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01
Minho arrived at the apartment with a heavy heart. Today was one of the bad days. Jisung and Yongbok were both taking their heat breaks, so they were not at the company, which meant he didn’t get the chance to cuddle with them. Minho wanted that so bad, even though he’d never admit it aloud.
“Oh shit! Minho hyung!!!” Jisung screamed yesterday in the practice room-always so dramatic, but Minho secretly liked that.
“What? It’s just a spider. I bet it’s more scared than you are.” Minho walked over to wrap the spider in a tissue, “This little friend is not even harmful, Jisung, respect it.”
“But I believe you might just killed it, hyung.” Yongbok said, eyeing the tissue with a raised brow-the Australian omega was obviously not afraid at all-he just loved to watch Jisung being dramatic, Minho thought, as he released the maybe-half-dead spider out of the window-he hoped it’d survive.
“I hate the end of the year so much,” Seungmin walked over and complained, “Too many performances coming up.”
“Yah, you all did a great job, Kim Seungmin-ah, and I’m sure Jisung and Yongbok are more tired-your heats coming up, right?” Minho asked the other two as casually as possible.
“Yeah, we’re both taking a leave tomorrow.” Jisung confirmed, “I’ll see you in a week, Minho hyung.”
“Right,” Minho said, smiling, “Don’t miss me too much. I’ll make sure to come up with harder choreography that’ll tire all of you out.”
“Oh come on!” Three idols in front of him whined together, and Minho patted the omegas’ fluffy heads, “Take care, honey.”
After a quick shower Minho locked himself in his room, and cuddled with the blanket instead. He didn’t care if he went to bed earlier than usual, or that he skipped some skin routines, since his scent glands were itching again. He rubbed his scent glands on the blanket with a sigh-the blanket felt so soft, but that’s never enough. Maybe he should buy more blankets. Make a blanket fort.
But does he deserve it?
“Do you deserve it?” Taro looked down at Minho, who kneeled at his side, and pulled Minho’s hair slightly just to make the omega wince a bit. Then the alpha patted his hair softly, making Minho whine for the touch, desperate to get more of it. He pressed the omega’s face close to his crotch, suggestive yet obvious enough to let Minho know what he wanted.
“Open up, honey.” The older alpha smiled down at Minho, hand reaching to his waistband, speaking in a soothing tone with a Kansai accent that Minho used to like so much.
Minho was scratching his wrist hard before realizing it. He shook his head, trying to force the memory out of his head, but the memory lingered. He curled into a ball, burying his face in the blanket, feeling anything but safe. Even though he had already left Japan and started a new life, the ghost of his ex-boyfriend still haunted him. He hated it.
A knock at the bedroom door made Minho flinch. “Minho-yah?” Soft tone. Another alpha. Bang Chan.
“I bought some milk. You can have some if you want to. I left it in the fridge.” Chan said through the door.
Minho lifted his head up just enough to speak. “Alright. Thank you, Chan-ssi.” He said, careful not to give away the shakiness in his voice.
“No problem!” Chan answered before walking away. For a second Minho hoped he stayed.
02
Tricking the whole world into believing that he is a beta was not easy, Minho had to admit. Just like your sexual orientation, in modern days your subgender became kind of obvious since people have been more open about this topic; and just like your sexual orientation, people won’t hold onto investigating what your subgender really is if you choose not to reveal it-though the discrimination bullshit still exists.
That’s part of the reason why Minho believed that he was doing this for a good reason-his interviews for big Korean Idol companies, after graduating from a college in Japan, went smoothly, then he got hired by JYP Entertainment as a choreographer just like he wanted; it also meant he wouldn’t have to take the so-called “heat breaks” then got his salary shrank because of it-he’d just take suppressants, it’s no big deal.
But he had to be extra careful. He’s used to hiding his omega instincts anyway-keeping his physical touch casual and less frequent than most omegas supposed to have, putting on scent blockers and keeping his itchy scent glands from rubbing on anyone or anywhere, just to prevent himself from accidentally leaking his scent. Thus far, Minho has done a great job-he’s really proud of it.
Minho felt that old familiar ache in his chest again. It seemed to radiate from his heart, and it’d spread to his upper body like a plague. He felt that sometimes when his omega instincts took over-it made him so vulnerable, so he hated it.
He got up to open the door of his wardrobe-it was a big wardrobe, big enough for Minho to sit in it and hide himself in his clothes-it almost felt like a nest. He didn’t dare to make a nest, scared that he’d accidentally give away his subgender, and it made him felt even weaker than the pain did. He had stopped nesting since he was with Taro anyway, so he’s fine.
He’s also convinced he didn’t need a romantic relationship anymore-it’s better off this way-he wouldn’t risk it, not after all the things that had happened in college. He’s diligent at work, but not too tense either so he could joke around with the idols and other staffs. Over some time he even developed friendship with an omega idol Han Jisung along with his teammates Kim Seungmin(a beta) and Lee Yongbok(an omega), and they sometimes ate together during lunch time. The two soft omegas liked to cuddle a lot, and Minho frowned every time they cuddled him pretending he didn’t need it-but actually he was just trying so hard not to purr.
Maybe he convinced everyone else that he is a beta so well that even himself was somehow convinced. Maybe that’s why he didn’t decline Bang Chan’s offer of renting an apartment together. He met and befriended with the built, handsome alpha simply because Chan wrote songs with Jisung, otherwise Minho wouldn’t have gotten close with any alphas on his own. The producer was so bright and friendly to everyone, sitting with Minho during lunch break when Minho wasn’t with his friends. He seemed to like Minho’s joke so much, and his giggles were funny and almost therapeutic to Minho’s ears-he just appreciated Chan’s kind attitude and sweet dimples.
Or maybe a part of Minho still desperately craved to be loved, and hoped to be trusted with his potential despite his vulnerability. The selfish and bold part of Minho somehow wanted Chan’s attention, even just as his roommate.
But hope is a dangerous thing for a man like Minho. That hopeful and innocent Minho was long gone-died in college, when he invested all his hope and love into that older choreographer he shouldn’t have fallen for.
Minho sniffed, keeping his tears as quiet as possible, and sank himself further into the pile of clothes under him.
03
He ended up sleeping in his wardrobe. Back sore from curling up the whole night, Minho climbed out of the wardrobe with a groan. But he had slept rather soundly, surrounded by his own scent, body pressed against the wooden wall-he felt safer than ever, so Minho thought it was worth it.
It’s not the time for him to rest yet; it’s the end of the year, the busiest time for any Idol companies. Minho practiced with several boy groups in JYPE, helping them with the choreography and also practicing back dances for the upcoming performances. He must not rest.
Applying the scent blockers carefully on his skin, Minho got out his room only to find Chan standing in the living room drinking coffee.
“Hey, Minho.” He greeted Minho with bags under his eyes, “Got practice today?”
What a stupid question. Minho answered it anyway. “Yeah.” Chan seemed to be losing sleep, Minho observed. “Have you slept at all, Chan-ssi?”
Chan offered him a weak smile. “Yeah, I have, but I didn’t sleep much. Got some new ideas in mind so I have to work on them first.”
“Don’t overwork yourself.” Minho said, walking to the table to grab a piece of bread-they took turns to make breakfast, which was nice.
“Aww, are you worried about me, Minho-yah?”
“Of course not.”
Today’s practice was rough. Minho had been working non-stop, yet he liked the feeling. Of being needed, being important, but not belonging to anyone specific, so that no one could technically abandon him once he’s useless to them. Minho would never want to go through that again. No matter how many times he reminded himself that he shouldn’t be anxious about it, he still was-he never felt that he’s enough.
Going through the whole dance for the eighth time in the practice room, Minho took a break.
Chan came to find Minho during practice to-Minho didn’t know what Chan’s here for. The omega inside him was purring happily at the soothing and warm scent Chan gave off, but Minho shut it up.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, taking off his cap so the hair fell down to his forehead.
“I finished recording the guide for the new song.” Chan said excitedly, “Well, I finished the singing part. The rap part was all for Changbin and Hannie, you know.”
“Oh.” Minho didn’t know what to say. Should he congratulate him? “It’s good to hear that. Why did you come to me though?”
“I was planning to see all of you but then I met Hyunjin on the way. He told me they’re taking a break but ‘Minho hyung’s gonna dance till he dies’.” Chan imitated Hyunjin’s slurred accent and Minho laughed a little breathlessly.
“Yah, he’s not wrong though.”
Chan frowned a little, then his voice softened. “Don’t overwork yourself, Minho-yah, you said the same thing to me this morning.”
“I’m not.” Minho lied easily, “I slept too much yesterday.”
Chan looked unconvinced but he nodded. “Okay then.” He said, smiling again. Minho would kill to see those dimples. “You can relax a bit, Minho. You’re one of the best dancers I’ve ever seen. And it’s just so satisfying to see you dance to my songs, you know, it’s like the beats and melody grew straight out of your movements.”
Minho pretended to be taken-aback even though he felt his ear burning already. “Have you taken your medicine today, Bang Chan-nim?”
Chan laughed, giving Minho a light pat on the shoulder. “I mean it! Take a break already!”
04
But Minho couldn’t take a break. Over the years his pursuit in perfectionism had only grown more intense.
This was how Minho fell for Taro in the first place. When Minho was still a college student, he met the choreographer during his visit to a dance room outside the campus. It was then that Minho saw Taro dance for the first time. The movement definitely caught Minho’s eyes, and the whole dance was just perfect. The older alpha also set his eyes on Minho after he showed his dance. Taro was so sweet and caring at first, a perfect alpha in Minho’s eyes.
But as Minho got better and better at dancing, Taro’s attitude changed subtly. He became much more strict with Minho’s movements even though he’s not Minho’s teacher. His compliments became less and less, and he deliberately ignored Minho every time the omega felt clingy or vulnerable. Minho, like a frog being boiled in warm water, fell hard and fast for the trick.
“I like you more in bed than on the dance floor.” Taro casually commented while holding Minho in his arms one day. Minho’s heart ached from the comment-is Taro trying to be cheeky? But it didn’t sound like it. It sounded like Minho’s dance had disappointed Taro.
The next day Minho danced so hard that his shoulders hurt like shit. When he tried to get a hug from his boyfriend at night, the elder sighed and softly complained while fulfilling Minho’s wish.
“You’re not even in your heat, sweetheart. Only I would’ve cared for you so much, do you know that?”
For Minho, there was a time in college that everything felt so wrong. His inner omega felt like being rejected by its mate, and he felt his dance moves sucked. His shoulders hurt so bad, and his heart ached more. Taro seemed to be obsessed with Minho’s body, coaxing Minho into having sex with him every time Minho felt like cuddling or scenting him, but the omega was too exhausted and too depressed for sex. So he stopped seeking comfort from the alpha, even stopped seeing him for some time. Now he’s just so relieved that he didn’t bond with that selfish narcissist.
But the pain lingered on like it always did. Without Jisung or Yongbok at his side, Minho’s omega felt like it’s been abandoned once more. Unwanted. Useless. The words rang in Minho’s head when he perfected his dance movements again and again-no matter how much he enjoyed dancing, he knew he couldn’t go back anymore.
On the fourth day without the other two omegas, Minho felt like hurting himself. It’s not a rare thought for him, especially during times like this, but Minho has quitted the self-harm habit for about two years already. He knew so well that self-harm was not the right way to solve anything, so he controlled himself not to do it, even if that meant he had to stay dysfunctional for a couple of hours every time his brain was filled with the invasive thought of hurting himself.
He allowed himself to think about it while stuffing himself in the wardrobe once more at night-he’s been sleeping in the wardrobe ever since that day, actually. He thought about cutting his wrists, cutting his thighs, how the beads of blood would’ve seeped out of the wounds-so that he could finally felt the actual pain on the outside that matched with his heartache, and could finally have the evidence of hurting. But he shouldn’t do that, no matter how tempting it might seem.
The omega ended up getting his tears all over one of his clean sweaters that night. But he didn’t cut himself, so it’s worth it.
05
On the seventh day the need to hurt himself became unbearable. Chan came to see Minho dance every day, which was something Minho felt both grateful and anxious for. In the afternoon while Minho was standing in the dance room absentmindedly, Chan came in. Minho smelled the alpha’s scent before the latter wrapped his arms gently around Minho, pulling him into a warm back hug.
Minho’s heart almost stopped. On that split second he wanted to melt into Chan’s arms and stayed there forever, but then the alarm in his brain quickly went off, warning Minho that the alpha might be able to smell his scent up close.
So he struggled out of Chan’s arms immediately, faking a pout at him. “You scared me!” He whined, “Don’t creep up on people!”
Chan giggled. “Sorry, sorry.” He apologized, “You looked so lost just now, Minho. Had to give you a hug.”
Minho felt his face heated up. “Such a weirdo.” He cursed, ignoring Chan’s grin.
When Chan was gone again Minho regretted not showing too much affection instantly. His inner omega cried for wasting the opportunity to get along with its favorite alpha, and another memory came to Minho without a warning.
They were in a dance room. Minho stared at Taro’s reflection in the mirror, while his boyfriend looked back at him with a raised brow, arms crossed.
Instead of commenting on Minho’s previous dance directly, Taro said: “You should definitely meet the other friend of mine, who’s also an omega. His movements are far more powerful, you know? Minho, I’m not saying that your dance is not good. It’s just, his dance is better.”
But Chan said he liked my move. A voice in Minho’s head said, pulling him out of the memory. He’s not professional, don’t be silly, you just crave for an alpha’s attention. Another voice argued. We have to prove to Taro that you’re better off without him, you’re not useless. He’s gonna watch your performances. You have to prove that you’ve gotten even better.
Then he had to tolerate his inner omega for crying over and over about losing Chan, losing its alpha, and it’s just stupid. But Minho couldn’t control it, so he ended up wanting to hurt himself.
Despite knowing Jisung and Yongbok were coming back tomorrow, Minho felt more restless than ever that night. Maybe it’s because the inner omega cried too much. Irritated, he got out of the room after staying in the wardrobe for about two hours. He made it quietly to the kitchen, not turning on the light. Under the dim moonlight he reached for the fruit knife and held it in his hand. It’s been so long since he held a knife and not planning to cut food with it.
He lost in thought, simply feeling the knife in his hand. He’s hesitating. Where should he cut himself? That’s a tricky question. Definitely not on the arms since he’s got practice and that’ll be too obvious. Maybe on his thighs? That’s where he usually did it, anyway.
He was too caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear the footsteps and the familiar scent of his roommate.
“Minho?” The sound caused Minho to flinch, and he instinctively set the knife down. “What are you doing here?”
“Sleepwalking.” Minho replied quickly, body tensing up.
“With a knife in your hand?” Chan asked softly, “Then you’re definitely having a nightmare, Minho.”
There was no way that Chan bought Minho’s obvious lie so easily. Then Minho also realized something-he didn’t wear any scent blocker. The omega instantly started panicking. Did Chan notice? Could he smell him?
Chan stood there, with a look Minho couldn’t interpret. Minho put the knife away, staring back at the alpha. His head was aching, and his brain was short-wired. Maybe he’d just let Chan discover his subgender. Maybe Chan wouldn’t look down on him like Taro did.
After maybe three seconds, though it felt like a decade-Chan yawned lazily, stepping forward to pat Minho’s head gently, before stepping back again. “Go back to sleep, Minho.” He said before walking away, “Good night.”
06
But of course Minho felt sleepless that night. There’s a huge chance that Chan had already known what Minho really was, but why he didn’t say anything or acted at least a bit surprised?
Minho thought mostly about what he should do in the morning. Was Chan disappointed in Minho? He rubbed his scent glands on the blanket till the glands started to hurt a little. His omega was breaking down, chanting what a bad omega he really was, that he didn’t deserve the alpha’s affection, but Minho was used to it. He was used to be a disappointment for things he put effort into, so it wouldn’t hurt him more if he got his subgender revealed. He couldn’t hide it forever anyway, and maybe letting his favorite alpha felt betrayed and tricked by him in the first place would be even better-if the worst happened first he would be somehow relieved.
To his silent surprise, Chan greeted him in the morning like nothing had happened, not even seeming to notice his red and puffed eyes. Minho felt slightly calmer. Maybe Chan didn’t smell anything at night. Or maybe Chan knew, but he didn’t want Minho at all, so Minho’s subgender did not matter to him. It hurt to think so, but Minho accepted it. Minho knew that he deserved love, he’s just never truly felt like it.
He greeted Jisung and Yongbok during the dance practice that day. The omegas didn’t comment on Minho’s puffed eyes, but they offered Minho so many cuddles. Minho felt grateful.
His body felt somehow slower that day-maybe because he didn’t get much sleep. His scent glands throbbed painfully, but Minho tried his best to ignore it.
He ended up sleeping on the cold dance floor until another group came to practice and woke him up.
Still a bit dizzy and very sleepy, Minho locked himself in the bathroom stall, and dug his fingertip into his scent glands hard. The sharp pain made him hissed but it’s better than the itchy sensation anyway.
No matter how he assured to his inner omega that they needed to stay strong and everything would be better, the latter wouldn’t calm down. The previous alpha he once loved didn’t want him more than a cheap sex toy even though he’d sweat tears and blood. His experience just told him it’s no use.
Getting out of the bathroom Minho’s nose captured the warmest, the most calming alpha pheromones down the hallway, so his fussy brain ordered him to follow the scent like a lost puppy. He walked on instinct till he almost bumped into someone bigger, then he realized he had followed Chan all the way to the his studio.
Chan was about to open the door, but he must’ve sensed the person who walked behinds stopped along with him, so he turned around.
“Woah, Minho, you scared me.” He beamed while putting a hand over his heart, then his smile faltered when he saw Minho’s lost look, “Hey, are you alright? You seemed-tired.”
“Sorry.” Minho said, if he didn’t put on scent blockers his distressed scent would’ve been everywhere by now, “I’m just-wandering around.”
“Of course you are.” Chan agreed easily, then opened the door of the studio, “Now that you’re here, why don’t you come in? You can rest here if you want.”
Minho found it extremely hard to reject the alpha’s offer, so he followed his heart.
He ended up napping in Chan’s studio, while he felt Chan put his jacket over Minho’s chest. Though he felt so awkward after waking up, he never felt more well-rested.
However, his back still hurt from sleeping in the wardrobe, and his shoulders were aching again. Chan’s scent lingered on Minho’s clothes which made his scent glands felt better, but memories with Taro kept popping up in his fragile piece of mind, and Minho knew what that meant.
It’s the end of the year. His worst memory with Taro was at the end of a year, when his ex cruelly left him to go through the worst drop completely alone-not even bothering to put him into omegaspace-they broke up right after, but Minho still felt so hurt.
With the heavy damp fog in the gloomy morning and the freezing sensation coming back in winter, his brain may forget, but his body always remembered. But he’s got performances. Everything had to be alright. He had to be alright.
“Good luck with the performance! I’ll see you guys there.” Minho said to the boys the night before all the performances schedule started, and they cheered loudly, bidding goodbyes and thanks to the choreographer as they left.
Minho tried not to sleep in the wardrobe that night. He failed.
07
They had their very first performance the next day at one of the award ceremonies. Minho, as always, gave his all on the stage. Only on the stage he felt truly free, and he could enjoy the thrill of controlling his body movements like playing a delicate instrument.
That morning he woke up in excitement, despite the fact that he still curled in the wardrobe, with his unwashed hoodie tucked right under his nose which Chan put his jacket right over. He could smell his roommate’s scent-it’s faint, but it’s still comfort.
His body temperature felt a little bit higher than usual, but Minho ignored it. The performance felt so great at first, and Minho jumped higher and stomped harder than usual, believing everything’d be just fine like he hoped.
“Why the hell were you limping, Minho?” Taro asked with a harsh tone, waiting for an obvious explanation, “Your feet were alright before this.”
Minho bit back his tears; he didn’t know if he’d messed up with their dance for the competition, but he definitely did since Taro was mad.
“I’m sorry,” Minho said, “I sprained my ankle while dancing. I didn’t mean to, Taro.”
“Exactly while we’re on the competition?” Taro’s voice was low, which made Minho fold, “That was right on time, huh?”
“I kept on dancing.” Minho added, his chest was hurting from the alpha’s indifference to his injury, his omega fading, “The judges wouldn’t be able to tell.”
“We’ll see.” Taro said coldly, disappointment seeping through his tone, “Do you really think you danced just as well? You weren’t even good enough with two good legs.”
“Taro-“ Minho sat on the couch watching the alpha walking into his own bedroom and shutting the door. Taro’s small apartment didn’t have a spare bedroom, and it’s too late to take the subway, too expensive to call a taxi. Minho felt his mind slipping.
It WAS going so well. Minho should’ve known his fucking brain shouldn’t be trusted. But it had been so reliable for such a long time, carrying him through all the practices, building a strong wall between day and night so that he wouldn’t be accidentally trapped in one of those muddy memories or invasive thoughts when he tried to concentrate.
But the wall must’ve gotten somehow thinner throughout the tiring days. Last year it was alright for Minho, since he finished all the performances perfectly with his team. Except when it was finally the time to take a rest and celebrate, Minho just went back to his cold apartment(he wasn’t living with Chan back then) and curled up, leaving his scent glands to throb since he’s exhausted to the bone and he didn’t think he deserved a nest.
Jisung noticed it first.
As soon as the song was finished and they had some time to catch their breaths, he hurried over to Minho.
“Hyung, are you-?” The omega asked with worry, placing hands over Minho’s waist to steady him, “Did you sprain your ankle?”
Minho’s heart was beating so fast as he tried to calm the fucking down. Jisung wasn’t scolding him. He’s not. “Yeah, kind of.” He said, trying to brush it off, “It happened before, I’ll be fine.”
Jisung tried to say something, but he had to went to the front and sang as the music went off once more. He shot Minho another worried look before running away.
Minho could survive this. He had to. His brain was screaming at his clumsiness. He then danced, without reducing any intensity. He’s professional, and definitely not some whiny omega like Taro said-maybe he’d never said that. Maybe it’s all part of Minho’s imagination. Maybe Taro just tried to make Minho less weaker, less useless.
Minho danced and danced. He could ignore the pain. He had to.
08
Minho didn’t know how he went back to the apartment. He messed everything up again. Even though he knew the camera wouldn’t focus on the back dancers, but he felt so bad for getting injured in the first performance, for the upcoming performances had to be rearranged due to his carelessness.
Chan wasn’t in the living room when Minho went back-maybe he’s already asleep, but Minho didn’t even know the time. His brain was malfunctioning as he stumbled into his bedroom.
He couldn’t breathe-the room felt too big, and his ankle hurt so much, just like the last time. He felt his mind slowly slipping again-is he dropping now?
He panicked. He shouldn’t drop-dropping was the worst thing. It’d leave his body aching all over, and his heart would feel like it’s broken into small, sharp pieces, cutting his chest right open. And the last time it took him a whole day for the drop to stop-completely on his own, since Taro just left for work in the morning when he saw Minho sobbing on the couch. Minho only remembered pain, hurts and pleasestoppleasestop- he must’ve also had several panic attacks from the lack of physical touch or any calming and familiar pheromones-he didn’t even have anything to nest, since it was not his house, and Taro’s scent was bitter that day, which added more to Minho’s distress. And right now Minho needed to get it together so that he’d be clear-minded enough to tend to his sprained ankle.
He was crawling into the wardrobe, since it’s the first and only solution that came to his messy mind. He stuffed himself into it, whining from the pain on his ankle-it must be swollen now, just like the last time. But Minho couldn’t think at all. He could feel the scent blockers wearing off as he smelled his bitter and sad scent in the air.
He felt hot and cold at the same time, hugging some clothes blindly to his chest, rubbing his scent glands on them. Then his nose pressed onto the hoodie from the other day, and Minho lost it.
It’s the alpha. Minho’s alpha, his brain whispered. Sweet, kind, forever gentle. He left his scent on Minho’s hoodie. Minho bit on the cloth, whining again since the scent was so subtle. The alpha took care of him that day, why wasn’t he taking care of Minho right now?
No, no, Minho couldn’t ask for that alpha. He couldn’t let the alpha know what he was. But why? Alpha has taken care of him before. He’d do it again.
Minho’s breaths were short and harsh, as he sobbed involuntarily. He’s a bad omega, can’t even build a nest, can’t even take care of himself on his own-the only thing he’d ever do was uselessly dropping and crying and ruining everything. Of course the alpha wouldn’t take care of him. He must be so disappointed.
Minho dozed off a little, maybe a couple of minutes, or maybe a few hours, a few days even-Minho didn’t know anymore. He felt so hot, but he’s still shivering. Everything hurt again. Suddenly the wardrobe felt like a horrible place-it’s filled with his bitter, revolting scent. Minho had to get out.
He struggled; he felt like the clothes were drowning him. He couldn’t see clearly, and he must’ve hit his head while trying to crawl out, but it didn’t matter now. He just wanted out, but he also wanted to hide. The bedroom didn’t feel safe, didn’t smell safe.
After probably a decade, he made it to his bedroom door. He wanted his alpha, and Minho hoped this alpha wouldn’t toss him aside. Somewhere in his mind a voice was screaming he’d regret it, but he turned it down like a radio.
He just wanted the pain to stop.
09
Chan didn’t have his suspicions until living with Minho.
At first he only thought the gorgeous beta was just introvert, since Minho locked himself in his bedroom as soon as he got back to their apartment every day. He seemed pretty closed off at first, but Chan gained his trust slowly-at least that’s what Chan thought. He never asked questions that seemed too private, and sometimes bought extra food and milk for the tired beta who worked non-stop every day. Although Chan is also a workaholic, he could tell from time to time that something was bothering Minho, which made the beta’s energy went so low that he’d locked himself in the bedroom for the whole weekend-Chan never asked what it was exactly, since Minho didn’t want to tell him.
However, it didn’t stop him from falling for the beta slowly. Chan didn’t even realize it until he found out how happy Minho’s grin made him feel, and how desperate he wanted to take care of Minho, even the beta didn’t ask for any of it at all. He also couldn’t deny the fact that the beat and melody he came up with recently have been softer and gentler-so he sent it to Jisung, hoping the omega could turn those into some beautiful love songs.
Minho isn’t supposed to have any distinctive scent since he’s a beta. But Chan could sometimes catch a sniff of fragrance from Minho’s room, smelling mainly like orange and violet. Chan just assumed it was some aromatherapy or perfume that Minho liked to use at first, and he even made a mental note to ask what brand it was from since he liked the smell a lot.
But then he noticed the smell was sometimes different. By different he meant more bitter and somehow, sadder. Chan didn’t understand why he could even smell emotions through the perfume, then his brain just clicked one day; an idea, a crazy but not impossible idea came up in his mind, hanging above his head like a imaginary light bulb.
A part of him wanted to prove it, another part was just hoping that Minho was just a beta-otherwise it meant Minho must’ve suffered a lot. Chan had read about how hard it was for an omega to take suppressants all the time, and for Minho who danced so hard every day, it must be disastrous. But Chan would support Minho and his decisions. If Minho really was an omega who wanted to hide his subgender, Chan would help him at all cost, and never say or ask anything-he’d definitely bring the secret to his grave.
That night when he went out of the room to drink some water and saw Minho stood in the kitchen absentmindedly with a fucking knife in his hand, Chan’s heart almost stopped. He acted as calmly as possible, even though his heart thumped loudly in his chest.
And what’s more overwhelming, Chan truly smelled Minho for the first time. It’s nothing like the subtle whiff-the scent was strong; the orange was bitter, and the violet was withering-Minho smelled so distressed that Chan wanted to give him a big hug and ran his fingers through his roommate’s soft hair till the poor omega felt better. But Chan only went up to give Minho’s head a gentle pat and subtly pumping some soothing scent into the air; the next morning he observed Minho’s tired and tear-streaked face, deciding not to say a thing. He still hoped Minho could be the one to decide what to tell Chan or let Chan know.
When it was the time for the groups to have performances, Chan finally got to take his break and stayed in the apartment. He didn’t know he was exhausted but his body definitely knew-he took an exceptionally long nap-all the way to the late evening.
After waking up like it’s already another life, Chan stared at his bedroom wall. He could hear some noise in Minho’s room, which meant the omega had come back from the performance-god, Chan even missed the entire live performance. He should’ve watched it-not only because he made the remix for the performances, but he also wanted to support his kids and, of course, Minho.
Not wanting to bother Minho, Chan put on his headphones and watched the performance on his laptop. It’s really phenomenal, Chan was about to finish it until he heard-maybe a knock?-on his bedroom door.
Maybe it’s just his delusion, Chan thought as he opened the door cautiously. But then he almost tripped over something-he looked down.
Minho, still dressed in his performance clothes, lay on the floor. The omega’s scent was stronger than ever-it was so distressed that Chan’s heart started to ache for him.
“Minho?” Chan crouched down and called out softly, not wanting to startle the omega, who curled up and breathed rapidly, like he was having a severe heat-but Chan knew he wasn’t. “Minho-yah, what happened?”
Minho didn’t answer and only whimpered in pain. Chan immediately pulled Minho onto his lap then carried the omega to the couch. Minho was sweaty and his limps were cold-was he having a fever?
After carefully letting Minho rest his head on his lap, the alpha pressed the back of his hand against Minho’s forehead. The omega whimpered again, and a small sob left his lips. “Hey, Minho-yah, you’re gonna be alright.” Chan cooed as he ran his fingers through Minho’s hair, messaging his scalp. The omega calmed down a little, lips parted slightly like he couldn’t breathe properly.
Minho’s temperature was only a bit higher-maybe it’s a fever. But the omega wasn’t responsive either, so Chan checked Minho’s scent gland that was on his shoulder blade by pulling Minho’s collar slightly to one side.
Minho didn’t struggle, but he sobbed harder when Chan leaned in to check his swollen gland.
No slick, swollen scent glands, higher body temperature-Chan frowned-maybe the omega was dropping.
“What do you need, Minho?” He asked softly, running his fingers through Minho’s hair and desperately hoping the omega could tell him what to do. “You gotta tell what you need, Minho-yah, please.”
But Minho only let out an incoherent whimper, so Chan decided to just try for a little. He carried Minho back to the omega’s room-he didn’t know if he was permitted to go in, but he couldn’t exactly ask Minho now. As soon as he put Minho down on the bed and stepped away, the omega wailed painfully, so Chan quickly sat down beside him and put his hand back to Minho’s forehead cluelessly.
“Okay, okay,” Chan said, heart breaking as he saw tears well up in Minho’s eyes, “Um, so not like this, huh? Got it.”
He knew what Minho really needed right now, honestly speaking. Letting an alpha scent Minho would definitely help. Chan sighed-he was more than willing to do it, but he’s just unsure if it’s fair to Minho. Deep in his heart he wanted to make sure this was something Minho really needed for emergency-otherwise Chan was just taking advantage of the precious omega to satisfy his own selfish desire.
But seeing Minho like this was killing him. Minho may never talk to Chan again when he became sober again, but Chan had already made the decision. He pulled Minho gently onto his lap once more, letting the omega leaned against him and guiding the omega’s nose to his own shoulder-close to his scent gland.
“Forgive me, Minho-yah,” Chan mumbled, running his hand soothingly on Minho’s back, the other on the back of his head, “I just can’t see you like this.”
“Alpha,” Minho groaned, making Chan’s eyes widen in surprise.
“Hey, I’m here.” Chan responded, not sure who Minho really wanted at the moment-thinking that Minho may want someone other than him was unbearable, so he just pushed the thought aside. “Sweetheart, you’re safe. You’re gonna be alright.”
“Hurts.” Minho whimpered against Chan’s shoulder, on the verge of crying again, “Please make it stop.”
Chan was just relieved that Minho was talking-it’s a good sign. “Okay, of course, anything you want.” He assured the omega, “If you want me to stop I’ll stop, alright?”
After pausing for a moment to get mentally prepared, Chan took the jacket off of Minho, so that the omega was only dressed in a shirt. Hesitantly he unbuttoned the shirt only a little so that Minho’s scent gland could be exposed. The omega only stared at him and breathed harshly as he did it, so Chan prayed that he’s okay with all of it.
Then ever so slowly, the alpha rubbed his wrist over Minho’s shoulder, scenting the omega cautiously. Minho’s scent grew sweeter, but the omega was still tense.
“Sorry, baby,” Chan said the pet name instinctively, and Minho whined in response, “Do you feel better? I-“
“More.” Minho mumbled, gripping the cloth of Chan’s sweatshirt tightly, eyes already closed, “Please.”
“Okay.” Chan agreed hurriedly, then rubbed his face over Minho’s neck and shoulder, fully scenting the omega, “Better?”
Minho’s breaths calmed down, then the omega flung his arms around Chan, pressing his nose on the alpha’s shoulder. Chan continued to message Minho’s scalp, suddenly feeling like a hundred feet tall. He calmed his omega down, a voice said in his head. His omega chose him.
10
Everything was a blur to Minho. Maybe Minho was dreaming, but that was a rather good dream. He sobbed when he smelled the familiar alpha scent surrounding him, a pair of strong arms wrapping around him and taking him somewhere-to his nest, maybe.
But Minho had no nest. He didn’t prepare for any nest to please the alpha-of course he’d be leaving Minho again.
Minho cried out when the warmth left him and the warmth immediately came back-why was the alpha back again? Minho didn’t understand, but as long as his alpha didn’t abandon him, it’d be great. He wouldn’t mind at all if his alpha tried to take him, or flip him over and tug his pants down-as long as he stayed, and the scent lingered, Minho would be grateful.
But the alpha didn’t do anything. Minho could hear the soft murmur but he didn’t get it. So he begged. Begging sometimes works, and it’s worth a try.
Then the alpha started taking off Minho’s clothes, and Minho accepted his fate quietly. He knew the intimacy came with a price.
But the alpha only leaned in and scented Minho. It was too comforting that Minho instantly melted, begging for more. His brain was still fussy, but he felt so much better.
So he leaned into the warmth. Later the alpha seemed to have noticed Minho’s swollen ankle and placed something icy over it, and Minho continued nuzzling his face on the alpha’s chest. It felt too good.
The alpha murmured something again. Minho couldn’t catch it, but he somehow made out that he was talking about the nest.
“No nest,” Minho breathed, clinging onto the alpha so that he wouldn’t let him go, “Only-the wardrobe.”
He might have said that-he didn’t know. Everything still felt like a dream. He could feel the alpha patting his hair continuously and he quickly forgot about the nest. His alpha still wanted him even without any nest, and it made Minho smile against the alpha’s shoulder. Then he felt himself slowly drifting to sleep.
Maybe this time Minho would stop hiding in the wardrobe. Maybe this time, Minho would really be alright.