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Jeongguk leaned against the doorway to their tea room, his heart feeling warm as he watched Taehyung and Jimin curled together on a futon. They were laughing—Jimin’s head thrown back, Taehyung’s hands animated as he recounted some ridiculous story. Jeongguk couldn’t even hear what it was about, but the way their laughter harmonized made his chest ache. But not only in the warm, fuzzy way it felt just a moment ago; suddenly, the ache felt sharper, somehow.
He turned away before they noticed him, trying to shove that emotion away with little success.
It had been happening a lot lately. He loved them—of course he did—but sometimes it felt like he was standing on the outside, looking in. He didn’t know how to join their world without feeling like an intruder, a third wheel.
Am I just a formality in this relationship?
The thought clung to him like a shadow, heavy and persistent.
“Hyung, can I talk to you?” Jeongguk’s voice was hesitant as he entered Namjoon’s study a few days later. The scene in the tea room had not left his mind, and he knew he had to talk to someone before he went crazy.
Namjoon glanced up from his ledgers, pushing his glasses onto his head with a small smile. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
Jeongguk fidgeted with his sleeve, struggling to find the right words. Namjoon knew about them, but it was still quite a new development. Well, he came this far already.
“It’s about… Jimin and Taehyung. Our relationship.”
Namjoon’s brows furrowed slightly in concern, and he set his papers aside. “What about it?”
Jeongguk sighed and slumped into the chair across from him. “I don’t know how to fit in sometimes. They’ve been together for so long—it’s like they have their own language, their own world. I feel… irrelevant. Like I’m not really part of it.”
Namjoon hummed thoughtfully. “That’s understandable. Relationships—especially ones like yours—take time to settle, Jeongguk. It’s still new for all three of you. You’re building something, but you won’t get there overnight.”
“I know,” Jeongguk mumbled, staring at his hands. “But what if I never fit in?”
“You will,” Namjoon said reassuringly. “You just have to give it time. Try to join in where you can, even if it feels awkward at first. You’ll grow into it.”
That evening, Jeongguk had to stay at work late and missed dinner. Grabbing the plate Jimin left out for him, he tapped over to the bedroom, where he found them sprawled across the nest their futons had become recently, flipping through a book of poems. They were sharing a blanket, their heads close as Taehyung read aloud in his deep, steady voice.
Jeongguk cleared his throat, stepping into the room. “What are you two up to?”
Jimin looked up with a bright smile. “Reading some poems. Taehyung’s voice makes them sound so much better.”
“Mind if I join?” Jeongguk asked carefully, shifting his weight as he hovered in the doorway.
“Of course,” Jimin said immediately, scooting over and patting the spot beside him.
Jeongguk settled in, trying to relax. He lay back against the futon, careful not to touch either of them too much while he ate, but the space between them still felt… wrong. Taehyung kept reading, his voice rhythmic and soothing, but Jeongguk’s mind wandered. What do I add to this ? he thought, staring at one of Taehyung’s drawings on the wall.
After he was done eating and set his bowl aside, he tried commenting on one of the poems, hoping to add something insightful. They really sounded nicer when Taehyung read them, but still, poems weren’t exactly his preferred genre. “That one’s… nice.”
Both of them glanced at him, blinking.
“Which one?” Taehyung asked gently.
Jeongguk realized, belatedly, he hadn’t actually been listening, too occupied with his thoughts. His cheeks flushed. “Uh, the one you just read.”
Taehyung smiled faintly but didn’t press him, continuing on. Jeongguk slumped further into the futon, feeling like an idiot.
“Be confident,” Seokjin said, pointing his chopsticks at Jeongguk over breakfast. “You’re Jeongguk! You’re an alpha, their alpha. You belong there—act like it.”
Jeongguk frowned. “But what if I’m intruding?”
“You’re not,” Seokjin said firmly. “They love you. You’re part of this relationship. If they don’t invite you in, then insert yourself. Show them you want to be there.”
Frowning even harder, Jeongguk scooped up some rice to dip it into his broth. After chewing slowly, he nodded, determination written across his face.
“Alright, hyung. I’ll try.”
The next day, Jeongguk found Taehyung and Jimin painting together in the courtyard. Jimin was holding a brush delicately, brows furrowed as Taehyung offered exaggerated instructions, making him laugh.
Jeongguk took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and strode toward them. “What are you painting?”
“It’s supposed to be a landscape,” Jimin giggled, holding up a blotchy mess of green and blue.
“Looks great,” Jeongguk said, smiling despite himself. Jimin’s enthusiasm and obvious lack of care was infectious. Feeling emboldened, he grabbed another brush from the box and sat beside Taehyung. “Mind if I try?”
Taehyung blinked at him, startled, but nodded. “Sure. I’ll get you some more paint.”
Jeongguk set to work, trying to mimic what they were doing. But his strokes were clumsy, the paint smudging into a chaotic mess. Jimin tried to stifle a giggle, and Jeongguk’s stomach twisted. He knew they weren’t laughing at him, but it still stung.
When Taehyung gently offered to “fix it,” Jeongguk forced a smile. “I think I’ll stick to watching.”
“Try dropping hints,” Hoseok suggested, shrugging one shoulder. “Stay positive, but let them know you feel left out. You’d be surprised how often people just don’t see these things until you tell them.”
That evening, Jeongguk hovered in the kitchen doorway as Jimin and Taehyung sat together at the counter, laughing as they kneaded dough, presumably to add noodles to the soup boiling on the stove. He had wanted to surprise them with dinner, having left the warehouses earlier than usual to have the time to cook, just to find them here already. It made sense; ever since they announced their relationship to the pack, Taehyung had been more involved in the cooking duties, as well.
“You two spend a lot of time together,” Jeongguk said, trying to keep his tone light.
“Yeah!” Taehyung grinned. “Jimin is showing me how to make noodles. It’s actually a lot of fun!”
“And literally one of the three recipes Taehyungie doesn’t mess up. So far, at least,” Jimin added playfully, his elbow nudging Taehyung who dramatically tried to evade it.
“Must be nice,” Jeongguk said carefully, watching their hands move in sync. “To have that.”
Neither of them seemed to catch the hint. Jimin nodded enthusiastically. “It is! You should join next time—we’re making dumplings tomorrow.”
Jeongguk smiled faintly, murmuring a quiet “Maybe,” before slipping away again, upset that his plans had been spoiled and he somehow felt more left out than ever.
“I’ve tried everything,” Jeongguk admitted, slumping onto Yoongi’s porch the next evening. After dinner, as Taehyung and Jimin had settled in the tea room to draw and read, respectively, he had slipped away with a flimsy excuse. He respected Yoongi immensely, as the pack omega, as Namjoons mate, as a hyung and a friend, and he desperately hoped he could offer him some advice that would finally work out.
“I just feel like I don’t belong. Namjoon said to give it time, Seokjin said to insert myself, Hoseok said to drop hints… but nothing works.”
Yoongi sipped his tea calmly. “You’ve done everything except the most obvious thing.”
Jeongguk frowned. “What?”
“Talk to them.” Yoongi gave him a flat look. It was amazing how he still managed to look so intimidating even while heavily pregnant. “They’re not mind readers, Jeongguk. You need to tell them how you feel. Be honest.”
Jeongguk slumped over with a groan. “I hate that.”
Yoongi simply continued to sip on his tea. They both knew it was the only sensible solution.
Upon returning to their part of the estate, Jeongguk found Jimin and Taehyung sitting together under the plum tree in their courtyard, bathed in the warm rays of the late afternoon sun. A slight breeze blew, softly ruffling Taehyung’s hair as he leaned against Jimin’s shoulder, talking softly about something Jeongguk couldn’t hear.
It was a beautiful sight. At the same time, it was such a them sight—comfortable, familiar, perfect—that Jeongguk almost turned around. But his chest was heavy with everything he couldn’t say, everything he couldn’t be for them, and he knew he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Enough, he told himself.
“Can we talk?” Jeongguk’s voice broke the stillness, harsher than he intended, making Jimin jump slightly in surprise..
Jimin’s head snapped to him, his brows creased with concern. “Jeongguk? What’s wrong?”
Taehyung sat up straighter, as well, his expression softening as he looked at Jeongguk. “Of course. Come here.”
Jeongguk hesitated, his throat dry. “No. I—I’ll stand.”
Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a glance—one of those wordless looks that always made Jeongguk’s stomach twist. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, the words spilling out before he could stop them.
“I feel like I don’t fit here. Like I’m intruding on something that’s already complete. You two are so close, and no matter what I do, I feel…” His voice cracked, betraying him. “I feel irrelevant.”
The word hung in the air, stark and raw.
“What?” Jimin whispered, his face crumpling. He scrambled to his knees, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand, but Jeongguk pulled back slightly, not ready for comfort yet. “Jeongguk, what are you talking about?”
Jeongguk shook his head, stepping closer to the tree but still holding himself apart from them. “I know you don’t mean to exclude me. I know that,” Jeongguk said, his gaze flickering between them. “But when I see you two together, when you laugh, when you share your little moments— your moments—I don’t know how to be part of it. I don’t want to ruin what you already have.”
“Ruin it?” Taehyung’s voice trembled, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. “Jeongguk, no. You could never ruin this.”
“Then why does it feel that way?” Jeongguk’s words came in a rush now, everything pouring out. “I try to join you, but it’s like there’s this invisible wall between us. You don’t invite me in—you don’t need me like you need each other. And maybe that’s my fault, but I don’t know how to fix it.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. Taehyung’s hands were clenched in his lap, his shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller. Jimin stared at Jeongguk, pain clear in his wide eyes.
“You’re not irrelevant,” Jimin said fiercely, reaching for Jeongguk’s arm. “You’re part of this—of us . That we’ve made you feel like you’re not - we’re the ones who’ve failed you. I’m so sorry.”
Jeongguk turned away slightly, pressing his fingers to his temple. “I love you both so much it hurts, but sometimes it feels like I’m standing on the outside. Like I don’t belong in the same way you do with each other.”
From where he still sat on the ground, Taehyung’s voice broke through, trembling. “You think you’re on the outside?”
Jeongguk turned, startled, to find Taehyung staring at him with tears glistening in his eyes.
“Do you know how much I worry that I don’t belong?” he said, his voice rising slightly, raw with his own hurt. “You’re mated to Jimin. You belong to each other, officially, in ways I don’t. You share a bond I can never touch. And I—” His voice faltered, breath hitching. “I wonder every day when you’ll realize that I’m not enough. That I’ll always be the extra piece.”
“Taehyung,” Jimin gasped, dropping to his knees beside him. “Don’t say that.”
“You think you’re the outsider, Jeongguk?” Taehyung continued, his hands clutching at the fabric of his sleeves. “I watch the two of you sometimes, and I think, where do I fit? You’ve claimed Jimin. He’s yours. What am I to you?”
Jimin gasped softly, reaching for Taehyung, but Taehyung shook his head, tears finally spilling over. “I’m scared, too. Some days, I’m scared you’ll both wake up and decide I don’t belong here. That I’ll be the one left behind.”
“Stop,” Jimin said softly but firmly, cupping Taehyung’s face in his hands. “You are enough. Don’t you know that? You’re my heart, Taehyung. You’re Jeongguk’s heart. There’s no me without you. ”
The ache in Jeongguk’s chest deepened, spreading like a storm. He hadn’t realized—hadn’t seen —that Taehyung felt this way. That they were all carrying these unspoken fears, tangled and heavy between them.
“No,” Jeongguk said firmly, stepping closer until he knelt in front of Taehyung, taking his trembling hands in his own. “No, Tae. That’s not true. You’re not extra. You’re everything to me. To us.”
Taehyung stared at him, tears streaking down his cheeks.
Jeongguk swallowed hard, his voice softening as he reached up to brush a tear away. “I was waiting for the right time, but maybe I shouldn’t have waited. Taehyung…” He took a steadying breath, his heart hammering in his chest. “I want to mate you. Officially. I want everyone to know you’re mine, too. I don’t care how long it takes, or what we need to do to make it happen. I’ll talk to my parents. I’ll insist on a ceremony—one where you’re honored like you deserve.”
Taehyung’s breath caught audibly. “You—you mean that?”
“Yes.” Jeongguk’s voice was steady, his eyes locked on Taehyung’s. “You’re not less. You’re not an afterthought. I want you to be my mate, Taehyung.”
Taehyung let out a shaky laugh, his lips wobbling into a small, radiant smile. “Jeongguk…”
Jimin moved closer, wrapping his arms around both of them, pulling them into a fierce embrace. “Do you see now?” he whispered against their shoulders, his voice thick with tears. “We belong together. All of us. There’s no ‘outsider.’ There’s no extra piece. We’re not complete without you, Jeongguk. And without you, Taehyung.”
Taehyung sniffled, burying his face against Jeongguk’s shoulder as he nodded. “I want that, too,” he whispered. “I want to be yours.”
Jeongguk tightened his arms around them both, breathing them in, feeling the weight of their fears finally beginning to lift. Jeongguk looked at Jimin then, his heart swelling at the fierce love on his face. For so long, he’d thought he was the only one afraid. He hadn’t realized they were all carrying these fears, wrapped in silence and misunderstanding.
“I love you both,” he murmured softly. “We’ll make this work. Together.”
Jimin smiled, pressing his cheek to Jeongguk’s. “Together.”
Taehyung let out a small, tearful laugh. “You really want to mate me?”
Jeongguk’s voice softened as he pressed his forehead against Taehyung’s. “More than anything. I love you, Taehyung. I love both of you.”
Jimin smiled through his tears, wrapping his arms tightly around them both. “Then we’ll figure it out. We’ll talk to your parents, and we’ll plan the ceremony together. We’ll make sure this is right for all of us.”
Under the plum tree, the three of them held each other close, their bond finally spoken, their fears finally laid bare. It wasn’t perfect yet—it would take time, work, and trust—but for the first time in weeks, Jeongguk felt like he belonged.
And as Taehyung whispered a quiet thank you, clinging to him like he was something precious, Jeongguk knew that they’d find a way forward. Together.