Chapter Text
It was near autumn.
When Namjoon stepped out of the academic building, the sun had already dipped low, brushing the tops of the trees with its last light. Long shadows stretched across the red-brick avenue, broken up by patches of gold where the branches had begun to thin.
It was the kind of weather that always made him quiet—not sad, exactly, but thoughtful in a way that felt a little hollow. The air had that early autumn chill, the kind that nudged your thoughts into places you hadn’t meant to go.
He clutched a stack of reference books, pages bristling with sticky notes and scribbled scraps, and stood there for a moment, not quite ready to move. He probably looked a bit lost. (And a little weird. A little silly.)
The same song had been looping in his earphones for a while now—he’d stopped counting. A low, raspy voice rapped softly about dreams and disappointments, and somehow it made the air feel even colder.
There was something about anonymous artists like that—people who poured their hopes into a world that rarely gave anything back. It always sounded a little too fragile, a little too grand. But maybe that was the point. Even a flicker of light could mean something, couldn’t it?
He wondered if they ever felt that strange warmth too, the kind that slips through even when no one’s listening. Or maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe that voice had already found its place in the world, far from the quiet corners where it first began.
Just as the song faded out, he heard it—something else, something real. It pulled him out of the haze like a sudden gust of wind, jolting him awake from the trance he fell deep in.
“Don’t be shy, pretty omega.”
“We don’t mean harm.”
The omega must have said something (or did something? Namjoon wasn’t able to catch the sound clearly as he hurriedly pulled his earphone down), but the others seemed to sound more livid than before.
“Think you can hide behind an alpha’s claim? How barbaric. Too bad your alpha isn’t here right now, is he?”
Ice flooded Namjoon's veins. He quickened his steps, rounding the corner to find three beta students cornering their prey against the brick wall.
The omega was not small, only a few centimeters shy of Namjoon height, but appeared thin in an oversized hoodie that looked way too big for his frame draped over his shoulders, dark wavy locks that fall over his eyebrows, pressed against the wall like a broken bird with nowhere to fly. Even from a distance, Namjoon could see the violent tremor in his shoulders, could smell the acrid tang of terror.
"Hey." Namjoon's voice sliced through their jeering like a blade, low and dangerous enough to make all three betas freeze. "What's going on here?"
The ringleader, a stocky predator with bleached hair, bared his teeth in what might have been a smile. "Nothing that concerns you. Just having a friendly chat."
But Namjoon's attention had shifted to the omega, and recognition hit him. It was the omega from his art history class—the one who always stayed at the back row, quiet, reserved, Namjoon had overheard him asking the teaching assistant questions once after everyone had left in soft, shy murmurs. He remembered being intrigued by the insightful discussion that followed that he lingered by the lecture hall eavesdropping like a weirdo.
It seemed the omega was a lone wolf, an alpha claim secured around his neck at all times in the form of a scented scarf. With how self-kept the omega was, it was apparent that the distance he kept with the others was a conscious decision. Namjoon had taken his distance with the omega as a sign of respect. (and an excuse for his own shyness, after all the omega was, intimidatingly, beautiful.)
Jungkook.
The omega's scent was usually a mild scent of winter citrus, not easily noticed but sweet when scented closely. Now with fear sipping through, the scent of citrus had grown sour, bleeding out like a field of rotten fruit. It had Namjoon’s beta growling and grasping at his heart cage to protect, shield and fix.
"Jungkook," Namjoon said, his voice carefully gentle in the suffocating tension. The omega's head was staring at him, eyes dark and wide, with a tinge of surprised and reanewed fear, then carefully masked neutrality. Namjoon wasn’t able to decipher what it meant.
He could think about it later.
“Do you know them?”
One of the other betas, irritated by the interruption to their sport, stepped forward with predatory intent. "Look, this doesn't involve you—"
"You're right," Namjoon agreed, moving closer with the controlled grace of something far more dangerous than he appeared. He positioned himself between the wolves and their prey (Jungkook took a step back, further from the attackers but also further from Namjoon, the beta will later realise, that the omega was not only cautious of the three attackers, but also who should have appeared to be a helping hand). not aggressive but immovable, a wall of silent threat. "But I’m nosy."
He was a peacemaker by nature, but he'd been carved from harder stone than most, built tall and broad enough to cast shadows that lesser men feared to cross. Violence wasn't his preference, but it was always an option.
"You know," he continued, "I'm personally acquainted with the student council and the president of the Omega Protection Council. They have such interesting reactions to reports of omega harassment." He tilted his head, letting the implications hang in the air like a noose. "Particularly when there are witnesses." He narrowed his eyes, the weight of unspoken promises and threats falling heavy in the silence that followed.
Finally, the bleached-hair leader spat on the ground.
"Whatever. Keep your broken toy." They slithered away, hurling poison over their shoulders that made Jungkook flinch. Namjoon waited until they disappeared completely before turning to the omega still pressed against the wall like he was trying to become part of it.
"They're gone," he turned to face the omega, voice soft, but the words felt hollow in the aftermath of cruelty.
The omega appeared… calm, his expression a carefully crafted armour of neutralness as he looked up to meet the eyes of Namjoon’s.
The beta noticed how the omega's hand immediately went to his neck, adjusting the scarf wrapped around his neck like a shield—or like a collar. The gesture was automatic, practiced. And Namjoon wasn’t sure what to make of it.
It was an alpha’s claim, scented and wrapped closely around the scent gland. There was no mistaking. While Namjoon acknowledges the general stereotype around alpha-omega mates were what they were - stereotypes, he understood such prejudice also stem from the alarming number of force-bondings. He wouldn’t generally presume, yet he wasn’t able to outlaw the worse. (This could be a result of self fulfilling prophecies, or a result of echo chamber effects - though that’s a ramble for another time)
He lifted his gaze away from the scarf.
"Are you hurt? Did they touch you?" He tried, softening his voice and scent, “Are you okay?”
Jungkook blinked. Then shook his head quickly.
After that a gulp, then a small nod.
A silent ‘thank you’.
"Can I walk you to your dorm? Or home?" He tried again.
The omega's hand tightened on his scarf, and Namjoon watched his calculated stare graze over his own face like a dull knife, seemingly searching for something.
"I recognize an alpha's claim when I see one," Namjoon said carefully, treading through a minefield he couldn't fully understand. "Would you feel safer if I walked you to the bus stop instead?"
Something in Jungkook's shoulders loosened, though the wariness never left his eyes. He studied Namjoon's face with the desperate intensity of someone who'd learned to read danger in every shadow, searching for judgment or bitter resentment or… what, Namjoon wasn’t sure. But Namjoon kept his expression open, genuinely concerned, carefully hiding the rage that burned in his chest at whoever had taught this beautiful person to expect cruelty from the world. Jungkook seemed to find whatever he was looking for.
He nodded, the gesture barely perceptible.
"Okay."
Namjoon smiled.
“Thank you.” The beta whispered. He smiled at the brief confusion that painted over Jungkook’s features, tilting his head slightly towards the opening end of the alley, a gentle offering for the omega to head out first.
(They walked in silence, but the brief relief the omega showed when he did not follow the younger on the bus was apparent. And Namjoon was glad he didn’t press further.)
Namjoon lingered at his desk as students spilled out like mist—whispers scattering through half-lit corridors, voices dissolving into the hum of evening.
He watched one figure break away from the current: Jungkook, quiet as usual, gathering his belongings with slow precision. Shoulders folded in, gaze pinned to the floor, unnoticeable within the shadows that swallowed the back of the lecture hall if not searched for.
Namjoon adjusted the pages in his notebook with deliberate care, aligning each movement with Jungkook’s pace. He stood just as the omega reached the threshold, intercepting him with a softness that felt rehearsed. (It was.)
“Hey,” he said, painting warmth into his voice, though he feared the omega may notice the slight tremor from nervousness.
His eyes met Namjoon’s, startled and wide, before skimming away like stones over water. The practiced neutrality was back, yet Namjoon noticed Jungkook’s fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, knuckles blanching.
“I’m heading to the bus stop.” He said, “I thought we could walk together.”
The slightest shift ghosted across Jungkook’s face—uncertainty, then something tender and fleeting. The air stirred with the scent of winter citrus. Not accusing. Soft, just uncertain, confused perhaps, and a little sad. (His beta howls at the last lingering emotion.)
“Or not.” He rushed to add, sensing the hesitance, “I just thought it may be a good idea to since I’m heading to that direction anyway, it's where I would pass by if I head home. You must not bother the details but -”
“Sure.”
He blinked.
There was a faint blush on the omega’s cheek, and he was looking away, seemingly losing the courage to hold normal eye contact as Namjoon stared at him unabashedly.
“Really? I mean - great!” He clasped his hands together, eliciting an unnecessary loud sound that startled some of the students passing through the hall and even Namjoon himself.
He wasn’t going to admit he jumped a little.
“Shit, sorry, that was too loud.” He fumbled to apologise.
There was a chuckle, and he couldn't help but stare. Jungkook was smiling, small but radiant, unfurled like a sunrise behind clouds. It was quickly hidden but pride swelled across Namjoon’s chest, and he melted in adoration and relief.
“Shall we?”
He wasn’t discouraged by the little nod that followed.
They fell into rhythm, side by side beneath the slow sunlight that filtered through the paveway trees of the late afternoon. Namjoon wasn’t a talker, and at times like this he hoped he could chat easily like some of his packmates. Fortunately, Jungkook seemed to appreciate the silence, the scent of winter citrus unfurled gently in the autumn breeze, smelling mild and content.
He never smelt of his alpha. Though.
Although the scarf around his neck was unmistakenly an alpha claim, its scent traced faintly on him was barely discernible—threadbare and diluted, like something half-forgotten. He was surely too thin for his height and built, clothes sagged from his frame, stitched from worry and loose thread. His skin held a porcelain hue too pale to be healthy, and his steps whispered exhaustion.
Namjoon wracked his brain to find reasons not to overstep: some omegas were naturally slim, some scents were naturally subtle, and what university students weren’t exhausted after a long day of classes and endless deadlines?
“You don’t live on campus, do you?” he asked lightly, careful not to thread too much meaning into the question.
“Not too far,” Jungkook replied, almost a whisper. “I mostly just… attend class. Then go home.”
Home. The word rang hollow.
Namjoon frowned. “What about your alpha? Does he study here?” He asked, feigning casualness.
The reaction was sharp, sharper than expected - a tremor in Jungkook’s step, his hand jerking to the scarf at his neck as if shielding something invisible. His scent fractured, a sharp spike of unease and something close to fear, quickly dispersed into the same, practiced tone of neutrality and grayness.
“He’s… he doesn’t,” Jungkook said, voice a forced steadiness. “He’s busy. With work.” Automatic. Rehearsed. Like he’d said it enough times to believe it himself.
“That must be hard,” Namjoon said gently. “Not seeing him.”
Jungkook only nodded, drawing into himself like a flower folding against frost. They walked the rest of the way shrouded in heavy silence. A quiet filled with held breath, with questions neither of them dared ask. When the bus arrived, Jungkook bowed slightly, muttered his thanks, and climbed aboard like something fleeing a dream.
The bus rumbled away, leaving a swirl of murky dust in its wake, as if to tell Namjoon that he was about to lose something important. The Omega's winter citrus scent was still faint, a ghost on the breeze, threatening to disappear entirely with a gust of wind.
A wave of fear and regret washed over him, stirring him to run after the slow-moving vehicle, until his eyes met those of the omega through the window.
“Same time next week?” He mouthed, words shaped carefully, anchored in hope.
Jungkook blinked at him.
There was no response for a few seconds. Jungkook’s face slowly moved further and smaller as the vehicle picked up speed. But just as Namjoon was about to lose the omega completely. He saw a small movement that appeared like a nod.
The beta beamed.
Walking Jungkook to the bus stop became a ritual.
It was a short walk, no longer than fifteen minutes, such a small fraction of their day, an insignificant amount of their week. Yet Namjoon found himself treasuring the little moments he had with Jungkook. He never mentioned the alpha, instead, he filled the silence with small episodes of his packmates, they talked about school work and their course, and he found joy in exchanging insights and opinion over their classes.
He confessed he once eavesdropped Jungkook’s discussion with the teaching assistant once and the omega just stared at him with dumbfounded, but unmistakenly amused eyes and a slight blush that rouse upon his cheeks, his scent blooming in soft, tiny orange flowers.
It was beautiful.
And Namjoon treasured the little stars he collected every time those eyes that held the universe shone over the overgrown bangs of the omega. He’d count them in a bottle if he could, place them by his bedside, and hope he’d dream of them.
But deeper down, he kept cataloging every flinch, every glance that lingered too long on exits, every question Jungkook dodged with a silence louder than truth. Every time the scarf smelt less and less like any alpha ever scented it.
The weight of it bled into conversation over dinner with his packmates one night, the words bitter on Namjoon’s tongue.
“We can’t pressure people to share about themselves, you know.” Seokjin said, voice steady but threaded with quiet sorrow. Years in medicine had taught him pain that hid behind practiced speeches, the utter hopelessness and despair one could feel when they could help but couldn’t because they just weren’t allowed to. To accept being useless, and never be discouraged. He’d once mused, was the greatest quality one needed to stay in the field. No knowledge or skill or hard work weighs heavier than the ability to have faith in their work.
A heart both hard and soft at the same time. A heart of gold. Namjoon had then preached, and leaned in to kiss his mate silly. Like yours, he had said.
“All we can do is stay close. Give space. Wait until he’s ready.”
“What if we wait too long?”
Seokjin looked up slowly, sadly. “...every one of us has the right to choose, even if that choice is not to be helped.” His voice was gentle.
“You’re already doing more than most. You said he’s starting to trust you?”
Namjoon nodded, the ache of it lodged somewhere between pride and guilt, “I’d like to think so, but I never know if it would be enough.”
“It is.” Seokjin soothed, voice teasing, “He wouldn’t stick with your little routine if it isn’t.”
He noticed it in the way Jungkook didn’t startle as much anymore. In the way his answers grew fuller, more colored with the voice of someone who remembered what it meant to think aloud. His eyes would sparkle when they talked about art and photography, words turning into well carved paragraphs that spoke passion and happiness. Namjoon treasured those moments the most, when those big eyes would peek through the dark bangs to reveal the universe they hid under.
“I may have reignited my interest in Reformation Art.” Namjoon said as they walked across campus one afternoon. "I knew the anti-alpha propaganda was prevalent, yet I never noticed it had spread to religious paintings.”
Jungkook hummed, “It makes sense,” he said, voice soft but certain. “The beta uprising wasn’t born from sudden rage. It brewed over centuries of being silenced. Art became protest, became history. Religion being a heavy part of human belief was never far from politics.”
“I knew they were, it would be interesting to dig into the influence of religion on politics even at a time of dictatorship.” He paused, pondering his next words, “I get it, though. The alpha monarchies built entire systems on violence. Religion is a common pathway to faith and refuge for those who were oppressed, it would make sense for the hatred to bleed into their paintings.”
Jungkook slowed, and for a breath between heartbeats, everything stilled. His scent shifted—muted winter citrus laced with something dusky and distant, like old paper and sleep.
“You think they deserved it,” he said, barely more than a breath.
Namjoon hesitated. This was the first time this month that he had been so close to discussing alphas with Jungkook, and he wasn't sure what to say to avoid startling the turtle who had finally peeked out of his shell. Even though the omega in front of him was likely a victim of an alpha, excessive and insincere indignation to historical cruelty was against his beliefs.
He pondered for a few seconds, before finally meeting the omegas gaze, honest, “Yes and no. History’s messy. But survival leaves scars. Alphas... are predisposed to dominance, that much is true. They are the only designation capable of forcing bonds, of taking choices away completely. The precautions we take now do not merely root from social constructs. They're necessary protections built on scientific and biological facts.”
There was a pause. A dunt in their conversation as the omega mulled over his words.
"That's... fair.” He eventually settled on, “Thank you.”
Namjoon blinked.
“For what?”
Jungkook just shook his head. And the walls closed. As always. Seokjin’s words rang in his ears, but he had to ask about it. Or do something, at least.
“My pack is hosting a little get-together this Friday, we do it once in a while.” Namjoon blurted out after a few moments of hesitation, “I would love it if you could come.”
“Me?” Jungkook’s eyes widened, nose wrinkling slightly in the manner Namjoon slowly learnt due to nervousness. Namjoon chuckled, nodding in affirmation, “Who else?”
“Ah… I’m not sure if it would be appropriate.”
“I’m sure the pack would love it if you could come.” His smile softened, then gulped, “And, um, you could invite your alpha if you’d like to."
The reaction was swift and shattering. Jungkook’s hand flew to his throat, scent rippling with unnerving stiffness. Retreat. Not back, but inward.
“What about him?”
“He’s welcome, too,” Namjoon lied, heart thrumming with fury he couldn’t show. “I’d love to meet him.”
Jungkook's smile came slowly. It was fragile and beautiful and full of something Namjoon had no right to hold. A fortress of memory and longing and something else Namjoon couldn’t name.
“He’s... very busy,” Jungkook said, eyes far away. “But you’d like him. I think.”
“I’m sure I would.” Another lie, shaped like kindness.
Then the sweetness bloomed. Winter citrus filled the air, sweeter than ever.
Jungkook beamed.
With a genuinity that Namjoon had never known, one that made his eyes shimmer in a tenderness he wasn’t allowed to touch. A lake that mirrored a school path strewn with autumn leaves. One that ripples at the faintest breeze - soft, delicate, unreachable.
“You will.”
And Namjoon found himself thinking, dark and guilty, that whoever this alpha was never deserved that smile.