Archive of Our Own ^beta

The thing about being the youngest in Cortis was that you never got to be alone with your thoughts.

Not that Keonho minded, usually. Having four alpha hyungs meant having four warm bodies to lean on during breaks, four pairs of hands to ruffle his hair, four laps to collapse into after exhausting practices. He was the most touched member of the group and he loved every second of it.

But right now, the touching was getting intense.

Keonho sighed.

“Keonho-ah,” James’s hand landed on his forehead again. The black panther alpha’s brow was furrowed with concern, his ears flat against his head. “You feel warm.”

“It’s like late February,” Keonho mumbled, not bothering to move away from the touch. “It’s literally just spring.”

“He’s right, it’s warm here,” Martin added, but his wolf tail was wagging anxiously rather than relaxed. “But you’ve been pushing your food around for three days now. That’s not like you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You said that yesterday,” Juhoon observed from his spot by the window, pale eyes catching the morning light. His snow leopard tail flicked once, twice, a tell that meant he was analyzing something. “And the day before. And the day before that.”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Keonho.” Seonghyeon’s voice was soft, but his hand was already reaching across the table to cover Keonho’s. The fox alpha’s fingers curled around his, warm and solid and smelling faintly of oranges. “Tell us what’s wrong. Please.”

Keonho looked down at their joined hands. At Seonghyeon’s pretty handsome face, worried eyes, the way his fox ears were angled forward with such intense focus. At James looming behind him like a concerned dad. At Martin’s tail-wagging. At Juhoon's gaze.

They were all so dramatic. Keonho thought.

“I’m not sick,” He said, very slowly, more slowly than he usually did when struggling to make a choice. “I just... I think it might be because I’m having a bunny now."

Silence.

Absolute, complete, dead silence.

James’s hand froze on his forehead. Martin’s tail stopped mid-wag. Juhoon’s eyes went wide—actually wide. Seonghyeon’s grip on his hand tightened so hard that it almost hurt.

And then all hell broke loose.

“A BUNNY?!” James’s voice came out as a roar that shook the kitchen. His panther form rippled through him—hair bristling, ears flat, eyes wild. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE A BUNNY?!”

“Keonho,” Martin was on his feet, circling the table like his wolf instincts had fully taken over. His scent spiked with panic, old wood and something sharper underneath. “Keonho, look at me. Who. WHO—”

“Did someone touch you?!" James’s hands were on his shoulders now, turning him gently but urgently. “Keonho, baby, you need to tell us right now—”

“I didn’t—”

“Sixteen,” Juhoon was muttering, his phone already in his hand. “He’s sixteen. If someone— I’m calling the company. I’m calling his mom. I’m calling—”

“JUHOON, WAIT—”

"A bunny means pregnant!" Seonghyeon’s voice cracked so badly it went up like almost three octaves. He’d shot up from his seat, knocking his chair over, and was now gripping Keonho’s other shoulder with both hands. His fox tail had puffed to triple its normal size, his ears flat, his face pale beneath his beautiful features. “Pregnant! You’re— We’re— I—”

“I’m not— I just feel like there’s a bunny in my tummy!”

“AND THAT’S WHAT PREGNANT MEANS!” Seonghyeon was shaking him now, gently but frantically. His eyes were wild, desperate, searching Keonho’s face like the answers were written there. “WHEN? WHO? WAS IT ON BREAK? DID SOMEONE— I’LL KILL THEM, KEONHO, I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL—”

“SEONGHYEON!” Keonho had to shout to be heard over the chaos. James was still gripping his shoulders, Martin was pacing and growling, Juhoon was actually dialing his phone, and Seonghyeon looked two seconds away from shifting fully and running out the door to commit murder.

“EVERYONE STOP! I didn’t meet anyone! There’s no alpha! NO ONE!” Keonho’s voice rose with frustration. His lips pushed out in that pout they all knew— the one that meant he was genuinely upset. “There’s no alpha! I just— I feel like there’s a bunny inside me, okay?!”

They stopped.

Four alphas froze mid-panic, staring at him with expressions ranging from devastated to homicidal.

James’s hands loosened slightly. “Then how—”

“Maybe it’s a beta,” Martin offered desperately. “A beta could have—”

“There’s no beta either!” Keonho’s pout deepened. “There’s NO ONE. I asked my mom and she said maybe I have a bunny! That’s all I know!”

The room went very, very quiet again.

“Your mom,” Martin said slowly. “Your mom KNOWS? And she just... didn’t tell anyone?”

“She said not to worry about it.” Keonho raised his hands, a small movement that made his rabbit ears shift slightly. “I forgot to tell you guys. I’m sorry!”

“FORGOT,” Seonghyeon wheezed. “You FORGOT to tell us you’re having a BABY.”

“It’s not that big of a deal?”

“NOT THAT BIG OF A—”Martin cut himself off, took a deep breath. “Keonho, baby, this is— this is literally the biggest deal. This is the deal of all deals. This is THE deal.”

Keonho looked at him with the mild expression of someone watching a particularly energetic puppy. “Okay, hyung.”

“Don’t okay hyung me! This is serious!”

Seonghyeon made a sound like he was being physically tortured. His grip on Keonho’s shoulder tightened, then loosened, then tightened again. “You— but— bunnies don’t just— you have to— with someone—”

“Seonghyeon, you’re going to bruise him,” Juhoon warned.

“I can’t care about bruises!” Seonghyeon’s voice cracked again. “I care about whoever— whatever— KEONHO, DO YOU KNOW HOW BABIES ARE MADE?”

“What? I know how bunnies are made! They grow in tummies!” Keonho’s pout deepened. “That’s what I’m telling you! There’s one in my tummy!”

“BABIES! BUNNIES! PREGNANCY!” Seonghyeon was practically hysterical now. “You have to— ”

Keonho’s face went blank. Then, slowly, confused: “You have to?”

 Martin ran his fingers through his hair. “Keonho, you know you need to... to be with someone to have a bunny, right? Like, an alpha? Or a beta? Someone?"

Keonho blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Huh?” James repeated, his voice dry. “Huh? Keonho, that’s basic biology."

“I know biology! I just—“ Keonho’s brow furrowed. “It just... appeared? I woke up and it was there?”

The silence that followed was somehow worse than all the others.

James stared at him. Martin stared at him. Juhoon’s phone slowly lowered.

Seonghyeon looked like someone had just told him the universe was fake.

“Juhoon. Help,” Martin turned to Juhoon with a look of pure desperation, his voice cracking too. “He doesn’t know.”

"You don’t know," Juhoon said slowly, his voice carefully neutral. “You genuinely don’t know how pregnancy works.”

“I mean— I know there’s— involved—” Keonho’s pout was back, full force. “But I didn’t— there wasn’t— so how can I have a bunny?!”

“OH MY GOD,” Seonghyeon let go of his shoulders and grabbed his own head, fingers tangling in his fox hair. “OH MY GOD. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t KNOW. This is— I can’t—”

James pulled Keonho into a protective hug, his panther instincts overriding everything else. “Okay. Okay. We need to— we need to figure this out. Keonho, baby, HOW did it get there? When you say your mom said you might have a bunny—”

“She said rabbits are complicated and sometimes their bodies just decide there’s a bunny!” Keonho repeated, his voice was muffled against James’s chest, but his pout was still visible. “She said it happens! She didn’t say anything about— about that!”

“Keonho,” Juhoon said slowly. “When you say you have a bunny... do you mean you feel pregnant?”

Seonghyeon made a strangled sound.

“Yes? I think? My tummy feels different. And my chest hurts sometimes.” Keonho touched his belly protectively. “There's definitely something in there. A little bunny. Maybe two.”

Seonghyeon made another strangled sound. Juhoon gave him a look.

“But you haven’t been with anyone,” Juhoon pressed. “No alpha. No beta. No one.”

“Right! That’s what I keep saying!” Keonho’s rabbit ears, which had been flat, perked up with frustration. “It’s just there! My mom said it happens sometimes! So why are you all freaking out?”

Alphas stared at him in horror.

“Okay,” Martin said weakly. “Okay. We’re going to need to have several conversations. But first—” He looked at Juhoon. “Juhoon, you’re thinking something. What is it?”

In the chaos, Juhoon had gone very still.

His pale eyes narrowed. His snow leopard tail stopped moving entirely. His brow furrowed in that way it did when he was working through a complex problem.

He held up a hand, and everyone fell silent. It was a trick he had—something about the way he moved, the quiet authority in his pale eyes.

“Keonho. Your mom. Is she a rabbit hybrid too?”

“Yes? Obviously? She’s the one who made me a rabbit hybrid?”

“It could also be paternal genes, or a throwback... Anyway, never mind. She said you might have a bunny. Just... have one. Without any outside involvement.”

“Yeah?”

Juhoon’s eyes went distant for a moment. Then he looked at Keonho again. “Keonho, when you went home last time— the weekend before last— you said your mom took you to the doctor. For a checkup. Was that about... this?”

“Yeah,” Keonho nodded. “The doctor said everything was fine. I’m healthy.”

“That’s good. Did the doctor say anything else? About... how this happened? When it happened?”

Keonho’s nose twitched again, faster this time. “She said... something about... hormones? And instincts? I wasn’t really listening.” He paused, then added, with the air of someone making a helpful suggestion, “Maybe I should have listened more.”

“Okay,” Juhoon looked at the others with an expression that was half realization, half disbelief. “I think... Rabbits. Rabbits. They can have... pseudopregnancy. False pregnancy. The body thinks it’s pregnant even when it’s not."

Silence.

“Fake... pregnancy?” Martin’s wolf ears swiveled forward.

“It’s a thing,” Juhoon confirmed. “Happens with rabbits. Hormonal changes trigger all the symptoms, but there’s no actual baby.”

James’s arms slowly loosened around Keonho. “So you’re saying—”

“I'm saying we should call Keonho’s mom. Right now. And ask if this is what she meant.”

The call took three minutes.

Keonho’s mom answered on the first ring, listened to Juhoon’s calm explanation, and laughed.

“Oh honey, yes! That’s exactly what I meant! ...I’m so sorry, I forgot you boys wouldn’t know about rabbit stuff. Keonho’s fine, he’s just having a little period. It happens sometimes with young rabbits, especially when they’re surrounded by strong alpha scents... Everything’s normal. Yes, yes... Sure, you can take him to the doctor again if you want.”

Juhoon hung up and relayed the information.

Alphas deflated simultaneously. Their collective exhale could have powered a small city.

Seonghyeon slumped forward, his forehead dropping onto Keonho’s shoulder. His whole body was shaking— with relief, Keonho realized. The fox alpha’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, holding on like he might float away. “I almost committed murder. I almost committed actual murder.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Seonghyeon mumbled into his shirt. “Don’t ever say I have a bunny like that again. I think I just died.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Keonho said, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he lifted one hand and buried it in Seonghyeon’s hair, scratching gently behind his fox ears the way he knew Seonghyeon liked. “I tried to explain but you all started yelling.”

“We were panicking!” James ran both hands through his hair. “You can’t just drop 'I have a bunny' on four alphas without context.”

“I literally tried to give context! You wouldn’t let me!”

Juhoon slowly lowered his phone. “So... no murder?”

“No murder, Juhoon.” James sighed, “Put the phone down.”

Martin crossed the room in two long strides and pulled Keonho into a crushing hug, sandwiching Seonghyeon between them. His wolf tail was wagging furiously now, relief pouring off him in waves. “You’re going to be the death of us, you know that?”

“I know.” Keonho’s voice was muffled against Martin’s chest, smiling. “But you love me.”

“We do,” James agreed, wrapping his arms around all three of them from behind. His chin rested on top of Keonho’s head. “Unfortunately for our blood pressure.”

Juhoon, the last holdout, sighed and set his phone down. Then he crossed the room and added himself to the pile.

For a long moment, they just stood there. Five bodies tangled together in the middle of the kitchen, breathing in sync, hearts slowly returning to normal.

“Okay,” Keonho said eventually, his voice still slightly muffled by Martin’s shirt. “So... there’s no bunny now?”

“There’s no bunny,” James confirmed gently. “Your body just thinks there is.”

“Oh.” Keonho processed this. “But I still feel like there’s a bunny.”

“That’s the hormones,” Juhoon explained, his voice came from above. “The feeling is real, even if the cause isn’t. It should pass in a few weeks.”

“A few WEEKS?” Seonghyeon’s head shot up and collided with Martin’s chin (“Ouch!”) . “He has to feel like there’s a bunny in there for weeks?”

“It’s fine,” Keonho said, touching his belly thoughtfully. “It doesn’t hurt or anything. It’s just... there.” He paused, then added with complete sincerity: “Actually, now I think there might be four.”

Four alphas stared at him.

“Four,” Martin repeated weakly.

“Yeah. One for each of you.” Keonho smiled, that bright, beautiful smile that made everyone around him feel soft. “A little bunny from each of you. They’re all in there together.”

James made a sound like his heart was actually melting. His panther ears went soft, his eyes shining. Martin’s wolf tail started wagging so hard it was a blur. His eyes were definitely getting wet.

Juhoon’s composed expression cracked just slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

And Seonghyeon— Seonghyeon looked like he’d been hit by a truck. A very emotional truck. His face was doing something complicated, caught between wanting to cry and wanting to kiss Keonho and wanting to wrap him in blankets and never let him go.

“Four bunnies.” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Keonho nodded happily. “A little fox bunny from you. It’s orange. Very cute.”

Seonghyeon made a sound that was definitely not a sob. It wasn’t.

“That’s—” Martin’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “That's really sweet, Keonho-ah.”

“You’re going to make us cry,” James added, pulling Keonho into another hug. “Baby, you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.” Keonho snuggled into the hug contentedly. “They’re very small bunnies. Very small. But they’re there.”

“It’s delusional,” Juhoon corrected, but there was no heat in it. He cleared his throat. “But also sweet. You know they’re not actually there, right? Medically speaking?”

“I know.” Keonho’s voice was dreamy. “But they feel there. So for now, they're there.”

Juhoon opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he smiled— a real smile, beautiful and warm. “Okay, Keonho. For now, they’re there.”

“This is nice. I’m going to be the best bunny mommy,” Keonho announced, his rabbit ears perked up in delight. “For my four little bunnies.”

Such a simple, honest answer. So completely Keonho.

The alphas didn’t reply. They just wrapped their arms tighter around their little rabbit omega.

Keonho sat on the examination table, his legs dangling, his rabbit ears finally free from his beanie and fully visible: pale brown with slightly darker tips, soft as velvet, twitching occasionally at the sounds around them.

Dr. Park was a lion beta, a middle-aged woman with gentle hands and the calm presence of someone who’d spent decades dealing with panicked hybrids and their even more panicked companions. She smiled at the five boys crowded into the small exam room— four alphas hovering protectively around one small omega like the world’s most anxious security detail. 

“You can relax,” she said mildly. “He’s perfectly healthy. Just a classic case of pseudopregnancy.”

“Classic,” Seonghyeon repeated. His fox ears were pressed flat against his head in residual anxiety, and he hadn’t let go of Keonho’s hand since they’d walked in. “This is classic. Normal. Happens all the time.”

“For young rabbit omegas surrounded by high-quality alphas? Absolutely.” Dr. Park’s eyes crinkled. “His body is getting signals that conditions are perfect for reproduction. Good food, safe environment, strong alphas nearby. The rabbit part of him thinks, ‘Ah, this would be an excellent time to have babies.’ So it... prepares.”

“Prepares,” Martin said faintly. “Prepares how?”

“All the physical changes of early pregnancy. Swelling, nesting behaviors, sometimes even lactation. It’s not dangerous, usually, as long as we monitor for complications. Once his body adjusts to the constant alpha presence, it should stop happening so easily. Or it might happen seasonally— some rabbit omegas cycle through it every spring.”

Keonho, who had been staring at the air with the distant expression of someone mentally composing a song, suddenly tuned back in. “Every spring?”

“Some rabbit omegas, yes. It’s tied to instinctual breeding cycles. Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” Keonho said, and went back to staring at the air.

Dr. Park gave him an affectionate pat on the knee. “The symptoms should last about three weeks total. You’re about one week in. For the next two weeks, he might experience some discomfort— tender breasts, mild cramping, the urge to nest. Help him manage it. Warm compresses for the breasts if they’re sore, gentle belly rubs for the cramps, and for the love of all that’s fluffy, let him nest. Don’t disturb the nest. It’s very important to a rabbit omega’s emotional wellbeing... Is there anything you’re still unsure about?"

“He keeps saying he has four bunnies in there,” Seonghyeon blurted out. “Is that—is that normal?”

Dr. Park smiled. “Very normal. The feeling of pregnancy is real to his body, even if the cause is hormonal. His mind is just interpreting that feeling in a way that makes sense to him.”

“Don’t worry— it’ll pass.”

Back at the dorm, the session began.

“Okay,” James said, taking the lead because he was the oldest and therefore officially in charge of Difficult Conversations. “Let’s make sure we all understand. Keonho, do you understand what the doctor said?”

“False pregnancy means my body thinks there’s a baby but there’s no baby,” Keonho recited dutifully. “It happens because you’re all good alphas and my rabbit instincts are confused. It’ll last three weeks. I might have symptoms. I should nest. Don’t touch the nest.”

“That’s... actually perfect,” Juhoon said, sounding slightly impressed.

“But I have questions.”

Martin braced himself. “Okay. Questions. Go.”’

“First question.” Keonho held up one finger. “If there’s no baby, why do my—” He paused, glancing down at his chest. “Why do they hurt?”

Seonghyeon made a small strangled sound. His face was turning an interesting shade of pink.

“That’s—” Martin cleared his throat. “That’s another symptom. Dr. Park mentioned it. Your body is preparing to... to feed a baby. Even though there isn’t one. So your mammary glands are... activating.”

“Activating,” Keonho repeated, as if testing the word. “So milk comes out?”

“Eventually, probably,” Juhoon said, his voice admirably steady for someone whose snow leopard ears were pinned flat against his head. “If the hormones continue. Which they will, for another two weeks or so.”

“Huh.” Keonho looked down at his chest again, then back up. “That’s weird.”

“It is weird,” Seonghyeon agreed fervently. “Very weird. Super weird. Can we stop talking about it now?”

“No, I have more questions.” Keonho held up a second finger. “Second question. Dr. Park said don’t disturb the nest. What counts as disturbing the nest?”

This was, apparently, a subject Juhoon had researched. “Anything that moves or changes the nesting materials. Anything that sits on the nest without permission. Anything that tries to clean or organize it. The nest is yours. You build it, you maintain it, you decide who enters it.”

Keonho’s eyes lit up. “So I can kick people out of my nest?”

“You can kick people out of your nest.”

“Even hyungs?”

“Even hyungs.”

A small, dangerous smile spread across Keonho’s face. It’s a cute one.

“Oh no,” Martin muttered.

“Okay,” James said. He cleared his throat, sitting cross-legged in front of Keonho. “Now we need to talk about... safety. Alpha safety. Bunny safety.”

“You’re going to give him the talk,” Martin realized. “Oh no.”

“Someone has to!” James’s ears flattened. “He didn’t know how babies are made! That’s—that's not safe!”

“I know how they’re made NOW,” Keonho pointed out. “Dr. Park explained.”

“But do you?” Juhoon asked gently. “Because there’s more to it than just the mechanics. There are... alpha behaviors. Omega dynamics. Things you need to be aware of.”

Keonho blinked at him. “Like what?”

“Like please don’t go anywhere alone,” Martin said immediately. “If you leave the dorm, make sure that at least one of us knows—and that you’re not by yourself, if that’s okay. Either take someone with you, or stay somewhere safe.”

“Like not accepting drinks or food from strangers,” James added. “Or anyone you just don’t trust completely.”

“Like telling us immediately if anyone makes you uncomfortable,” Juhoon said. “Alpha, beta, omega, doesn't matter. If someone’s scent changes around you in a way you don’t like, you tell us.”

“And like—” Seonghyeon stopped, his face serious. “Like not letting anyone... touch you. In ways you don’t want. Ever.”

Keonho nodded and nodded and looked at them— at four sets of worried alpha eyes, four protective postures, four hearts clearly ready to fight anyone who threatened him.

“You guys are cute,” he said.

“We’re serious!” Martin protested.

“I know,” Keonho crawled across the floor and into Seonghyeon’s lap, settling there comfortably. “I know you are. That’s why you’re cute.”

Seonghyeon’s arms wrapped around him automatically, pulling him close. His fox tail curled around them both. “You’re impossible.”

“M’ sorry.” Keonho nuzzled into his neck. “But you love me.”

“Yeah,” Seonghyeon whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “We do.”

The other three alphas exchanged looks— fond, exasperated, utterly besotted.

Spring had arrived.

Three days later, Keonho’s starting to nest.

Seonghyeon came back from the bathroom to find his bed stripped. His favorite blanket— the soft gray one his mother had sent him from home— was gone. His pillows too. Even the hoodie he’d left draped over his chair had vanished.

“What the—” He followed the trail of destruction to the corner of the room where Keonho’s bed used to be. Except now it wasn’t a bed anymore. It was a structure. A monument. A small mountain of fabric, blankets, pillows, and— was that Martin’s t-shirt from last showcase? —arranged in a careful, deliberate circle with a hollow in the middle.

In the hollow sat Keonho, cross-legged, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Seonghyeonnie,” he said brightly. “Look. I made a nest.”

Seonghyeon looked. His brain tried to process the fact that his blanket— his favorite blanket— was now part of a rabbit nest. That his hoodie was being used as a cushion. That Keonho was patting the space next to him like he was inviting Seonghyeon to join him in this fabric monstrosity.

“Isn't it beautiful?” Keonho asked, genuine pride in his voice. “I used everyone’s things. That’s Martin hyung’s shirt from our last showcase. That’s James hyung’s hoodie from when we went to the amusement park. That’s Juhoon hyung’s pillow. And these—” He patted the gray blanket. “These are yours. They smell like you.”

Seonghyeon’s tail curled slightly at the tip. “They... smell like me?”

“Yeah.” Keonho nuzzled into the blanket, his rabbit ears flopping forward as he burrowed deeper. “It’s nice. It makes the nest feel safe. Like everyone’s here even when you’re not.”

Something in Seonghyeon’s chest went very, very soft. He tried to remember the last time Keonho had said something like that— something vulnerable, something honest about needing them. The kid was tough, always had been. The emperor maknae, Martin called him, because he ran the dorm like a tiny king and took no nonsense from anyone.

But this— this was different. This was Keonho’s rabbit instincts talking, maybe. But it was also Keonho, trusting them enough to build his nest out of their things.

“It is beautiful,” Seonghyeon heard himself say. “You did a really good job, Keonho-yah.”

Keonho beamed, and for a moment he looked like his usual self— bright, mischievous, full of energy. Then his expression shifted to something more calculating. “Can I have your hoodie too? The black one you wear when you practice?”

“It’s sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t care that it’s sweaty?”

“It smells like you more when it’s sweaty.”

Seonghyeon’s face did something complicated. His fox ears swiveled back, then forward, then back again. “I— okay. Sure. I’ll get it for you.”

He was halfway to the door when Keonho’s voice stopped him.

“Seonghyeon-yah.”

“Yeah?”

“You can sit in the nest if you want. Since you gave me your blanket. And you’re going to give me your hoodie. You can be... nest-approved.”

Seonghyeon turned back. Keonho was patting the space next to him again, his brown eyes wide and earnest, his rabbit ears perked up in what might have been hope. The nest looked ridiculous— a chaotic pile of everyone’s favorite things— but Keonho looked so small in the middle of it, so young, so much like the baby bunny he technically was.

Seonghyeon automatically went back and sat in the nest.

Keonho immediately leaned against him, warm and solid, and continued surveying his kingdom of fabric with satisfaction. “This is the best nest anyone has ever made,” he announced. “I’m very talented.”

“You’re very something,” Seonghyeon agreed, and if his voice came out softer than usual, if his arm somehow ended up around Keonho’s shoulders, if his fox tail curled around them both like an extra blanket— well. That was just automatic for no reason.

The others discovered the nest one by one, and their reactions varied.

Martin walked in, saw his missing t-shirt, and opened his mouth to complain. Then he saw Keonho curled up in the middle, Seonghyeon half-draped around him like a fox-shaped blanket, and the complaint died in his throat.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Oh, that’s—that’s actually really cute.”

“Shut up,” Seonghyeon said, his face pink. “It’s not cute. It’s biology.”

“It’s very cute biology,” Juhoon agreed, appearing behind Martin. He surveyed the nest with the eye of someone who appreciated good construction. “The structural integrity is impressive. He’s created a load-bearing wall using Martin’s shirt and my pillow. That’s advanced nesting.”

“I don't know if I should be proud or concerned that you’re analyzing the nest,” James said, squeezing past them to get a better look. His panther ears perked forward. “Is he asleep?”

Keonho was, indeed, asleep. His face was relaxed, his lips slightly parted, his rabbit ears draped over Seonghyeon’s arm like small, soft blankets of their own. One hand was curled loosely in the fabric of Seonghyeon’s hoodie—the black one, which he’d apparently claimed the moment Seonghyeon brought it back.

“His stomach was hurting earlier,” Seonghyeon murmured, not wanting to wake him. “The cramps. I was rubbing it and he just... passed out.”

“Good,” James said approvingly. “That’s good. The doctor said belly rubs help.”

There was a moment of quiet as they all watched Keonho sleep. The afternoon sun slanted through the window, catching the pale brown of his ears, the soft curve of his cheek. He looked peaceful. Content. Like a small creature who had built himself a safe place and curled up in it without a single worry.

Then his nose twitched, and he murmured something unintelligible, and his hand tightened on Seonghyeon’s hoodie.

Seonghyeon’s heart did something acrobatic. He ignored it.

The nest thing was evolving.

One morning, Keonho woke up with an overwhelming need to arrange things. Not just any things— soft things, warm things, things that smelled like his pack. His rabbit instincts were screaming at him to build, to create, to make a space that was safe and warm and perfect.

He rearranged the nest. He rearranged them in a circle, layering and fluffing and adjusting until it felt right.

But it just didn’t feel right.

Something was missing.

Fur. 

It needed fur. Soft fur, warm fur, the kind of fur that would keep tiny bunny babies safe and cozy.

Keonho looked down at his own arms. At the fine, soft hair. At his rabbit ears.

His body moved before his brain could stop it. He focused, let the shift happen, and suddenly he was small— really small, palm-sized, a tiny brown rabbit with velvet-soft fur.

This is fine, he told himself. It’s safe here. This is normal. I just need a little fur for the nest.

He tugged at the fur on his belly. It came loose easier than he expected, a small tuft of soft brown. He placed it carefully in the nest.

Then another tuft.

And another.

By the time the door opened, he’d made a small pile and his tiny rabbit belly had a few bare patches.

“Keonho? Are you—” Seonghyeon stopped dead in the doorway. His fox ears perked forward, his eyes going wide. “KEONHO!”

The shout brought the other alphas running.

James appeared first, panther instincts on high alert. Then Martin, nearly crashing into him. Then Juhoon, moving with obvious urgency.

They all stopped at the doorway.

Stared at the tiny brown rabbit in the middle of an enormous nest, surrounded by piles of their clothes, with small tufts of fur scattered around and a few bald patches visible on his miniature belly.

“Oh my god,” James breathed.

“He’s so small,” Martin whispered, his voice cracking.

“He’s pulling out his fur,” Juhoon observed, already moving closer. “Keonho-ah, you shouldn’t—”

The tiny rabbit looked up at them with big, shiny eyes. In his mouth was another tuft of his own fur, clearly freshly pulled.

Seonghyeon made a sound like his heart was breaking. He dropped to his knees beside the nest, reaching out with gentle hands. “Keonho. Baby. What are you doing?”

The rabbit— Keonho— dropped the fur and made a small, distressed sound. His nose twitched frantically.

“He’s nesting with fur,” James said softly, understanding dawning. “His body thinks there are babies. He’s making the nest soft.”

“But he’s pulling out his own fur.” Martin knelt too, his wolf eyes shining with concern. “That can’t be comfortable.”

Seonghyeon carefully, carefully reached into the nest and scooped up the tiny rabbit. Keonho fit in the palm of his hand, small and warm and trembling slightly. His little heart was beating fast against Seonghyeon’s finger.

“Hey,” Seonghyeon murmured, bringing him close to his face. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that, okay? We’ll figure something out.”

The rabbit’s nose twitched. One tiny paw reached out and touched Seonghyeon’s cheek.

“I’ve got you,” Seonghyeon whispered. “I’ve got you, Keonho.”

James cleared his throat. “We could... give him our fur. From our brushes. So he doesn’t have to use his own.”

“That’s genius,” Martin said. “I’ll get mine.”

“Mine too.” Juhoon was already moving. “There’s a whole bag in my closet.”

Within minutes, they were back with bags of shed fur—gray wolf, black panther, silver-white snow leopard, and orange-red fox. Seonghyeon gently placed Keonho back in the nest and started arranging the fur around him.

The tiny rabbit’s eyes went wide. He dove into the pile of fox fur first, burrowing deep, then emerged covered in orange-red fuzz. He looked at Seonghyeon with what could only be described as joy.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Seonghyeon said softly, his heart melting. “That’s yours. All of it.”

Keonho spent the next hour arranging and rearranging the fur, with four alpha hybrids watching adoringly from the edges of the nest. Occasionally he’d emerge, check their positions, and make demanding little squeaks until someone moved closer.

“He’s telling us where to sit,” Juhoon observed, amused, as he shifted closer to the nest’s edge.

Another squeak. Closer.

“I think he wants us around the nest,” James said, scooting forward. “Like guards, you know?”

“Protecting the babies,” Martin agreed, his tail wagging. “I can do that.”

Seonghyeon was already as close as he could get without actually entering the nest. His fox ears were perked forward, his eyes soft, his whole attention focused on the tiny rabbit who was now curling up in a pile of colorful fur.

“He’s falling asleep,” he whispered.

They all watched as Keonho’s tiny body relaxed, his eyes fluttering closed, his nose twitching one last time before stilling. He looked impossibly small, impossibly precious, surrounded by the scents and fur of his pack.

“He’s beautiful,” James said quietly.

“He’s ours,” Martin said. “And we’re going to take care of him through this. Whatever he needs.”

Seonghyeon didn’t say anything. He just reached one finger into the nest and gently, gently stroked Keonho’s back. The tiny rabbit shifted in his sleep, pressing closer to the touch.

Spring had definitely arrived.

The next two weeks were an education for everyone.

Keonho nested obsessively, but now he had proper materials— bags and bags of alpha fur that he arranged and rearranged with intense focus. The nest in the corner grew and changed, new blankets added, old ones rearranged. Keonho spent hours there, sometimes sleeping, sometimes just sitting with his small rabbit form curled in the center. On those days, one of them always stayed nearby.

And they all got nest-approved, Keonho told them, since you contributed your fur to it.

The alphas took turns keeping him company. James in the mornings, listened to podcasts quietly in the nest while Keonho slept. Martin in the afternoons, narrated his songwriting process to the tiny rabbit who occasionally squeaked feedback. Juhoon in the evenings, scrolled through his phone while Keonho arranged fur around him.

And Seonghyeon.

Seonghyeon was there most of all. He had developed an almost magnetic pull toward the nest.

He’d lie in the nest for hours, one hand resting inside so Keonho could curl against his fingers. He’d talk to him softly, telling him about his day, about nothing, about everything. He’d bring him tiny pieces of snacks that Keonho would nibble from his palm.

“You’re spoiling him,” Juhoon observed one evening, watching Seonghyeon hand-feed the tiny rabbit bits of strawberry.

“I’m taking care of him,” Seonghyeon corrected, not looking away from Keonho. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

Seonghyeon finally looked up, and Juhoon was surprised by the intensity in his eyes. “He’s going through something strong and uncomfortable and his body is doing things he doesn’t understand. If I can make it even a little better, I’m going to. Every time.”

Juhoon studied him for a long moment. Then he smiled softly. “Yeah. I know you are.”

“Isn’t this something you do, too?”

“You’re right, Seonghyeon-ah. We do, too.”

The lactation started in the third week.

Keonho woke up confused. He knew something was wrong. He was in his nest, surrounded by fur and pack-scent, but his chest felt heavy and uncomfortable, and when he looked down—

“Oh,” he said flatly. “Oh.”

The door creaked open. Seonghyeon’s head appeared, his fox ears perking up when he saw Keonho was in human form. “You're up? Are you—” He stopped, eyes dropping to Keonho’s chest, where damp spots were spreading on his shirt. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Keonho touched the spots gingerly. “It hurts.”

Seonghyeon was across the room in seconds, kneeling beside the nest. “What hurts? How much? Show me.”

“It’s just... full. And tight.” Keonho moved uncomfortably. “The doctor said this might happen. Something about milk.”

Keonho hiked his pajama up to his chest. His nipples were visibly different—slightly swollen, the skin around them darkened. And when he pressed gently, a tiny bead of white appeared.

Seonghyeon stared.

Keonho stared back.

“Milk,” Keonho said, tone conversational. “I have milk.”

Seonghyeon made a sound that wasn’t quite a word. It might have been a scream. It might have been a prayer. It was definitely not coherent.

James appeared in the doorway, drawn by the noise. “What's going on? I heard—” He saw Keonho’s chest. He saw the milk. He very calmly walked to the wall and rested his forehead against it. “Okay. Okay. We can handle this. So you don’t get an infection. We have a breast pump somewhere. Martin bought one from the hospital. Just in case.”

“Breast pump,” Keonho repeated, testing the words. “What's that?”

“Machine. Helps with... milk.” James was already rummaging through the closet where they kept miscellaneous supplies. “Martin! Where’s the breast pump?!”

Martin emerged from the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He took one look at the scene— Keonho on the bed with his pajama pushed up, Seonghyeon frozen in place like a statue, James digging through the closet like a man possessed— and spit out the toothbrush.

“Oh god,” Martin said faintly. “Oh god, it’s the— the thing. The doctor said—”

“Milk,” Juhoon supplied helpfully. “His body is producing milk.”

“Yes, thank you, I know what it’s called, I just wasn’t prepared for it to be so—” Martin gestured vaguely at Keonho’s chest. “So visible.”

“Martin— Where is the pump?”

“Kitchen!” he said. “Top cabinet. Still in the box.”

“Do you know how to use it?” James asked gently.

“No,” Keonho admitted. “But how hard can it be?”

Famous last words.

The breast pump was a disaster.

The pump was uncomfortable and weird and by the time he’d struggled with it for five minutes, he was frustrated and sore and on the verge of tears— which was ridiculous, because Keonho seldom cried, but apparently something about fake pregnancy hormones or the pain didn’t care about that.

Keonho sat on the couch, the device attached to his chest, looking down at it with an expression of deep betrayal. The machine whirred softly, doing its job, but Keonho’s eyes were getting progressively shinier.

“I hate this,” he said, pouting, his voice cracking. “I hate it so much. It hurts.”

James, who was monitoring the situation, immediately leaned forward. “Hurts how? Too strong? We can adjust the setting—”

“It hurts,” Keonho repeated, and then— impossibly, devastatingly— a tear slipped down his cheek. Then another. Then he was crying, silent tears tracking down his face while the machine kept whirring, kept pulling at his sensitive chest.

“OH NO.” Seonghyeon was there in an instant, pulling the machine away, tossing it aside like it had personally offended him. “No, no, no, Keonho-yah, don’t cry, we won’t use it, okay? We’ll find another way—”

“It hurts,” Keonho sobbed.

Keonho was crying. Actually crying. Keonho, who’d fallen down the stairs last year and just gotten up and said “well that happened.” Keonho, their emperor maknae, the toughest little bunny in the world, was sitting on the coach with actual tears running down his face because a machine was hurting his chest.

“Shh, shh, baby,” James gathered Keonho into his arms, letting the young omega’s face press into his chest. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t cry, it’s okay.”

“But it— it hurts and I— I just want it to stop—” Keonho’s words were muffled by James’s shirt, his small body shaking with sobs.

Juhoon appeared with a warm washcloth. Martin brought a glass of water. They surrounded him, this tiny crying omega, shielding him from the world.

Four alphas exchanged helpless glances.

"Can we help?" Martin asked carefully. "Is there something we can do?"

Keonho sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. The tears kept coming, though— his body seemed to have decided that once was enough to break the dam, and now they wouldn’t stop. “It hurts. And it’s wet. And I don’t like it.”

“I know. I know you don’t.” Seonghyeon’s brain was running at a million miles an hour, trying to remember everything the doctor had said, everything he’d read online. Warm compresses. Gentle massage. And if the pump was too painful—

And Seonghyeon— Seonghyeon had an idea.

“Keonho-yah.” He knelt in front of him, waiting until those wet, miserable eyes met his. “Can I try something? It might help. But you have to tell me if it’s okay.”

Keonho looked up at him, eyes still wet, nose still running, ears drooping pitifully. “What?”

Seonghyeon’s fox ears were flat against his head, whether from nervousness or determination he couldn't tell. “I can... I can help with the milk. With my mouth. It’s—it’s something alphas do sometimes. For omegas who need it. It’s— it’s gentler. Usually. I’ve heard. From— from sources. Reliable sources. About— about omega care.“

The room went very quiet.

The other three alphas in the room had gone completely still, like prey animals hoping a predator wouldn’t notice them. Which was ironic, given that they were the predators.

Keonho’s tears paused mid-track. “Your mouth?”

“Yeah. It’s—it’s gentler than the machine. And warm.” Seonghyeon’s ears were burning now, he could feel it. “But only if you want. Only if you doesn’t feel weird.”

Keonho considered this. “You would do that?”

“I—” Seonghyeon swallowed. “If you want. If it would help. I don’t— I don’t want you to be in pain.”

Keonho considered this with the same serious expression he used when choosing between two ice cream flavors. Then he nodded. “Okay. Let’s try.”

The other three alphas very carefully did not look at each other. They also did not leave. This was not about them. This was about Keonho. They would stay to make sure he was okay.

What followed was the most surreal fifteen minutes of Seonghyeon’s life. Which was saying something, given that his life included debut preparations, variety show appearances, and the time Keonho had accidentally set off the fire alarm by trying to cook ramen at 3 a.m..

Keonho sat on the edge of the sofa, while Seonghyeon knelt in front of him, trying very hard not to think about the position they were in.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you?” Seonghyeon asked for the fifth time. “We can try the pump again. On a lower setting. Or we can call the doctor. Or—”

“Seonghyeon-yah.” Keonho’s voice was steady now, the tears already forgotten in the way he forgot everything once it stopped being immediately present. “You offered. I said yes. Stop talking and help me.”

Right. Help. Seonghyeon could do that. He was a helpful person. He helped Keonho with many things. Seonghyeon leaned forward slowly, giving Keonho every chance to change his mind.

This was different.

Very, very gently, Seonghyeon reached out and lifted the edge of Keonho’s shirt. The skin underneath was warm, slightly damp, and— god, Keonho really was small, wasn’t he? He knew they were actually about the same height aside from their hybrid form. But— it’s Keonho.

It’s Keonho. Small and soft, and currently looking at Seonghyeon with complete trust, like it had never occurred to him that this might be weird or intimate or any of the things Seonghyeon’s brain was screaming at him.

It was strange. It was intimate.

“It might feel strange,” Seonghyeon warned, his voice rough. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Okay.”

Seonghyeon leaned forward.

It was strange. It was intimate. It was also, apparently, effective.

Keonho let out a small gasp, then a sigh. His hand came up to rest on the back of Seonghyeon's head, not pushing, just... holding. “That’s better,” he whispered. “That doesn’t hurt.”

Seonghyeon closed his eyes and focused on the task at hand. On the taste of milk and milk candy and something uniquely, irreplaceably Keonho. On the way Keonho's body relaxed under his touch. On the soft sounds he made, completely unselfconscious, completely trusting.

“Thank you, Seonghyeonnie,” Keonho murmured, already half asleep. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Anytime, Keonho,” Seonghyeon said, his voice low. “Whatever you need.”

"I know," Keonho nuzzled into his neck, breathing in oranges. "I know."

They stayed like that, curled together in the nest, until Keonho’s breathing evened out and his body shifted back to rabbit form in sleep. Seonghyeon looked down at the tiny creature in his arms, felt the rapid heartbeat slow to peace, and knew with absolute certainty that there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Later— much later, after the immediate crisis had passed and Keonho was curled up in his nest, sleeping peacefully, surrounded by the scent of his pack, looking more comfortable than he had in days— Seonghyeon sat on the couch in the living room, staring at the wall.

Martin sat down next to him. “You okay?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Martin was quiet for a moment, then. “For what it’s worth, you did a good thing. He’s not in pain anymore.”

Seonghyeon made a sound that might have been agreement or might have been a small emotional burst. It was hard to tell.

Three weeks after it started, it ended.

Just as the doctor predicted. On the twenty-first day, Keonho woke up in Seonghyeon’s arms— they’d been sharing the nest, because apparently Seonghyeon was now nest-approved permanent resident— and blinked at the ceiling.

Something felt different. Lighter. Empty.

He lay still for a moment, checking in with his body. No ache. No urgent need to rearrange his fur collection.

“I think it’s over, Seonghyeonnie.” he said to the ceiling.

A warm body shifted beside him. Seonghyeon’s arm tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. Seonghyeon, who had been half-aself, mumbled something unintelligible. “Mm?”

“They’re gone.”

That woke him up. “What’s gone?”

“My bunnies. Baby bunnies.”

Seonghyeon sat up so fast he nearly knocked them both out of the nest. “What? Are you sure? Do you feel okay? Should we call the doctor?”

Keonho stretched, his rabbit ears perking up again. “I feel fine. Normal. Like before.” He patted his belly experimentally. “Empty. Just me in here.”

Seonghyeon studied him, searching for any sign of distress. Finding none, he relaxed slightly. “Good. I’m glad you're okay.”

Keonho grinned— that bright, mischievous, fully-Keonho grin that they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. “No more bunnies. Just me. Your favorite rabbit.”

Seonghyeon stared at him for a long moment. Then, without meaning to, he started laughing. It was half relief, half exhaustion, and half something else he couldn’t name— something that felt like spring, like new beginnings, like the world shifting slightly on its axis.

“You’re insane," he told Keonho. “You know that, right? Completely insane”

“I'm not insane. I’m just—" Keonho paused, searching for the right word. “Experienced. I’ve been through things. I’m wise now.”

“You’re sixteen, bunny.”

“And very wise for my age.”

Seonghyeon shook his head, still laughing, and pulled Keonho back down into the nest. “Go back to sleep, you weird little bunny.”

“Make me.”

“I literally just did.”

“That’s not making me. That’s suggesting. Making me would require—”

Seonghyeon put his hand over Keonho’s mouth. “Sleep.”

Keonho bit his hand.

“You bite me?!”

“You deserved it!”

“I’m trying to be NICE!”

“Try harder.”

This devolved into a pillow fight, then a wrestling match, then both of them somehow ending up on the floor, tangled in blankets, laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

In the doorway, Martin appeared, looking down at them with the exhausted expression of someone who had long ago accepted that his life would never be peaceful.

“It’s 7 a.m.,” he said flatly. “On a Sunday. A day to sleep in.”

“Keonho started it,” Seonghyeon said immediately.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“You were trying to make me sleep!”

“Because you need sleep!”

Martin looked at James, who had appeared behind him, equally exhausted. James looked back. They shared the silent communication of people who had given up on understanding the youth.

“I’m making coffee,” James announced. “Anyone who wants some, be quiet and wait. Anyone who doesn’t, also be quiet. Just— be quiet. Please.”

“We’ll be quiet,” Keonho promised, even as he threw a pillow at Seonghyeon’s head.

They were not quiet.

The other alphas took the news in stride.

“So it’s over?” James confirmed at lunch. “No more nesting?”

“I’m still keeping the fur collection,” Keonho said firmly. “That’s mine now. You can’t take it back.”

“We weren’t going to.”

“Good. And I’m keeping the hoodie Seonghyeon gave me. And Martin hyung’s scarf. And—”

“We get it,” Martin laughed. “You’re keeping everything. That’s fine.”

“Next spring, though,” Juhoon said thoughtfully, “It might happen again. Are you going to be okay with that?”

Keonho considered. “Yeah. I think so. It was weird, but not bad. Just... different.” He glanced at Seonghyeon, who was very focused on his rice. “And I have help now.”

Seonghyeon choked on his food.

James hid a smile behind his hand. Martin’s wolf tail wagged once in amusement. Juhoon raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Help,” Seonghyeon managed when he could breathe again. “Right. Help. I'm—helpful.”

“You’re very helpful,” Keonho agreed innocently. “The most helpful. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Seonghyeon’s ears went red. His tail puffed. He looked like he might actually expire on the spot.

“Seonghyeon-ah,” Keonho said sweetly, “you should eat more. You look flushed.”

“I’m FINE.”

“You sure? You seem a little—”

“Keonho.”

The little bunny omega grinned, all sharp teeth and mischief. “What? I’m just concerned about my helpful hyung.”

“You don’t call me hyung.”

“I’m being polite.”

“You’re being a menace.”

“Same thing, really.”

Martin caught James’ eye across the table and mouthed。 “They’re going to be insufferable.”

James mouthed back. “They already are.”

Juhoon, the traitor, just smiled and kept eating.

Spring came, as springs do. And with it, just as Dr. Park had predicted, came Keonho’s second false pregnancy.

By now, the group was prepared. They had a system. Warm compresses ready in the bathroom. Extra soft blankets for nesting. A list of approved comfort foods. And a strict rotation for belly rubs, because Keonho had opinions about who got to rub when.

Seonghyeon, naturally, had the most shifts. Not because they assigned him—because he kept showing up.

“You’re here again,” Juhoon observed one evening, finding Seonghyeon already in the nest with Keonho, one hand gently rubbing the younger omega’s sbelly while Keonho scrolled through his phone with the other.

“He asked me to.”

“Did he?”

“He did. Right, Keonho-yah?”

Keonho looked up from his phone. “Hmm? Oh. Yeah. I asked him. He’s warm.”

Juhoon’s snow leopard ears twitched with amusement. “He’s warm.”

“Very warm. Like a portable heater. But furry.”

“I can hear you,” Seonghyeon said.

“Good.”

This time, the symptoms were milder. Keonho's body had apparently started to adjust to the constant presence of predator pheromones. The nesting was less intense, the lactation less dramatic, the cramps more of an annoyance than actual pain.

But something else had changed. Something in the way Seonghyeon looked at Keonho. Something in the way he touched him— gentler now, more careful, like he was handling something precious.

The others noticed. Of course they noticed. They lived together.

“He’s got it bad,” Martin said to James one night, watching Seonghyeon follow Keonho into the kitchen to help him reach a glass on the top shelf. Keonho could reach it himself— he’d grown a bit over the year— but he let Seonghyeon get it anyway.

“Took him long enough,” James replied, not looking up from his phone. “I give it another month before he says something.”

“A month? He’s a fox. Foxes are supposed to be clever. He’s been making heart eyes at our bunny since the first false pregnancy.”

“Clever about everything except feelings. You know how it is.”

They both looked toward the kitchen, where Seonghyeon was now helping Keonho stir something on the stove, their shoulders touching, their tails occasionally brushing together like they didn’t notice.

“Kids.” James said fondly.

“Babies.” Martin agreed.

The confession, when it came, was not dramatic. There were no rain-soaked declarations, no candlelit dinners, no carefully planned speeches.

They were in the nest.

Keonho was half-asleep against Seonghyeon’s chest, his rabbit ears flopped over Seonghyeon’s arm, his breathing slow and even.

“Hey.”

He turned. Seonghyeon's fox ears perked forward, his expression soft.

“Hey yourself.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Keonho looked back at the nest. “Just... thinking.”

“About?”

Keonho considered lying. Then decided not to. “About you, actually.”

Seonghyeon’s breath caught. “Me?”

“You were really good through all of this. Really...” Keonho searched for the right word. “Present. You were always there. Even when I didn’t ask. Even when I was being annoying.”

“You're always annoying,” Seonghyeon said, but his voice was soft. “That’s not new.”

“Shut up.” Keonho threw a pillow at him. Seonghyeon caught it. “I’m trying to be sincere here.”

“Sorry. Continue.”

Keonho took a breath. “I just wanted to say thank you. For real. For everything. The fur, and the belly rubs, and the—” he gestured vaguely, ”—help. It meant a lot.”

Seonghyeon was quiet for a moment. Then he asked quietly.

“Can I tell you something?” 

“Sure.”

“I wasn’t just helping because you needed it.” Seonghyeon’s ears were flat, his tail still, his whole body tense with the effort of being honest. “I was helping because I wanted to. Because I—” He stopped, swallowed, started again. “Because you’re not just my packmate, Keonho. You’re not just my friend. You’re—”

“I know,” Keonho said softly.

Seonghyeon blinked. “You know?”

“I’m not stupid. I know you look at me differently. I know you stay close. I know you get weird when other people touch me.” Keonho shrugged. “I’m a rabbit omega. I notice things.”

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say something?” Keonho tilted his head, his rabbit ears perking forward. “Because I wasn’t sure what I wanted. And then the bunny thing happened, and I had a lot to figure out. But now...” He looked at Seonghyeon, really looked at him— at his beautifully handsome face, his worried eyes, his soft fur. “Now I think I know.”

“What do you know?”

Keonho reached out and took his hand. “That I like you helping. That I like you near. That when I think about next spring, and the one after that, and all the springs after that, I want you there.”

Seonghyeon’s breath left him in a rush. “Keonho—”

“Is that okay?” For the first time, Keonho looked uncertain. “Is that what you want too?”

“Are you kidding?” Seonghyeon squeezed his hand, hard. “I’ve wanted this since— I don’t know when. Forever. Always.”

“Forever’s a long time.”

“Good.”

Keonho smiled—that bright, beautiful smile that made fans lose their minds, made everyone around him feel soft. “Okay then. Forever it is.”

Seonghyeon pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in Keonho’s hair. He smelled like oranges, warm and sweet and right.

“Next spring,” Seonghyeon murmured against his ear. “I’ll be here.”

“I know.”

“And the spring after that.”

“I know.”

“And the one after that.”

“Seonghyeon-ah.” Keonho pulled back just enough to look at him. “I know. That’s what I’m counting on.”

“I love you,” Seonghyeon said, because suddenly it was the only thing that made sense.

“I know,” Keonho said. And then, because he was Keonho, ”Can we sleep now? My stomach hurts a little.”

Seonghyeon laughed, helpless and happy, and pulled him closer. “Yeah. We can sleep.”

In the darkness of the room, surrounded by the scent of pack and home and something new blooming between them, Keonho’s voice came again, soft and sleepy.

“Seonghyeon-yah.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too. Just so you know.”

Seonghyeon smiled into the darkness. “I know.”

Seonghyeon kissed him then— soft and careful. Keonho kissed back, just as soft, just as careful.

They held each other in a nest of fur and clothes and pack-scent, and started figuring out what forever might look like.

The next morning, they found Seonghyeon’s fox form curled protectively around Keonho’s rabbit form in the middle of the nest, both of them small and warm and utterly content.

James took a picture. Martin cried a little. Juhoon pretended not to notice.

“Should we wake them?” Martin whispered.

“Absolutely not,” James said. “Look at them.”

“They’re going to be insufferable,” Juhoon predicted.

“They’re already insufferable,” James corrected. “Now they’re just insufferable together.”

Seonghyeon’s ear twitched in his sleep. Keonho snuggled closer.

Outside, the first cherry blossoms were beginning to fall, carpeting the ground in soft pink. And inside the Cortis dorm, a young red fox held his bunny close and dreamed of springs to come.

Spring had arrived.

It always did.

And it would pass.

And it always came back.

But that was okay. They’d be ready.