’s stomach twists itself into knots as he makes his way to the meeting room. When he arrives, the sight that greets him makes his blood run cold.
Hyunjin is lying on the floor, beaten to within an inch of his life. His clothes are torn and bloodied, his face swollen and bruised, and his breathing is shallow and labored. He looks like he’s been through hell and back, and the sight of him sends a chill down Minho’s spine.
Seungmin isn’t here.
Changbin, a beta who works primarily with weapons acquisition and Hyunjin’s partner, is standing nearby sporting his own black eye, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. The beta’s face is pale, his expression tense with barely suppressed rage. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, but Minho can see the fury simmering beneath the surface, the way Changbin’s entire body seems to vibrate with it.
Minho’s heart pounds in his chest as he takes in the scene, his mind racing with questions.
Where is Seungmin?
As the other members of the mafia filter into the room, the tension grows thicker, until it is almost suffocating. JYP stands at the head of the room, his expression dark and unreadable as he looks down at Hyunjin’s battered form.
“Hyunjin,” JYP says, rolling the alpha to his side with the tip of his boot. “Tell them what happened.”
Hyunjin struggles to sit up, wincing in pain as he moves. His eyes are bloodshot, his lip is split, and he looks like he can barely keep himself upright. But when he speaks, his voice is clear.
“The deal went wrong,” Hyunjin says. “They knew we were coming. It was a trap.”
Minho feels his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat.
“What do you mean, a trap?” he asks, ignoring the look JYP sends him for speaking out of turn. Seungmin isn’t here to get hurt if Minho pushes boundaries. Nothing matters.
Hyunjin’s gaze flickers to Minho, and there is something in his eyes that makes Minho’s blood turn to ice.
“They wanted him,” Hyunjin says. “He’s too good at what he does. They wanted Seungmin.”
Minho’s mind goes blank, a numbness spreading through him.
“He fought back,” Hyunjin continues. “He fought back. But there were too many of them and I was too far away and someone tripped one of the bombs I set and–” Hyunjin’s voice breaks, and he looks away, unable to meet Minho’s eyes.
“The building blew up,” Hyunjin whispers, his voice barely audible. “He was still inside.”
The words hit Minho like a physical blow, knocking the air out of his lungs. He should feel something—anger, grief, despair—but all he feels is a crushing emptiness, a hollow ache in his chest where his heart used to be.
He thought he would know, that he would feel it if something happened to Seungmin when Seungmin was gone, but he hadn’t known and now he can’t feel anything. Just a deep, unrelenting, cold void that threatens to swallow him whole.
Around him, the room is silent. Minho can feel the eyes of the other members on him, can see the pity and horror in their faces, but it all feels distant like he is watching it from far away, outside his body.
Seungmin is gone.
The words don’t make sense. They don’t fit into the reality Minho knows. But there is no denying the truth in Hyunjin’s eyes, in the broken tone of his voice.
Seungmin is gone.
Minho barely registers the rest of the meeting. He stands there, numb and unresponsive, as JYP goes on to discuss what had happened and what would be done next. Hyunjin is reprimanded for the failure and both he and Changbin are promised future punishment for his failure when he is healed enough to not die the moment someone lands a hit on him.
It doesn’t even matter to JYP that Seungmin is gone. They don’t matter to this organization.
When the meeting finally ends, Minho turns and walks out of the room without a word. He doesn’t know where he is going, but he also doesn’t care. He just needs to get away, to be alone, to try and make sense of the emptiness inside him.
He wanders the halls of the headquarters, his mind blank, until he finds himself back in his room. He closes the door behind him, the sound sharp in the silence, and collapses onto Seungmin’s bed, burying his face in the sheets.
They don’t smell like much, courtesy of the blockers they were required to be on, but if Minho closes his eyes, he can pretend that Seungmin is just in the bathroom and that he’s coming back to bed soon.
He isn’t. He’s gone.
Minho doesn’t cry, but not for lack of trying. The tears won’t come, no matter how much he wants them to. All he can do is sit there, feeling the hollow ache where Seungmin used to be.
Hours pass in a fugue. He doesn’t sleep or move, waiting for something—anything, really—to make it better.
It is late when the knock on his door comes. Minho barely registers it. But when the door opens and Felix walks in, his alpha partner, a broad man that Minho vaguely recognizes as Chan, following, and he finally lifts his head.
Felix looks worse for wear, his usually bright expression darkened. Chan stands behind him, his arms crossed.
“We’re leaving,” Felix says, his voice quiet but firm. “Changbin and Hyunjin are coming too.”
Minho blinks, trying to process the words.
“Leaving?” he repeats, his voice flat.
Felix nods.
“We can’t stay here anymore. Not after what happened. We’re going to find somewhere safe, somewhere far away from all of this.”
Minho stares at Felix, the numbness still clinging to him like a second skin.
“And what? Just run away?” he asks, his tone devoid of emotion.
Chan steps forward, placing a hand on Felix’s shoulder.
“It’s not running away. It’s surviving. Seungmin was too good for this. You’re too good for this. We can’t stay here anymore.”
Minho looks between the two of them. If Seungmin was here, Minho would never even think about leaving. It’d be too dangerous to leave him behind and the debt Seungmin owed was too big for them both to escape. This is why the partner system works. It keeps people attached.
But Seungmin is gone. Seungmin is gone, and there is nothing left for him here.
Minho nods, the decision made for him by the hollowness in his chest.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “Let’s go.”
Felix and Chan exchange a relieved glance, and they quickly move to help Minho pack. He moves through the motions mechanically, his mind still numb.
As they leave the room and make their way through the darkened halls, they run into Jisung, an omega Minho knows works on tech. He’s sweet and smart, but his alpha partner is mean. Jisung goes bug-eyed when he sees them with duffle bags before he masks his surprise.
“Take me with you,” he demands, and Felix stretches out a hand.
Together, their group of six slip out of the headquarters, the night air cool against their skin. Minho glances back once, his gaze lingering on the window of the room he shared with Seungmin.
It’s empty.
Seungmin is gone.