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Rui lingered in the doorway, one shoe already on her feet, with her jacket half slipping off her shoulder as she watched Wumuti working hunched over her desk.
“You’ve been sitting there all day,” Rui said, narrowing her eyes at the oldest omega. “If we come back and you’re still working, I’m confiscating your entire desk.”
Wumuti didn’t even look up at first, her pen was still dancing over the page of her notebook.
“Mhm,” she hummed absently.
"Muti!"
That finally earned Rui a glance. Wumuti pulled one side of her headphones down, offering a small smile. “I heard you.”
Hyun watched from behind Rui, already holding the door open. “Come on. Muti knows what she’s doing.”
“Yes, I do,” Wumuti insisted, waving one hand dismissively. “Go eat. Have fun on your date. I’ll survive without supervision.”
Rui crossed her arms. “You’re telling me you won’t forget to eat again?”
“I ate earlier.”
“You drank coffee.”
“Coffee counts.”
Rui sighed dramatically before stepping backward into the hallway. “Fine. But take breaks. And maybe check on Haru, they have been sleeping longer than usual.”
At the mention of Haru, Wumuti nodded more seriously. “Of course I will.”
Rui studied her for another second, clearly debating whether to argue more, then relented. “Text us if anything happens.”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Wumuti said gently. “Now go.”
Hyun gave a quick wave and Rui pointed at Wumuti in one last warning before the door finally shut behind them, their voices fading down the corridor.
Silence settled over the dorm.
Wumuti slid her headphones fully back on and turned back to her desk while soft music played in her ears. The room filled with the sound of her pen scratching over the paper. Faint city noise hummed through the windows, but inside everything felt peaceful.
She lost track of time quickly.
Notes blurred into each other. A mug of once steaming tea sat forgotten beside her, long gone cold.
Somewhere in the hallway the floorboards creaked.
Wumuti barely registered it at first. Haru had probably just woken up. So the Omega kept working, but then there was a hesitant shuffle. The faint scrape of a door opening.
Wumuti pulled her headphones down. Haru stood in the doorway, wrapped in oversized pajamas, hair messy from sleep and eyes half-lidded. They looked smaller somehow, shoulders slightly hunched as if holding themselves together.
“…Muti?” Haru’s voice came out rough, heavy with sleep.
Wumuti immediately straightened in her chair. “Hey Baby. You’re up.”
Haru nodded faintly but didn’t move further into the room. They stayed in the doorway like they weren’t entirely sure why they had come there in the first place.
“I don’t feel too good,” they murmured. The words were quiet and uncertain.
And then the scent of warm milk and honey hit Wumuti. Her breath caught before she could stop it.
It wasn’t strong yet, but Wumuti's inner omega reacted anyway.
Haru was presenting.
Wumuti kept her expression calm, even though the voice inside her head screamed about her pup needing her more than anything.
She pushed her chair back slowly so she wouldn’t startle them. “Okay,” she said softly. “Come here.”
Haru hesitated only a second before stepping fully inside, bare feet dragging slightly against the floor. Up close, they looked pale, eyes unfocused, like the world felt like a little too much around them.
“What feels wrong?” she asked. Haru frowned, clearly trying to find words. “I don’t know… I’m tired. And weird. Everything is weird.”
Wumuti nodded slowly, Haru was right on time.
She resisted the urge to react too quickly, instead offering a small reassuring smile.
“Alright,” she said quietly. “Let’s sit down first, yeah?”
Haru didn’t make it very far before giving up entirely.
They shuffled past Wumuti’s desk and practically collapsed onto her bed face first, limbs uncoordinated like their body had suddenly forgotten how to hold itself upright. The mattress dipped under their weight, blankets bunching beneath them as they let out a long, exhausted sigh.
“I hate this,” Haru mumbled into the pillow.
Wumuti watched for a moment, worry tightening quietly in her chest. Up close, the change in the air was impossible to ignore now.
She moved slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed so the movement wouldn’t startle Haru. The mattress shifted slightly, and tgey instinctively turned their head toward her presence, eyes half-open.
Wumuti kept her voice soft.
“Haru,” she began gently, “I think I know why you don’t feel well.”
Haru blinked slowly. “Am I sick?”
“No,” Wumuti said quickly, shaking her head. She offered a small reassuring smile. “Nothing like that. You're just presenting.”
Haru pushed themselves up just enough to look at her properly, shock clear on their face. "Presenting?"
Wumuti remembered her own first heat, the confusion, the exhaustion, the overwhelming flood of anxiety no one had properly explained beforehand.
For a moment, Haru only stared at her, processing what she’d said.”Why now?” they asked, voice small.
She smiled gently, reaching over to place the back of her hand on Haru’s warm forehead.
“Yeah and I’m pretty sure that you’re an omega,” she added quietly.
Haru’s eyes widened slightly. “How do you know that?”
Wumuti let out a soft breath, almost amused despite the situation. “It’s not very hard to guess.”
Haru frowned, looking down at their hands like they expected something about them to look different. “It feels… weird.”
“That’s normal,” Wumuti assured them. “Your body is adjusting to itself right now. It can be tiring.”
Haru slumped back into the pillows, clearly overwhelmed but comforted by her calm tone. After a second, they shifted a little closer without seeming to realize they were doing it.
Wumuti's own scent of rosé wine and strawberries settled around them. Calming the atmosphere.
“I’m right here,” she said quietly. “You’re safe, okay? Nothing bad is happening.”
Haru nodded weakly, eyes already drifting half shut again.
“…Okay,” they murmured.
Haru was quiet for a moment after Wumuti’s words settled between them, staring up at the ceiling like it might suddenly provide answers.
“…Omega,” they repeated softly, testing the word like it didn’t quite belong to them yet.
Wumuti watched their expression carefully. She kept her posture relaxed, hands resting loosely in her lap, even though her attention stayed entirely fixed on Haru. The air still carried the young omegas scent unsteady but not as weak as before.
Haru’s brow furrowed. “You and Rui are omegas, but I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Oh we were the same,” Wumuti admitted. “That happens when you present or get into heat.” She explained.
They turned their head toward her, eyes searching. “Will it hurt?”
The question made Wumuti smile faintly. She thought back briefly, the confusion, the exhaustion, the way everything had felt too loud and too close at once.
“No, don't worry you will just be very tired,” she said honestly. “And very emotional. Everything feels bigger and more overwhelming than usual.” She tilted her head slightly. “But it will be okay.”
Haru made a small, tired noise that might have been a protest, then pulled the blanket closer around their shoulders. A moment later they shifted again, restless, unable to settle.
“I don’t like it,” they murmured. “I feel so weird.”
Wumuti moved a little closer, but gave Haru plenty of time to pull away if they wanted to.
“You’re allowed to feel weird,” she said quietly. “Your body’s doing a lot of work right now. It’s normal.”
The soft smell of honey soured slightly and Wumuti felt her instincts tighten protectively.
Without thinking too much about it, she reached out and gently brushed a strand of messy hair away from Haru’s face.
The tension in Haru’s shoulders eased almost instantly.
They blinked at her, surprised, then scooted a little closer across the mattress, movement unconscious and unplanned. Their knee bumped lightly against her side as if proximity alone helped anchor them.
Wumuti pretended not to notice the instinctive behavior, keeping her voice calm and steady.
“Nothing about you is wrong,” she said. “You’re just changing. And you don’t have to figure it out alone. I'm here.”
Haru swallowed, eyes dropping to the blanket gathered in their hands. “What if I mess it up?”
“You can’t mess up being an Omega.” Wumuti replied immediately, gentle but certain. “There’s no way to fail at being yourself.”
Silence followed, quiet and warm rather than uncomfortable. Outside, distant traffic hummed faintly through the windows. Somewhere in the apartment, a clock ticked steadily forward.
Haru shifted again, curling slightly toward her this time. Their movements were slower now, heavy with exhaustion, but still restless, like they couldn’t find the right position no matter how they tried.
“I feel like…” Haru hesitated, searching for words. “…like I’m missing something, but I don’t know what.”
Wumuti nodded softly. That made sense. She recognized it immediately, the early pull of omega instincts trying to guide someone who didn’t yet learn to understand them.
Her voice dropped into something warmer, instinctively soothing, the way one might calm a child after a nightmare.
“That’s okay,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Haru glanced at her again, uncertainty still lingering but softened by trust. “…You’ll stay?” they asked quietly.
The question was small and vulnerable.
Wumuti didn’t hesitate.
“Of course,” she said, brushing her hand lightly over their forehead in a grounding manner. “I’m right here.”
The answer seemed to settle something deep inside them. Haru’s breathing slowed slightly, tension easing even if the restlessness remained.
She would guide them through this, one gentle step at a time. Her notebook was already forgotten. Right now, Haru mattered more.
A soft rustle of blankets filled the room as Haru turned onto their side, then their back, then their stomach, never settling for more than a few seconds. Their brow creased faintly, fingers gripping the fabric like something about it felt wrong.
“…Too warm,” they mumbled.
Wumuti immediately reached over, pulling the blanket down slightly. Cool air brushed over Haru’s arms.
Two seconds later, Haru frowned again.
“…Now it’s cold.”
Wumuti hid a small, knowing smile.
“Yeah,” she said gently. “That happens.”
Haru huffed quietly, clearly frustrated. They kicked one leg free from the blankets, then dragged it back up again, their movements growing increasingly restless. The mattress dipped and shifted with every adjustment.
The youngest sat up suddenly, rubbing their face. “I can’t get comfortable.”
Their voice carried a thin edge of frustration now, confusion bleeding through exhaustion.
Wumuti turned slightly toward them. “Does something hurt?”
“No,” Haru said quickly, then hesitated. “…I just feel wrong.”
They looked around the room as if something invisible was bothering them, eyes lingering on the open space, the scattered pillows, the untouched blankets at the foot of the bed.
Their shoulders drew inward.
The scent of warm milk sharpened, tinged with unease.
It wasn’t hard for Wumuti to recognize.
“Oh,” she murmured softly, more to herself than to Haru.
Haru glanced at her. “What?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she watched as Haru tugged the blanket tighter around themselves, only to loosen it again seconds later. Their hands kept moving, smoothing fabric, bunching it up, pushing it away, instinctively trying to fix something they couldn’t name.
Wumuti’s expression softened with understanding.
Haru looked down at their hands, still clutching the blanket. “I’m just being dramatic”
“Not at all,” Wumuti said immediately. “Your omega is asking for something. We just have to figure out what.”
As if on cue, Haru grabbed one of the pillows and pulled it tightly against their chest. Their shoulders dropped slightly, tension easing for a brief second before restlessness crept back in.
Wumuti watched the movement, recognition settling fully into place. “…I think I know what you need,” she said softly.
Haru looked up, tired and confused but trusting. “What?”
Wumuti smiled gently, already beginning to shift off the bed.
“We’re going to build you a nest.
Haru blinked at her.
“A… nest?” they repeated, uncertain whether they had heard correctly. They had seen the older omegas nest, they had already been in those nests as well, but never had they thought about making one just for themselves.
Wumuti nodded “Yeah. It will help.” Haru looked down at the tangled blankets around them, then back up at her. “Like… a real nest?”
Wumuti laughed softly under her breath. She stood up, already scanning the room thoughtfully. “Yes, a real nest.”
Haru watched her move, still clearly unsure but too tired to argue. Their fingers tightened around the pillow in their lap as another wave of discomfort passed through them. Wumuti noticed immediately.
“Come on,” she said gently. “You can help me. There’s no wrong way to do this.”
She started gathering things from around the room: extra pillows from the chair, the thick blanket folded at the end of the bed, a soft hoodie abandoned near the dresser. She placed everything carefully on the mattress, building a small pile within Haru’s reach.
Haru watched the growing collection with cautious curiosity.
“What does it… do?” they asked quietly.
“It makes you feel safe and keeps you healthy,” Wumuti explained, sitting back down beside them. Her voice took on a patient, guiding warmth. She remembered something Haru had told her once, both of their parents were alphas. They had been raised like one too, they had been taught everything an alpha needed to know, but never anything about omegas or betas.
Wumuti remembered how strange that had felt to hear, because the very first time she had met Haru, something in her had already known. Maybe that was the day her inner Omega accepted Haru as her pup.
Haru hesitated, then picked up one of the pillows. They turned it over in their hands like they were trying to understand it differently now.
“…And I just… sit in it?”
“You build it first,” Wumuti corrected gently. “Your instincts will tell you what feels right.”
Haru looked skeptical. “I don’t think my instincts know anything.”
Wumuti smiled knowingly. “They do. You just don’t know how to listen to them yet.”
She reached over and nudged a blanket toward them. “Try arranging things how you want. Whatever feels good.”
For a moment, Haru didn’t move.
Then, slowly, they adjusted the pillow in their hands, they added another pillow beside it. Then pulled the thicker blanket into the pile.
Haru’s breathing began to slow as they rearranged the space around themselves, creating smaller boundaries within the wide bed.
“See? You’re doing great” Wumuti encouraged quietly.
Haru glanced at her. “It already feels a little better.”
“I see that,” she said warmly.
Haru adjusted the pillows until they were partially enclosed. Almost unconsciously, they reached for the hoodie Wumuti had brought over.
They paused halfway, nose wrinkling slightly.
“…This smells like your scent.”
Wumuti smiled softly. “You can use it, if you want.”
Haru hesitated only a second before pulling the hoodie into the growing nest, hugging it loosely. The reaction was immediate, their posture relaxing, tension draining from their shoulders.
The youngest adjusted the blanket again, more confidently now. Their movements grew slower, deliberate, almost focused, instinct guiding where thought had struggled before.
After a moment, they looked up at her again. “…Will you stay?”
The question was soft, almost shy.
Wumuti’s expression softened instantly. She settled more comfortably beside them, close enough to be reassuring but still giving enough space.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
Haru nodded, visibly reassured. Wumuti stayed beside them, quiet and patient, only offering suggestions when Haru looked uncertain.
Haru settled in their nest, their head resting on a soft pillow. Their posture relaxed immediately, a soft breath leaving them as tension slipped away.
“…Oh,” they whispered, surprised.
Wumuti smiled faintly but let the moment belong to them.
Haru blinked slowly, gaze unfocused with exhaustion. Wumuti felt relief bloom gently in her chest. That was the moment every omega recognized, when instinct finally aligned with comfort, when the body realized it was safe.
And then a soft sound left them
Wumuti blinked.
It was quiet, barely louder than a breath, a low, steady vibration more felt than heard.
Haru froze immediately, eyes widening. “Did you hear that?”
Wumuti’s expression softened into a small smile as she made herself more comfortable in the nest aswell. “Yeah.”
Haru looked mortified. “What was that?”
“You’re purring,” Wumuti said gently.
“I am not-” Haru stopped mid-protest as another soft vibration escaped them, completely involuntary. Their hands flew to their mouth as if they could physically stop it.
Wumuti let out a quiet, warm laugh. “You are.”
Haru stared at her, equal parts embarrassed and confused. “Why is my body doing that?”
“It’s a comfort response,” she explained calmly. “It happens when you feel safe or relaxed. Especially during big changes like this.”
Another faint purr slipped free, longer this time. Haru’s shoulders dropped despite their embarrassment, eyes drifting closed again as the sound continued without their permission.
“…I can’t stop it,” they mumbled.
“You don’t have to,” Wumuti reassured softly.
Haru hesitated, then slowly lowered their hands. The embarrassment faded, replaced by sleepy acceptance. They curled slightly deeper into the nest, instinctively seeking the warmest, most secure position.
After a moment, they shifted closer to Wumuti until their head rested lightly against her shoulder.
The purring deepened.
She adjusted the blanket gently around Haru’s shoulders, movements automatic and protective.
“…Thank you,” Haru murmured, voice already thick with sleep.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Wumuti replied quietly.
“Yes there is,” Haru said, words slurring slightly. “I didn’t know what was happening… and you just… knew.”
Wumuti’s smile softened, something almost maternal settling in her expression. She brushed her hand lightly over Haru’s hair.
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said.
Haru made a small content sound in response, the purring continuing steadily now. Their breathing slowed further, body growing heavy with sleep as the last traces of tension disappeared.
Wumuti listened to the quiet rhythm, soft purring, slow breathing. The urgency of the day had faded entirely, replaced by a deep, peaceful stillness.
Within minutes, they both were asleep.
૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡
Wumuti woke up slowly.
At first, it was only warmth she noticed.
The air felt thicker, filled with familiar presence, and somewhere close by a soft, steady vibration hummed quietly.
Purring.
Her awareness returned piece by piece. The nest pressed around her sides, softer than she remembered, larger too. Something shifted gently beside her, fabric rustling.
Wumuti opened her eyes.
For a moment she didn’t move, simply taking in the unfamiliar arrangement.
Rui lay on the other side of the nest, half tucked beneath the blankets, one arm wrapped securely around Haru. Haru was curled against her chest, completely asleep, face relaxed in a way that only came with deep comfort. The soft purring came from them, steady and content, vibrating faintly through Rui’s hoodie.
Rui noticed Wumuti was awake and smiled sleepily.
“Hey,” she whispered.
Wumuti blinked once, still waking up. “…When did you get back?”
“A while ago,” Rui murmured. She carefully adjusted the blanket around Haru without waking them. “You both looked too peaceful to interrupt.”
Wumuti glanced down, realizing she was still partially inside the nest, one arm trapped beneath a pile of blankets Haru must have pulled closer in their sleep. Haru shifted slightly, pressing closer into Rui’s arms. The purring deepened, louder for a moment before settling again.
Across the room, a page turned.
Wumuti looked over to see Hyun sitting on Rui’s bed, which stood right beside hers. They were stretched comfortably against the headboard, a book open in their hands, posture relaxed but clearly attentive.
Hyun glanced up briefly. “Good morning.”
“…How long was I asleep?” Wumuti asked.
“Couple hours,” Hyun replied quietly. “I also ordered more heat reducers for Haru’s fever.”
Wumuti nodded, gratitude flickering across her expression. The apartment felt calm. Their scents lingered warmly in the air. Haru’s scent had fully evened out, blending comfortably into the familiar atmosphere of their home.
Rui looked down at Haru with unmistakable softness. “They started purring so loudly the second I got in,” she whispered. “Didn’t even wake up. Just grabbed me.”
Haru made a small sleepy noise, fingers curling lightly into Rui’s sleeve as if agreeing.
For a while, no one spoke.
Hyun turned another page quietly. Rui traced slow, absentminded circles against Haru’s back. The nest held all of them in warm stillness.
Wumuti leaned back into the pillows, watching the peaceful scene with quiet satisfaction.
The anxiety from earlier felt distant now, replaced by something steady and warm, the quiet certainty that Haru was alright.
That they weren’t alone.
And surrounded by soft breathing, turning pages, and gentle purring, the dorm felt even more like home.