Chapter Text
Jimin woke up naked in an alley.
Again.
The mechanical screech of the garbage truck sliced through his dreamless sleep first and then the smell hit him: the tangy, putrid stink of rotting vegetables mixed with grease, chicken bones, and the slow leak of various sauces on the pavement.
Not my bedroom, Jimin groaned internally. Not my bed. His pillows weren’t usually filled with gochujang.
It was, in fact, not his bed but a mattress of tightly stuffed trash bags thrown haphazardly with no consideration for his lower back. Every muscle in his body protested the night spent away from his very nice (very expensive) Queen-sized mattress.
Tentatively, Jimin opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. Definitely not his bedroom but an alley – the same alley. He was sprawled, spread eagle, on a hill of garbage and not wearing a stitch of clothes.
“Not again,” he groaned.
From the crash of the glass being tipped into the garbage truck, Jimin could determine that it was morning. Thankfully, there was no one in the alley to report him to the police for public indecency and the few people rushing past in the nearby street never took their glance away from their phones as they walked.
At least he was still in Seoul and, he reasoned after poking his sides, he still had both of his kidneys.
After the last seven days, he was now very familiar with this alley and knew that it would take him a gut-churning five minute walk through the labyrinths of back alleys to get to his friend Taeyhyung’s fancy apartment. Possibly another three minutes of hiding in the bushes to wait for the coast to be clear while the security guard did his rough and another two minutes to sprint up to the second floor and pound on the door until Taehyung let him in.
“Hey. Rought night?” A drawling, hesitant voice interrupted Jimin’s bodily inspection. “Are you okay?”
Jimin whipped around, trying to ignore the flopping, extremely vulnerable parts of his body as he moved quickly, and saw a man staring at him from a doorway in the building across from Jimin’s impromptu trash nest.
Jimin didn’t know how to an answer this question.
He was disorientated and his mouth was dry and he was very naked, as naked as a person could be. Jimin didn’t have a problem being naked in the comfort of his own home and with a consenting audience. He knew that last night he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol before changing into his soft, flannel pajamas and climbing into his bed that consisted of a mattress and quilts and not takeaway containers and empty plastic kimchi jars.
So, he wasn’t okay, but he’d been worse.
The first few times it had happened, Jimin had panicked.
A week ago, he’d woken up in the same alley just as the sun was cresting over the Seoul skyline. Thankfully, when Jimin had poked his head around the corner of the alley, he’d recognized the kalguksu restaurant he’d been to with Taehyung many, many times.
“Sleepwalking?” Taehyung suggested after he handed Jimin a change of clothes that hung off Jimin limply. Even though Taehyung was an omega, he was more solid and muscular than Jimin whose physique was not typical alpha.
“Sleepwalking naked?” Jimin said while praying that none of his neighbours were monitoring their CCTV.
Taehyung shrugged. “Sure? Why not. You hate clothes.”
“I hate shirts,” Jimin corrected. And this was true: he had great shoulders. Why deprive the world of his gifts?
“So, your unconscious self gave you the chance to run around shirtless.”
“And pantsless,” Jimin reminded him.
“Yeah.” Taehyung harumphed to himself. “That’s weird. You should see a doctor.”
His doctor couldn’t explain what was happening.
“Sleepwalking can sometimes spontaneously manifest when you’re under stress,” the calm beta doctor said, tapping at a tablet. She was far too nonchalant about it for Jimin’s liking. “Have you had any significant lifestyle changes that are causing extra stress in your life?”
“No.” It was all the regular stress: deadlines, pressures from the company, late nights working on choreography, and the big personalities clashing on their vision of whatever group Jimin was working on at the moment.
“Make it sexier!”
“It’s too sexy! Tone it down. It doesn’t work with their image.”
“Not sexy enough! More thrusting!”
Jimin really wished that creative teams would determine exactly how sexy their wanted their new groups to be. It would save him a lot of time trying to spend out exactly how many body rolls were acceptable.
In the doctor’s office, Jimin had shrugged helplessly. “Just regular stress. Nothing different.”
This was true. The solo artist that he was working with was a sweetheart and an old friend. Jungkook was a choreographer’s dream: hard-working, humble, ridiculously athletic, and willing to argue with his directors to ensure his vision was executed. The last month working with him had seemed like a vacation.
“Any relationship stress?”
Jimin stared at the beta, biting his tongue. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault that Jimin was branch president of his local single’s club. A monk’s schedule would be more forgiving. At the end of the day, Jimin was too tired to even consider having a conversation with anyone, let alone a potential romantic partner.
“No. Not really… It’s not an issue.”
The doctor raised her eyebrow as her fingers danced around the tablet. “Ruts normal?”
Jimin cleared his throat. “Yeah. Regular. Normal. Once a year. Great.”
“With a partner?”
Jimin stared at the ceiling. He had enough of this from his family despairing that he would never find someone and end up alone and withered that he really didn’t need it from his doctor.
“You’re such a good boy,” his mother said with a pinch to his cheek. “And there are so many nice omegas in Seoul. Why can’t you find someone that makes you happy? You have so much to give.”
There were so many people in Seoul. Jimin was constantly overwhelmed with how many people there were – it was a sea of people at night. But no one had really called to him that made him want to share his very expressive mattress and possibly throw out his old flannel pajamas.
His mother (one more than one occasion) suggested: “Why not Taehyung? He’s a good boy.”
“Taehyung is a very good boy, but we aren’t like that.” They would never be like that. Jimin loved Taehyung like a brother (and once when his brother had dinged his new car showing off, koved Taehyung more than his brother).
There was also the issue that Taehyung was currently very much dating Hoseok, an old college friend who would probably throw Jimin in the trash with a smile at the thought of Jimin stealing his beloved Taehyung from him. But due to NDAs, Jimin had to keep that little tidbit to himself.
“No. Ruts just… with me. By myself.” It wasn’t medically advisable for alphas his age to endure ruts by himself. Jimin braced himself for the lecture.
“Mmm. Any adverse side effects?”
Other than the crying for a week after because he was so alone and there was a constantly dull ache in the middle of his chest? “No. It’s fine. Good. Normal.”
“It will become harder as you age,” the doctor droned on, “as your instincts before more pronounced. You may want to consider a service in the coming years if the side effects increase in severity.”
“Sure.” Jimin would absolutely not being do that. There wasn’t anything wrong with using a service, but the idea just made him sick to his stomach. His ruts weren’t like that – needless urges to fuck and fill – they just seemed to increase his homebody tendencies. He wanted something to keep safe and happy and protected. And yeah, maybe some sex would be nice, but it wasn’t the most important thing.
It wasn’t exactly shame that he felt. He knew what other people saw: fine, soft features and lithe muscular body of an omega. When he was young, he’d endured the teasing and the bullying both from other kids and himself. He was now old enough to be comfortable with who he was but the idea of someone, a stranger, judging him or saying something when he was at his most vulnerable…
He’d rather spend his ruts clawing at his own door and chewing curtains.
“But the sleepwalking?” Jimin prompted, hoping to end the conversation. “What’s causing it?”
“Did you sleepwalk as a child? Sometimes it can reoccur in later years.”
“No.”
“Hmm.” The doctor finally put down her tablet and tapped her chin. “Well, there are still plenty of things about the brain that we don’t know.”
Jimin was so glad that he’d wasted his time with his visit. “How do I make it stop?” Jimin insisted sullenly.
“Hmm. We could do a sleep study,” the doctor said.
It had been a mistake. Sometime during the night, Jimin had stood straight up in bed, pulled off all the medical bits attached to him, punched a nurse, and then ran out into the night after flinging off all his clothes. He had been asked not to return to the hospital after the doctor showed him the footage.
“As a curtsey, we will not be pressing charges, but you will see an extra line item on your bill for the damages,” the doctor said icily.
Now he had to solve his sleepwalking problem and find a new doctor.
“Hey. I don’t want to rush you, but do you want me to call an ambulance? Or, if you’re planning on flashing the kids on their way to school, the police. Let me know.” The man in the doorway, shifted his stance, face carefully neutral.
To this stranger, Jimin probably seemed like some sort of sexual deviant. There were people living on the streets in Seoul, but they were usually wearing clothes.
“No.” Jimin cleared his throat and drew up his knees to his chest. Then arranged his legs to cover his most vulnerable bits.
“No to what – the ambulance or the police?” The man raised an eyebrow, phone in hand.
Maybe it would be better if Jimin was locked up until someone could figure out what his problem was. He didn’t remember anything that happened while he was sleeping and wandering around naked. Every morning, he scoured the news and social media to see if anyone reported a dangerously handsome man running around Seoul naked. But there was nothing. A few strange animal sightings but Jimin was pretty sure that he’d been confused with a rogue zebra escaped from the zoo.
“No to both,” Jimin said with a polite incline of his head.
The man didn’t move, just watched Jimin warily. “Rough night?”
The alley was full of bottles, but Jimin was sure that none of them where his. In fact, he was sure that the strongest thing that he’d taken before going to bed was a Cilsung soda with his dinner of fried chicken.
He remembered doing his facial routine in his little mirror, getting into his cozy two-piece pajama set (although he did usually end up taking it off in his sleep – he was an alpha, he ran hot), and setting up a podcast to fall asleep to.
Then he’d woken up with rotting kimchi in his face.
“Not really.”
The stranger cocked his head to the side. “This just a normal Saturday morning for you?”
“Lately?” Jimin said bitterly. “Yes, actually.”
The stranger raised an eyebrow. “You regularly sleep naked in alleys?”
“Sleepwalking. It’s a medical thing. I have an apartment.” Jimin wasn’t sure exactly where it was in relation to his alley, but he did have one. A nice one that he had paid for with years of hard work and really wished that he was in now.
“Sleepwalking,” the stranger repeated as if he were testing out a theory. “You’ve seen a doctor?”
“They couldn’t do anything about it. Said that it was stress.”
“Stress.” The stranger laughed, hollow and empty. “Never heard of someone having so much stress that they stripped down and started sleeping on garbage.”
Jimin wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen the videos himself. Taehyung has set up a motion-sensor in his apartment on the third night (“Maybe your apartment has bad vibes,” Taehyung had argued), and the morning after, he’d watched himself deke around a sleepy Taehyung and sprint towards the door while throwing off his clothes. The sleep study had been the same: asleep, Jimin had seemed determined and hadn’t let anyone stand in his way.
“Well, now you have.” Jimin let a little bit of his frustration about the situation leak into his reply. The sun was rising and every minute spent being interrogated by this good Samaritan was taking away from his sprint to Taehyung’s apartment.
The stranger hesitated for a moment. “You want to come in?”
Jimin looked at the stranger. Without his glasses, Jimin couldn’t see him clearly from across the alleyway. He seemed average height – not too small, not too tall. He had pale skin and long hair that curled around his chin. Even from here, Jimin could smell that he was an omega. If this was his apartment, there’d be no need for scent blockers.
He smelled like tangerines growing in the sun.
But Jimin was a naked stranger alpha and this strange little man had just invited him into his apartment like it was nothing. Maybe he had a mate upstairs with massive arms and a black belt (joke was on him if they were planning on robbing him – Jimin was also a black belt).
“I have coffee and you look like you need it,” the omega continued.
Jimin blinked. A coffee did sound good. “You don’t know me.”
“I know that you’re not hiding a gun anywhere,” the omega drawled.
Jimin blushed. “I could be hiding a knife.”
The man raised an eyebrow, eyes raking up and down Jimin’s body. His cheeks reddened. “Where?”
“That’s for you to discover,” Jimin said primly, trying to recover a shred of his dignity.
The strange man laughed: silently with his mouth curled at the ends. His shoulders shook as he hugged himself around his middle. “Fine. Fine. Do you want some clothes first? Or do you want to scandalize Mrs. Kang on the third floor?”
“Clothes, please,” Jimin replied meekly.
“Hmm. Corward. All right, wait here.”
The man disappeared into the apartment. The front-end garbage bin must belong to the complex. The poor man must have been taking out his trash and come across Jimin. Great way to start the weekend.
Jimin curled himself into a ball (trying not to have his balls covered in alley goo) and set his forehead on his knees. Was he losing his mind? His ex-doctor seemed convinced that it was some sort of sleeping disorder but what if this was some sort of temporary madness? What if all those internet stories of alphas going crazy without a mate weren’t in fact government paid for propaganda to increase the population and based on fact?
His panic spiral was interrupted by the open and close of a door.
“The underwear are new.” The stranger sounded a bit out of breath as he handed Jimin a plastic bag. He must have run the entire way. “I bought them from the CU when I ran out of laundry last week.”
Up close, Jimin could see more of his features. He reminded Jimin of a steamed bun – all gleamy and pillowy (and biteable, Jimin’s libido suggested devilishly). He wasn’t young – around Jimin’s age or a little older judging by the few white hairs in that long hair. He had smile lines (“Always a good sign!” Jimin’s mother would say) but otherwise very smooth skin. He was wearing thin, gold-rimmed glasses and a snuggly blue sweater. He looked… soft.
“The clothes are clean. I wasn’t sure what you wanted but figure a shirt and pants would be okay. Guessed at the pant size.” The man rambled, avoiding Jimin’s gaze, as he offered the bag, dangling it from his pinkie finger towards Jimin.
Jimin swallowed as he brought out the clothing. They were clean, undoubtably, but they smelled like the stranger. As soon as he opened the back he was hit in the face with tangerines, tangy and sweet.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jimin said automatically. “Thank you.”
“Aish. It’s nothing. Anything to save Mrs. Kang from nipples first thing in the morning.”
The clothes smelled like him.
They were soft and well-made. Jimin gingerly got to his feet to pull on the clothes – underwear first. He didn’t enjoy having his dick out for every citizen and tourist in Seoul – even Mrs. Kang. The sweatpants were a little baggy but had a drawstring that would keep them up. The shirt was plain but smooth and someone had carefully unstitched the tag at the neck. There were also socks in a tight ball.
Jimin was enveloped in the omega’s scent.
It was the first time that any omega outside of his family or Taehyung had given him clothes. Even though courting had somewhat disappeared as soon as apps were invented, the idea of an omega giving an alpha closed still had significance.
It was messing with Jimin’s instincts.
“The tattoos would probably have given her a heart attack,” Jimin finally replied.
“Probably.” The omega had no doubt noticed the one across his ribs in the long time he’d spent staring at Jimin’s body in an attempt to not look him in the eyes. “She had a very small, withered heart. It wouldn’t take much.”
“Really?”
The omega rolled his eyes. “She shouts at the kids playing soccer in the alley. What kind of person gets angry at kids?”
Jimin smiled, his own normal-sized heart warmed. His niece was the light of his life and the idea of someone raising their voice against her made him want to go feral. “I could flash her on our way.”
“Tempting.” The omega paused for a minute and then gestured for Jimin to follow. He practically had to jog as the omega took long, quick strides towards the apartment. “Coffee’s getting cold.”
The omega’s apartment was on the fifth floor. There was an elevator but the omega walked right past it to the stairwell. Jimin stifled a groan, muscles still complaining from his night on the trash, but wordlessly followed the omega to his door. Jimin turned his back as he punched in the code and waited for the omega to let him in.
It was a bright, sunny apartment facing the Han river. The interior was plain, minimal but showed a restraint that screamed that the man had money.
The man pointed to a wooden rack. “Slippers.”
Jimin gratefully toed on the slippers and shuffled after the stranger to his kitchen. Jimin was not much of a cook (he was slightly afraid of spitting oil) but he could recognize that this was a nice kitchen. There were handing pots and pans that looked exactly like the chef’s kitchens in the TV shows that he liked to watch late at night. There was even a bowl of fresh fruit.
“Have a seat.”
Jimin sat himself down as the man busied himself with the mugs and coffee machine.
There were two large rooms branching off from the kitchen and then another across the living room. The entire apartment was infused with tangerines – the scent made Jimin’s heart settle in his chest and stop pounding like he has being chased by a lion and he relaxed for the first time in seven days.
He supposed that he should be upset – his subconscious was clearly being hijacked by his out-of-control alpha hellbent on getting Jimin arrested for public indecency. But with the sun beamed through the windows in this cozy room and the promise of some very expensive-looking coffee made this a better Saturday than Jimin had in long time.
“I’m Min Yoongi.”
“Oh.” Jimin rose to his feet and bowed clumsily. “Park Jimin. Thank you for taking care of me. And for the clothes.”
“And the coffee.” Min Yoongi slid over a coaster and placed a large cup of coffee in front of him. “You take milk or sugar?”
“Black is good.”
The coffee was good too. Jimin took a large sip: it was pleasantly bitter and burned on the way down. This Min Yoongi could make a good cup of coffee.
“Thank you.” Jimin set down the cup. Yoongi was looking at him intently.
“You like it?”
“Yeah.”
Yoongi nodded to himself and then turned back to the kitchen. “You want breakfast?”
Jimin desperately wanted breakfast, but he had already overstayed his welcome. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea what he was doing in this stranger’s kitchen drinking his coffee while wearing his clothes. It was ludicrous. “That’s okay. I don’t want to impose-“
“Not a problem.” Yoongi started pulling down some silver pots and pulling things out from the kitchen. “I was just going to start making my own breakfast. Not a problem. Plus, I’m curious about what sort of stress leads someone to start sleeping in alleys naked. Just so I can avoid it. This is a preventative conversation.”
Jimin hid his smile behind the coffee cup. Yoongi was talking very fast as if he thought that if he stopped talking, Jimin would refuse.
He was sweet. This omega with his nice apartment and gentle way of speaking was nice, nicer than most people in Jimin’s life at the moment.
“Do you have any allergies?”
“No.” Jimin happily watched as Yoongi brought out covered banchan dishes from the fridge that all looked handmade. “You cook a lot?”
“Yeah.” Yoongi pulled an apron over his head and then tied his hair back. It made him look like a mafia chef. “It’s relaxing. Maybe you should try it. To help with the stress.”
Jimin stuck his tongue out at the man who just laughed to himself. “You some sort of doctor?”
“No.”
“What do you do then?”
The giant hand cracking eggs stopped, letting the yokes fall into the frying pan. “I… I write music.”
“Really?” Jimin swallowed the questions he wanted to ask. Instead, he tapped his feet on the floor. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Most of the time, I hate it.” Yoongi started adding more green onions to the pan. “Sometimes I love it.”
“I get that.” Jimin loved dancing but sometimes when his muscles ached and he went another audition without a callback, he thought that an office job sounded just fine. “Even if you’re passionate about it, you can’t love it every day.”
“Hmm.” Min Yoongi tilted the pan, the egg sizzling in the heat. “What do you do?”
“I dance. Choreography.”
He loved his job, loved using his body, pushing himself. He been dancing since he was young, feeling the music resonate in his bones. He also hated his job sometimes – people hitting their breaking points, injuries, the insistence on perfection. He had been in the game a long time but he had promised himself as soon as he had more bad days than good days, he would quit.
“I can see that.”
“I guess you have seen me naked,” Jimin grumbled.
The pan clattered onto the burner.
“You okay?” Jimin stood up to see if the omega was hurt; he was clutching his wrist in a bit of a daze.
“Let’s get some cold water on that.” Jimin gently led Yoongi over to his sink and cranked the tap to the far left, testing it with his own hand. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much.” A little crease appeared between his eyebrows. “That was stupid of me.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Jimin scolded. “People have done stupider things in the face of my hot body. I’m surprised that you’re still able to talk.”
Yoongi snorted softly. Jimin rolled his eyes and plunged Yoongi’s wrist under the water.
“Not that hot.”
Jimin was affronted. “I have been told that my ass is unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable? Really?” Yoongi gallantly did not crane his neck back to check it himself but instead raised an eyebrow. “Says who?”
“Several reliable sources.”
Yoongi face transformed into a small frown. “You have a lot of people looking at your butt?”
“I dance. It’s kind of a professional hazard.” Jimin fingers were starting to feel wrinkly under the water. He pulled out Yoongi’s wrist to inspect it. It was still angry and red. “Do you have any aloe or something?”
“In the bathroom.” Yoongi sniffed. “In the medicine cabinet above the sink. Do you mind? I’ll finish the breakfast.”
Jimin obediently trotted to the right and went straight to the medicine cabinet. Aloe in hand, he suddenly stopped.
Yoongi hadn’t told him where the bathroom was and yet he walked there instinctively.
He’d known where the bathroom was.
Slowly, he padded back into the kitchen. When he rounded the corner, Yoongi was cutting the omelet in two and plating.
“Did you find it okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” Jimin handed over the aloe and watched the man give it a sharp jerk and then splurt it over his wrist. His fingers were long, his nails square as he rubbed in the lotion over the red skin. “Uh. Yoongi-ssi. Do I know you?”
Jimin didn’t often have one-night stands. After work, he was usually too exhausted to bother. But there were certain nights that Taehyung dragged him out that Jimin didn't mind falling into someone else’s arms and bed. But he was sure that he would have remembered this omega.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “We met in the alley? I invited you up for breakfast? Are you sure that you don’t have amnesia?”
“I know where your bathroom is,” Jimin said slowly.
“Okay.” Yoongi set down the omelet in front of Jimin and then started to place banchan dishes in a semi circle around him. “You know where my bathroom is. So?”
“No.” Jimin took a bite of the omelet. He might as well eat if he was going to lose his mind. It was delicious. It was the most delicious egg product he’d ever had. “I mean, I knew where your bathroom was.”
Yoongi chewed thoughtfully as he processed Jimin’s meaning. “It was a 50/50 chance. Maybe you’ve been to another apartment in the complex? They all have the same layouts.”
That could be it, but Jimin doubted that anyone he knew had an apartment in Hanam-dong. He rubbed shoulders with some powerful people at the company, but they weren’t close enough that they would invite him to their views of the Han river.
“I don’t think so,” Jimin answered. He looked around the apartment and knew that the door to the left was an office, and the right was a bedroom.
“You have purple sheets.”
“What?” Yoongi’s mouth fell open. It should have been gross but instead, Jimin found it funny.
“Your sheets. They’re purple.” Jimin couldn’t tell how he knew this, but he was sure that if he opened that door, he would see purple sheets, crumpled and in a rounded doughnut shape of a half-hearted nest.
Yoongi pushed his chair back, the scrape of the feet against the floor echoed in the apartment. He gently picked up his phone and stared. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t know.” Jimin supposed that he should be frustrated and leave but he was too hungry and the omelet was too good. He took a giant bite. “Are you sure that we haven’t…”
“I think I would remember,” Yoongi said dryly. “After all, your ass is apparently unbelievable.”
“Certifiably unbelievable. Unforgettable.” Jimin closed his eyes and tried to think why he would know any of these things. “Do you do cam work or something?”
Yoongi just sputtered.
“No judgement. I just-“
“You watch a lot of that?” Yoongi drawled.
“No! No. I just… maybe there was an ad or something,” Jimin grumbled. He was trying to think outside of the box! And Yoongi had a very soft, appealing face. It was hard not to look at him. “What do you do? Maybe I’ve seen your bedroom in a company meeting or something?”
“And in this company meeting, I also took my computer to my bathroom to present about Q4 earnings while I took a piss?”
Now the omega was just being silly.
“I don’t know. Maybe? You seem like the sort of person that is serious about their job.”
“Serious enough that I don’t want to be fired for pissing on camera in a meeting.” Yoongi shook his head. “I work in music.”
“Really?” It was possible that they’d crossed paths before. Jimin was often loaned out to other groups. “Which company do you work for?”
“Don’t work for a company,” Yoongi said coldly.
“You’re a contactor?”
“I own the company.”
Well now Jimin did feel like a bit of asshole. It did explain the penthouse thought. “Maybe your apartment was featured in a magazine or something?”
“Absolutely not.” Yoongi snapped a piece of kimchi between his cute teeth. “I don’t let journalists in my apartment.”
“I could have been a journalist.”
“If you laid in wait, sprawled unconscious in a dirty alley behind my apartment, to get a story, I would probably have given you a picture or two.” Yoongi pushed the pickled radish towards Jimin who greedily took three pieces.
“Good to know,” Jimin said.
Yoongi stared at Jimin carefully, being under that much scrutiny was a little disconcerting. “You. I mean it’s stupid… ” He shook his head.
“What? At this point, I’m willing to entertain anything.” Jimin sighed. He was tired of ending up naked in the morning. His life was unravelling and so was reality.
Yoongi started the clear the dishes. “Never mind. It’s too stupid to say.”
“No, no. Let’s hear it. My doctor can’t give me any answers, and my friend is pretty much convinced it’s the planets.”
“Which one?” Yoongi said with genuine curiosity.
Jimin squinted, trying to remember Taehyung’s complicated explanation. “Mars, I think?”
Yoongi braced his hands against the table. He screwed his face up. “How long have you been having your little… problem.”
“You make it sound like it’s erectile disfunction.” Jimin slumped against his chair. “That’s not a problem.
“Good to know,” Yoongi mumbled to himself.
Jimin did a quick calculation. “Seven days – night I guess?” Although it had felt much longer.
“Hun.”
“Hun, what?” Jimin leaned forward. “What does that mean? Have you been kidnapping me?”
“Please. If I was going to kidnap and murder you, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to dispose of your body in the back alley.” Yoongi stood up and paced. The way that his long feet slapped against the floor made Jimin want to chase him. He was like a grumpy, kind penguin.
“I think…” Yoongi took a deep breath. “I think you’re Wolfie.”
Right. This was clearly the hallucination section of his mental breakdown. Jimin took one, last measured bite of his omelet as his last meal. “Wolfie?”
Yoongi turned the phone towards Jimin. It was a picture of a large dog – not, not dog – wolf. It was huge and was sitting on a bed with purple sheets staring at the camera with a look of total disdain. The creature’s eyes were amber and set in a majestic and serious face. Its ears were alert and its fluffy tail was curled around itself.
“That’s Wolfie? Why Wolfie? Kind of a weird name for a wild animal.”
“What else was I supposed to call him?” Yoongi snatched back the phone. “He’s a wolf.”
“Something a little more majestic?” Jimin sighed, pride weirdly wounded on behalf of the wolf that Yoongi thought he was. “Sorry. Not to derail the conversation on your poor naming skills.”
“What would you have called him?”
Jimin considered. “Something cooler.”
“Cooler?”
“Like ‘Killer’ or ‘Fang’ or I don’t know. Something less emasculating?”
“You think that wolves are concerned about gender roles?” Jimin didn’t know Yoongi very well but he knew a judgey face when he saw it.
That was fair enough.
“Gender is a construct,” Jimin capitulated which seemed to pacify Yoongi, “but maybe something a little less cutsey?”
“Wolife,” Yoongi repeatedly firmly. That was the end of it. “He’s a Wolfie.”
If anyone would know, it would be Yoongi – the only man in Seoul with a wolf living in his apartment.
“Why do you think that I’m that?”
Although they were descended from wolves, people didn’t shift. That was some sort of old fairy tale. The physics of it was impossible. People couldn’t just defy the laws of matter and make themselves into a wolf.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Yes.” Yoongi was ruffling his long hair angrily with his fingers, gaze darting between his phone and Jimin’s face.
Jimin thought about the giant wolf. How would that even work? The wolf was definitely bigger than him – where did that matter even come from? Would his body just rearranged itself? What about his bones – his nose? Where did the snout even go? This Yoongi thought that he had a tail?
“Okay, why do you think that Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin had excellent marks in science all through high school, university, and the military. He could apply the scientific method to anything.
“Well. The timing sort of works.”
“The timing?”
“You turning up naked the alley. Wolfie started showing up seven days ago.”
“Calendar overlap does not mean that I somehow transform myself into a wolf. Is it even a full moon?” Jimin asked gently.
“I don’t know,” Yoongi scowled. “I’m not an astronomer. And why would the moon have any bearing in the ability of people to turn into wolves? It’s a planetary body. Although… it does have some gravitation pull on the earth and if we assume that shifting has something to do with gravitational forces…”
Yoongi started to ramble and Jimin was very thankful that he was too distracted to notice the shift in Jimin’s scent as he had never been so turned on his entire life.
Maybe it was the omelet or the ponytail or the scientific knowledge (it was definitely that), but Jimin was suddenly seized by an overwhelming desire to bundle Yoongi away and buried him in purple sheets.
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Yoongi finished with.
“Nothing about this makes any sense.” Jimin gave the omega a weak smile. “I suddenly started sleepwalked and you’ve been cohabitating with a wolf.”
“Just at night.”
“Maybe?” Jimin wasn’t sure about this. He was not an expert in the supernatural. “Do you have any other proof?”
Yoongi raised his arms. “I don’t know. What proof could there possibly be of a man turning into a wolf?”
“A wolf.” Jimin thought he would have pissed himself if he’d seen a wolf in the middle of Seoul. “Weren’t you scared? And how do you know it was a he?”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Not scared. It was strange but I knew that he was friendly.” Then the omega blushed. “And I checked. I wanted to be respectful."
“How did Wolfie get into your apartment? Did a wolf just followed you home?”
“Yeah?” Yoongi shuffled back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I was walking in the park at night-“
“At night?” Jimin was suddenly very worried. Yoongi looked strong but it was still dangerous because he was very pretty and someone might try to steal him.
“Yes. It helps when… when certain events are going to happen.” Yoongi’s cheeks were a distracting shade of pink.
“What things?”
Yoongi growled a little, glaring down the toaster. “Before… you know.”
Jimin did not.
This must have showed on his face because Yoongi rolled his eyes. “My heat. It helps me calm down before my heat. I get really bad anxiety before it hits and my doctor suggested that walks could help.”
That would explain the scent rolling off Jimin and his inability to stop thinking about bundling Yoongi in several blankets and cozy socks. Yoongi just be just a few days out away from his heat. Which made Jimin’s prescence in the apartment even more baffling – usually omegas were territorial before their heats. Taehyung had once thrown a side table at Jimin when he stopped by for their regular Friday night movie.
“I thought it was just imagining it? I guess. The wolf just sort of walked beside me and then followed me back to my apartment.” There was a little smile on Yoongi’s face as he recalled. “And the last few nights, he was just waiting outside my door politely.”
“You didn’t teach him the door code?”
“It’s a wolf.” Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“Sure, sure.” Outside of letting strangers into his apartment and giving naked weirdo clothes, Yoongi did seem quite sane and put together. Running a music business was no joke – he would have to have a level head to survive in this business. Despite himself, Jimin started to believe Yoongi.
“Wait. You let a wolf in your house and in your bed?”
Yoongi huffed out a breath. “Wolfie is very cute. He does this thing with his eyes.” Yoongi opened his eyes wide and cocked his head to the side. “It’s hard to say no.”
Jimin’s heart was melting. If Yoongi had asked him to strolled down to Mrs. Kang’s apartment naked and knock on the door, Jimin would have done it.
Jimin considered. It was a better explanation than low magnesium. “If I’m the wolf, refuse to call myself Wolfie, why is it happening?”
Yoongi shrugged. “No clue. You have some sort of weird, supernatural kink?”
“I transformed my entire body and somehow stuck it to Newton just to hope into a strange man’s bed? Taehyung would have a field day with that. I guess…” Jimin shrugged helplessly. “I guess it’s as good an answer as any but I don’t understand why?”
“Maybe you just wanted my company?” Yoongi leaned over the table with a smirk.
Despite the omega’s confidence, Jimin instinctually felt like the opposite was true.
And looking around this penthouse, Jimin could see that Yoongi lived alone. There was nothing personal about the space: no pictures on the wall, no plants, no little touches that showed that a human being lived there. It was straight out of an interior design magazine – not one pillow out of place.
The only place that seemed a bit lived in was the kitchen.
Jimin could understand loneliness. When he opened the door in the evening and was met with nothing but silence and darkness, it took all his willpower to not turn around and run back to the office where at least there was noise and people. His apartment was just so lonely.
Maybe… maybe they were just two lonely strangers and fate had decided that they should find each other.
Jimin just wished that fate hadn’t left him so very naked and cold.
“Are you still hungry? Want some more coffee?” Yoongi was on his feet and bustling to fill Jimin’s cup despite the fact that it had just been revealed that Jimin had superpowers to turn into a wolf.
Before Jimin could protest that he was full, Yoongi was scooping soup into a bowl for him. The sight of the steam rising from the soup made Jimin feel… light. There was something about this space, cold as it was, that was making him feel like he was glowing.
Yoongi sat across from him and just watched Jimin eat.
Jimin wanted to eat well. He didn’t mind Yoongi just watching; he wanted to show his appreciation for the delicious meal that the omega had made.
“You’re really good at cooking.” Jimin took another spoonful, Yoongi’s gaze fixed on Jimin’s lips.
“It helps me relax.”
“Probably more productive than turning into a wolf and stalking some random stranger.” Jimin set the spoon down. Something was bothering him. “Weren’t you afraid?”
“Afraid?” Yoongi seemed confused. “By what?”
“The giant wolf that was following you.” Jimin gestured to himself. “If it was me, I would have lost it. Screamed.”
“Not very alpha of you,” Yoongi said with a teasing smile.
Jimin rolled his eyes. “Alpha this. Alpha that. What does that even mean? I’m an alpha not an idiot. If I saw a wild predator in the park, I would have yelped and ran away as fast as I could.”
Yoongi laughed a little to himself. “I suppose. But I wasn’t afraid at all. It was weird. I guess that we’re descended from wolves so it might have been instincts.”
Instincts. Jimin vaguely thought about the conversation with his doctor who had warned him that his instincts would become more and more powerful as he aged. Could that have…
“You have some…” Yoongi leaned over and brushed off something from the side of Jimin’s face. Without thinking, Jimin leaned into the warm touch and smiled.
“Thanks.”
Jimin stopped. He didn’t let anyone touch his face. He was a tactile person – he liked hugs and arms around his shoulder and being close to people, but he didn’t let anyone touch his face: not even Taehyung. And yet here he was, in Jimin’s space, touching him and Jimin couldn’t be happier.
If he had seen Yoongi at work or on the street, he’d have been too shy to approach him. Yoongi looked powerful, even when he was relaxed. His clothes, even the ones that Jimin was wearing, were designer, soft and expensive. In the human form, Jimin would have been too afraid to approach the omega.
But somehow, as a wolf, he’d invited himself into his apartment and his bedroom.
His wolf was something else.
“I should go.” Jimin fought against every instinct inside of him. He wanted to stay, he wanted to lead Yoongi to his bed with the purple sheets and cuddle him (to start). But he was a human being and and not a wolf and he should probably go and see a doctor or a locksmith.
“Go?” Yoongi’s scent turned acrid and bitter.
“Yeah. I’ve imposed on you for long enough. This must be weird for you.”
“Not weird.” Yoongi sounded perilously close to sulking. “It’s fine. You should take a shower.”
“A shower?” Jimin discreetly sniffed himself. There was a definitely pong to him but in his defense, he’d slept in an alley. “I can do that at home.”
“You want to stink up the metro?” Yoongi crossed his arms. “That’s one way to get a seat for yourself.”
This was true.
Yoongi’s bathroom was spotless. The counter was bare except for a few skincare products with high-end labels and a single toothbrush that Jimin noted with satisfaction. He knew that Yoongi lived alone but this was independent confirmation.
“There are towels in the cupboard there.” Yoongi pointed and then stood in the doorway.
“Okay.” Jimin turned his back and realized that Yoongi was still standing there, watching him hungrily.
“Uh.” Jimin played with the hem of his shirt. “I guess I’ll change now?”
“Hmm? Yeah. Unless you shower with your clothes on.”
“You know how much I spend naked,” Jimin tried to joke but his throat suddenly felt bery thick.
“Hmm.” Yoongi still made no motion to move from the doorway.
Jimin slowly took off his shirt, peeling it off him body that was lightly sweaty from the strange heat in the bathroom. Yoongi held out a hand and Jimin, confused, handed him the shirt.
“Pants too.”
Jimin leaned over, took off the pants and handed them to the waiting omega.
“Good, good,” Yoongi said briskly. He turned around and left Jimin, clueless, in his underwear.
He probably wanted to wash them, Jimin reasoned as he carefully shut the door. Most omegas didn’t want their clothing to stink of a strange alpha.
In the shower, Jimin spent his time under the scalding hot water determinedly not thinking about Yoongi. He didn’t think of Yoongi’s legs as he scrubbed his own legs. Didn’t think of his feathery hair as he used Yoongi’s shampoo to wash his hair. Didn’t think of any part of Yoongi as he toweled off, wrapping the lush towel around him (the rich really did live different).
“Uhhh… Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin poked his head out.
“Hmm?” a cute little humming came from the direction of his bedroom.
Jimin swallowed. “Uh. If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll need some clothes? Unless you want me to walk around naked?”
There was a worrying pause.
“Sure. Just come in to my room.”
Jimin gripped the towel around his waist, and took a deep breath before he opened the room and – Oh boy.
Jimin didn’t remember anything from being Wolfie. He had a vague, dreamlike recollection of purple sheets but nothing else. Compared to the austere living room, Yoongi’s bedroom was a mess. But it wasn’t a bedroom, he had turned the entire room into a nest. There were clothes everywhere – bomber jackets and pants and shirts and blankets. The whole room stank of Yoongi – heady enough that Jimin’s need gave a little involuntary bend.
“Yoongi-ssi?”
The omega was humming to himself with his back turned to Jimin. He was fussing with something near to the pillow.
“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin tried again.
The omega stilled. He craned his neck and fixed Jimin with an icy stare. “Don’t call me that.”
Jimin bit his lip. “Okay. Min-nim.”
“No!” Yoongi barked out the order as he spun around and Yoongi’s scent was so strong that Jimin took a step back. “No.”
Jimin realized that Yoongi had been carefully arranging the clothes that Jimin had been wearing on the pillows in his nest.
Jimin’s eyes stung. He’d never had his clothes in an omega’s nest and something about the sight of it made him want to cry. Everything felt so right and so good except for Yoongi’s thunderous expression.
“What do you want me to call you?” Jimin asked softly. He could tell that Yoongi was not entirely himself. He could smell the heat-scent on him. It was incredible. It was so powerful that Jimin was sure that he’d been able to smell it from across Seoul and had let his instincts take him to the omega that needed him. Needed Jimin to protect him and keep him safe and feed him and make him happy.
He could start by getting that murderous expression off Yoongi’s face.
“What do you want me to call you?” Jimin asked again.
Yoongi considered. “Hyung. Hyung is okay. For now.”
For now.
“Okay. Okay, hyung.” Jimin clutched at the towel around his waist which seemed like a very thin barrier between himself and Yoongi’s very open gaze. “Can I get some clothes?”
Reluctantly, Yoongi looked around his giant nest room that he’d built. “I… I suppose.” He gestured to a mirrored closet on the other side of the room. “Help yourself.”
Jimin carefully tiptoed around the nest. It was a very nice nest. Poor Yoongi must be very close to his heat. Jimin would need to be fast and careful.
“I’ll just change-“
“Here.”
Jimin gulped at Yoongi’s firm tone.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Yoongi narrowed his eyes and seemed to be daring Jimin to argue with him.
Jimin had a lot of experience around omegas and knew that it was a swift walk to a flaying to disagree with them when they were that close.
“Ooookay.” Jimin turned his back. In the mirror, he could see Yoongi watching him intently, dark eyes fixed on his body. Biting his lips, Jimin shivered. His hands were shaking slightly as he lifted the shift over his head.
“Hmm.”
When Jimin’s head popped out of the neckline, Yoongi was licking his lips.
“Towel off.”
It was like Jimin was in a weird strip show for just Yoongi who seemed absolutely out of his mind.
“I don’t think-“
“Then don’t’ think,” Yoongi snapped crossly. “Towel off.”
Jimin turned around to face the omega who was pouting at him as if he’d taken away his favourite toy.
“Look. You are clearly near your heat-“
“And?”
“And, I’m an alpha that’s in your house and apparently I was your dog for a little while.”
“Wolf,” Yoongi corrected with a goofy grin. “Don’t make this weird.”
Jimin just resisted rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Wolfie. But you are not making rational decisions right now and we don’t really know each other well enough for this.”
Yoongi sniffed out loudly. “I’ve already seen your dick.”
This was… true. There wasn’t a lot that Yoongi hadn’t already seen. The alley had enough light that Yoongi had no doubt gotten a good look at everything that Jimin had to offer, which was perfectly sized thank you very much.
“Yeah. But contextually.”
“I have seen your dick in the context of the alley against both of our wills,” Yoongi said. “But now, I am politely asking to see your dick in the context of my room.”
Jimin’s knees were threatening to fall down on the job. “That’s some good logic.”
“I am an excellent businessman.” Yoongi sat himself up and crawled (well, lumbered would be the more accurate term. It wasn’t a sexy crawl it was very perfunctory and Yoongi appeared to be gingerly walking on his knees. He should probably be carried places, Jimin thought dimly) to the edge of the next. “I don’t know why you’re bothering to argue with me.”
Jimin’s resolve was dropping faster than… he couldn’t think of suitable metaphor because Yoongi had his eyes trained on Jimin’s face and was holding out his hand.
“It does seem pretty foolish,” Jimin admitted.
“Amateur move,” Yoongi said with the toothy grin. “Now, towel off.
Maybe it was because fate had rearranged Jimin’s bones so that he would find his way to Yoongi, but Jimin dropped the towel and let Yoongi see just how interested he was.
“Better.” Yoongi leaned back. He patted the purple sheet beside him.
Jimin toed into the nest and sat down beside Yoongi, facing him. Naked again.
“Now, I realize that this is not ideal in terms of starting a relationship,” Yoongi began.
“Are you negotiating with me?” Jimin said, scandalized. “You can see my balls! That’s not fair.”
“We are discussing,” Yoongi said, calmly. “Clearly, you have some qualms about the situation.”
What sort of insane omega was using words like ‘qualms’ before their heat?
“You could say that.”
“I find your dedication to consensual sexual intercourse extremely hot,” Yoongi said simply as he took Jimin’s hand in his.
“Thank you?” Jimin brain was absolutely spinning. “I just don’t want to do something that you might regret when you aren’t as…” – he remembered Yoongi’s prudishness in the kitchen – “instinctually driven.”
Yoongi shivered, fingers trembling as he kneaded Jimin’s palm. “Yeah. That.”
Jimin wanted nothing better than to kiss this man stupid but he wasn’t a monster. “Yeah.” He breathed through his mouth, trying to ignore Yoongi’s scent. “How can I help you?”
“Here’s what I want.” Yoongi licked his lips and Jimin’s whole body was an ember smouldering with want. “I want you to stay in my apartment. I want you to wear my clothes. I want you to bring me food and water. I want to have mindless, endless sex with you-“
Jimin gulped.
“But I agree that I think that would be a bad idea under the circumstances.”
It would be a horrible idea. A horrible, bad idea that Jimin was sure that he would regret and he didn’t want Yoongi to regret anything. He wanted to please Yoongi, to make him smile, to make him laugh, to keep him happy and safe.
Safe.
Jimin had a vague wisp of a memory – a brief vision of running through the park knowing that he had to be quick and swift and fast to keep something safe. It was the most important thing – nothing else mattered and he would do anything to keep him safe.
“There will be plenty of time for sex later. I don’t,” Yoongi sighed deeply as if the subject embarrassed him, “I don’t want a lot of sex during my heat. I just want to feel… safe.”
Jimin perked up. He could do that. He would do that. He would keep Yoongi safe, secure, and blanketed in care. He would dig a moat around the apartment building if Yoongi asked him. He would throw Mrs. Kang off the roof if she dared say a cold word.
“That’s okay?” Yoongi said coyly, reclining onto a pile of pillows, clearly about to smell how pleased Jimin was with this. Flushed-cheeked, he pulled Jimin forward to lay beside him and Jimin helpless fell beside him.
“Yeah,” Jimin breathed taking in Yoongi’s button nose and his dark eyes and his sly little lips. Yoongi was perfect, perfect, perfect and Jimin was going to make sure that soft, gentle look in his eyes stayed there forever. “I’ll take care of you.”
Yoongi hummed to himself as he closed his eyes. “You came because I called you,” Yoongi said smugly as he raked his hand through Jimin’s hair.
“What?” Jimin was scent-drunk but not so blasted that he didn’t understand what Yoongi was implying.
"I called you,” Yoongi confessed sleepily. He was slowly inching his way towards Jimin and curled into his side. “I mean, it wasn’t you you but I called for you. And you came.”
There was no medical reason why Jimin had punched a doctor in the face and ran naked through the streets of Seoul to camp out in the alley behind Yoongi’s apartment. But honestly, as Yoongi’s eyelashes fluttered and started to gently snore, Jimin thought that it sounded a good an explanation as any.
“You will feel more instinctually driven,” his doctor had told him.
His instincts had pulled on a thread of his DNA that was long-hidden and had brought him to Yoongi’s door.
That didn’t make a lick of sense.
But Jimin believed it.