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Vernon’s never quite had the same taste as everyone else. Seungkwan is no exception.
–
Vernon remembers the day he presented like a violent bloom of colour and pain in his senses. The world, already a place with a little too much richness and detail for someone who can’t drown it out, exploded into vibrant, vicious scents. His parents were ecstatic to have an alpha for a son. All he remembers is realising that he’d never be able to go back to life before, when scents weren’t yet another overstimulation to avoid.
It’s not easy being in Seventeen, either, but he handles it, mostly because he loves it, and because he loves them . He loves the warmth of a big, loud pack, he loves the nights where they all crash into the nest the omegas have built and wake up tangled from limb to limb to limb. He loves performing, he loves the fans, he loves music, and he loves seeing the people closest to him grow up, stretch and expand and learn.
He reminds himself of all of this, teeth gritted, when he’s in a jam-packed airport, or a bustling backstage dressing room, or yet another hotel lobby, and the overload of scents starts to make his body jitter.
–
From what Vernon’s seen, Seungkwan being a beta is like Seungkwan walking a tightrope with no safety net to catch him if he falls. Seungkwan is the first to make jokes about it - that he needs far too much attention to be playing second fiddle to some alpha and an omega who are obsessed with each other - but Vernon sees how it hurts. Seungkwan is twice as loud, works ten times as hard, and has to be a hundred times as talented, to get the same credit that the alphas around him get for breathing.
Vernon feels lucky. Alphas are expected to be assertive, tough, and standoffish, and when Vernon’s a little quiet and awkward, he’s often interpreted through that lens. The beta stuff , the diplomacy, the gentleness, the quieting down, the making it all look effortless - these things don’t come naturally to Seungkwan.
And then there’s Seungkwan’s scent. Uniquely strong, and incredibly adept at removing whatever scent came before it. If Seungkwan borrows a hoodie from Jihoon, Jihoon’s rosin-and-rye is gone from it within minutes. If Seungkwan scents one of the omegas like Jeonghan for a cuddle on the couch, an hour later Vernon wouldn’t be able to tell Jeonghan’s an omega at all just by breathing him in, no hint of his usual rosewater and lemon. Like he’s been scrubbed fresh, bleached clean.
Seungkwan’s scent is… clinical, for sure, Joshua had said once. Vernon imagines he was trying to be tactful.
Like a hospital, Minghao had offered, perhaps a little more bluntly.
Myungho, scolded Jihoon, be kind , which didn’t exactly make it better.
Seungkwan had laughed as if it didn’t bother him, said well, it’s not like you smell like flowers yourselves, but Vernon noticed that he stayed to the edge of the nest after that, so he wouldn’t rid the blankets of the part the omegas found most comforting.
–
Apparently , Jeonghan told Vernon once, offhandedly enough that it might have been a random fact with no relation to Vernon himself, some autistic brains never habituate certain sensory input. Things that fade into the background for other people continue to stand out. Press and prod at the brain like they’re new, demanding attention like they’re novel, even when it’s been hours, or days.
Vernon doesn’t know if Jeonghan was right. But it feels true. He feels it every day when the scents he’s most accustomed to still clamour for his attention, still raise his alpha’s hackles as much as he tries to take deep breaths and to remind himself that this is his pack . That other people can barely smell their own pack anymore except when they’re away from home for a while, that the pack scent’s soothing nature is all subconscious for them.
In those moments, his only relief is Seungkwan.
–
For example, here and now, In a busy practice room, right before comeback. Emotions are running high and Vernon can tell, because the scents of the whole pack are pressing in on him, oppressive like his wavering memories of Manhattan’s humidity in the summer.
The worst one is Mingyu. He’s in pre-heat, Vernon’s certain, but they’re too close to the album release for him to take time off. He’ll be starting temporary suppressants and working through it, just like the rest of them would, like the other omegas have in the past. For now, it’s like Vernon can taste the flush on Mingyu’s face every time he breathes, and it’s making Vernon a little nauseous.
Seungcheol isn’t faring much better. His alpha is flaring in response to Mingyu, and if they’re really unlucky, he’ll go into rut before Mingyu’s suppressants kick in. Seungcheol stressing about it sure isn’t helping. His scent isn’t just strong, it’s bitter .
On top of all that, Vernon is convinced that Dokyeom and Soonyoung fought on the way over. Their scents are rancid and sparking off whenever they brush each other in the air. He knows that’s not how scents work , but it shivers in his jaw, like fingernails on a blackboard.
His head starts to hurt. The nausea in his stomach intensifies.
“Vernon?” It’s Seungkwan, dropping to sit in front of him, sweaty and catching his breath.
Vernon blinks, and breathes. Seungkwan’s brow is knitted, and his concealer has worn off over the course of the rehearsal. His hair is a mess but Vernon’s must not be better, because Seungkwan reaches out to fix it, deft fingers sorting Vernon’s part back into place.
Seungkwan’s body alone, his wrist and the scent gland there so close to Vernon’s face, creates a small barrier. A sharp antiseptic, bitter soap and chemical cleaning, barricades Vernon from the overwhelm, just for a moment. He breathes again. In, and out. Inhale, exhale, until he can taste the sting of bubbles at the back of his throat, and nothing else.
It’s a relief he can’t describe.
Seungkwan lowers his hand and tilts his head. “You good?”
“Yeah,” he replies, “yeah, I’m good. Let’s go again.”
–
A few days later, Vernon spies a hoodie of Seungkwan’s, left carelessly flung over the back of a chair in the common area of the dorms. Something bizarre in his gut tells him to do something really stupid. Like take it.
The omegas steal jackets, t-shirts, sweats, sometimes weird stuff like socks or beanies. If they take all that stuff for the nest, it can’t be that weird, he tells himself (trying to ignore the twist of shame that tells him he’s an alpha, so, literally the opposite of an omega). Sure, they don’t usually steal Seungkwan’s things, but… maybe he won’t notice. Or he won’t care. Vernon’s snagged it before he can think better of it, checking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees him as he smuggles it back to his room.
That night, exhausted and depleted, he tugs the hoodie out from under his pillow and hides his face in it. Safe, sterile, and comforting. The only thing in the world that isn’t too much for Vernon, right now, except for Seungkwan himself.
–
For a few more days, the hoodie under his pillow is enough. Then, here, it isn’t: at the end of shooting Going Seventeen , surrounded by the pack, and crew, and actors, excitement and laughter worn through until Vernon’s body aches badly and his sinuses ache worse.
With everyone enclosed in a building, the air has had hours to let scents absorb, and permeate. It’s Dino who’s in pre this time. Vernon wishes those myths about omegas syncing their heat cycles were true. Instead, in a pack this size, it feels like it’s always someone who’s pre, or in heat, or post heat, or… Anyway, Dino’s scent is particularly cloying, baked-good-ish vanilla and red bean. Of course, Seungcheol is projecting pack alpha scent in response, just like every other time. Vernon wants to bury his head in some literal sand and wait for the whole thing to be over.
They load into the bus one at a time, which isn’t much better with the windows closed. Vernon’s surprised the pheromones aren’t fogging up the glass. He has trouble thinking when it’s this bad, has trouble sitting still when it feels so much, but he has to focus on stopping his own scent reacting in kind. The last thing he wants is to start a Challenge with Seungcheol or Jihoon by accident.
Seungkwan squeezes in next to Vernon and nudges their shoulders together, groans and says, “I’m sooo tired . I need a hot shower, like, yesterday.”
Vernon, to be frank, can’t help it. He turns his head and buries his face in Seungkwan’s shoulder, in the fabric of Seungkwan’s vest, and breathes deep. Breathes, and breathes, until the world is quieter.
“Earth to Vernon?” Seungkwan says, more amused than concerned.
“S’ too loud,” Vernon mumbles, and can’t help clinging to the fabric of Seungkwan’s sleeve.
“Too loud? ...You mean me?”
Vernon’s stomach flips. “No,” he says quickly, squeezing his eyes shut, “no, not you.” Never you , he doesn’t say. “Just. Everyone.”
He feels Seungkwan’s hand come up to smooth his hair, almost uncertain, like he’s not sure he believes Vernon’s reassurance. But Seungkwan doesn’t ask again, and Vernon doesn’t move until the bus pulls into the depot back at the dorms, back home.
–
Realistically, Vernon should know better than to push his luck. After all, he’s already used it all up by having his band take off internationally, by being part of the tiny percent of trainees who get somewhere that matters with their careers and their lives. He remembers Suga from BTS telling him once that from all the statistics we have, idols really only have seven years to make their careers count. By that math, Vernon’s several years overdue for his good luck to run out.
When Seungkwan leaves a scarf behind in the studio the next week, Vernon finds it on his way out and has every good, loyal, honest alpha intention of returning it. Really, he does.
But then he forgets, sort of. He finds it in his bag when he’s unpacking before bed. Bundled in his hands, woollen and dark green, it’s like a sanitiser. It scalds the outside world off, letting him be somewhere safer, somewhere with less noise. He leans his elbows on his knees. He buries his face in the scarf. He breathes. He knows he shouldn’t.
Besides, the hoodie is starting to smell too normal, too much like the clamour of everything else. The scarf ends up under Vernon’s pillow as well.
–
So it makes sense that his luck would run out.
It’s been such a long day that it feels like he’s been awake for a week. His body is exhausted and the pack’s scents reflect the same, which only makes him feel worse. He hopes to scrub some of it off in the shower, but even the scented body wash they have makes his head spin.
The stars align. Exactly how doesn’t matter; a borrowed phone charger, a pillow fight in the common area, Vernon showering at the wrong time. Too much good luck over too long, and too much of everything else being too much for Vernon to bear. The tour, the comeback, the frayed edges of Vernon’s nerves. He guesses it was either this or something else. Likely a meltdown.
But he sees Seungkwan in his room and he stops. Vernon’s hair is still wet, and it drips onto his shoulders. Seungkwan is standing in front of Vernon’s bed. Vernon’s pillow is missing, and Seungkwan is holding the scarf in one hand and the hoodie in the other, lips pursed, brow creased, like he’s trying to understand.
“Uh,” Vernon starts, raspy, and then stops. What could he possibly say? There’s no justification that won’t further condemn him, no explanation he could provide. He’s sure his scent will give it all away anyway.
Seungkwan turns to face him, head tilted, eyes… something, not that Vernon can bring himself to look at them too closely. “I’ve been looking for these,” he says.
“Uh huh.”
“For like, days.”
“Yeah.”
The rest of the pack, the flurry of pillows and overtired laughter, is muted as Vernon closes the door behind himself. He can still hear and scent them but it’s muffled, distant. The only visceral thing is Seungkwan, careful gaze and isopropyl alcohol. They could be the only two people in the world.
Seungkwan’s face slowly changes. Vernon, in his adrenaline rush, isn’t expecting it so he doesn’t realise what’s happening until it’s there - Seungkwan is grinning, ear to ear.
“You made a nest of my things?” he asks.
Vernon’s chest clenches, panic surging up into his mouth. His face flushes hot and his ears burn. “What? No–! I–”
“You were,” breathes Seungkwan, delighted, “you were!”
“I don’t nest, I – I’m not an omega,” Vernon answers, a bit helplessly. It’s all he can say, all he can manage before bracing for worse.
Seungkwan’s face changes. He must scent Vernon properly, because he drops the scarf and hoodie, and his smile. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m not – Hansol, I’m not mad at you. I’m just… flattered. None of the omegas ever want any of my things, but I shouldn’t have teased you. I’m sorry.”
“S’fine,” Vernon gets out past the lump in his throat. It’s like he’s about to growl, but worse, like he’s swallowed rocks. It’s a belated realisation that he may be on the verge of tears.
Seungkwan tugs his wrist, pouts just a little. “Don’t be like thatttt, come on. I really am sorry. Just… you didn’t have to take them, you know? You could’ve just asked.”
But he couldn’t, could he. Vernon knows that. Regardless of all the intricacies, the bizarre chainlink-mail of circumstances aside, he’s an alpha . Even as obtuse as he is when it comes to social cues, he gets that rule.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts, and a few inches forward, by Seungkwan tugging him into a hug. Seungkwan’s arms are tight around him and his chin digs into Vernon’s shoulder a little, solid and grounding. He slowly exhales, then Seungkwan nudges him and says, “Go on.”
His pulse is in his ears, but Seungkwan doesn’t scent uncomfortable, or angry, or anything under the chemical burn – he just smells like Seungkwan always does. Vernon inhales, as deeply as he can, until he’s somewhere blinding white and monotone and crisp and resting. The real thing is better than any clothing he could steal.
“You’ve gotta be the only person crazy enough to enjoy this,” Seungkwan murmurs in his ear. He sounds amused, but there’s something else under that, something touched and surprised.
The world falls away. It’s just him and Seungkwan. For that brief pause, that interlude, the intermission, Vernon is spared from the assault on his senses he’s faced since the day he presented. Vernon doesn’t care what anyone else says. If he could stay hidden here forever, he would.
Maybe next time he will just ask. Maybe he’ll surround himself in an upturned suitcase of Seungkwan’s scent, bury himself in it like an omega would, unselfconscious. Maybe next time, he’ll tug Seungkwan himself close before it feels like he’ll implode. Vernon would leave being an alpha behind, if he could, to just be Seungkwan’s. Vernon whispers back, “You have no idea.”