Archive of Our Own

when asked later—and oh is he asked—he tells people that he can’t remember when it all started. that it was so long ago, that his memory’s failed him. children present between ten and thirteen years old. in this way, changbin was average. seven years ago, ten years ago, fifteen. how is he supposed to remember?

it’s a lie, obviously. he remembers all too well. his mother had barely been able to look at him, or anybody else in the room. his older sister had watched from the doorway, prim and proper and pitying. her hair had been pinned up with pink lilies, her makeup immaculate, her dress befitting of an omega of her status. she hadn’t bothered to shed a tear for him—it would’ve messed up her pretty makeup. but their mother? their mother had wept and wept all the way up until his presentation had ended. 

not because he was an omega. no, proper omegas were to be cherished. loved. they were sweet, delicate things. soft in nature. they brought smiles to the gloomiest, inspired warmth, doled out comfort. to be given the opportunity to raise a proper omega was an honor in the high society changbin had grown up in, steeped in tradition. 

so no, his mother hadn’t wept for his secondary gender. not really. in fact, changbin remembers best of all the only words she’d spoken throughout his entire presentation. she’d glanced briefly up at him from across the room—a whining, shivering, newly-presented child—and burst into tears immediately. said in-between sobs that it was a misfortune, a sadness, because changbin didn’t have the look. 

“who will want him?” she’d wept. “who will want my baby?”

his father had spent much of that same time looking off into the middle-distance, rubbing between her shoulders absently. she was the omega. the one who’d married into changbin’s father’s family and bore him two healthy children. one beautiful, one. . . well. as the omega, the family would blame her. already were, all told, because changbin’s lack of conventional attractiveness—or any possible signs of it, at the very least—had grown to be the talk of many a family dinner the closer he got to his presentation. 

his mother having come from a laughably humbler background, the family hadn’t wanted his father to marry her in the first place. the misfortune of changbin’s situation was like salt in the wound, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. 

“see,” his grandmother had hissed to his father during changbin’s presentation ceremony—the day where he was supposed to feel the most beautiful, the most celebrated and adored. “i told you it was a terrible idea to marry that woman. it doesn’t matter how enchanting one omega is. an ugly bloodline will never be able to escape its ugliness. it taints everything, darling.”

an ugliness. something live and curdling, something in the blood. something inside, invisible but felt. something that haunts you life after life, generation after generation, with no prompting. 

something that always comes back to bite.

—

now, as he holds a pregnancy test in one hand and his phone in the other, he thinks about timing. this entire predicament can be attributed to bad, bad timing. a series of unfortunate events. meeting his ex. dating his ex. breaking up with his ex. moping around his penthouse apartment for a questionable number of weeks because of his ex. his sister all but shoving him out the door and into the nearest gym, where he’d ran into one bang chan—full-time music producer of his own up-and-coming record label just blocks away from that gym.

it’d started out casual. nods of recognition that’d turned into smiles that’d turned into small-talk, and the next thing changbin knew he was agreeing to walk to the nearest cafe after every workout. in the beginning, he hadn’t known chan’s designation. he likes to gaslight himself into believing that if he’d known sooner, known before he’d gotten in so deep, that that would’ve somehow changed something. made it to where he could’ve parted ways with the man without it feeling like he was cutting a part of himself out in order to do so.

as it is, he hadn’t known. and he’d let himself continue not knowing, even as more and more of chan’s life bled into his own. even as he met the rest of chan’s pack, even as he joined in on group meals and stayed over during game nights and enjoyed regular outings with all seven of them. they must have picked up on his more traditional upbringing at some point, because they always wore scent blockers or scent patches around him. they never pushed for his designation. 

and then, one day months later, chan had showed up to the gym at their regular time strangely tense. huffy rather than giggly. during their reps, he was either clipped or outright snippy towards anyone who dared approach them, and was almost clingy in moments where he’d usually give changbin his space. despite his concerns, changbin had let it go—career-minded as chan was, he worked himself like a dog seven days a week. this was bound to lead to an off day every once in awhile, changbin had reasoned, a logic he’d quickly regretted going along with when they arrived at the cafe.

their usual waiter, a sweet, freshly-presented young woman, had been out sick. the waiter covering for her was nice enough in changbin’s opinion, but for chan, it was like a flip had switched. he’d growled, low and threatening. bared his teeth like they were in some kind of horribly cringey action-romance from the early 90s. both changbin and their fill-in waiter had gaped, sharing looks of equal bafflement. chan had blinked rapidly, as if similarly shocked at himself, before raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck while he apologized profusely to the poor woman. 

after that, changbin had texted jisung, one of chan’s pack members, and gotten a response with a promptness uncharacteristic of the younger man.

jisungie 🐿️: oh lol yeah he’s probably pre-rut rn

jisungie 🐿️: omw dw

changbin had froze, his eyes glued to that one small, should’ve-been-insignificant word. pre-rut. as in what comes before a rut. as in, chan was an alpha. for months, changbin had been willfully ignorant of the man’s designation. had turned a blind eye to anything that could have even remotely been a sign. not just with chan, but with all of them. minho, seungmin, felix, jeongin, hyunjin, jisung. he just. . . couldn’t afford to let himself know. if he let himself know, he’d have to open up a door that led only to disappointment. to rejection.

true to his word, jisung had joined them in less than ten minutes, tangling his fingers with chan’s and pulling him out of his seat. chan went willingly, curling into jisung like a man starved, nuzzling into his neck, rubbing uselessly at his scent gland—which, for the first time in changbin’s presence, was absent of any blocker or patch. jisung's scent came to him in gentle waves. warm, powdery, sweetly floral. like violets and vanilla blossoms. soft, but rich. vibrant, just like jisung. and so, so distinctly omegan.

“let’s get going, hyung,” jisung had sighed, melting slightly at the vigorous scenting in time with the sudden stab of jealousy that assaulted changbin. ugly, his grandmother would’ve said. what an ugly emotion. only horrible, awful, unappealing omegas should ever feel jealousy seo changbin. are you? are you as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside?

“changbin,” chan had slurred, refusing to let jisung guide him towards the door. “wan’ changbinnie to come.”  jisung had shot him a pleading look. 

it was then. that one moment, that one choice in a series of unfortunate choices. he should’ve said no. he should’ve wished them a safe trip home, gone back to his own place and never spoken of it again. moved on as if nothing had happened. but he hadn’t. instead, he’d cleared his throat and pasted on his most reassuring of smiles. said, “don’t worry, hyung, i’m coming.” 

he’d driven home with them. had let chan, in his pre-rut haze, strip them both of their patches and scent him everywhere. hadn’t so much as let out even a token protest when the alpha went on to rub his lower back, in-between his shoulderblades, letting the scent glands on his wrists help speed things along. hadn’t pushed him away when he’d gripped the back of changbin’s neck in a way that’d felt so possessive, so territorial, so natural, that it was all he could do not to whine and bare his neck right then and there. 

“you’re an omega,” jisung had breathed from somewhere behind them. changbin was too busy stifling down moans and whimpers to really acknowledge it.

“knew you would be,” chan had practically purred, all happy-content-pleased. “pretty omega, sweet omega. y’smell so good, binnie.” changbin had had to close his eyes tight against the onslaught of conflicting emotions, unable to suppress the whine that spilled from him. 

“easy, hyung,” jisung had said, stepping in hastily.

“i’m fine, sungie,” changbin had assured, doing his best to sound as even as possible despite his slip. and to his surprise, he did. chan’s scent—a fresh oceanic breeze, herbal greens, and something muskier—made it hard to concentrate, but he’d managed so far. had had no choice but to. 

“it’s just, hyung can get a bit intense,” jisung fretted. “you don’t have to stay.” of course he hadn’t. he’d known that down to his very core. if anything, he was too aware of the fact. but there’d been a part of him, however delusional, that had wondered if it might have meant something. if chan and jisung acting like that, inviting him into one of the most vulnerable parts of a pack’s life, was meant to be something. and that part had wanted him to stay so badly. had wanted someone to want him so badly.

so he had. he’d stayed through all of chan’s rut. had spread his legs for him willingly. eagerly. had begged for it, even. whined for it, and for jisung, and for the others. when chan had burst into tears at the very suggestion of changbin leaving the pack nest, he’d called out of work and laid with him all day and night. 

there were certain things he’d had to ignore. chan’s praises and fevered mumblings of i wanna put a baby in you, i‘m gonna put a baby in you. the way the entire pack joined them every night like clockwork. the fact that every last one of them aside from chan was an omega. and it suited them all, too. 

things shifted after that rut. changbin found himself at the bang residence more often than not. found himself spending more and more time with chan and jisung working on music, or taste-testing felix’s newest batch of brownies, or going grocery shopping with minho, or watching a movie with hyunjin. when seungmin sang in the shower, he’d pop his head into the bathroom and duet with him. when jeongin had a paper due he’d lay out on the younger’s bed, head smooshed against his lap, and release soothing pheromones until he was done. he didn’t dare attempt to cook for fear of chan seeing how useless he was in the kitchen, but he washed the dishes diligently when he was around—which was practically every day of the week. as the others’ heats came and went he was invited to help with those too, much to his surprise, and when chan’s rut rolled around again he helped just like that first time. 

in all of his life, he’d never felt like this. they were all perfect. every last one of them. felix, minho, seungmin, jeongin, jisung, and hyunjin were the ideal omegas. pretty, and soft where it counted. they all had their own individual quirks, of course, which made them even lovelier, but their beauty and omegahood were never a question. chan was the perfect alpha. kind, goofy, attentive, selfless. being able to call them his friends was an honest-to-god honor. 

which brings him back to here. now. in the bathroom holding a pee-covered plastic stick in one hand and his phone with a dwindling timer taking up most of the screen in the other. the pink plus sign appears a second before the timer hits zero. his breath hitches. pregnant. he’s fucking pregnant. 

how? he wonders, feeling near hysterical. how? he’s on birth control. has been since he was sixteen, like most omegas in his family’s social circle. 

an image of chan, bright and smiley, invades his thoughts. his last rut had been around a month ago. changbin had been there—he tended to take care of chan during his ruts more often than not these days. the timeline fits. whore, he hears in his grandmother’s, mother’s, and even sister’s voices, all overlapping. ugly, filthy slut. you had one job and you couldn’t even get it right, and now this perfect alpha is going to be forced to father your pups. 

changbin closes his eyes against the tears that threaten to spill. he’s never been one for crying, but they come so easily in this moment as he sits on the ground picturing the ugly, grotesque thing growing within him. a curse, so that everyone can see how horrible he is on the inside, too. how horrible of an omega he is, undeserving of bearing chan’s pups.

changbin jumps as a fist bangs against the door, followed by hyunjin’s impatient demon grumblings—the ones that indicate he’d rather be under fifty pounds of blankets still sleeping than on his feet. but he has a gallery showing later this afternoon and this means, of course, that he has to spend roughly twice as long as the event will take to host getting ready for it. 

“changbin-hyung, are you almost done in there? i’ve gotta take a shower!” translation: he was supposed to have been in the shower at least twenty minutes ago.

changbin scrambles up off of the floor, shoving the pregnancy test into his sweatpants' pocket with a wince and moving over to the cupboard above the sink to grab a scentblocker stick and quickly apply it. he does this every day that he decides to not wear patches, so the others won’t find it off. he opens the door right as hyunjin is raising his fist again for another round of knocking. 

“sorry, hyunjin-ah,” he says. he does his best to not look flustered but isn’t sure how successful he is. hyunjin, still basically dead, utters a few more unintelligible grumbles as he pushes past changbin but gives no indication of noticing something off. 

“breakfast!” minho. 

relieved, changbin heads towards the dining room. seungmin and jeongin are nearly done setting the table when he gets there. it looks like minho has cooked up a veritable, mouth-watering feast. a tray of pancakes is flanked by a bowl practically overflowing with freshly-cut fruit on one side and a tower of sausage on the other. bowls of rice have been set at every seat. as changbin sits down, minho comes in carrying a pot of roasted veggie soup, warm steam floating from it, and sets it down before returning to the kitchen. he’s wearing his collar today, changbin notes. 

seungmin and jeongin set out the last of the utensils and take their usual seats next to one another. while far from a ‘traditional’ pack, changbin has noticed the moments when they do tend towards more traditional, hierarchical structures, one of which being where each omega in the pack is supposed to sit in relation to their alpha. the rules vary depending on the makeup of the pack’s designations, and if changbin had to guess he’d say they observe this particular tradition simply for the convenience. to his knowledge, none of them have been given the title of pack omega yet. that honor tends to go to whoever is pupped first. the thought brings both shame and guilt to him. 

felix and jisung come wandering in next, followed by chan, who takes his seat at the head of the table. the other two sit across from seungmin and jeongin, and minho comes back in with a plate of scrambled eggs and sets it down. then, much to changbin’s surprise, he asks him to move so that he can sit in the seat across from chan. as a guest, the seat is changbin’s by default. there’d be no reason for minho to want to switch it up. unless. . . 

dread prickles at him.

“where’s hyunjin?” minho asks. judging by the tone of his voice, he already knows the answer. 

“shower,” jisung sighs. everyone groans. 

“of course he is,” jeongin grumbles, reaching his chopsticks out to snag a particularly large pancake off of the top of the stack. spoiled, their youngest. “doesn’t he have to be at the gallery in, like, an hour?”

“fourty-seven minutes,” chan corrects, because of course he has everyone’s schedules memorized.

seungmin snorts. “godspeed.” 

“he’ll be on time, probably,” felix defends weakly. the others give him doubtful looks. “okay, listen, you aren’t really late until ten minutes after the time you were supposed to be there.” changbin can’t help but let out a short bark of laughter at that, despite the dread clinging to his insides. if only he could use that same excuse for office meetings. 

minho just rolls his eyes, reaching for the sausage. “it can wait until he’s out, i guess. save him some fruit,” he adds, eyeing everyone with equal threat.

as they all dig in, changbin is more or less left to stew in his own angst. he puts food on his plate almost robotically, hoping that nobody notices his uncharacteristic lack of luster for minho’s cooking, and eats it absently. 

how? how could he do this? how could he let this happen? he’d been so careful. even during chan’s ruts, he’s never skipped a day. birth control functioned a bit differently for male omegas than it did beta and omega women, mostly due to anatomy, but with medical advancements in recent years the margin for error was basically the same—that is to say, nonexistent. he’s heard of a couple of rare instances where women (mostly omegas) were on birth control and still got pregnant, but this was near unheard of for male omegas. the odds were one in ten million, and he's sure that he's being conservative with that estimate.

worse than the situation itself was the thought of the reactions he’d receive. he wasn’t even part of chan’s pack, and he was–he was going to have his baby. his pup. and at a time like this. 

changbin isn't stupid. minho can be hard to read at the best of times, but the elation he’s so clearly trying to conceal is painfully obvious. the bang pack doesn’t have a pack omega currently, but there’s an unspoken household agreement that it will most likely be minho. chan and him have been trying to get pregnant for awhile now—since before changbin met them, even. and here he is, ruining everything with his horrible timing. he can hear his grandmother’s voice in his head: self-centered, careless, sloppy. 

changbin isn’t an insecure person. he knows who he is. he knows his worth and what he can contribute to the world. this, unfortunately, means that he also knows what he can’t bring or do. he knows where he’ll exceed expectations and where he should limit himself. in aspects of omegahood, his limitations are boundless. and now he has one more flaw to add. he can’t even wait for an alpha who actually wants him before getting knocked up. 

“twenty-three minutes,” chan says when hyunjin finally strolls in, hair damp. the others greet him too as he comes to sit. for a moment, he looks confused at minho and changbin’s seating, then shrugs and goes to sit next to jeongin. 

“now that everyone’s here,” minho says, though there’s a teasing glint in his eyes, “i have an announcement.” the entire pack stops what they’re doing. changbin’s dread amplifies tenfold.

minho lets out a breath. “i’m pregnant.” no fanfare. no fuss. just a simple, warm announcement, surrounded by those he loves. his mates. changbin shouldn’t be present for this.

across from minho, all the way on the other side of the dining table, chan’s eyes and mouth are wide open. disbelief and awe. his joy is dazzling in its certainty, long awaited, and the smile that overtakes his face illuminates the whole room. 

“minho-yah,” he breathes, “babe, really?” 

minho smiles. it’s a small, quiet thing. moon to chan’s sun. “yeah. really.”

chan’s smile wobbles. changbin can see the tears pooling, turning his joy liquid. “a baby? we’re gonna have a baby?”

minho nods, his own smile the faintest bit wobbly now, too. “we’re gonna have a baby.”

it’s chaos. everyone is up and crowding minho at lightning speed. smacking kisses onto him, wrapping him in hugs, taking his scent patches off and scenting him. changbin stays back until the fuss dies down somewhat, then walks up to give his congratulations. minho gives him a weird look, so he steps back to return to his seat quickly, but still makes sure to show how happy he is for them. 

and he is, is the thing. whatever he’s going through, that’s a him problem, not a bang pack problem. this is his mistake. his oversight. his. 

and so he finishes breakfast with them. bids them farewell. leaves for work like nothing is out of the ordinary. goes to work. when he gets off, though, he doesn’t return to the bang residence or even to his own home. instead, he calls the family chauffeur to come and pick him up.

his family’s house is nestled on the edges of the city, where concrete meets forest. it’s modern, open-concept, and big enough to house a small village and then some. light pours in at all times of day from their huge, floor-to-roof windows. the property is hedged by tall, primly-cut shrubery. the plants are flowering now, drowning the surrounding area in a luscious, flowery perfume. 

his sister greets him as he gets out of the back of the car. she looks stunning as always, even in comfortwear and seven months pregnant with her third child. changbin’s oldest niece is perched on her hip, sippy cup in hand. she gives him a toothy smile upon recognizing him, waving.

“is today some sort of holiday?” his sister teases, joking in that light, somehow graceful way of hers. she’s the perfect omega. always has been, especially in the eyes of their grandmother.

changbin chuckles. “no. i just have something i need to talk about.” he hesitates. “with grandmother.” 

his sister tenses. it’s not often changbin goes out of his way to speak to seo pack omega unless propriety demands it. old-fashioned as their family is, the pack omega has final say over much of the domestic goings-on, including what to do in the event of a pregnancy like changbin’s. that said, their grandmother has never made her distaste for changbin (or his mother) a secret. his sister only managed to escape on account of her beauty. she was born beautiful, blossomed into a beautiful omega, married a beautiful alpha from a respectable family in their social circle and, come a month or so from now, will have given birth to three beautiful children.

“is everything okay?” she asks, looking him over as if she’ll be able to find what’s wrong with him on him. he almost wants to laugh at that. fat chance. for once, it’s what’s inside of him that’s the main problem. 

“i will be,” he says. he knows she hates it when he’s vague. he hates it, too—it’s not in their family’s nature.

the house is warm when he enters, and smells like pack-scent. family. it comforts him, still, even after all of this time. their grandmother is out on the terrace, his sister informs him. she trails after him, too, as he goes up the stairs. she’s sitting, enjoying tea, when he gets to her. 

“grandmother,” he greets, bowing low, low, low. she deigns to turn and look at him, the steam from her cup curling at her cheek as she does. 

“i’ve had a peaceful day,” she says, setting her cup down. “sunny. blue. your sister made breakfast instead of the cook. somehow, though, i knew something was coming. what do you want from me, grandson?”

“it’s–i’m pregnant,” he whispers, still bowing. he knows better than to look up and better than to beat around the bush with her.

his grandmother is quiet in her damnation, simply staring him down. ever since changbin can remember, she’s had a coldness to her. “you know who the father is, i presume.”

he nods. at least, if anything, she doesn’t think that low of him. “yes, grandmother.” 

“how far along?”

he thinks. “a month? not long.”

she hums. turns to his sister. “iseul, what was the name of that business partner your husband was talking about at breakfast? some australian man?” 

his sister pauses. clears her throat. “norman, grandmother. he’s in his late fifties, now,” she eyes changbin nervously, “desperate to marry.”

changbin can practically feel their grandmother’s satisfied nod. “i wasn’t considering it, truly, given–well.” she gestures towards all of him. “but if he’s desperate, even you will certainly do. and these arranged weddings can happen so fast. he’ll probably suspect the truth, of course, but by the time he realizes, what can he do? it’d be an embarrassment if it got out.

not to mention the benefit to us,” she adds. “you’ll be off in some other country where you can’t be a stain on this family anymore, and nobody would suspect a thing so long as we hold off on the birth announcement on our side for an extra couple of weeks.”

a chill overtakes changbin. his sister is frozen where she stands. his niece sucks contently from her sippy cup. 

his grandmother claps her hands together sharply once. a gavel banging against a church bell would’ve been quieter. lighter on them. “it’s decided. your grandfather will make the arrangements and we’ll fly you out at the end of the week. don’t bother going home, i’ll have the help go and collect your belongings.”

—

he texts the groupchat he’s in with chan and the others and tells them he was stuck working late and decided to go straight home after he got off. the next day, he calls and whines about a business trip he had to take last minute. they all wish him luck, jisung rambling on about mergers and margins and “the line” like he’s so much as glanced at a bar graph since graduating. on the third day, minho sends him a video. it’s of his first ultrasound, the baby’s heartbeat and all. changbin aches. he won’t get his first one until he’s in australia. 

as his grandmother promised, everything is set up by wednesday (norman really was desperate) and come friday he’s on a private flight to sydney. he’s about an hour into the flight when his phone starts to buzz. channie-hyung 🐺, flashes on the screen. 

he hesitates for six rings before caving and picking up. chan’s voice comes through clearly, brightly. “changbinnie! lix was just about to call you. dinner’s almost ready, when’ll you get home?” 

changbin looks out at the clouds, fighting back tears. on the other end of the line, chan lets out a noise of confusion. “did your flight not come in today?” i thought it was today? comes felix’s voice in the background. 

“erm, sorry hyung. i’m–um, i’m actually staying. in the japan, that is. they need someone here while they get things set up. i’m not sure when i’ll be back.” silence. “i could’ve sworn i told you guys,” he adds, willing his voice not to crack. the words feel brittle in his mouth.

“oh. um. no,” chan says. it comes out slow. confusion on the verge of bafflement. “no. you hadn’t, bin.”

“i’m sorry, hyung,” he says. he means it. “i was really looking forward to seeing the baby.” he means that, too.

“it’s not like you won’t get to,” chan laughs. it’s nervous. “we can come and visit. you can come and visit. and you’ll be back, eventually.”

changbin allows himself a sigh. “i won’t be back for awhile, hyung. at least, not often. i’m also. . . meeting someone, while i’m there.”

“meeting someone?” now he sounds well and truly baffled. “what? changbin—”

“he wants to stay in japan, so.” changbin forces a giggle. hopes it sounds natural. “i’ve been wanting to settle down, and he’ll be good to me.” changbin doesn’t know if that’s true. from what he knows, norman doesn’t speak a lick of korean. changbin’s english is passable, but nowhere close to fluent. the reality is he’s not sure how well he’ll be able to communicate with the people around him, let alone how his own husband will treat him. he couldn’t even pick him out of a lineup. 

but it’s better like this, he thinks. it's better if chan and the others believe he’s going to live some comfortable, pampered, domestic life in japan rather than the reality of him being shoved onto a plane and flown off to sydney to be with a man he never met because he's pregnant with chan’s baby. 

“you’ve. . . been wanting to settle down.” chan sounds different than usual, now. flat.

“yeah,” changbin says. “thank you, hyung, for being a good friend,” he adds. his lips twitch upwards. “you’re the best gym bro.”

“gym bro,” chan echoes faintly. he sounds dazed, and not in a good way.

“tell the others i’ll miss them. and tell minho-hyung thank you for sending the ultrasound video.”

“you can tell him yourself, changbin,” chan insists. 

changbin is quiet for a long, tense moment. then, he breathes in. breathes out. wills the expulsion of all that’s tying him to seoul. to the bang pack. then he says softly, gently, “i love you guys. goodbye, hyung.”

“wait, changbin—”

he hangs up and blocks all of their numbers.

— — —

he’s gotten into the habit of waking up without an alarm. he slips out of bed, careful not to wake norman up. pads into the twins’ room to check on them, then walks downstairs to get started on breakfast. he wasn’t a good cook by any means before coming to australia, but with norman having him do all of the cooking, he likes to think that that’s changed. 

as the turkey bacon sizzles, changbin marks today’s schedule on the mini-whiteboard on the fridge. he writes anything for norman in careful english and anything for him or the twins in korean. norman isn’t usually bugged by this. as far as alphas go, he’s pretty permissive of what changbin does in the privacy of the house.

halfway through making breakfast, the baby monitor kicks to life as jungkyu starts crying. changbin turns the far right knob on the stove to low and lets the tomatoes and mushrooms simmer as he hurries upstairs. he enters without turning on the light—that’d wake jaeyeol—and picks jungkyu up, shushing him gently. he doesn’t want the noise to wake norman.

he grabs a baby sling and goes back downstairs with jungkyu in his arms, setting him in his highchair and checking on the contents of the stove. after checking the tomatoes and mushrooms with a fork, he plates half of them onto norman’s plate, already piled high with waffles, eggs, turkey bacon, and a piece of cantaloup, and sets aside the other half to cool. by this point, jungkyu is squirming in his highchair, making grabbing motions at changbin.

“milk now,” he says, saying milk in korean but now in english. at twenty months jaeyeol rarely speaks, and when he does it’s usually short one-word phrases in korean, but jungkyu speaks often and tends to mix the two. changbin has recently noticed a slight favoring of english, but he suspects that that’s their old daycare’s influence. all the more reason why he’s looking for a new one for them. in australia, they’ll have all the time in the world to learn english. the same can’t be said for korean.

he hums, responding in full korean. “in just a moment, aga.”

jungkyu’s wiggling intensifies. “appa,” he whines, “appa, milk now.” he still says now in english.

“appa said in just a moment, jungkyu,” changbin replies firmly, scooping up two small portions of sticky rice and putting them in small bowls for the twins, mashing it up a little—at their age he doesn’t really have to anymore, but it’s habit. then, he sets norman’s plate at his seat right next to the cutlery, takes his t-shirt off, wraps the sling around himself, and finally goes to pick jungkyu up. 

he makes quick work of finishing up wrapping the sling, making sure it’s loose enough for jungkyu to adjust himself in, and gets back to work. jungkyu latches onto his nipple immediately, relaxing against him. norman gives him weird looks when he sees that changbin’s still breastfeeding, but he hasn’t told him to stop yet. truthfully, changbin hadn’t thought anything of it. his family always nurses their pups until the two-year mark.

by the time jungkyu’s done nursing, changbin has cut up the tomatoes and mushrooms into even smaller bites and topped them over the rice with some scrabbled egg. jungkyu peeks as he sets the bowls and spoons on either highchair.

“i eat?”

changbin nods. “yeah. you want to eat now, or wait for jaeyeol?”

jungkyu blinks. “yeol?”

changbin nods again. “yes, jaeyeol. you can eat now, or you can wait for him.”

jungkyu leans back, his legs kicking. “now, appa.”

changbin sets him back into his highchair, setting the sling on the back of his own chair and going back to his tasks. around ten minutes later, the monitor crackles back to life, picking up the sounds of jaeyeol waking up. changbin looks at the clock. 7:00. not bad. he takes the sling with him and goes upstairs. jaeyeol’s standing up in his crib, bouncing up and down. when he sees changbin, he lights up. changbin thinks, not for the first time, about how jaeyeol has chan’s smile. jungkyu does, too, when the little monster isn’t throwing a fit or demanding food.

he wraps jaeyeol in the sling and walks back to the kitchen as he starts nursing. jungkyu isn’t technically done with his food, but with the way he’s smooshing the remaining egg and rice into gunk on his tray changbin’s electing to consider him done. he takes the bowl away, the part that jungkyu always ignores, and plucks a few sheets of baby wipes from their package. then, the hard part starts: cleaning the highchair and jungkyu up. 

“no!” he cries in english as changbin grabs his hands in order to wipe down the tray, kicking out. “no appa, no! no want!”

“we have to keep it clean, aga,” changbin tries to reason, but to no avail. he glances towards the stairs nervously, hoping the commotion doesn’t wake norman, and gets back to it. he wipes the rest of the tray down despite jungkyu’s protests, then moves on to his hands and mouth. jaeyeol is largely unbothered during all of this, still nursing peacefully. 

the tantrum dies down when changbin’s finished like it usually does, cries to sniffles. by the time jaeyeol is done nursing and in his highchair, jungkyu is back to his normal self. it’s 7:26 when changbin checks the time next. he rushes to put norman’s plate in the microwave, getting it out and back on the table right as the man enters the kitchen. changbin grabs his bowl of strawberries, grapes, and cantaloupe from the fridge, along with a cup of yogurt and the leftover turkey bacon, and quickly sits down across from him.

the alpha inspects the food. “turkey bacon?” 

“the doctor called friday,” changbin murmurs, keeping his gaze downwards. he always tries his best when he has to speak english, so that norman can’t find something to critique. in the beginning, there was always something to critique. his grammar, his pronunciation. he doesn’t know if he’s gotten any better or if the alpha simply grew weary of correcting him. “he said you should be watching your cholesterol." norman sighs, but thankfully doesn’t argue, picking up his fork and digging in to the waffles. 

changbin starts in on his fruit. in the past, he was more protein-focused. he still could be if he wanted to, to an extent, but he probably won’t be even after he stops breastfeeding. norman has made his opinion on his gym hobby very clear. 

it’s weird being like this. before, he was himself, even if who that was was a sore on the face of omegahood. now? he has other things to take into consideration. two, to be specific. the twins aren’t norman’s and he knows that norman knows that, but the alpha has agreed to house them. feed them. provide them with a quality education when the time comes. and all changbin has to do is be the best omega he can be. not the prettiest. not the sweetest. not the softest. just as much as he can be, as sweet and soft as he can be, to the best of his ability. like how a duck doesn’t have to be as pretty and graceful as a swan, it just has to be as pretty and graceful as it can when compared. the best of all of the ducks. all norman wants from him is to be able to look at him and say, at least you tried. that’s more than what some of the most gifted omegas ever do. 

“i was hoping to go check out that daycare today,” changbin says as norman moves on from the waffles to his eggs. 

“not this again,” he huffs around a bite of egg. “we’ve talked about this. i thought you liked that old daycare?”

“i do,” changbin says quickly. “but this one is a dual-language one,” he adds, tripping over the term ‘dual-language’ a bit. “they speak korean in the morning and english in the afternoon.” norman sighs. changbin doesn’t push. 

“you can check it out,” he agrees eventually, “but i don’t see much point. i already said that you could enroll them in a korean preschool. why not wait until then?”

because jungkyu is already starting to talk to me more in english than korean, he thinks. aloud he says, “it would be easier for me.” there’s some truth to that, too. 

having already given his permission, norman grunts one last time and drops it, finishing up his food and heading off to work. changbin had learned pretty early on to prepare his lunch the night before, so norman just grabs it from the fridge and is out the door. 

excited, changbin hurries to clean everything up and gets the twins set up in their playpen before making the call to the daycare. 

a woman picks up in english. “hello and thank you for calling, to whom am i speaking?” 

“yes, hello, this is seo changbin,” he says in korean. “i called last week wondering if i could get a tour of the facility?”

“oh yes,” the woman on the other end says, switching to korean seamlessly. “i remember you. we do have one other family touring today, but they’re looking for temporary care only so there’s still room for you to enroll. is three-thirty a good time?” 

changbin checks the mini-whiteboard. “that’s perfect, thank you.”

“no, thank you for calling,” the woman says. “we look forward to seeing you this afternoon. have a good morning!”

—

the morning and early afternoon go by normally, although changbin does decide to wait until after the facility tour to go grocery shopping. jungkyu is surprisingly mellow as he prepares them to leave the house, and remains so even when changbin puts them in their carseats. the driver—who doubles as his chaperone—has just enough time to stop by the post office in order for changbin to drop off a package for his sister (filled with gifts for his second niece’s birthday), and even arrives at the daycare with time to spare. it’s amazing how promptly things can get done when both of the twins decide to choose peace.

it was a steep learning curve, but changbin’s proud to say that he’s mastered the art of attaching two infants to him. he starts with jungkyu who, unless nursing, generally prefers his back, and then swiftly wraps jaeyeol to his front. 

the receptionist, an omega, greets him in korean when he enters. “hello!”

“hello,” he smiles, happy to be speaking his language with someone who’s not demanding cheerios. “i’m here for the three-thirty facility tour.”

the woman smiles back. “seo changbin?”

“that’s me.”

“i take it these cuties are peter and samuel?” she coos reaching across the counter to make pinching motions at jaeyeol’s cheek. changbin can’t blame her. they are very pinchable cheeks. 

“jaeyeol and jungkyu,” he tells her. “my husband just wanted them to have english names too.”

she nods. “gotcha. we’ll be sure to use the english names only during english-language time.” she eyes his driver curiously. “is this your husband?”

“oh, no,” changbin laughs. “this is my chaperone. you know how alphas can get. mine can be a bit old-fashioned.” can be was putting it mildly, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“o-oh,” she stutters. she does a good job of covering up her surprise, after, but it’s clear that she wasn’t expecting that. a chaperone is considered not just old-fashioned but archaic, even by more traditional packs' standards. “of course. i’ll be sure to make our alpha employees aware. that would make for an awkward drop-off and pickup time!” changbin lets out a little chuckle at that last sentence for her sake. 

the tour is, to put it simply, wonderful. the hours spent speaking korean were more than he previously thought—about two-thirds of the day!—and everything they used in the kitchen was locally sourced, something he hadn’t even been looking for. their schedule was similar to the one that he already had the twins on, too. not all of their enrollees were korean, in fact a good number of the children seemed to be of a separate ethnicity, but the ones who were seemed to be in the same situation as the twins: korean parent, english-speaking majority country. changbin was thrilled at the idea of finding some korean parent friends. 

“and this is the largest of our playrooms,” his guide says, gesturing to the right. “it connects to our playground. would you like to take a look inside? the twins are welcome to play for a minute.”

at the word play, jaeyeol perks up from where he’d been partially dosing on changbin’s chest. “toys?” he says in korean.

changbin laughs. “they’d love that, thank you.” he unslings jaeyeol and sets him down on the ground, prepared to let him walk in on his own, but before he so much as finishes tightening the fabric up again to make sure jungkyu is secure, he runs off. 

changbin yelps in surprise, the outburst so out of character for jaeyeol that it gives him pause for a second, and then proceeds to chase after him. for someone who was barely able to use his legs a couple of months ago, the infant is surprisingly speedy—although it could just be the fact that changbin has a whole other child strapped to his back. either way, jaeyeol manages to get to the very end of the hall and back out to reception before bumping head-first into the legs of who changbin assumes is a fellow parent. he takes the opportunity to snatch him back up.

“sorry,” he says, backing up. he’s still focused on jaeyeol, now back snug in his arms, and so he doesn’t really get a good look at the person as he goes on. “yah, these two will be the death of me!”

there’s a pause and then, “. . . hyung?” 

changbin freezes, paling because he knows that voice. that scent, all honey and orange blossoms, overtaken by the sea. there’s something different about it now. something warmer, milkier. pup? he looks up, eyes immediately taking in yang jeongin. he’s older-looking, now, which—yeah. two years and some change will do that to a person. older-looking and wearing a pastel green hoodie that does absolutely nothing to hide the gargantuan baby bump he’s sporting. jeongin. jeongin-ah. pregnant? heavily so? more likely than you’d think, apparently.

there’s several ways to proceed here, but changbin's not sure which one would be for the better. does he pretend he doesn’t recognize jeongin? does he acknowledge their shared past? hell, should he go so far as to pretend he’s not even himself? no. he dismisses that one almost as soon as his brain conjures it up. it’d be too cruel, he thinks, in its obviousness.

he settles on getting it over without making it more awkward than it needs to be. he never was one for beating around the bush. “jeongin-ah?”

jeongin’s face lights up, a mixture of surprise and happiness and something deeper. “oh my god, hyung, you’re in australia. you–why are you in australia?” his happiness slowly melts into confusion. “i thought you’d gone to japan.” his brows furrow. “and you have—”

“sorry i’m late innie, traffic was a bitch and eunwoo wouldn’t stop crying and google maps is a demon sent straight from—hyung?” it’s jisung, and his eyebrows climb up so high at the sight of changbin that he fears they’ll fly right off of the omega’s forehead. there’s an infant around the same age as the twins in his arms. 

fuck me, changbin thinks. aloud, “hey, jisungie.”

jisung blinks. blinks again. blinks a third time. looks from him to jaeyeol cradled in his arms to jungkyu peeking over his shoulder. opens his mouth to speak, only for jaeyeol to interrupt with a peel of laughter as the receptionist makes a funny face at him.

and look, changbin doesn’t think that anybody would ever be able to put the pieces together by just looking at the twins. sure, they do look like chan, but they also look like him. they have the same chubby cheeks he did as a baby. the same ears and flat hair. so no, they might not see it at first. certainly not in their shocked state. but the twins have chan’s eyes. changbin has always seen that they have chan’s eyes. they also have his lips and his smile and his laugh, and jungkyu makes that same face that chan does. the one where he just sorta stares at something, lips straight and parted slightly. so when jaeyeol turns from the receptionist to jisung, giggling brightly at the newcomer, he knows that jeongin and jisung see it too. that they know or, at the bare minimum, highly suspect. hell, he can practically see the cogs turning in their heads as they do the math. as the pieces come together. 

“i thought you were in japan,” jisung mumbles faintly, and all changbin can think is shit.