Work Text:
“Namjoon-ah! Pick up your fucking laundry!”
“And put it where? There’s no room!”
“In the washing machine, dumbass!”
It was too fucking early for this.
Hoseok burrowed further under the covers, his head pounding over the feud happening on the other side of the bedroom. As he was roused from a premature sleep, he became aware of the waves of heat cascading over his body, the sweat dripping fat down his neck. He whined and covered his ears as the yelling escalated.
“Now look what you’ve done, you woke Hoseok!”
“No, you did!”
The tension in the room was nearly as thick as the piercing scents of a feuding alpha and omega, and Hoseok found himself suffocating under the lack of air. He forced himself out of bed, wobbling precariously on his feet as his vision briefly went static, before hobbling out of the room and shutting the door to lock in the noise.
Hoseok couldn’t fathom why the pair fought so much. They got along most of the time, even seemed closer to each other than with him at times—it was only natural, he had only moved in recently. But every minor disagreement was always blown into a borderline war, and lately it seemed like they were looking for increasingly nonsensical things to be angry about, as if fighting had become a drug for them, a fucked-up bonding activity.
And the stress of it all finally drove Hoseok to illness apparently—acid rose in his mouth at the thought of breakfast. But despite his aching joints and feverish glow, his heart pounded with the fury of a trapped animal. His entire body shook as he collapsed onto the sofa, and he took deep breaths to soothe his rattling chest.
Eventually the arguing ceased, and the two padded around the apartment in eerie silence. Coffee was made, frozen hotteok was heated and showers were had as they prepared for the work day. Hoseok decided he’d better follow suit—he felt terrible, but he might as well put his welling anxiety to use, and make sure his bandmates didn’t do anything drastic.
When Namjoon emerged from the bathroom with dripping hair and a damp shirt, his eyes widened at the sight of Hoseok just outside. “Whoa, you don’t look so good.”
“You two are going to stress me to death,” Hoseok huffed as he brushed past him into the bathroom. “Try not to kill each other until I’m clean.”
Namjoon winced as the door slammed behind him, but his attention was soon pulled to the kitchen by a still grumpy Yoongi. “Namjoon-ah! Did you leave food out somewhere again? You know we can’t afford to let food go bad!”
“I didn’t!” Namjoon huffed. “Why are you always accusing me of that?”
“I wouldn’t if you weren’t so forgetful! You’ve done it before. And it reeks of jjamppong in here.”
“Where the fuck would we have gotten jjamppong?” Namjoon huffed. “We can barely get fried chicken on a good day.”
“I dunno, maybe your parents brought it or something,” Yoongi snarled. “Whatever it is, it’s stinking up the whole apartment.”
“Well if it bothers you so much, you can find it!” Namjoon barked. “I’m leaving. I won’t let you be the reason I get scolded for being late.” He picked up his bag and slammed the door on his way out.
Hoseok was still jittery when he entered the recording studio, breathing deeply in a feeble attempt to soothe his pounding heart. He didn’t know why the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, why he felt so clammy and wrong. He knew he was tense from his roommates fighting, but he was usually relieved when he could get away from their feuds at the office.
The producer seemed to jolt when he saw him. “Hey, everything okay?”
Hoseok sighed and cocked his head. “The couple is quarreling again.”
“Ah, I see.” He laughed. “Well, I know it’s stressful, but don’t let management catch you smelling like that. They want you dieting.”
Hoseok frowned in confusion. “Smelling like what?”
“You guys always smell like food when you’ve snuck in a meal. Did you have ramyeon before you came here?”
“I didn’t eat anything,” Hoseok insisted. “I came straight here.”
“I won’t tell anyone, just don’t let it happen again,” the producer said. “Here, sit down and let’s go over these lyrics a few times.”
Hoseok couldn’t shake the jitteriness in his bones, and the fact everyone seemed to be acting strange was not helping. But he decided to channel that energy into the recording, hoping to unleash some of this awful feeling through shouting lyrics into the microphone.
Namjoon wasn’t expecting much when he asked Hoseok to come to the studio—he figured he wouldn’t be happy to see him after all the fighting. But surprisingly, Hoseok joined him in their studio fairly quickly.
“Everything okay?” Hoseok asked, sounding breathless and urgent.
Namjoon looked him up and down, taking in his ragged appearance. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted a second ear on this demo.”
“Oh. Right.” Hoseok sat next to him. “Go ahead and play it.”
Namjoon eyed him carefully. He seemed worryingly out of sorts—the three of them were always stressed these days, but even by their standards Hoseok didn’t look fit to be working. His chest bobbed up and down, as if his heart was racing uncomfortably, and his skin looked clammy under his sweats. But he and Yoongi had been particularly strained lately, and Hoseok was caught in the middle, much to Namjoon’s guilt. And removed from the familiarity of the dorm, Namjoon thought he smelled what Yoongi was complaining about. A sharp aroma resembling jjamppong clung to Hoseok’s clothes—maybe he had left something out at home, and now the stench was following them around.
“Sometime today would be nice,” Hoseok said, which snapped Namjoon back to focus, and he played the demo.
Hoseok bobbed to the beat, but it was clear he wasn’t getting lost in it. His face and jittering eyes betrayed a mental checklist of thoughts and corrections, and a chill ran down Namjoon’s spine to see this look on him. But this was why he always asked Hoseok—he usually had plenty to say, and he was good at articulating it.
“I think it could be a little faster,” Hoseok offered. “Not by much, maybe five BPM faster. And maybe one or two semitones higher? I dunno, just my thought. And that part that goes bam-bam-baaaam? Maybe move that to the end of the verse and put something else there. It sounds more like an ending note than one that builds, you know what I mean?”
Hoseok waited patiently as Namjoon made the suggested changes, and played through it again. He had to admit, it did sound a lot better.
“Wow, how did you figure all that out just with one listen?”
Hoseok shrugged. “Just throwing my thoughts out there.”
“Damn. How come you can fix my tracks, but you can’t fix hyung’s temper?”
He could feel Hoseok’s eye roll. “Hyung’s not mine to fix. He’s not broken, whatever the fuck’s between you two is.”
“Well, I’ve tried everything,” Namjoon said. “I’ve been so patient with him. But no matter how hard I try to make him comfortable and avoid stuff he hates…it’s like he finds something new to be upset about. Just so he can yell at me.”
“His outbursts don’t have anything in common with each other?” Hoseok asked.
“Nothing! They’re completely unpredictable. I’m at my wit’s end. Sometimes, I just think he hates me. Like he’s waiting for me to get fed up and ask PD-nim to kick him out so he doesn’t have to tell me himself…” Namjoon quickly turned away to dab his eyes.
Namjoon felt a hand on his thigh. It could have been his imagination caused by a plugging nose, but it almost seemed like the spicy soup smell was shifting into a gentler, more savory flavor.
“I know deep down you two care for each other. And I care for you both, too. But if you can’t stop fighting like this, that won’t bode well professionally. We have to be able to trust that we can rely on each other at the worst of times, and put our differences aside for the team.”
“I know that!” Namjoon sniffled. “I just don’t know what I’m doing that makes hyung keep blowing up at me.”
Hoseok suddenly stood from his chair, conviction painting his posture. “I’m going to talk to PD-nim. I know you don’t want me to, but I can’t keep letting you two flail around without resolving anything. Not to mention I need some fucking rest.”
Before Namjoon could argue, Hoseok left the studio.
“…PD-nim?”
In the over-lit room, a black chair slowly spun around and away from the desk. A chilled wave rose Hoseok’s hackles as they made eye contact. Sihyuk said nothing, waiting for Hoseok to continue.
“I’m sorry, I know you must be busy,” Hoseok added. “I was just wondering if I could talk to you about something.”
Sihyuk gave a curt nod and gestured to the empty chair in the corner of the office. Hoseok slunk along the wall until he was sitting.
“I’m worried about Namjoon and Yoongi-hyung,” he said. “They’ve been fighting nonstop for what feels like weeks now. Every day it’s something different. It’s weird you know, I get the feeling they’re actually really close, but when they get mad it’s like they’re about to kill each other. They clearly don’t like to fight, but it’s like they can’t stop. And then I’m caught between them and I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Sihyuk drew a long breath in and out, then allowed a brief pause to settle between them until he spoke. “It’s normal to fight. That’s why I told you three to not avoid arguments. Letting things fester will only end up in disaster. But constant fighting isn’t healthy, either. It has to come to a conclusion. They need to have a talk about what’s bothering them.”
“I’m just worried they won’t listen,” Hoseok said. “What if I get them to talk it out, and it just leads to more arguments? That’s what I’m afraid of, that they’ll dig their heels in deeper and make it worse.”
As Hoseok talked, Sihyuk performed an odd gesture. He wrinkled his nose, then rubbed his wrist against his own scent gland. After sniffing his wrist, he frowned. It was then that Hoseok realized he couldn’t smell Sihyuk’s normally strong vodka scent. But before Hoseok could comment on it, he spoke. “Now, listen. I was your age once. And believe me, it’s a staple for young people to not understand how they contribute to a conflict. In their mind, it’s always the other person wronging them. I can’t cure that, but here’s what I can say. Those two, from everything I’ve seen and heard, are incredibly ambitious and driven to achieve their goals. This I’m sure is contributing to them butting heads, because they’re both determined to ‘win’ against each other. They need to be reminded that they’re on the same team, that they’re sabotaging themselves by running over each other. It’s not ‘me versus him,’ it’s ‘us versus the problem.’ You’re a team, and they know that. They just need their perspectives shifted.”
“But how will they do that?” Hoseok asked.
“I want you to try taking the lead,” Sihyuk said. “Sit them down and listen to each side, and tell them you understand where each of them is coming from. You will then reframe each of their woes in the context of the group, and help them collaborate on solutions to heal the group. In the process, they will realize the parts of themselves that need healing, and hopefully make them less eager to take it out on each other.”
“You want me to do all that?” Hoseok gaped. “How am I supposed to referee for two guys who are that hellbent on turning everything into a fight? I’ll never get three words in before they start yelling at each other again.”
“I know you can do it.” Sihyuk gave him this strange smile, one that made Hoseok feel like the elder knew something he didn’t. “If you get overwhelmed, tell your manager to arrange a meeting. But I wouldn’t tell you to try that if I didn’t think you could do it.”
Hoseok left the office feeling more confused than when he entered.
Despite the greenery of the park around him, Namjoon’s scent stood out. Yoongi cringed at the smell of it, having avoided the dorm to get away from it. But when he lifted his gaze to glare at the unwanted presence, he saw Namjoon mirroring his expression, as if it were Yoongi who interrupted him.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Namjoon grumbled.
Yoongi scoffed. “Why are you talking like that? This isn’t a drama.”
“I claimed this spot first, you know.” Namjoon sat on the unoccupied swing beside him.
“This park is publicly owned. You can’t ‘claim’ anything here.”
Namjoon didn’t say anything further, but it was clear from the thick tension hanging in the air that he hadn’t run out of arguments—he was simply holding them back (for once). Instead he heard Namjoon sigh, sounding exhausted and so, so sad.
Maybe, Yoongi thought, he didn’t like what was going on either.
“I don’t hate you, I hope you know that.” Namjoon’s words were sudden in the silent air, and vulnerable to a degree Yoongi wasn’t expecting to hear. When Yoongi looked over at him, he was looking at the sand beneath his feet, seeming to cringe at his own words. He looked so pathetic, so devastated that Yoongi felt his heart grow heavy.
“I never thought you did,” Yoongi said.
“Then why do we fight?” Namjoon asked.
Yoongi gave it thought, the words that had swirled in his head during many sleepless nights coming together. “Because this matters to us. Where we are now, and where we want to be. It’s scary to think we might not have this forever, that it’s not sustainable. And when it all falls apart, it’s easier to have someone to blame.”
Namjoon looked over, and their eyes met, barely visible to each other in the dim light. “Do you worry about that? That we might lose what we have?”
Yoongi sighed and looked away, frustration welling in him as he pondered how to explain all these feelings out loud. “I’m not worried about going backwards, I’ve done that many times. I’m worried about not moving forward. The thought that…no matter how hard and fast I run, the best I can do is stay in the same spot. Because I can feel myself growing as a person—building stamina and strength—but everyone else just sees me standing still. Doing nothing. And, fuck, sometimes I think it might be true. I’m doing everything and nothing, all at once.”
Evening birds chirped in the distance, oblivious to the struggle between them. Yoongi could feel Namjoon’s eyes on him.
“I’m still moving around a lot in life.” Fuck, Yoongi wasn’t sure why he kept talking. But whatever nerve Namjoon had hit this time, rather than triggering anger, it only caused his most protected thoughts to spill out uncontrollably like vomit. “My career is very unstable and I keep racking up debt. I’m just not sure how much time I have left.”
“You say all that like you’re alone,” Namjoon said, his tone a grating mix of accusatory and sad. “You’re not. You’ve got me and Hoseok, we can all help each other out.”
Yoongi bristled at this, and a growl reverberated in his throat before he realized it was coming. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”
“But I want you to have it,” Namjoon said. “You’re really strong you know, I know you’ll be successful with or without me because you’re the most driven person I’ve ever met. But that doesn’t make it easier to watch you struggle.”
Yoongi didn’t know how those words had disarmed him so thoroughly—perhaps it was late, and they were obscured by darkness. Or maybe he was simply tired of fighting. Either way, he quickly grabbed at his neck to pretend he was massaging his sore traps, and not covering his scent glands before the sudden scent of longing reached Namjoon’s nose. The naïve alpha didn’t know the depths of the tangled web of emotions he had planted in Yoongi, and how that contributed to their feuds. He couldn’t let Namjoon get close, lest he discover that Yoongi’s affection towards him was far from innocent—that Namjoon was wrong about his intellect and strength, because the first alpha in his adult life that didn’t treat him like garbage was the one for whom his omega cried out for in the privacy of his own thoughts. If he didn’t work when the world slept, if he didn’t keep Namjoon at arm’s distance, he would fail at his dreams and return to his parents with his tail between his legs, resign to a life of financial stability that made him miserable because he was fucking weak. Weak for a dork who didn’t dry after showering and could break anything by accident. Weak for a poet who used two languages worth of words as modeling clay.
Weak for the first alpha that treated him as an equal.
Namjoon sighed. “I know you’ve been through a lot. And I’m not doubting you can handle stuff on your own. I just want us to share this part of our journey, while we’re here.”
Yoongi felt utterly defeated, slumping in his seat as his heart ached. Somehow, the only response he could conjure was “The staff think I can’t stand you, but that’s not true. If I snapped at an alpha I hated, my career would have been over.”
Namjoon snorted. “Yeah. I know.”
Yoongi couldn’t help but smile.
Namjoon looked to the sky. “We should probably be heading back. We have to be up early.”
Yoongi joined Namjoon in the short walk back to their dorm. As they neared the building, Namjoon idly rested his hand between Yoongi’s shoulder blades, and suddenly he became acutely aware of how close they were. Namjoon’s body heat warmed him in the chilly night, his scent overpowered any nearby greenery. It pained Yoongi that he had to keep his walls up, couldn’t become vulnerable the way he craved. But maybe, with a little more resilience, he could get just close enough to not fight Namjoon so much. They were a team, after all.
When they reached the door to their apartment, they were blown back by the pungent reek of spice. The sudden sting of it in their throats drew a string of coughs out of them.
“What the fuck is that!?” Namjoon sputtered.
“Are the neighbors making kimchi or something?” Yoongi covered his nose as he opened the door, but as he did so, the stench only grew stronger—the smell was coming from inside their living space.
Namjoon cursed under his breath, but all thoughts were halted when they heard what sounded like heavy breathing coming from inside. They rushed in, and in the corner of the messy living room they found Hoseok, sitting on the floor. He was panting like he just came off the treadmill, his skin clammy as his body trembled.
“Shit! We need to get him out of here.” Namjoon leaned down to gather Hoseok into his arms, causing Hoseok’s breathing to quicken.
“Is this smell causing it? Some kind of poison or something?” Yoongi asked.
“I don’t know, help me get him up!” Namjoon began lifting Hoseok when Yoongi took his other side, but as he leaned closer and adjusted his grip, he got a potent whiff of the smell, along with something hidden underneath—something sterile, muting, almost calming.
Pheromones. Beta pheromones.
“Wait…” Namjoon yanked Hoseok’s shirt collar aside, and there on his neck he saw a large, red welt. Yoongi began moving forward, but Namjoon halted him. “Hyung, wait! This smell, it’s coming from him!”
“What?” Yoongi stopped, dumbfounded.
“The sofa, get him on the sofa.” They brought Hoseok to the small loveseat they had crammed in the corner of the meager living space, and gently set him down. He continued to tremble as he sank into the cushion, and didn’t look like he was responding to them at all.
“Move.” Yoongi nudged Namjoon aside and knelt in front of Hoseok. He locked eyes with Hoseok just long enough to know he was focused on him. “Hoseok-ah, breathe. Deep breaths for me.”
Hoseok sputtered and coughed a few times, his breaths becoming deeper but soon turning into sobs. He gripped his chest hard against the weight that had settled there, squeezing his shirt tight in a desperate attempt to feel his fingers again.
“You’re doing good,” Yoongi said. “Can you talk? Can you tell me what happened?”
Namjoon felt helpless watching from the sidelines, his alpha desperate to do something. Still, he couldn’t help but feel enamored watching the display. Yoongi put up a front, but when it came down to it he was always so gentle with others, and had a soothing aura about him that could make anyone melt. It made Namjoon think that whoever Yoongi might choose as his mate would be incredibly lucky—a thought he dared not dwell on, as it made him sad. Made him wish the circumstances in which they met had been different.
Hoseok took a deep breath, stretching his weary lungs and clenching his fists as they shook. “Hyung, I…”
“Take your time,” Yoongi said, barely audible.
Hoseok swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “Hyung…where the fuck were you?”
“What?” Yoongi leaned back, confused.
“W-Where the fuck were you!?” Hoseok spat, sputtering as he tried to regain his breath. “You didn’t…You didn’t come home! Gone! I thought you fucking killed each other, and now…now you want to sit here and act like there’s something wrong with me!?”
“Hoseok-ah, I think you’re-”
Hoseok interrupted Namjoon. “Listen, you bastard! We’re on a schedule! Come home when you’re supposed to be home! How the fuck am I supposed to maintain order if you don’t cooperate!?” Hoseok started shaking, despite the sheen of sweat covering his face. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. “How…How am I supposed to know if I should feel this scared or not?”
Namjoon glanced at Yoongi, but he looked just as clueless. “Hoseok-ah, why are you scared?”
Hoseok shot him an incredulous glare. “Seriously!?”
Namjoon’s body stiffened, and he gulped. “Is it because we were gone, or because we were fighting?”
The question dug under Hoseok’s skin, and his haggard brain scrambled to dissect the question. Why did he feel so panicked? It wasn’t like it was the first time they had come home late, and even their arguments never affected him as much as they were now. Sure he could get stressed if they fought long enough, but his chest never felt this tight, his stomach this nauseous. There was no reason their turbulent relationship should be forming beads of sweat on his brow, raising his hackles, twitching his limbs as if preparing him to run from certain death.
Even now that they were here, safe in his presence, something was off. It didn’t feel like they were with him at all—they felt so far away, despite being close enough to reach out and touch.
“Gone, maybe? I don’t fucking know…” He leaned on his knees, and willed his lungs to take in air properly. “It doesn’t feel…like you’re here. Like anyone’s here.”
The pieces clicked together in Namjoon’s brain. In that moment, he realized that there was an element to the smell permeating the room beyond Hoseok’s newfound scent overwhelming them—it was also that his and Yoongi’s scents were being suppressed. All he could smell was Hoseok, as if he were the only person in existence. He sat next to Hoseok and scooted in close. “Hey, so…this is gonna sound weird, but can I scent you? It might help calm you down if you can smell us.”
“Scent?” Hoseok’s voice was quiet, shaky as his frame. But he leaned toward Namjoon, willing to try. Namjoon’s hands on his shoulders and back drew a gasp out of him, but then his face was crushed into Namjoon’s scent gland. It was strangely faint, but he caught a whiff of trees on a rainy day. The soothing effect the scent had on his body was immediate, and so he inhaled with the fervor of a sick pup near a humidifier. He reflexively tilted his head to smear the scent across his face, willing it not to elude him.
Even under the emotional numbness of the pheromones, Yoongi couldn’t help but bristle at the display, the sick weight of jealousy seeping through him. He climbed up to Hoseok’s other side and pressed in close, hugging around them both and nuzzling into Hoseok’s neck. He felt Hoseok shudder in response, his body softening between them. He rubbed up against Hoseok on one side as Namjoon did the other, and reveled in the soupy scent that spread onto his skin. He felt Hoseok’s head tilting, alternating between them to find their scents.
Soon, the spicy scent began to fade, and the room’s aroma fell into a harmonious mix of the three. Hoseok took a shaky breath, exhaling the panic that had festered inside him.
“Feeling any better?” Yoongi gave Hoseok’s thigh a hardy pat.
“I…maybe,” Hoseok said. He gripped both of them by their backs, just to make sure they were really there. But they must have read that as asking for a hug, as they both wrapped their arms around him. The pressure, and the close proximity to their scents, was soothing in an incomprehensible way.
“Mm, Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon purred. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Why?” Hoseok asked.
“You finally presented,” Namjoon said. “You’re one of us now.”
“Presented?” Hoseok felt a shock of numbness, disbelief. But he had no other explanation for the swelling in his scent glands, the jitteriness in his body, the emotional turbulence, the mere fact that his body felt like it was hurtling out of control. Wasn’t this how they explained it in middle school health class? There was just one major thing missing—the sexual urges. His teachers didn’t discuss it in graphic detail, but a heavy emphasis was put on it—lessons on how it would feel, how to prepare, what to do. Sinking back into his memory, he could only conjure one passing mention of when that might not happen.
If one presented as a beta.
Beta.
His stomach felt like it had filled with lead, and then with fire. His heart rate picked up again, and threatened to send him into another spiral. “P-Presented…as…”
“A beta,” Yoongi said. “You couldn’t smell us, because your pheromones were blocking our scents.”
“Beta.” It felt like poison on his tongue.
“Yeah.” Namjoon smiled, and stroked Hoseok’s neck. “Isn’t it exciting? We’re all presented now!”
Hoseok let them hug him again, this one feeling number than the last. But if it didn’t bother them, it shouldn’t matter, right?
Yoongi threw a dirty t-shirt at Namjoon’s face, and watched with vindication as he was startled and struggled to pull it off. “Keep your filthy laundry on your own bed next time.”
Namjoon pulled himself free of the shirt, bunching it in his fists. “I didn’t put shit on your bed!”
“Then why was it there?” Yoongi snipped. “Did it sprout wings and fly there?”
“Sometimes I just think you’re making shit up to scold me.” Namjoon brushed past him to throw the shirt in the washing machine.
The familiar smell of jjamppong permeated throughout the room, muting their scents. But Hoseok didn’t even look in their direction, continued to push around his microwaved rice with a spoon where he sat at the floor table. They had both noticed that Hoseok seemed quieter after presenting—he no longer complained about their arguments, or even engaged them in casual chat. His pheromones calmed their feuds, but they weren’t even sure he was doing it consciously.
Yoongi took the initiative, sitting beside him. “Is…everything okay?”
Hoseok glanced up at him. He already felt a little nauseous at the thought of trying to eat, but the look of concern that seemed to bore into Hoseok’s soul made his stomach flip. “Yeah,” he answered quickly, not in the mood for whatever conversation Yoongi wanted to start. “Tired. Might turn in early tonight.”
“Hoseok-ah, we’re worried,” Namjoon said, eager to break the ice. “You seem really out of sorts lately.”
“What do you mean?” Hoseok asked, trying to sound casual.
“I don’t know, like you don’t really talk much anymore.” Namjoon sat on his other side. “Are you having trouble adjusting to being presented? We can help you. I mean we can’t offer any insight on betas specifically, but-”
“Stop saying it.” Hoseok recoiled, the reaction reflexive and visceral. His spicy soup scent grew thicker, causing Namjoon and Yoongi to cough.
“What?” Namjoon asked.
“Stop reminding me I got stuck with the worst one.” Hoseok felt a lump grow in his throat. “I could have been an alpha or omega. I could deal with the mating cycles. I’d take that a hundred times over this.”
Yoongi blinked in bewilderment. “What’s wrong with being a beta?”
“What’s right with being a beta?” Hoseok quipped. “No one wants betas. They’re considered unlovable. Unwanted. The leftovers of society that can’t produce pups, can’t perform great sex for heats or ruts.” He took a deep breath, willing away the tears from his warming eyes. “No one wants their kid to be a beta.”
Namjoon and Yoongi glanced at each other with wide, confused eyes, before looking back to Hoseok. “Hey,” Yoongi said. “That’s not true at all. Anyone who says that about betas is full of it. This societal idea that betas are ‘outdated’ is only something inconsiderate assholes say. Even in an era where polyamorous packs aren’t the norm, betas can still accomplish so much.” He lay a hand on Hoseok’s back. “I mean hell, there’s probably no better subgender for an idol. You don’t have to take time off for mating cycles, record companies clamor over those people because they can get more done.”
“But…” Hoseok wiped at his face as tears fell. “What will my family think? I can’t give them pups, they’ll be so disappointed.”
“Now you know that’s not true,” Namjoon said. “Being their son is enough for them. They’d never see you as a burden for being sterile.”
Hoseok glared at him through wet eyes. “How can you be so sure?”
“Well, you should call them,” Yoongi said.
Hoseok’s heart jumped. “What?”
“Well they have to find out eventually, right?” Yoongi said. “Tell them what happened.”
A wave of dread washed over Hoseok. He had been avoiding it, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on their faces. But he knew Yoongi was right—he would have to break it to them eventually, and he might as well rip the bandage off now. He stood briefly to retrieve his phone, and sat back at the table. He pulled up his father’s number, and looked between Namjoon and Yoongi with uncertainty. But they only gave encouraging smiles.
He pressed call.
He expected it to go to voicemail. His father had been busy with work, and their schedules never lined up enough to catch up with each other. But this time, the ringtone cut.
“Hello?”
“Appa?” Hoseok’s heart leapt into his throat.
“Hello, my son!” his father chirped. “I’m glad you finally called, it feels like it’s been ages. How have you been?”
“Well…” Hoseok glanced side to side again, but Namjoon and Yoongi didn’t look like they changed their mind, so he wouldn’t either. “Something happened. Something big.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I…kind of presented.”
“You did!? Oh Seok-ah, that’s wonderful! I thought it might happen soon. Which subgender?”
“A…beta.”
“A beta?”
“Yeah.” Hoseok braced himself for impact.
“Oh my gosh! My son has officially become a man! A beta, wow…I’ll have to make time to come visit you. I have to know what your scent is like.”
Hoseok was taken aback by the reaction. Either his father was better at hiding disappointment than he thought, or… “You’re happy about that?”
“Huh? Of course I am. I know you’ll be a great beta. You’ve always been so well-organized and great with people.”
“Because…if you’re disappointed I understand. I can’t give you pups…”
“Yah, Seok-ah! There’s nothing wrong with betas, they’re as natural as everyone else. I think every parent would like to see their kids raise the next generation, but that doesn’t have to mean having your own pups. I’d be just as happy to see you using your skills to inspire other people’s pups. Society has done a great disservice to betas, you know. I think they’re needed now more than ever.”
Hoseok let a few tears roll down his face, grateful his father couldn’t see him. “You mean that?”
“Of course. I never had any thoughts about your subgender, really. You’re still my son, no matter the outcome.”
Hoseok wiped his face, tried to keep his voice stable. “Thank you, appa.”
“I have a meeting I have to get to, but I’ll talk to you soon,” his father said. “Make sure you call your mother. I’m sure she’s missing you back home. And she’d love to hear the good news.”
“Okay. I’ll talk again soon. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The call ended, and Hoseok curled in on himself, let the building sobs rack his body. He felt loose and numb, like a knot in his muscles that had been massaged out. The spicy scent in the room faded, replaced with a warm and savory broth smell.
“Aish.” Yoongi lay an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders. “Is that what your scent is supposed to smell like?”
Hoseok buried his head in his knees and cried. Namjoon slung an arm around him as well, and together they sandwiched him into a group hug. Their scents swirled harmoniously, and they were all soothed by the quiet sensation of healing that befell them. There was a gentle shift in the atmosphere, one that made them feel like they would all be okay, and that nothing could stand in their way.