Archive of Our Own ^beta

The snow fell softly on wet asphalt, melting almost as soon as it touched down under the gas station's yellow lights. Minho watched the fuel gauge creep upward and sighed, his breath forming little clouds in the freezing December air. His worn leather gloves drummed against the steering wheel while he tried to ignore that familiar ache that always hit him this time of year.

Winter had this cruel way of dragging up memories he'd rather leave buried. December made omegas more sensitive, more nostalgic, more likely to miss bonds that used to mean everything. And Minho, despite keeping himself busy, was no exception.

Another exhausting day at Resonance, the entertainment venue he'd opened with his best friend Chan three years back. What started as a shared dream, a place where people could disconnect, celebrate, make memories, had become one of the district's hottest spots for private events. Birthdays, bachelor parties, karaoke nights, even impromptu recording sessions. Those walls had seen everything.

Minho couldn't complain about the success. Watching something they'd built with their own hands flourish was sweet. But god, the tiredness settled into his bones like sediment at a river's bottom. Especially in winter, when every event, every song blasting through the speakers, every couple wrapped around each other in the private booths reminded him of what he'd lost.

"Do you really need me to go?" he'd protested when Chan asked him to stop for gas. His beta friend, wearing that mischievous smile Minho had known since college, waved the car keys in front of his face, completely oblivious to the emotional storm brewing inside him.

"Seungmin's obsessed with those bear gummies they only sell at this station," Chan explained, settling into the passenger seat. "Says they're the only 'authentic' ones, whatever that means. And you know how he gets close to his cycle."

Minho rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. Chan and Seungmin had been together two years now, and even though Seungmin was also an omega, their relationship was so stable and easy that sometimes Minho envied that simplicity. No dominance drama, no conflicting instincts, no... complications like the ones he'd experienced.

Beautiful to witness, sure. But it constantly reminded him of what he had. What had been ripped from his life by an alpha who decided fame mattered more than bonds.

Ten years, he thought as he finished refueling. Ten years since Jisung...

He shook his head, refusing to complete that thought. Chan was waiting in the car, probably texting Seungmin about his little midnight mission. He needed to keep it together. That's what he'd learned to do, to bury the pain so deep he could sometimes pretend it never existed.

Minho walked through the aisles of the gas store looking for the candy section when a familiar voice from the counter stopped him cold.

"This is the last time I'm letting you do this, Jisung. You can't keep getting free food every other day."

Jisung.

The name echoed in his mind like a chord from a song he'd spent a long time trying to forget.

No. It couldn't be him. Just a coincidence. Jisung was a common name.

But then came the response, and Minho's world stopped completely:

"Please, Changbin, don't be like that. Have some pity on your friend. You know as soon as I get a stable job I'll pay you back for everything."

That voice. Holy god, that voice. Rougher than he remembered, weighted with exhaustion that hadn't been there ten years ago, but unmistakably his. That deep voice that had once whispered soft promises against his ear, that had moaned his name during their most intimate nights, that had sung love songs that now felt like knives to the heart.

Minho peeked around the snack rack, and what he saw made his world tilt on its axis.

Jisung was there, standing at the counter, but not the Jisung who lived in his most cherished and painful memories. This Jisung had deep dark circles that screamed sleepless nights, hair longer and messier, like he'd spent days running his hands through it in frustration. He wore a jacket way too thin for winter weather, and Minho could detect, even from this distance, the faint but unmistakable scent of an alpha who hadn't been taking care of himself.

His jeans had holes that definitely weren't fashion statements, and his sneakers were worn down from walking miles and miles of stories Minho didn't know, a life that had unfolded completely without him.

But what hit hardest was the change in his posture. The Jisung he remembered had been a proud alpha, shoulders always up, radiating that natural confidence that made Minho feel protected and desired. This Jisung had slumped shoulders, head slightly bowed in a way that suggested defeat. Submission, even.

Like seeing a king dethroned. Something inside Minho's chest tore watching it.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Ten years ago…

"Are you really going to choose that stupid band over us? Over our bond?"

The words had come out like knives, sharpened by frustration, fear, and the pain of feeling that their bond started to fray before their eyes.

Jisung stood in the living room of his small apartment, guitar in hand, wearing that look Minho had learned to recognize and fear: the look of an alpha who'd already decided something and wouldn't budge, no matter the cost.

"It's not stupid, Minho. And it's not just a band. It's my chance to be somebody, to do something that matters."

"And what are we then? Don't we matter?" Minho felt his omega instincts stir inside him, a toxic mix of pain and rejection that made his chest feel crushed by an invisible fist. "Our bond doesn't matter?"

The bond. That sacred bond that formed between them one spring night two years before, when Jisung marked his neck, when their souls intertwined in a way that was supposed to be forever. Minho could still feel the phantom scar on his neck, where he'd once proudly carried Jisung's mark, where now only smooth skin and emptiness remained.

"The bond..." Jisung set the guitar on its stand carefully, like it was the most valuable thing he owned. Looking back, Minho realized it probably was. "Minho, the bond's not going to disappear just because I pursue my dream. We'll always be connected, no matter where I am."

"You really believe that?" Minho's voice cracked, vulnerable in a way he hated. "You think a bond can survive years of separation? You choosing your career over me again and again?"

"I'm not choosing my career over you. I'm choosing not to settle. I'm choosing to pursue what I love, what makes me feel alive."

"And what am I then? An obstacle to you feeling alive?"

The silence that followed hurt more than any answer could. Jisung looked away toward the window where city lights flickered like distant stars, and Minho knew right then he'd lost the battle before it began.

"Minho," Jisung finally said, his voice loaded with determination that sounded rehearsed, like he'd practiced this speech in the mirror, "you have plans. You want stability, a house, a normal life. You want someone who comes home every night for dinner and Friday movies. I... I want the stage lights, I want my music to reach people, I want to feel that rush of thousands of voices singing my songs."

"You want to be a rock star?" The question dripped with bitterness and disappointment.

"Is that wrong? Is it wrong to want more than an ordinary life?"

Minho closed his eyes, feeling his heart crumble. "No, it's not wrong. What's wrong is apparently I can't be part of that dream. What's wrong is you've decided your music matters more than what we have, than the bond you swore to honor."

"It's not like that..."

"Then what is it, Jisung? Because from where I'm standing, you've decided being famous is worth more than having a partner who loves you unconditionally."

Jisung took a step toward him, and for a moment Minho felt the familiar warmth of his scent, sandalwood and summer rain, wrapped around his senses. But he also detected something else: determination, resolve, and a bitter note that made his inner omega recoil in pain.

"Minho, I love you. I love you so much it hurts to breathe when I think about losing you. But if I stay here, if I give this up now, I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life. And someday, that resentment will destroy what we have anyway. It'll poison our bond until there's nothing left but bitterness."

"What if you leave? What about us? What about what you promised when you marked me?"

Jisung reached out but stopped inches from touching his cheek, like he knew any physical contact would make this conversation impossible to continue.

"We'll find a way. I'll call you every day. I'll come back whenever I can. We'll make it work."

"And when that's not enough? When the calls get less frequent? When you find someone else in those cities where you'll be playing?"

"That's never going to happen."

"Promise me."

Jisung hesitated, and that tiny pause felt like a dagger in Minho's heart.

"I promise I'll try."

"Trying isn't enough, Jisung. Not when it comes to a bond. Not when it comes to us."

Tears started falling down Jisung's cheeks then, and Minho felt each one like acid on his own skin, their bond transmitting his alpha's pain straight to his heart.

"What do you want me to do? Give up everything I've worked for? Hate myself for the rest of my life?"

"I want you to choose me," Minho whispered, voice broken but honest. "Just once, I want you to choose me."

"But I am choosing you. I'm asking you to come with me, to be part of this."

"For what? To be the omega who waits in hotel rooms while you live your dream? To be a footnote in your success story?"

"You'd never be that."

"No? Then tell me, Jisung, where do I fit in your vision of the future? Where in your plan for world conquest is there room for us?"

Jisung opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. And in that silence, Minho found his answer.

"I guess that's my answer." he said, voice calmer than he felt. "And I guess I have mine."

The last image he had of Jisung was him crying silently as he packed his guitar, his few belongings scattered around the apartment. Minho physically felt their bond stretch, protesting the separation, sending waves of pain through his system that made him double over in agony.

But worse than the physical suffering was watching Jisung walk out that door without looking back, taking with him not just his things, but the future they'd planned together, the dreams they'd woven in early mornings, the promise of forever that turned to ash in the wind.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Minho blinked, yanked back to the present with his heart hammering against his ribs. Jisung was grabbing a bag of what looked like sandwiches and some soda cans from the counter, while Changbin, apparently the store clerk, watched him with a mix of exasperation and brotherly affection that spoke of old, solid friendship.

"I'm serious, Jisung. This can't keep going like this. Get a steady job, brother. Your inner alpha must be freaking out with all this... instability."

Jisung laughed, but it sounded more like a choked sob. "My inner alpha gave up a long time ago, Bin. Now I'm just surviving day to day."

"What if you stop being so proud and agree to play Christmas carols? Money is money, and alphas need to feel like they're providing, fulfilling their purpose."

"My artistic integrity..."

"Your artistic integrity won't keep you warm tonight. And it definitely won't fill your stomach."

Jisung lifted the bag with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You're right. As always." His voice sounded tired. "Thanks, Bin. I'll pay you back, I promise."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Go before I change my mind."

Minho watched Jisung head for the door, and that's when he noticed the trembling in his hands. It wasn't just from the cold, there was something else, a fragility that reminded him painfully of...

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Eight years ago…

Minho had been scrolling through social media when he saw it: a photo of Jisung on a small stage, bar lights creating golden halos around his figure. He held his guitar like an extension of his soul, expression pure happiness, the radiant smile of someone exactly where they were supposed to be.

The caption read: "Living the dream with my boys. Next stop: the stars. #MusicIsLife #Dreams #NeverGiveUp"

Minho felt a weird sensation on his chest. Pride? Sadness? Regret? A toxic combination of all three? He'd liked the photo before he could stop himself, his finger acting faster than his brain, then spent the next ten minutes wondering if Jisung noticed, if he felt the same jolt of electricity Minho experienced seeing his face after two years of silence.

For the next few months, he'd followed Jisung's career discreetly through social media, like a ghost watching a life that had once been his by right. He'd seen photos of concerts in ever-larger venues, articles on local music blogs, interviews in underground magazines where Jisung talked about "chasing your dreams no matter what it takes" with that fiery passion Minho remembered so well.

"Music is my soul." he'd said in an interview Minho watched with his heart in his throat. "It's the only thing that makes me feel really alive. I've sacrificed so much for this, relationships, stability, comfort, but I don't regret it. Well…" he paused, and Minho could see the shadow crossing his face even through the screen, "maybe I regret some things. But the music... Music has always been my destiny."

Minho closed the laptop that night with tears in his eyes, wondering if he had been one of those things Jisung regretted.

He'd unfollowed when the updates became less frequent, when photos started showing smaller venues, when fan comments got sparser. Every piece of evidence of Jisung's decline felt like a razor against his soul.

The last update he'd seen was a blurry photo of Jisung playing in what looked like a nearly empty bar, with the comment, "Sometimes the best music comes from the deepest pain. Thanks to the five people who stayed till the end tonight."

Minho had closed the app and hadn't reopened it for months.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Jisung was about to leave the store when Minho finally reacted. His inner omega screamed, a cacophony of instincts telling him he couldn't let Jisung disappear from his life again. Didn't matter what happened between them, didn't matter what pain it caused. Seeing him like this, obviously struggling, so far from the proud and radiant alpha he'd once been…that was more than his heart could take.

He hurried to the counter, grabbed the bear gummies Chan wanted, and on impulse he couldn't rationalize, also grabbed a soft, warm blanket from a Christmas display near the register.

"Getting this too?" Changbin asked, lifting the blanket with an arched eyebrow, expression curious.

"Yes." Minho replied, pulling out his credit card with barely steady hands. "It's... a Christmas gift."

Changbin didn't ask more questions, but Minho could feel his analytical gaze as he processed the payment. His hands shook slightly entering his PIN, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing, if he wasn't about to rip open wounds that had taken years to heal.

But when he walked out of the store and saw Jisung standing by a lamppost, rummaging through the food bag with hands shaking from more than cold, he knew he had no choice. His inner omega had seized control, all those instincts of care and protection that had lain dormant for ten years waking suddenly at the sight of his alpha, because he was still his alpha, the bond might be buried but had never truly broken, in such a vulnerable state.

The snow had started falling harder, and every flake that touched Jisung's thin jacket melted immediately. He was clearly shivering, and Minho could detect the distress pheromones coming off him, a sour, broken scent that made every protective instinct in Minho's body scream in alarm.

He approached slowly, wondering if his own scent, vanilla and cherry blossoms, now tinged with anxiety and nostalgia, would be recognizable after so long.

"Jisungie." he murmured, using the nickname he hadn't spoken in ten years, that had been stored in his heart like forbidden treasure. "You're going to catch cold out here."

Jisung froze completely, hand halfway to his mouth with an unwrapped sandwich. His whole body tensed like a frightened animal, and Minho could see the exact moment his scent reached him, when his eyes widened with shock and recognition.

He turned slowly, as if afraid moving too fast would break the spell, and when their eyes met, Minho saw a universe of emotions: surprise, pain, hope, fear, and underneath it all, the golden unmistakable spark of bond recognition.

"Minho?" His voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and broken, like he was afraid saying the name too loud would make this apparition vanish like vapor in the cold air.

Instead of answering immediately, Minho unfolded the blanket and gently draped it over Jisung's shoulders, making sure it covered him like a protective layer against the cold. His fingers briefly brushed Jisung's jacket fabric, and he felt how thin it was, how unsuitable for the weather, how little he was taking care of himself.

But more than that, he felt the electric shock that had always existed between them, that connection ten years of separation hadn't managed to completely erase.

"Hello, Jisung." he finally said, voice warmer than intended, loaded with all the tenderness he'd kept buried for a decade.

Jisung's eyes filled with tears that didn't fall but shone under the yellowish gas station light like stars caught in amber. "I can't believe it's you. I can't believe you're here."

"Me neither."

Minho could see the changes time had brought to the face he'd once kissed every night: lines around the eyes speaking of forced smiles and constant worries, a more defined jawline, maturity that came through suffering rather than experience.

Also he could also see the Jisung he'd loved: the same way he bit his lower lip when nervous, the same way his eyes lit up even in the darkest moments, the same devastating beauty that had made Minho fall head over heels in his twenties.

And underneath it all, almost hidden by layers of pain and time, Minho could smell the scent that had once been as familiar as his own: sandalwood and summer rain, now tinged with stress and despair, but unmistakably Jisung.

"You're..." Jisung cleared his throat, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders with still-trembling hands. "You're different. You look... you look good. Successful."

The word came out like it was difficult to pronounce, loaded with bitterness Jisung tried to hide but Minho immediately caught. The bitterness of someone who'd bet everything on a dream and lost, watching others build the stability he'd rejected.

"You are too." Minho lied gently, because while Jisung was still beautiful, it was obvious he'd been through times that would have broken weaker people. "What are you doing here? At this gas station, I mean?"

Jisung glanced at Changbin, who pretended not to be listening but was obviously watching every word from behind the counter of the store from afar. "Changbin's an old friend. From high school. Sometimes he helps me when... when things get complicated."

"Are things complicated?" The question escaped before Minho could stop it, loaded with concern.

Jisung looked down, kicking a small pile of snow with his worn sneakers. "Let's just say the rock star life didn't turn out exactly like I imagined." His smile was painful to witness. "Turns out talent isn't enough. Connections matter more than passion. The world's full of alphas like me who thought they deserved more than life was willing to give."

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Six years ago…

It was Chan's birthday when Minho learned about the decline. They were at a bar near the university, celebrating with mutual friends, when Felix, one of the few omegas in their friend circle, casually mentioned he'd seen Jisung at a concert the week before.

"Jisung? Han Jisung?" Chan had asked, looking at Minho with that careful expression he'd perfected in the years after the breakup.

"Yeah, that one. He was playing at The Underground, you know that place? Pretty small, but good acoustics. Though..." Felix paused, expression turning worried. "I don't know, something was off. His scent was... strange."

Minho felt like someone had clenched a fist around his heart. The Underground was a much smaller venue than the places he'd seen Jisung play in social media photos years ago. But what really alarmed him was the mention of scent.

"Strange how?" he'd asked, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

"Sour. Like... like an alpha struggling with something bigger than himself. And there was something else, something I couldn't identify. It was almost like..." Felix paused again, biting his lip. "It was almost like something was broken in him. On a chemical level, I mean."

Chan had put a hand on Minho's shoulder, probably feeling the tension that had started radiating from him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just... just wondered how he was doing."

But that night, Minho had gone home and looked up The Underground online. It was a small bar in a not-so-great part of town, the kind of place where musicians played for tips and free drinks, where hope went to slowly die.

He'd been about to call Jisung that night, phone in hand, heart pounding against his ribs like a caged bird. But he stopped with his finger over the contact he never had the courage to delete.

What would he say? "Hi, I heard your career isn't going as well as expected"? "Do you need help"? "I miss you so much sometimes I can't breathe"?

He'd put the phone away and gone to sleep, but he dreamed of Jisung playing on an empty stage, singing for vacant chairs, his scent getting sourer with each song.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

A horn honked from the gas station parking lot, interrupting the moment with the delicacy of a hammer on glass. Minho turned and saw Chan beckoning from the car, curiosity evident even from a distance. He was probably wondering why it had taken Minho so long to buy a few simple gummies.

"It's Chan." Minho explained, turning to Jisung. "My business partner. He's waiting for me."

"Oh." The disappointment in Jisung's voice was barely audible, but Minho caught it like he'd shouted. It was the sound of someone used to people leaving, to happy moments being interrupted by reality. "Well, then I guess you have to go."

"No." Minho said quickly, his inner omega roaring in protest at the thought of missing this chance, at the possibility of Jisung disappearing again. "It doesn't have to be that way."

Jisung looked at him in confusion, his eyes now wary, like he'd learned not to expect anything good from life.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to... Do you want to come with me? To my apartment, I mean." The words tumbled out, like his mouth had decided to act independently of his brain. "Chan and I were headed there anyway, it's what we do after work. We eat something, relax, talk about the day..." He paused, realizing how rushed it sounded, how it might be interpreted. "But if you don't want to, I understand completely. I know it's weird, after all this time..."

Jisung looked at the car where Chan was waiting, then back at Minho, his eyes scanning his face like he was looking for signs of a trick, a cruel joke of fate.

"You're really inviting me to your place?"

"Yes."

"After ten years of silence?"

"Yes." He repeated in a whisper.

"And Chan? Won't he think it's strange that you show up with... with me?" The word came out loaded with self-loathing, like Jisung saw himself as something broken, something to be ashamed of.

Minho felt something in his chest contract painfully. "Chan knows who you are. He was there during... after we ended. He helped me rebuild. I think he'll be happy to see you're... that you're alive."

The pause before "alive" didn't go unnoticed by either of them.

"I'm not sure 'alive' is the right word." Jisung muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "More like... existing."

"You're here, you're standing, you're still fighting. For me, that's more than enough."

Jisung looked at the bag of food in his hands and then at the blanket around his shoulders that a stranger who turned out to be his ex had given him with no questions asked.

"I don't know if it's a good idea, Minho."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Jisung sighed, his breath forming a ghostly cloud in the cold air. "Because it's going to hurt. Seeing you in your space, seeing the life you built without me, remembering what we used to have. It's going to hurt when I have to leave again."

The honesty of the answer hit Minho like a punch straight to his heart. That was so Jisung, he'd always been unable to lie about his emotions, even when the truth was devastating.

"Who says you have to leave?"

"Minho, look at me." Jisung let the blanket partially slip off his shoulders, exposing the reality of his situation. "Really look at me. I'm a thirty-year-old failure asking his high school friend for free food because I can't afford a decent meal. I don't have a place of my own, I don't have a stable job, I don't have anything to offer. I'm not the alpha you fell in love with."

"No." Minho said, taking a step closer, close enough for their scents to mingle in the cold air. "You're the man that alpha became. And you're still here, you still have that spark in your eyes when you talk about music. You're still..."

"What? I'm still what?"

"You're still mine." slipped out in a whisper, the words escaping before Minho could stop them.

The air between them became electrified. Jisung's eyes widened in shock, and Minho could see the exact moment those words hit him, when they slipped under all his defenses and touched something deep and painful inside.

"Don't say that." Jisung murmured, voice breaking. "Don't say that unless you mean it."

"Why do you think I don't mean it?"

"Because I'm a mess, Minho. Because everything I touch turns to ash. Because I already hurt you once and..."

"And I hurt you too." Minho interrupted. "I let you go. I let you walk out that door because it was easier than fighting for us."

"I was the one who chose..."

"We both chose. Both of us. We chose pride over love. We chose fear over faith. We chose to be alone rather than find a way to be together."

Jisung closed his eyes, and Minho could see the tears that finally started sliding down his cheeks. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"No? Then why did Changbin mention you won't play Christmas carols? Why do you keep talking about artistic integrity when you could clearly use the money? Why are you still fighting for something that's slowly killing you?"

"Because I'm a proud idiot." Jisung sobbed, his composure finally breaking completely. "Because after all these years, I still can't admit that maybe, I made the wrong choice."

"What choice?"

"Choosing music over you. A dream that turned into a nightmare over the only real love I've ever had in my life."

Minho felt something in his chest loosen, a tension he'd been carrying for years without even realizing it.

Chan honked again, this time more insistent but also more understanding, like he'd seen what was happening and wanted to give them time while also reminding them the world still existed around them.

"Jisung," Minho said urgently, closing the distance between them until he could smell not just the scent of pain, but also, underneath it all, the familiar essence he'd missed. "I've had ten years to think about this too. Ten years to ask myself what would have happened if things were different. And every time I'm at Resonance, every time I see couples celebrating anniversaries or bachelor parties, every time I hear live music, I think of you. I think about what we lost."

"Minho..."

"No, let me say this." Minho moved closer until he could see the tiny drops of melting snow on Jisung's eyelashes, until he could see his own reflection in those dark eyes that had once been his home. "I have a warm apartment, enough food to feed you, and a comfy couch where we could sit and really talk. Or not talk, if you don't want to. But I can't leave you out here in the cold knowing you exist, knowing you're suffering."

Jisung's eyes filled with fresh tears that glistened under the yellowish gas station light like broken diamonds. "What if this is a mistake? What if we're just ripping open wounds that should stay closed?"

"What if it's not? What if this is the second chance neither of us dared to ask for?"

Jisung looked toward the car where Chan was waiting, then back at Minho, and for a moment their eyes met and held, and Minho could feel the ghost of their bond pulsing faintly between them, like a heart that had been sleeping and was finally starting to beat again.

His lips curved into a small but genuine smile, the first real smile Minho had seen from him all night. "Okay. But only because I'm freezing and that blanket you gave me, while very thoughtful, isn't enough against this weather."

"Perfect." Minho felt like he could fly.

They walked to the car together, Jisung wrapped in the blanket like a protective cloak, Minho beside him feeling more complete than he had in years. As they approached, Chan rolled down the window, expression mixing curiosity, surprise, and what looked like cautious approval.

"Chan," Minho said, heart pounding fast against his ribs, "remember Jisung?"

Chan's eyes widened with recognition, and Minho could see the exact moment his friend processed not just who Jisung was, but also the state he was in. To his credit, Chan asked no questions, made no comments about the years of silence or the circumstances of this reunion.

"Jisung! Oh my god, it's been years. How are you?"

"I've been better," Jisung replied honestly, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders with a smile that didn't completely hide his vulnerability. "But I'm warming up."

"Get in the car," Chan said immediately, unlocking the doors with a click. "It's freezing out there. And it's supposed to get worse overnight."

Minho felt a surge of gratitude toward his friend. Chan had always had that ability to make people feel welcome, to create safe spaces without asking uncomfortable questions.

On the drive to Minho's apartment, Chan kept up light conversation, asking about music and filling potentially awkward silences with anecdotes about the business. He talked about some of the most memorable events they'd organized, about the celebrations they'd witnessed, about moments of pure joy they'd been privileged to facilitate.

Jisung answered politely, asking the right questions, laughing at appropriate times, but Minho could see in the rearview mirror that his eyes kept coming back to him, like he couldn't fully believe this was happening, like he expected to wake up any moment and find himself alone again.

Minho watched him too, noticing how Jisung sank into the back seat like he hadn't been in a warm vehicle for a long time, how his eyes closed briefly whenever the heat wrapped around him, like he was saving the sensation in his memory for colder moments.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Twelve years ago…

"Have you ever thought about what it would be like to be together forever?" Jisung had asked, head resting on Minho's chest, voice lazy and satisfied in that particular way that only came after making love.

They were in Minho's bed in his tiny student apartment, watching the city lights through the window. Jisung had that dreamy expression he always wore after their bodies came together, when their bond pulsed strong and the world felt like a magical place full of endless possibilities.

"All the time." Minho had replied, running his fingers through Jisung's sweaty hair, enjoying the way his alpha practically purred under his touch. "I think about a house with a small garden, where you can write music in the mornings and I can cook for us. I think about waking up every day knowing you're mine and I'm yours."

"What if I want to be famous? If I want my music to reach everyone?"

The question had been casual, but Minho had detected something deeper beneath it, an ambition pulsing under the surface of contentment.

"Then I'll support you. I'll go to all your concerts, and I'll be the one in the front row shouting your name louder than everyone else."

Jisung smiled, kissing Minho's chest softly, his tongue lazily tracing the mating mark he wore so proudly. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know. I love you too."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

They'd been young and naive, thinking love was enough to conquer anything, that a strong bond could overcome any obstacle. They'd been wrong about a lot of things. But maybe, just maybe, they'd been wrong about being wrong.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Minho's apartment was on the third floor of a modest but well-maintained building, the kind of place that spoke of stability without showing off. When he opened the door, warmth immediately wrapped around them like a hug, along with a mixture of scents that made Jisung's soul twitch with nostalgia: vanilla and cherry blossoms that he still identified as purely Minho, mixed with cooking spices and the clean scent of a well-kept home.

"Finally!" shouted a melodious voice from the kitchen. "I thought you guys got lost in the snow or Chan decided to kidnap you for another one of his spontaneous plans."

A young omega appeared from the kitchen, dressed in a comfy sweatshirt that clearly belonged to Chan and fuzzy dog-print socks. His brown hair was adorably tousled, and he had that bright energy that only truly happy and secure omegas in their relationships could radiate.

He stopped when he saw Jisung, eyes traveling quickly from the blanket to the worn clothes to the face he'd probably seen in old photographs Minho had forgotten to hide.

"Seungmin." Chan said, moving in for a quick kiss and then turned to Minho and Jisung "remember Minho mentioning Jisung?"

"Oh!" Seungmin's eyes lit up with recognition and what looked like genuine excitement. "Minho's famous ex. Finally! Nice to meet you."

"Seungmin..." Chan murmured in a warning tone, but his smile showed more amusement than concern.

"What? It's the truth." Seungmin smiled with that boldness only he could pull off. "Minho talks about you more than he should for someone who supposedly 'got over' all that."

Minho felt his cheeks heat to his ears. "Seungmin, please..."

"It's okay." Jisung said softly, and there was something in his voice, a mix of surprise and what looked like relief, that made Minho look closer. "It's... It's good to know I wasn't completely forgotten."

"Forgotten?" Seungmin laughed, exchanging a meaningful glance with Chan. "Honey, there's a reason Minho's never had a serious relationship in all the years we've known him."

"Seungmin!"

"What? It's true. And before I forget," Minho quickly pulled out the bag of bear gummies from his pocket, desperate to change the subject, "your precious gummies."

Seungmin's eyes practically sparkled like a kid's at Christmas. "You got them! You're officially my favorite person tonight." He took the bag with a bow that would have been amusing in any other situation. "Did you know these are the only gummies that actually taste like fruit and not industrial chemicals?"

"I do now." Jisung muttered with amusement in his voice.

"Welcome to my humble home," Minho said to Jisung, turning on more lights and creating a warm atmosphere that contrasted dramatically with the cold outside. "It's not much, but..."

"It's beautiful." Jisung interrupted, and it wasn't just politeness. His voice was loaded with genuine admiration as he looked around.

The apartment was cozy without being flashy: a large, comfortable couch in front of a TV, an open kitchen that was clearly the heart of the home, green plants in the windows that spoke of constant care, and framed photographs that told the story of a life well-lived and surrounded by good friends.

"No, it's... it feels like a real home," Jisung continued, finally taking off his shoes at the entrance, revealing socks that had seen better days.

"Really? It's pretty simple."

"That's exactly why it's perfect."

Chan headed straight for the kitchen, moving with the familiarity of someone who considered this place their second home. "Jisung, want something to drink? Tea? Hot chocolate? Something stronger to warm you up?"

"Hot chocolate sounds like paradise." Jisung replied, still wrapped in the blanket, reluctant to let go of the warmth.

Minho watched as Jisung scanned the photographs on the walls with an intensity that spoke of hunger, not just for food, but for normalcy, for stability, for all the things he'd sacrificed in his quest for glory. There were photos of Resonance at different stages of development, of him and Chan at various events celebrating small successes, of his parents visiting the business, of happy moments captured over the years that had built a meaningful life.

He noticed Jisung pause on one particular photo: Minho beaming as he held a local award for "Best New Entertainment Business of the Year."

"You're proud of what you built." Jisung observed softly, and there was something in his voice that sounded almost like mourning.

"I am. But also..." Minho walked over, standing next to him close enough for their scents to blend subtly. "I also feel like something important is missing."

"What's missing?"

"Someone to really share it with. Someone who understands why it means so much."

The look they exchanged was charged with meaning, with years of unsaid things, with regrets that had grown like silent vines around their hearts.

Chan brought them cups of hot chocolate, and the four of them settled in the living room. Jisung finally took off the blanket, fully revealing his condition: the overly thin jacket that spoke of priorities where food came before clothes, the jeans with holes that were definitely not fashion statements, the T-shirt that had known better days.

But Minho also noticed other things: the way Jisung held the cup like it was treasure, how his eyes closed briefly with each sip. And underneath all the weariness and struggle, there was still something unshakable about him, a strength that had managed to stay standing through it all.

"Jisung." Chan said gently, with that natural ability he had to address sensitive topics without making people feel attacked, "I don't want to pry, but are you okay? Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

Jisung looked down at his cup, like the answers might be floating in the chocolate. "I have... options. I always have options."

"That didn't answer my question."

"Chan.." Minho muttered in a warning tone, but his friend ignored him with the determination of someone who'd seen too much suffering to be subtle.

"No, it's okay." Jisung said, looking up with a smile that was more pain than humor. "To be completely honest, no. I don't have a place to stay tonight. My living situation is... complicated."

"You're staying here." Minho said immediately, without thinking, words coming from a deep, instinctive place he hadn't consulted with his brain.

"Minho, I can't..."

"It's not an offer. It's a fact." Minho's voice had that firmness that only appeared when something touched his deepest omega instincts. "It's December, it's snowing, and I'm not letting you out of here without knowing you have a warm, safe place to sleep."

Jisung looked at him with an expression that blended gratitude, vulnerability, and shock by unexpected kindness.

"Why are you doing this? After everything that happened?"

"Because," Minho took a sip of his hot chocolate, searching for the right words, "because some things are more important than wounded pride. Because no matter what happened between us, I can't stand the thought of you suffering when I can do something about it."

"But after all the damage I caused..."

"The damage we both caused." Minho corrected gently. "We both played roles in what went wrong. We both made decisions we regret."

"Besides," Chan added with a genuine smile, "we need to hear about your music. It's been years since I've heard anything from you, and you were always incredibly talented."

Jisung's eyes lit up slightly, like a candle that had been extinguished suddenly receiving oxygen. "You really want to hear? I don't have my guitar with me, but..."

"Of course. Music was... is your gift."

Jisung looked toward Minho, seeking confirmation, and there was something so vulnerable about that look that Minho felt like his heart might explode.

"More than anything in the world." Minho said, and every word was absolute truth.

Seungmin settled comfortably on the couch next to Chan, munching on a gummy as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's arm with the naturalness of someone who'd never had to doubt their place in the world. "Oh, are we getting a private concert? This is exciting."

Jisung laughed nervously, standing in the middle of the room. "I guess I can sing something a cappella. It's not the same without instruments, but..."

"Got anything new?" Minho asked, sitting on the edge of the couch, clearly anxious.

"I have a song I've been working on," Jisung said, and for the first time all night, there was something about his posture that reminded Minho of the confident alpha he'd once been. "It's called 'Unsent Letters.' I wrote it a few weeks ago, when... when things were particularly rough."

He cleared his throat, closed his eyes for a moment, and when he started singing, the whole room transformed. His voice had matured, gaining layers of experience and pain that made it richer, more complex, more devastatingly beautiful.

"I write letters that I never send, to a love that I let go, wondering if in his dreams he also thinks about what I lost.

Ten winters have passed, and I still feel the cold on my skin, not from the weather, but from the emptiness you left when you said goodbye."

Jisung's voice cracked slightly on the last line, and Minho felt his eyes fill with tears. It was obvious to everyone in the room that the song was autobiographical, that every word had been ripped straight from his soul.

"If I could turn back time, if I could change my decision, I would choose your hands over my glory, your love over my ambition.

But here I am, singing alone, with scars in my heart, learning that winning the world means nothing without your love."

When he finished, the silence in the room was absolute, charged with raw emotion. Seungmin had stopped chewing his gummies, eyes glazed over. Chan had a soft but sad smile, clearly moved by the brutal honesty of the lyrics. And Minho... Minho was crying without trying to hide it, tears that had been dammed up for a decade finally finding their way out.

"Jisung," he whispered, voice completely broken. "That was..."

"Terrible?" Jisung asked, clearly vulnerable, all his performing confidence evaporating into the reality of waiting for an answer.

"Beautiful. Heartbreaking. Perfect."

Seungmin clapped softly, with tears in his own eyes. "Oh my god, that made me cry and I'm not even the subject of the song."

"You're so talented," Chan said with genuine admiration and something like sadness. "Why aren't you recording? Why don't you have a record deal?"

Jisung's expression turned sad, and Minho could see him deflate slightly, like a balloon slowly losing air. "The music industry is... complicated. It's not just about talent. It's about timing, connections, luck, money for promotion... and I seem to have run out of all that a long time ago."

"But you keep creating," Minho observed softly. "You keep writing, feeling, putting your soul into every song."

"It's the only thing I know how to do. Even when it hurts, even when the songs are about... about loss. It's all that's left of who I used to be."

"Are all your songs about me?" Minho asked, voice barely a whisper.

Jisung blushed, color staining his pale cheeks. "Not all of them. But... the best ones, yes. The ones that really mean something."

Seungmin exchanged a meaningful glance with Chan, that silent communication only established couples could pull off. "You know what? I think Chan and I should go get more supplies. More hot chocolate, maybe some real food."

"Seungmin," Chan said, immediately understanding but feigning confusion, "we have enough hot chocolate for a week."

"No, we don't. We definitely need to go to that special store across town. The one that takes at least an hour to get to."

"But we just..." Minho began, but Seungmin had already gotten up, dragging Chan with him.

"Nope," Seungmin interrupted. "You two need to talk. Privately. No audience to make you self-conscious."

Chan kissed Seungmin's cheek affectionately, clearly proud of his partner's emotional intuition. "You're very wise for your age."

"I know. It's one of my best qualities, along with my modesty."

As Chan and Seungmin prepared to leave, Seungmin discreetly approached Minho, lowering his voice but not enough that Jisung couldn't hear.

"Don't let him go again," he whispered, but with the intensity of a command. "It's obvious you still love each other. And life's too short to waste second chances."

And with that, they left the apartment, leaving Minho and Jisung alone.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward, but thick with possibility. Jisung had sat on the edge of the couch, still partially wrapped in the blanket, looking at Minho with an expression that mixed hope and terror in equal parts.

"So," he finally said, voice barely audible, "here we are."

"Here we are," Minho confirmed, feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if he was going to fly or fall.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Ten years ago…

It was the last night before Jisung left. Two weeks had passed since the conversation that ended everything, two weeks of tense silence and half-packed suitcases, of words that needed saying but neither had the courage to speak.

Minho had been lying on the bed they'd shared for two years, staring at the ceiling and trying to memorize Jisung's scent still clinging to the sheets, when he felt the mattress dip on the other side.

"I can't leave like this." Jisung whispered in the darkness. "I can't leave knowing we hate each other."

"I don't hate you," Minho had replied without turning to look at him, because he knew if he saw his face, if he saw the tears he could smell in the air, he'd beg him to stay. "I could never hate you."

"It feels like you do."

"What I feel is you ripping my heart out. What I feel is you choosing an uncertain dream over something real and tangible we already have."

Jisung moved closer until his chest was against Minho's back, until he could wrap his arms around him like he'd done so many nights before. "What if I promise you I'll come back? What if I promise this isn't forever?"

"Can you promise that?"

"I promise I'll try."

"That's not enough."

They'd spent that last night holding each other in silence, both awake, memorizing each other's feel of their warmth, both knowing that when the sun rose, everything would be forever changed.

When Minho woke up, Jisung was already gone, leaving only a note that read, "You'll always be my home, no matter how far I have to travel to find my way back."

Minho had kept that note for five years before finally having the courage to throw it away. But he could still recite every word from memory.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

"Come here." Minho muttered, and without waiting for an answer, he adjusted the blanket more comfortably around Jisung's shoulders, making sure it covered him completely. His fingers briefly brushed the back of Jisung's neck as he adjusted the fabric, and he felt Jisung shudder at the contact, not from cold, but from something deeper, more primitive.

Jisung's scent subtly changed under his touch, the sandalwood becoming warmer, mingling with something that smelled of relief and contained hope.

"You're still so beautiful, Jisungie..." Minho muttered, using the nickname that had been buried in his heart for a decade. The familiarity of the words felt like coming home after a long and painful journey.

Jisung looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears that captured the warm light of the apartment like trapped stars. "Minho..."

It didn't take long for Minho to make the decision. Without saying anything else, he wrapped Jisung in his arms, pulling him to his chest in a hug he'd been waiting ten years to give. Jisung's body felt different against his, thinner, more fragile than he remembered, all those muscles he'd gained playing in bars and carrying equipment now reduced by stress and lack of proper nutrition.

He'd lost weight, a lot of weight, and Minho could feel the prominence of his bones through the thin clothes. The realization broke his heart, but it also awakened every protective instinct he had, that primitive omega urge to nurture, to care, to heal.

"I've missed you." he whispered against Jisung's hair, breathing deep that familiar scent that was nevertheless unmistakably his. Underneath the stress and anguish, he could still detect that essence that had once been as familiar as his own. "God, how I've missed you."

Jisung melted into the embrace like he'd been waiting for permission to collapse, his arms wrapping around Minho's waist with a desperation that spoke of years of loneliness, of cold nights with no one to hold him when everything became too much. "Me too," he muttered against Minho's chest, voice muffled by fabric but charged with emotion so raw it made Minho's heart clench. "Every day. Every night. I've missed you every second."

They stayed like that for long minutes, simply holding each other up, reconnecting through touch what words couldn't fully express. Minho could feel the tension gradually fading from Jisung's body, like he could finally relax.

Their scents slowly blended in the warm air of the apartment creating an olfactory symphony that spoke of two puzzle pieces that had finally found their way back to each other.

"Let me take care of you, okay?" Minho muttered, pulling back enough to look Jisung in the eye, his hands gently cupping his alpha's haggard cheeks. "Please let me take care of you."

Jisung nodded, eyes closed like the words were too painful and beautiful to fully process. "Okay," he whispered, and there was something in his voice, a surrender, an acceptance, that made the omega inside Minho purr softly with satisfaction.

Minho gently tilted Jisung's chin up with his fingers, studying his face like he was memorizing every detail, every change the years had brought. The years had left their mark, but to Minho, Jisung was still the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

"Can I...?" Minho asked, thumb gently stroking Jisung's cheek, feeling the slightly rough texture of a several-day-old beard.

Instead of responding verbally, Jisung stood on tiptoe slightly, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a kiss that started tentative, almost fearful, like they were both testing whether this was real or just a dream they'd soon wake from in separate beds and lonely lives.

But when they realized it was real, that they were actually here, together, breathing the same air and sharing the same space, the kiss deepened. It was gentle but urgent, filled with pent-up love, regret that had grown like vines around their hearts, and hope that had been kept alive despite all the reasons to let it die.

Minho could feel the exact moment Jisung's instincts responded to the kiss, when his scent changed from distress to something warmer, more hopeful. It wasn't the confident, dominant scent he remembered from years ago, but it was genuine, real, his.

When they finally separated, they were both breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other.

"I've dreamed of this." Jisung confessed, voice hoarse with emotion. "So many times I lost count."

"Me too." Minho admitted, fingers gently tracing Jisung's jawline. "But my dreams never felt as good as this."

They kissed again, this time slower, savoring the moment like expensive wine. It was like they were having a silent conversation through their lips, telling each other everything they hadn't been able to say for ten years.

When they parted for the second time, Minho noticed how Jisung looked a little dizzy, leaning heavier on him like his legs had decided they didn't want to hold him up anymore.

"When did you last eat?" Minho asked, genuine concern coloring his voice as his omega instincts flared in alarm. "And I don't mean those sandwiches at the gas station."

Jisung looked down, clearly embarrassed by the answer he knew he had to give. "Yesterday... I think. Maybe the day before. Days blur when you don't have a regular routine."

"Jisung." Minho's voice was gentle but firm, charged with that soft authority omegas could wield when it came to the wellbeing of someone they loved. "Come on, let's go to the kitchen. I'm making you something."

"You don't need to..."

"Yes, I do." Minho took Jisung's hand, noticing how his fingers felt cold despite the apartment's warmth, guiding him into the kitchen with the determination of someone who'd found his purpose. "I need to take care of you. I need to make sure you're okay."

Minho's kitchen was clearly the heart of his home, and also a statement of who he'd become during these years. It was larger than typical for an apartment this size, obviously remodeled by someone who cooked seriously and understood that food was love made tangible.

"Sit," Minho said, pointing to a chair at the small kitchen table, using that tone that allowed no argument. "And don't argue."

Jisung immediately obeyed, and something about how easily he submitted to Minho's instructions made the omega feel a deep and primitive satisfaction. He watched as Minho moved around the kitchen with practiced efficiency, each movement speaking of years of experience and love put into preparing food.

It was hypnotic watching him work, how every movement had purpose, every ingredient carefully selected, every action speaking of someone who understood that nurturing was a form of love.

"What are you making?" Jisung asked, voice charged with curiosity.

"Congee," Minho replied, putting rice in a pot of water, adding the exact proportions he'd perfected over the years. "With ginger and shredded chicken. Gentle on the stomach but nutritious. Perfect for someone who hasn't been taking proper care of themselves."

"Sounds perfect."

"I used to make it for you when you were sick, remember?" Minho added chicken broth to the rice, the aroma immediately filling the kitchen.

Jisung smiled, a real smile that reached his eyes and completely transformed his tired face. "I remember. You said it was your secret recipe for curing anything."

"And it worked, right?"

"Always worked." Jisung's voice softened with the memory. "It worked because you made it with love."

As the congee slowly cooked, Minho brewed ginger tea, moving around Jisung with a familiarity that spoke of years of cooking together in small spaces, of a domestic intimacy that had been broken but never completely forgotten.

"Minho," Jisung said softly after a while, watching as his omega gracefully and purposefully around the kitchen.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you doing this? After everything that happened, after how I hurt you..."

Minho paused in his preparation, turning to look at Jisung directly with those eyes that had always been able to see straight through all his defenses. "Do you really need to ask?"

"Yes."

"Because I love you." The words came out simply and directly, without embellishment or excuses. "Because I never stopped loving you, not for a second, in all these years. And because seeing you like this, seeing you fighting alone... My inner omega can't take it."

The specific mention of his omega nature made something inside Jisung's chest loosen. It was the first time Minho had openly acknowledged how his instincts were affecting him, how seeing him in this state activated all that primal urge to care and nurture.

"But I chose..."

"You chose to pursue your dreams. You chose to be brave, to take a chance on something you believed in." Minho walked over, resting his hands on the table on either side of Jisung, subtly enveloping his alpha in his soothing scent. "Maybe how it unfolded wasn't what you expected, but that doesn't mean the choice was wrong."

"It feels wrong. Especially now, seeing you, seeing the life you built..."

"Jisung, look at me."

Jisung looked up, meeting Minho's intense gaze, seeing in them all the sincerity he'd always admired.

"The life I built is empty without you. Yes, I'm successful and I have stability. But every night I come home alone, and every morning I wake up wishing you were here. Success means nothing if you don't have someone to share it with. Resonance feels like an empty shell when you don't have the person you love celebrating with you."

"What if I can't give you what you need? What if I'm still a mess?"

"Then you'll be my mess." Minho smiled softly, fingers gently stroking Jisung's cheek. "And we'll figure it out together. Alphas and omegas are made to take care of each other, aren't they? You can protect me, I can nourish you. We can be a team."

The congee's timer beeped, interrupting the moment. Minho went to the stove, stirring the rice that had transformed into creamy, aromatic porridge that filled the kitchen with promises of warmth and contentment. He added small pieces of cooked chicken he'd finely shredded, fresh grated ginger, and a pinch of sea salt.

"Come here," he said, pouring the congee into a blue ceramic bowl that radiated warmth. "Eat while it's hot."

Jisung took the first bite and closed his eyes, savoring not just the food but the memories that came with it, nights when he'd been sick and Minho had spent hours in the kitchen preparing exactly this, the same love, the same dedication.

"Tastes exactly like I remembered." he murmured, feeling the warmth spread through his chest, filling empty spaces he'd forgotten existed.

"Well, some things never change."

"But we do change."

"Yes," Minho agreed, sitting across from him and watching with satisfaction as Jisung ate. "But maybe we change in ways that make us better at being together."

Jisung ate slowly, savoring each bite not just for the food but for the care it represented. Minho could see color returning to his cheeks with each spoonful, could see his shoulders gradually relax, how his scent became less sour and warmer.

"Can I ask you something?" Jisung said after a while, having eaten half the bowl.

"Anything."

"Was there anyone else? In these ten years?"

Minho sighed, fingers playing with the edge of the table. "There were... attempts. Dates here and there. A relationship that lasted a few months with a very nice beta."

"What happened?"

"Nothing was wrong with them. They were good people. But..." Minho shrugged, looking directly into Jisung's eyes. "It wasn't you. And my inner omega knew the difference."

"Minho..."

"And you?"

"Some casual dates. Nothing serious. A couple of one-night stands that meant nothing." Jisung looked down at his congee. "Every time I met someone, I ended up comparing them to you. Wasn't fair to them."

"No."

"I think part of me always hoped for... this. This moment."

"You expected to find me at a gas station at midnight in December?"

Jisung laughed, and the sound filled the kitchen like music, making Minho's heart feel lighter than it had in years. "Not exactly that. But I hoped somehow, someday, we'd find our way back to each other."

"What if I tell you I want this to be more than just one night? What if I want you to stay?"

"Here? In your apartment?"

"Here, in my life. Permanently."

Jisung put down the spoon, eyes wide. "Minho, you can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious in my life."

"But we've barely reconnected. You don't know how I am now, you don't know how complicated my situation is..."

"Then tell me. We have time."

"Time?"

"All the time in the world."

Jisung finished his congee in contemplative silence, clearly processing Minho's words. When he finished, Minho automatically served him more, and Jisung didn't protest, too hungry both physically and emotionally to refuse care.

"It's delicious," he murmured. "I'd forgotten how good it feels to be... cared for. Especially by an omega who really cares."

"Get used to it. Because if you let me, I'm going to take care of you every day."

"How can you be so sure? How do you know this will work?"

Minho stood up, circling the table to stand behind Jisung. He placed his hands on Jisung's tense shoulders, immediately feeling them relax under his touch.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I know the first time, we were too young to know how to make it work. We wanted everything or nothing. Now we're older, wiser. We know love requires commitment, communication, work. And we know how our alpha and omega natures can complement each other rather than clash."

"What if my music never takes off? What if I'm still a failed thirty-year-old musician?"

"Then you'll be a failed thirty-year-old musician who has someone who believes in him completely. And maybe we can find a way to make Resonance part of your music."

"What about your business? Your stable life?"

"My business will be here tomorrow. My stable life... Well, maybe it's time for it to become a little less predictable."

Jisung turned in his chair to look at Minho. "What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe we could find a way to combine our worlds. Your music, my entertainment space. Maybe regular live music nights at Resonance. Maybe a space where local artists like you can play while people celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, weddings."

"You'd do that?"

"I'd do anything for you. Anything for us."

Jisung slowly stood up, turning completely to face Minho, their scents mingling in the warm kitchen air. "What if I disappoint you again?"

"What if I disappoint you?"

"Minho..."

"Jisung, love is always a risk. But some risks are worth it. And now we have a better understanding of our natures, how we can support each other instead of competing."

They looked at each other for a long moment, the full weight of their history, their separation, and their reunion hanging between them like an unspoken promise.

"Okay," Jisung finally whispered.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, let's try. But this time, let's do it right."

"What does 'right' mean?"

"It means real communication. It means mutual support. It means if you're afraid or hesitant, you tell me instead of assuming the worst. And it means we understand our natures help us rather than complicate things."

"And it means if you have a musical opportunity, we take it together instead of you having to choose between that and us."

"Yes."

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a promise."

They kissed again, sealing their agreement with something deeper than words.

When they separated, they were both smiling.

"So," Minho said, "what's the first step?"

"The first step is you finishing feeding me, because I have a feeling I'm going to need all my energy for this."

Minho laughed. "For what?"

"To fall in love with you again."

"Again?"

"Well, technically I never stopped loving you. But I want to fall in love with who you are now, the omega you became."

"And I want to fall in love with the artist you are now, wiser and deeper than before."

They were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't hear the key in the door until Chan and Seungmin were back in the apartment.

"We're back!" Seungmin shouted. "Is it safe to come in, or do we need to knock first?"

"It's safe," Minho shouted back, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

Chan and Seungmin appeared at the kitchen entrance, clearly assessing the scene. Jisung was sitting at the table with a half-empty bowl of congee, looking significantly better than when they'd left. Minho was standing near him, one hand resting casually on the back of Jisung's chair. They both looked... peaceful. Happy. Like they'd found something they'd been looking for a long time.

"Good," Seungmin said with a satisfied smile, "this looks promising."

"Promising how?" Chan asked, though his smile suggested he already knew the answer.

"Like 'I don't have to listen to Minho sigh wistfully every time a love song plays at Resonance.'"

"I don't sigh wistfully!" Minho protested.

"Yes, you do," Chan and Seungmin said in unison.

Everyone burst into laughter, and for the first time in ten years, Minho felt like his world was complete again.

The next hour passed in a bubble of domestic warmth. Chan and Seungmin shared stories about Resonance while Jisung listened with genuine interest, asking questions about the most memorable events and the most chaotic nights. His scent had gradually become warmer, more stable, responding to the group's genuine acceptance.

Seungmin, who'd almost completely emptied his bag of gummies, had snuggled against Chan on the couch, occasionally interrupting to make funny comments that made everyone laugh. His presence as a confident and happy omega seemed to help Jisung relax even more, like he saw a model of what life could be when an alpha and omega (or in his case, an omega and beta) worked well together.

Minho watched Jisung during these conversations, noticing how he gradually relaxed more and more. The color had completely returned to his cheeks, and his hands were no longer trembling. Whenever their eyes met, Jisung smiled at him, not the forced or melancholy smiles of before, but real, warm smiles reminiscent of the Jisung he had always known.

When the clock struck almost two in the morning, Minho noticed how Jisung started blinking more slowly, fighting the tiredness he'd clearly been avoiding for days, maybe weeks. His scent had also changed, becoming softer, more vulnerable, preparing for rest.

"Jisung," he said softly, interrupting a story Chan was telling about a particularly difficult client. "Want to rest?"

Jisung looked at him, eyes glazed with fatigue but also with what looked like genuine happiness. For a moment it seemed like he might protest, like resting was a luxury he couldn't afford, or like he was afraid all this would disappear if he closed his eyes.

But then he nodded slowly. "Yes," he admitted quietly. "I think that would be good."

"Perfect." Minho got up from the couch, but instead of just pointing toward the hallway, he did something that surprised everyone in the room, including himself.

He walked up to Jisung and without warning, slipped one arm under his knees and one behind his back, lifting him off the couch like he was something precious that needed protecting.

"Minho!" Jisung exclaimed, cheeks instantly flushing red, his scent turning slightly musky with surprise and what could have been pleasure. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to bed," Minho replied like it was the most natural thing in the world, like carrying his alpha was something he'd been waiting to do for a long time.

"I'm thirty!" Jisung protested, though his arms had automatically wrapped around Minho's neck, and his scent had changed to something warmer, more pleased. "That's not an age for this!"

"And I'm thirty-two," Minho replied with a smile that lit up his entire face, "but I still like carrying my cinnamon roll."

The nickname was something he'd used years ago, when Jisung had a habit of curling up in bed in the mornings, wrapped in blankets and refusing to get up. It had been his little private joke, because Jisung wrapped himself so tightly in the sheets he looked like a rolled pastry, especially with his messy hair and sleepy expression.

Jisung couldn't help laughing, a genuine, bubbling laugh that welled up from deep in his chest and filled the apartment with music. "You're an idiot," he muttered affectionately, lightly tapping Minho's chest with his fist.

That laugh struck Minho like a lightning bolt straight to the heart. It was the same laughter he'd heard thousands of times, when Jisung was truly happy, when he felt safe and loved and completely free to be himself. In that moment, Minho felt any pain he'd been carrying in his heart for ten years completely vanish.

He loved that laugh more than anything in the world. More than Resonance's success, more than recognition, more than any personal achievement. That laughter was his home, the sound he'd been waiting to hear again without even realizing it.

"I'm your idiot," Minho corrected, carefully walking down the hall as Jisung continued laughing softly in his arms, the sound vibrating against his chest like a perfect melody.

Behind them, they heard Seungmin dramatically whisper to Chan, "Are you ever going to carry me like that?"

"Only if you ask me very nicely," came Chan's amused reply.

"I'll remember that for my next heat."

Minho's bedroom was exactly what Jisung had hoped based on the rest of the apartment: clean, organized, yet warm and inviting. There was a queen-size bed with navy blue sheets that smelled of clean detergent and Minho, a dresser with a few small plants that added life to the space, and framed photographs on the bedside tables that spoke of a well-lived life that had clearly left space for someone else.

Minho gently set Jisung on the edge of the bed, making sure he was stable before letting go, his hands staying on his shoulders for a moment longer than strictly necessary.

"Wait here," he said, heading toward the adjacent bathroom. "I'm going to run you a quick bath."

"Minho, you don't need to..."

"Yes, I do." Minho's voice came from the bathroom, along with the sound of running water. "You've had a long day, and I know it'll help you relax. Besides," he added with a note of humor in his voice, "my inner omega won't be satisfied until I know you're completely taken care of."

Jisung sat on the bed, looking around the room as he processed the surreal situation. Twelve hours ago, he'd been begging for free food at a gas station, wondering where he'd sleep and if he'd have the energy to look for work the next day. Now he was in Minho's bedroom, being cared for like he was the most precious thing in the world, surrounded by familiar scents that made his inner alpha purr softly for the first time in years.

"Ready," Minho announced, appearing at the bathroom door with steam visible behind him. "I didn't make it too hot because I don't want you fainting from exhaustion. There are clean towels on the hook, and..." He paused, heading for his dresser. "I'll get you some clothes."

Jisung watched as Minho searched through his drawers with the care of someone selecting a gift, finally pulling out a soft gray T-shirt that clearly smelled like him and a pair of flannel pajama pants that looked incredibly comfortable.

"These are going to be big on you, but at least you'll be comfortable and warm."

"Thank you," Jisung murmured, taking the clothes and immediately feeling the warmth they still retained from the drawer, permeated with Minho's comforting scent. "Minho, I..."

"No." Minho placed a gentle finger on Jisung's lips, the gesture so natural and familiar it seemed like they'd never been apart. "Don't say anything. Just go, relax, and let me take care of you. Let me be your omega again, even if it's just for tonight."

The bath was exactly what Jisung needed, but it was also an almost overwhelming experience after so many months of quick, cold showers in temporary shelters. The warm water relaxed muscles that had been tense for months, dissolving knots of stress he'd forgotten existed. The soap smelled of mint and eucalyptus, clean and invigorating, and for the first time in so long, he allowed himself to simply be.

He didn't have to worry about where he'd sleep, what he'd eat tomorrow, or how he'd survive another day. For the first time in years, he felt safe, both physically and emotionally, surrounded by the protective scent of an omega who truly cared about him.

His inner alpha, which had been in survival mode for so long, finally started to relax, responding to Minho's nearby presence with deep and primal satisfaction.

When he came out of the bathroom, dressed in Minho's clothes, he felt transformed. The shirt was definitely too big, hanging off his shoulders. The pajama pants he had to hold up with one hand, but they were incredibly soft and smelled intensely of Minho, of clean detergent, of that subtle cologne he'd always worn.

Minho was sitting on the bed, having changed into his own sleepwear, a baggy T-shirt and pajama pants. When he looked up and saw Jisung dressed in his clothes, his expression softened into something that could only be described as pure adoration.

"God," Minho muttered, slowly standing up, eyes sweeping over Jisung's figure with an intensity that made the alpha blush. "How beautiful you look in my clothes again."

Jisung blushed, tugging at the T-shirt that hung down like a small dress. "It's ridiculously big on me."

"It fits you perfectly," Minho corrected, approaching with that natural grace he'd always had. "You look like... like you're mine again."

Before Jisung could respond, Minho wrapped him in his arms in what could only be described as aggressive cuddling, a tight, playful hug that involved a bit of side-to-side rocking and small squeezes that made Jisung laugh immediately, his scent becoming warmer and more relaxed.

"Minho!" Jisung protested with a laugh, trying to pull away but without much real enthusiasm. "What are you doing?"

"Cuddling you," Minho replied seriously, like it was a perfectly normal and necessary activity for two adults in their thirties. "I like cuddling you. You're very cuddly. And my inner omega says you need lots of cuddles to make up for all the ones you missed."

The embrace became slightly more intense, with Minho practically wrapping his entire body around Jisung like he was a particularly affectionate koala, somehow finding a way to tickle his ribs at the same time.

"Stop!" Jisung shouted, but he was laughing so hard he could barely speak, his body shaking with genuine laughter. "Minho, stop! You're tickling me!"

"Tickling?" Minho asked with false innocence, deliberately intensifying his movements. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just giving therapeutic cuddles."

Jisung squirmed in his arms, laughing to the point of almost not being able to breathe. It was the first time in years he'd laughed like this, without reservations, without worries, just pure bubbling happiness that came from deep within. His scent had become completely relaxed and happy, blending with Minho's in an olfactory symphony that spoke of home and belonging.

"You're impossible!" he managed to say between laughs.

"I'm adorable," Minho corrected, finally loosening his grip but not letting go completely, keeping Jisung close to his warm body.

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm your ridiculous."

Jisung gradually calmed down, though he was still smiling so broadly his cheeks hurt in a way he'd forgotten was possible. "Yes," he agreed softly, voice charged with emotion. "You're my ridiculous."

Minho felt his heart expand hearing those words. My ridiculous. Like Jisung was claiming him back, like he was saying all of this was real and his and he wasn't going to let it go again.

Gradually, they moved toward the bed, though Minho couldn't resist continuing with occasional little cuddles that made Jisung laugh and scold him affectionately. When Jisung settled under the sheets, which smelled cleanly of detergent but with subtle notes of Minho's personal scent, Minho immediately curled up next to him, drawing him to his chest with the naturalness of someone who'd been waiting to do exactly this for a decade.

"Come here," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Jisung like he was the world's most precious treasure, like he was something he'd lost and finally regained.

Jisung melted into the embrace, his head automatically finding the perfect space in Minho's shoulder, like the years had never passed. They fit together as perfectly as they always had, like they'd been specifically designed to complement each other.

"This feels like a dream," Jisung muttered against Minho's chest, breathing deep the scent he'd missed more than air.

"If it's a dream, don't wake me up."

"What if I wake up tomorrow and none of this is real?"

Minho pulled back enough to look Jisung in the eye, hands gently stroking his face. "Then I'll find you again. And again. And again, until it's real. I promise."

They kissed softly, a kiss that tasted like home.

When they separated, Jisung snuggled even closer, wrapping his arms around Minho's waist like he was his anchor to the world.

"Minho," he muttered against his chest.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not letting me go. For finding me. For... for this. For giving me a second chance I'm not sure I deserve."

Minho tightened his embrace, kissing the top of Jisung's head with all the tenderness he'd been storing. "Thank you for letting me find you. For continuing to fight until we could find our way back."

"Minho?"

"Yes?"

"Can we stay like this? Just for tonight?"

"We can stay like this every night, if you let me."

Jisung raised his head to look at him, eyes glowing in the soft darkness of the room. "Really?"

"Really. If you want."

"I want," Jisung whispered. "I want so much."

"Then that's how it'll be."

They settled more comfortably under the covers, with Jisung practically using Minho as a human pillow. Minho gently stroked Jisung's hair, feeling him gradually relax to the point of almost falling asleep, their scents blending in the warm air of the room.

"Minho," Jisung muttered sleepily.

"Yes, love?"

The nickname escaped so naturally he didn't even realize he'd said it until he felt Jisung tense slightly in his arms.

"Love?" Jisung repeated, an audible smile in his voice.

"I... yes. Love. If that's okay with you."

"It's more than okay."

"Good. What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say... I love you. Still. Always."

Minho felt his eyes fill with tears of happiness. "I love you too. More than words can express."

"Minho?" murmured again, making Minho smile at his insistence.

"Hmm?"

"Promise this won't disappear in the morning?"

"I promise I'll be here in the morning. And the morning after that. And the morning after that."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

Jisung sighed happily, finally allowing himself to fully relax in his omega's arms, feeling safer than he'd felt in a decade. "I've missed you so much."

"Never again," Minho promised, voice firm with conviction. "You're never going to have to miss me again."

In the silence that followed, they heard soft voices from the living room, Chan and Seungmin preparing to leave. They'd been incredibly considerate, giving them time and space to reconnect without pressure or interruptions.

"Should we go say goodbye?" Jisung asked sleepily.

"No," Minho replied firmly, tightening his embrace protectively. "Chan will understand. Besides," he added with a mischievous smile, "I want to give you more cuddles."

"More cuddles?"

"Many more. I have ten years of cuddles to make up for."

Jisung laughed softly, the sound vibrating against Minho's chest like music. "Okay. But only if you promise not to tickle me when I'm half-asleep."

"I can't promise that."

"Minho..."

"Okay, okay. I promise to be good. More or less."

"Liar."

"Maybe. But I'm your liar."

"Yes," Jisung agreed, already half-asleep, completely relaxed in his omega's arms. "You're my liar."

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, whispering nonsense and making promises under sheets that smelled of home and second chances. Occasionally, Minho couldn't resist giving small cuddles that made Jisung laugh sleepily and scold him half-jokingly, but without any real annoyance.

When they finally calmed down, with Jisung practically asleep in Minho's arms, Minho stayed awake for a while longer, just staring at Jisung's peaceful face in the soft darkness. There were lines of weariness he hoped he could erase with time and constant care, but there was also a serenity that hadn't been there before, a peace that spoke of someone who'd finally found their place in the world.

His scent had completely changed throughout the night, from sour and broken to warm and hopeful, with notes of satisfaction that spoke of an alpha who finally felt cared for and valued.

And as Minho finally drifted to sleep, with Jisung safe in his arms and their scents creating a perfect symphony in the air, a small smile curved his lips. Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of their lives together.

This time, they were going to do it right.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Six months later…

Spring had come to the city like a fulfilled promise, with cherry blossoms painting the streets pale pink and days that stretched lazily into twilight.

Resonance had been transformed for the occasion. Where before there were only tables and chairs for private events, there was now a small stage in the northwest corner, bathed in warm lights that created an intimate yet cozy atmosphere.

It was Friday night, and the place was fuller than it had been in its three years of existence. Not only had private celebrations increased, but the new "Live Music Nights" had become the most anticipated event of the week in the district. Couples on dates, groups of friends, even entire families came to eat while listening to local artists share their hearts through melodies.

But everyone came especially to hear Jisung.

He was on stage now, with a new acoustic guitar, not the borrowed or secondhand guitar he'd used for years, but a beautiful Yamaha he'd bought with earnings from his first few weeks as Resonance's artist-in-residence. The golden lights caressed his face as he prepared for his last song of the night, and the difference from the man Minho had met at the gas station was so dramatic it still felt like a miracle sometimes.

Jisung had gained weight, but more than that, he'd gained life. His cheeks were naturally colored again, his eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint Minho remembered from college days, and when he smiled, it was the radiant smile of someone who'd found exactly where he belonged in the world.

His scent had also completely changed. Where Minho had once detected stress and despair, he now breathed confidence and purpose, sandalwood mixed with spring rain, and something new: the deep satisfaction of an alpha who was fulfilling both his creative purpose and his need to care and be cared for.

"This last song," Jisung said into the microphone, voice carrying easily through the packed venue, "I wrote for someone who taught me that sometimes love is strong enough to survive our own mistakes. It's called 'Springs of Hope.'"

Minho, who was behind the new bar they'd set up, stopped cleaning glasses. Jisung hadn't told him he'd written something new.

The first chords filled the space, soft and hopeful, nothing like the heartbreaking melancholy of "Unsent Letters." This music spoke of healing, of growth, of roots strengthening after the storm.

"I thought I'd lost my spring, that winter would be eternal, but you arrived with flowers in your hands and taught me that love is gentle.

You planted seeds in my wounded heart, watered my dreams with patience, and now I bloom under your care, learning that love is endurance."

Minho felt his eyes fill with tears, but they were happy tears, the kind that came when something beautiful completely surprised you. He looked around the venue and saw he wasn't the only one, there were people discreetly wiping their eyes, couples holding hands, even the group of college friends at the front table had stopped joking to really listen.

"In your arms I found my home, in your smile I found my peace, with you I learned that being vulnerable doesn't mean being weak.

We're two seasons that love each other, your calmness and my intensity, creating a perfect year together, where every day feels like Christmas."

When Jisung sang the last line, his eyes met Minho's through the crowded venue, and he winked at him with that playful confidence he'd gradually regained. It was the wink of someone who knew exactly how lucky he was, who'd learned to value what he had instead of regretting what he'd lost.

The applause was thunderous, but Minho barely heard it. He was too busy feeling his heart expand with pride and love, breathing in the scent of pure happiness radiating from his alpha on stage.

When Jisung finished thanking the audience and started putting away his guitar, Minho slipped out from behind the bar and headed for the stage.

"Hello, rock star," he said as Jisung came down the steps, immediately wrapping his alpha in an embrace that screamed of pride and adoration.

"Hello, my favorite omega," Jisung replied, melting into the embrace like he always did, like Minho was exactly what he'd been waiting for all night.

"When did you write that song? And why didn't you tell me?"

"Finished it yesterday morning while you were in that meeting with the sound supplier. And I wanted to surprise you."

"Mission accomplished. I'm officially surprised and in love."

"Only now falling in love?"

"I fall in love with you every day," Minho corrected, pulling back enough to look Jisung in the eye. "But especially when you do things like write songs that make me cry in public."

"They're happy tears."

"They're the best tears."

They kissed softly, completely ignoring the fact that they were in a crowded place. They'd learned during these six months that precious moments didn't wait for privacy, they had to be seized when they came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Seungmin shouted from a nearby table where he was sitting with Chan, clearly having enjoyed more cocktails than strictly necessary, "save some romance for the rest of us!"

"Never!" Jisung shouted back, spinning Minho dramatically before kissing him again, making his omega laugh against his lips.

Chan approached them, smiling and speaking of deep satisfaction, not just for the business's success, but for seeing his best friend so completely happy.

"Jisung, that song was amazing," he said, patting the alpha's shoulder. "And Minho, reservations for the next three weeks are completely full. I think we can officially say this idea was a resounding success."

"Better than that," Seungmin added, now clearly tipsy but in a good way, the kind of happy drunk that made everything more fun, "it's officially the most romantic place in town. That couple at table five got engaged during the second song."

Minho looked where Seungmin was pointing and sure enough saw a young couple embracing as the woman showed what was clearly a new engagement ring to the friends around her.

"Really?" he asked, feeling warmth that had nothing to do with alcohol.

"Completely serious. And the couple at table twelve are planning their wedding for next year and want it here, with Jisung singing at the ceremony."

Jisung blushed, clearly overwhelmed by the thought that his music was helping other people celebrate their love. "Really?"

"Really," Chan confirmed. "Turns out creating a space where people can celebrate while listening to beautiful original music is exactly what this city needed."

"And it turns out you two," Seungmin added, dramatically pointing at Minho and Jisung, "are officially the most adorable couple ever. It's almost annoying how perfect you are together."

"Thank you... I think," Minho said, exchanging an amused look with Jisung.

"It's a compliment," Seungmin clarified. "It means you've restored my faith in true love."

"Your faith in true love was never in doubt," Chan noted affectionately. "You were the one who insisted we leave these two alone that first night."

"And it was the best decision I ever made," Seungmin declared with the absolute conviction of someone who'd drunk exactly the right amount to feel philosophical. "Well, after deciding to date you, obviously."

Chan kissed his omega's temple affectionately. "Obviously."

The night continued with that special warmth that only came when people who loved each other were together, celebrating not just success but the pure joy of having found their rightful place in the world. The last customers left around midnight, all with smiles and several asking for information on how to book for future events.

When they finally closed down Resonance and finished cleaning, Chan and Seungmin went home, leaving Minho and Jisung alone for the ritual that had become their favorite.

They walked home holding hands, under streetlights that created golden puddles on the sidewalks, breathing spring air. It was a short walk, but it had become sacred to them, those ten minutes at the end of each day where they could process together all the good things that had happened.

"Can I ask you something?" Jisung said as they climbed the stairs to their apartment, because it was definitely their apartment now, not just Minho's.

"Of course."

"Did you ever think, that night at the gas station, that we'd end up here? Doing this?"

Minho considered the question as he opened the door, remembering the broken man he'd found in the snow, comparing him to the confident and radiant alpha who now shared his bed every night.

"Honestly? I hoped we could find a way to be friends again. Maybe something more, eventually. But this..." He gestured toward the apartment that now had Jisung's guitar leaning against the wall, sheet music scattered across the kitchen table, two sets of keys hanging by the door, "This exceeded even my most optimistic dreams."

"Even the mandatory nighttime cuddles?"

"Especially the mandatory nighttime cuddles."

They prepared for sleep with the comfortable routine of established couples, but with small moments of tenderness that spoke of love that still felt new and precious. Jisung hummed softly as he brushed his teeth, Minho stole kisses as Jisung tried to put on his pajamas, and they both moved around each other in the small space like they'd been doing it for decades.

When they finally lay down, with Jisung immediately snuggling against Minho's chest, Minho felt that deep satisfaction that came from knowing everything was exactly as it should be.

"Minho," Jisung muttered against his chest, now half-asleep.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what this time?"

"For creating a space where I can be exactly who I am. For believing in my music even when I'd stopped believing. For loving me enough to build something beautiful with me."

Minho kissed the top of Jisung's head, breathing in the scent of contentment that was now as familiar as his own.

"Thank you for staying this time. For trusting us enough to try again. For filling my life with music."

"Always," Jisung whispered. "Forever."

"Forever," Minho agreed.

Outside, spring continued to bloom, painting the world in new colors and filling the air with promise. But inside, in their bed that smelled of home and second chances, two hearts that had found their way back to each other beat in perfect synchrony.

And if sometimes, in those moments just before falling asleep, Minho thought of the twenty-two-year-old boy who'd cried when Jisung left, he wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay. That true love was strong enough to survive time, mistakes, even dreams that took you far from home.

That sometimes, the longest way back was exactly the one you needed to take to learn how to value what you had.

And that the best love stories weren't about people who never broke up, but about people who found the courage to come back together, wiser and stronger than before.

In the spring of their thirties, Minho and Jisung had learned the most important lesson of love: that forever wasn't a promise you made once, but a choice you made every day.

And every day, they chose each other.