Archive of Our Own

Jay had always slept alone.

The knowledge sat inside him like a dull ache that never quite faded. It was not dramatic or sudden.. It had simply grown over the years, quiet and persistent, until it shaped the way he moved through his small apartment each evening. The building was old, tucked into a quieter corner of the city where rent remained just low enough for someone like him to manage on a modest salary. Neighbors came and went, their scents layering briefly in the hallways before disappearing again. None of them stayed long enough to matter.

He worked as a graphic designer from a cramped desk by the window, taking freelance jobs that let him avoid most face to face interaction. People found him polite, reserved, easy to overlook. That suited Jay. An omega who drew too much attention often ended up hurt. He had learned that lesson early.

His family had never been cruel, exactly. They were simply distant in the way some households became after disappointment settled in. His parents were both betas, practical people who had expected their only son to present as beta too. When he revealed as omega at fourteen, the quiet shift in their eyes had stayed with him. They provided what was necessary, clothes and food and a roof, but the warm nest of pack bonds other omegas described never formed. No casual touches, no protective rumbling when thunder shook the windows. Just efficient care and careful distance. By the time he left for the city at nineteen, the message was clear. He would need to make his own way.

There had been attempts at connection, of course. Brief ones that left deeper marks than he liked to admit. A college alpha who had seemed kind until Jay’s scent triggered during a stressful exam week. The alpha had pulled away, muttering about not being ready for that kind of responsibility. Another, years later, had laughed gently when Jay admitted he had never been properly courted. “You seem so self sufficient,” the man had said. “I figured you preferred it that way.” Those words echoed on nights like this.

Jay stood at his kitchen counter now, stirring a simple cup of tea. The rain tapped steadily against the glass. Outside, streetlights cast pale halos through the downpour. He drank slowly, letting the warmth settle in his chest without reaching the colder places deeper inside. When the mug was empty, he rinsed it with the same careful routine he applied to everything. Control helped. Independence helped. Or so he told himself.

The bedroom waited at the end of the short hall, small and neat. One pillow, one blanket worn soft from years of use. Jay changed into an oversized hoodie that had lost every trace of any scent but his own long ago. He turned off the lamp and climbed beneath the covers. The sheets were cool against his skin. He drew his knees up toward his chest and wrapped both arms around them, curling tight into himself. This was the shape that felt safest. Small. Contained. Less likely to reach out for something that was not there.

He closed his eyes and waited. The low vibration started in his throat after a few minutes, hesitant at first. A soft purr, thin and solitary. It was not the rich, rolling sound he sometimes heard from mated omegas or content pups. This was thinner, almost apologetic, like asking forgiveness for needing it at all. Still, it helped. The gentle rumble eased the tightness in his shoulders just enough to breathe deeper.

Minutes passed. The rain grew heavier. Jay pressed his face into the pillow and let the purr continue. It wavered here and there. Small sounds slipped through when the ache sharpened. Little whimpers, barely audible even to his own ears, that carried the loneliness he tried so hard to ignore during daylight hours. They embarrassed him. He knew they did. An adult omega purring himself to sleep like a child without a parent’s comfort. Pathetic, some colder part of his mind whispered. Necessary, the rest of him answered.

He remembered the last time someone had touched him with real care. A friend’s older sibling, an alpha visiting during a holiday gathering several years back. The man had rested a hand on Jay’s shoulder while speaking, nothing more, yet the warmth had lingered for days afterward. Jay had hated how much he craved even that small contact. After that, he stopped going to gatherings where unmated alphas might be present. Better to avoid the reminder altogether.

Another whimper escaped as his thoughts drifted. He hugged his ribs tighter, fingers pressing into the fabric of the hoodie. The purr faltered, then resumed, weaker now. Sleep hovered at the edges of his mind, but it stayed just out of reach. Instead, memories played like faded film. The way his mother had stiffened slightly when he sought hugs as a newly presented omega. The alpha from his first job who had flirted for weeks only to disappear after scenting him properly one late evening. Each small rejection layered atop the last until the weight felt permanent.

The city hummed faintly beyond his window. Sirens in the distance, the low rush of tires on wet pavement. Jay breathed through another unsteady purr. His body grew heavier as exhaustion finally won out, but even then the sounds followed him. Soft, broken whimpers threading through the dark as consciousness slipped away.

He would wake in the same position, arms numb from holding himself so tightly. The pillow might be damp in places he would pretend not to notice. Then the day would begin again. Work. Meals. Quiet independence. The cycle repeated because it was safer than hoping for anything different.

Yet on nights like this, when the rain fell without mercy and the apartment felt larger in its emptiness, Jay could not quite silence the quiet question in his chest. What would it feel like if someone stayed? If a voice, deep and sure, replaced his own thin efforts and told him without words that he did not have to carry this alone.

He pushed the thought down, as always. Wishing changed nothing. So he purred on, alone, letting the melancholy settle around him like another blanket. Sleep claimed him at last, carrying the faint echoes of his own comfort into the long hours ahead.

In the morning he would rise, make coffee, and face the world with the same reserved smile he always wore. No one would guess how deeply the loneliness ran. No one ever had. And perhaps no one ever would. 

***

Sunghoon moved in on a gray Thursday afternoon.

A burst pipe two floors above had flooded half the building, sending tenants scrambling between temporary units while management pretended everything was under control. Human civilization, held together by duct tape and optimistic emails.

Jay got the notice at nine in the morning.

By noon, he was dragging dusty boxes out of the spare bedroom with a growing sense of dread sitting heavy in his stomach.

The apartment had technically always been a two-bedroom. In reality, the second room had become a graveyard for abandoned hobbies and loneliness disguised as storage. Old art supplies stacked against the wall. A keyboard he stopped touching months ago. Winter blankets sealed in plastic bins.

Empty space accumulating around an empty person. Beautiful symbolism. Very poetic. Slightly pathetic.

Management offered reduced rent if he agreed to take in one of the displaced tenants temporarily.

Jay agreed immediately because freelance graphic design paid inconsistently and groceries had apparently become luxury items lately.

He told himself it was temporary.

He repeated it while shoving another box into the hallway.

Temporary.

By late afternoon, rain battered against the apartment windows hard enough to blur the city skyline into smudged gray watercolor. Jay had just finished making the spare bed when a knock sounded at the door.

Heavy and measured. Not impatient.

Still, something in Jay’s omega instincts tightened instantly.

He wiped his palms on his jeans before opening the door.

The alpha filled the doorway.

Tall enough that Jay had to tilt his head slightly upward. Broad shoulders beneath a black coat speckled with rain. Sharp features carved into calm, almost severe stillness. Dark hair damp at the edges. Darker eyes sweeping once across the apartment behind Jay with unsettling precision.

No smile.

Not rude exactly.

Just composed in a way that made him feel distant from everyone around him.

Ice prince, Jay thought immediately, before mentally insulting himself for sounding like the protagonist of a terrible webnovel.

Then the scent hit.

Cool pine.

Cold air after snowfall.

Something metallic underneath, clean and sharp like steel left outside in winter.

It rolled through the doorway in quiet waves, powerful enough that Jay’s pulse skipped before instinct slammed defensively into place.

Most omegas reacted to strong alphas with either submission or attraction.

Jay’s body, unfortunately, liked multitasking. He felt both and hated it instantly.

"Jay?”

The alpha’s voice was low, calm, carrying that natural resonance alphas had when they weren’t forcing dominance but didn’t need to anyway.

Jay nodded too quickly and stepped aside. “Yeah. Come in. The room’s on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Sunghoon entered carrying two duffel bags and what looked suspiciously like an entire couch balanced against one shoulder.

Jay stared before he could stop himself.

Sunghoon noticed.

There was the faintest pause.

“You carried that upstairs alone?”

“The elevator helped.”

“That’s not how elevators work.”

A flicker crossed Sunghoon’s face.

Not quite amusement. Close enough to be dangerous.

“I’m Sunghoon,” he said.

“Jay," he repeated stupidly as if Sunghoon didn't know his name already.

Another brief look passed between them.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingered for one second too long, sharp enough that Jay suddenly became aware of every stupid vulnerable thing about himself all at once. His too-thin sleep shirt. The faint vanilla-cedar trace of his scent. The instinctive tension in his shoulders.

Omega, that look said quietly.

Jay crossed his arms immediately.

Sunghoon only nodded once before carrying his things toward the spare room.

“I’ll keep my things contained,” he said. “If noise becomes a problem, tell me.”

Polite. Direct. Controlled.

Not flirtatious. Not invasive. Not trying to charm him.

Strangely, that made Jay more nervous.

“Same for you,” he muttered.

Sunghoon disappeared into the room and shut the door softly behind him.

Jay stood frozen in the kitchen for several seconds after.

Then finally exhaled.

His apartment smelled like alpha now.

The first few days settled into careful avoidance.

Jay adjusted his schedule instinctively around Sunghoon’s presence. He worked from his room with headphones on, emerged only for quick meals, and timed showers around the sounds of movement in the apartment.

Sunghoon seemed to do the same.

He left early some mornings, returned late others. Always quiet entering the apartment. Always composed. Jay barely heard him moving around despite his size, which somehow felt more intimidating.

Large silent men were nature’s way of reminding humanity it once feared predators regularly.

Their conversations stayed minimal.

"You work from home?”

Jay looked up from his laptop at the kitchen counter. “Mostly.”

Sunghoon nodded once. “Quiet job.”

That was the entire interaction.

And yet the apartment itself felt different now.

Occupied.

Alive in strange unfamiliar ways.

Jay noticed it most at night.

His routines no longer belonged entirely to him. Every creak of floorboards reminded him another person existed beyond the thin walls. Another heartbeat. Another scent drifting quietly through shared air.

Another alpha.

The thought made his instincts restless.

That first week, Jay lay awake longer than usual beneath tangled blankets, curled tightly onto his side. Rain tapped softly against the windows while city lights painted pale gold lines across the ceiling.

He hugged himself automatically.

Then came the purring.

Soft. Uneven. Embarrassingly instinctive.

The vibration started low in his chest as he tried soothing himself toward sleep. He buried his face deeper into the pillow immediately, mortified by the sound even though nobody should’ve been able to hear it.

Still, anxiety tightened beneath his ribs.

The walls weren’t that thick.

A tiny whimper escaped before he could stop it.

Jay squeezed his eyes shut hard enough to ache.

Humiliating.

He kept purring anyway.

Because loneliness pressed harder at night, and instincts did not care about dignity.

Eventually exhaustion dragged him under.

A few nights later, Jay headed down to the basement laundry close to midnight hoping to avoid people.

Naturally, life punished him for optimism.

Sunghoon was already there.

He leaned against one of the dryers wearing gray sweatpants and a dark sweater, broad shoulders relaxed as he looked down at his phone. The fluorescent basement lights should have made anyone look vaguely corpse-like.

Instead, Sunghoon somehow looked cinematic.

Rude behavior, honestly.

Jay almost backed out immediately.

Sunghoon glanced up.

“You can come in.”

“I wasn’t leaving.”

“You looked like you were.”

Jay ignored him with as much dignity as possible and shoved clothes into the nearest washer. The room smelled faintly of detergent and warm fabric beneath Sunghoon’s colder alpha scent.

His instincts reacted immediately.

Unsafe.

Safe.

Too aware.

Jay hated all of it.

The washer beeped angrily beneath his hands.

He pressed the same button again.

Nothing happened.

“You’ve been doing that for thirty seconds,” Sunghoon said quietly.

Jay froze.

Mortifying.

“I knew that.”

“Hm.”

That tiny sound should not have felt teasing.

Before Jay could stop him, Sunghoon stepped closer and reached past him to press two buttons. The machine roared obediently to life.

Jay stared at it with betrayal.

Sunghoon moved back again immediately, giving him space without needing to be asked.

"You’re tired,” the alpha observed.

Jay crossed his arms. “I’m fine.”

Sunghoon looked unconvinced.

That bothered Jay more than it should have.

Most people overlooked him easily. Quiet omega. Independent. Functional. He’d spent years making himself easy to ignore.

Sunghoon kept noticing things anyway.

They waited mostly in silence while machines hummed around them. Rain rattled faintly against the basement windows.

Jay sat on the folding table eventually, knees drawn loosely toward his chest.

Across the room, Sunghoon sorted dark clothes with efficient movements.

“The apartment feels different with two people,” he said suddenly.

Jay looked up.

Sunghoon didn’t meet his eyes immediately, focused instead on adjusting the dryer settings.

“If you need space,” he added calmly, “tell me.”

The words were simple.

Still, something in Jay’s chest pulled strangely tight.

Because the apartment did feel different now.

Less hollow.

Less silent.

And that terrified him more than loneliness ever had.

“Okay,” Jay said softly.

Their eyes met briefly again.

Sunghoon’s expression remained unreadable, sharp and still as winter.

But beneath the steady scent of pine and cold air, Jay caught something quieter for just a second.

Warmth.

Then it vanished.

And somehow that made everything worse.

The storm arrived three weeks after Sunghoon moved in.

Not awful at first. Just heavy clouds swallowing the skyline by late afternoon and rain tapping steadily against the apartment windows. By evening, the wind had turned violent enough to rattle the glass.

Jay sat cross-legged at the kitchen counter with his laptop open, staring at an unfinished client revision while his eyes burned from exhaustion.

“Too clean,” the email read.

What did that even mean.

Graphic design clients loved using words like they were shaking random magnets out of a bag. Make it pop. Too modern. Warmer but professional. Minimalist but exciting. Humanity deserved extinction for many reasons. Corporate branding vocabulary ranked surprisingly high.

Jay rubbed his face.

He had slept badly again. Not unusual lately.

Having an alpha in the apartment changed things in ways his instincts refused to ignore. Sunghoon’s scent lingered faintly in shared spaces now. Pine and cold air soaked into couch cushions, kitchen walls, the hallway outside Jay’s bedroom.

His omega side reacted embarrassingly to it.

Sometimes when Sunghoon walked past him, Jay’s chest loosened before his brain could catch up. Sometimes he found himself lingering in the kitchen after Sunghoon made tea because the warmth of his scent settled something restless inside him.

It was humiliating.

Across the apartment, Sunghoon emerged from his room wearing a black hoodie and loose sweatpants. His damp hair suggested he had just showered.

Jay immediately looked back at his screen.

Too late.

His instincts had already noticed the alpha scent intensifying in the warm apartment air.

Unsafe, his brain insisted automatically.

Safe, something quieter answered underneath.

Horrible.

“The power company issued warnings,” Sunghoon said as he opened the fridge. “Storm might knock electricity out tonight.”

Jay hummed distractedly.

“You should charge your laptop.”

“I know.”

A pause.

“You’re glaring at the screen like it insulted your family.”

Jay sighed dramatically and dropped his head onto the counter. “Clients should legally be required to take one graphic design class before speaking to me.”

Sunghoon poured water into the kettle. “Mm.”

“That means you agree with me.”

“That means I think you’re stressed.”

Jay looked up.

Sunghoon leaned casually against the counter while waiting for the kettle to boil, expression calm as always. The kitchen light caught sharply against his cheekbones.

Intimidating face. Gentle voice. Extremely unfair combination.

“I’m fine,” Jay said automatically.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Liar, that glance said quietly.

Jay hated how readable he became around him.

Before either of them could speak again, the apartment lights died.

The kitchen plunged into darkness.

Outside, thunder cracked loud enough to shake the windows.

Jay startled violently.

His omega instincts flared immediately at the sudden loss of light and sound. Stress already sat too high beneath his skin. The blackout shoved it over the edge fast enough to make his pulse spike.

A second later, warm light flickered back into existence.

Sunghoon stood near the counter holding his phone flashlight toward the ceiling.

“You okay?”

The question was calm. Low.

Too calm.

Jay realized suddenly he was gripping the edge of the counter hard enough for his knuckles to ache.

“Yeah,” he muttered quickly, releasing it.

The wind screamed outside. The apartment felt smaller in the dark. Sunghoon moved toward a drawer without hesitation and pulled out candles.

Jay blinked. “You knew where those were?”

“You keep emergency supplies badly organized.”

“That’s incredibly judgmental.”

“You put batteries beside pasta.”

“That was temporary.”

Sunghoon lit the first candle.

Soft gold light spread across the kitchen, turning his sharp features warmer somehow. Less severe. The shadows softened the intimidating edges of him enough that Jay’s chest tightened strangely.

The power stayed out.

Rain battered endlessly against the windows while the apartment settled into quiet candlelit stillness. Jay tried working for another twenty minutes before finally groaning and shoving his laptop away.

“I hate everything.”

“You say that every day.”

“I mean it differently each time.”

That almost earned him another tiny almost-smile from Sunghoon.

Almost.

They ended up sitting in the living room mostly because the darkness made retreating into separate rooms feel oddly isolating. Jay curled into one corner of the couch with a blanket wrapped around himself while Sunghoon sat in the armchair nearby reading something on his phone.

The storm howled outside.

Neither of them spoke much.

Still, the silence felt different tonight.

Comfortable. Which was deeply concerning.

At some point Jay realized his scent had started sweetening in the air. Omega instincts reacting again. Heat crawled immediately up his neck.

Sunghoon noticed too. Jay could tell by the slight shift in his posture.

But he said nothing.

Did nothing.

Just lowered his own scent subtly enough that the apartment filled with calmer notes of pine and cold rain instead of sharp alpha dominance.

The effect on Jay was immediate and devastating.

His shoulders loosened before he could stop them.

Safe, his instincts sighed happily.

Traitors.

“You do that on purpose?” Jay asked quietly before thinking better of it.

Sunghoon looked up from his phone. “What?”

“The scent thing.”

A pause. Then, carefully: “You were stressed.”

That was not an answer.

Jay pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “Most alphas make it worse when they notice.”

“I’m not most alphas.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Outside, thunder rolled again.

Jay looked away first.

Two nights later, humiliation nearly killed him in the grocery store.

He had slept maybe four hours total over the past two days. Deadlines stacked endlessly. One client rejected his project draft. Another client demanded revisions after approving the original design three separate times.

Jay’s nerves already felt skinned raw by the time he reached checkout.

Then someone bumped his shoulder hard from behind.

“Watch it,” an alpha snapped impatiently.

Normally Jay would apologize automatically. Tonight exhaustion cracked something open instead. 

The stress scent hit first. Sharp omega distress flooded suddenly into the air before Jay could suppress it. His pulse spiked violently. Every instinct under his skin flared hot and overwhelmed at once.

The crowded store became too loud and bright. Too much.

Embarrassingly, his chest gave a tiny involuntary whine.

Jay froze in horror.

The alpha behind him wrinkled his nose immediately. “Jesus.”

Humiliation crashed through him so fast his vision blurred.

Then another scent cut cleanly through the panic.

Cold pine.

Winter air.

Sunghoon.

Jay turned sharply. The alpha stood a few feet away holding a grocery basket in one hand, dark eyes fixed on the situation with unsettling stillness.

The rude alpha straightened immediately at the sight of him.

Instinct recognized stronger instinct.

Interesting how fast aggressive men became obedient around someone scarier. Like watching badly trained dogs encounter a wolf.

Sunghoon stepped beside Jay without speaking.

Not touching.

Just there. Solid and grounding.

His scent wrapped low and controlled through the space, pushing calmly against Jay’s spiraling instincts until breathing became possible again.

The other alpha muttered something under his breath and walked away quickly.

Silence lingered.

Jay stared hard at the floor. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You looked overwhelmed.”

Mortifying.

Jay laughed once, brittle and exhausted. “Great. Love that for me.”

Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on him quietly.

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

It wasn’t a question. Jay’s throat tightened unexpectedly. Because he sounded concerned. And concern from alphas had always come with conditions before. Expectations. Ownership. Judgment.

Sunghoon just sounded... worried.

“I’m fine,” Jay whispered automatically.

Something in Sunghoon’s expression shifted then. Not frustration exactly.

Sadness, maybe.

“You keep saying that,” he said softly.

Jay couldn’t answer.

The ride home felt strangely quiet after that.

That night, long after the apartment settled into darkness, Jay curled tightly beneath his blankets and tried to force himself asleep.

The loneliness felt sharper lately.

More noticeable.

Because now he knew what another person’s presence felt like in the apartment. What safety smelled like drifting under his bedroom door.

His chest vibrated faintly with exhausted self-soothing purrs.

He buried his face deeper into the pillow. A tiny whimper escaped anyway.Then another.

Half asleep, Jay never noticed the soft sound of movement stopping outside his bedroom door. Never noticed Sunghoon standing silently in the hallway, listening.

The apartment remained completely dark except for the thin line of light beneath Jay’s door.

Inside, faint broken purring drifted through the wall. Small distressed sounds following after it.

Self-soothing.

Alone.

Sunghoon stood perfectly still.

Something deep and instinctive twisted painfully in his chest.

Jay woke up choking on panic. For one disoriented second he thought someone was holding him down. Then reality settled back in pieces.

Dark bedroom. Rain against the windows again. Blankets twisted around his legs. His own arms locked tightly around his ribs hard enough to hurt.

A nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

His lungs refused to believe it. A distressed sound escaped him before he could stop it, embarrassingly soft and broken. His omega instincts surged violently beneath his skin, already frayed from days of stress and poor sleep. Pre-heat hormones sat wrong in his bloodstream lately, making every emotion feel too large for his body to contain properly.

Jay curled tighter instinctively.

The room felt freezing.

Lonely.

His chest vibrated with weak uneven purring as he tried soothing himself down the way he always did. Small desperate sounds slipped out between breaths anyway.

“It’s fine,” he whispered hoarsely to himself. “You’re fine.”

Liar.

His heartbeat refused to slow.

The panic only spiraled harder.

His instincts screamed for comfort from somewhere deep and humiliating inside him. For warmth. For touch. For an alpha voice low enough to settle the shaking apart piece by piece.

Jay buried his face against the pillow immediately, mortified by the thought alone.

Pathetic.

Another whimper escaped anyway.

Then came a knock at his bedroom door.

Jay froze.

“Jay?”

Sunghoon.

The alpha’s voice carried through the dark gently enough that Jay nearly broke apart from it on the spot.

“I heard you.”

Humiliation crashed through him instantly. Jay squeezed his eyes shut hard.

“I’m fine,” he called weakly.

Silence answered first.

“Your door wasn’t locked.”

The mattress dipped slightly a second later. Jay startled violently, looking up. Moonlight from the rain-streaked windows painted Sunghoon in soft silver shadows. Black sweatpants. Dark shirt. Sleep-mussed hair falling slightly into his eyes. His expression looked calmer than usual tonight, but something tense sat underneath it.

Jay’s chest ached at the sight.

“Sorry,” he mumbled immediately, voice cracking from embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sunghoon’s brows pulled together faintly.

“You’re apologizing for having a panic attack?”

“I’m not having a panic attack.”

Another shaky breath betrayed him immediately.

Sunghoon did not point it out.

Instead, he sat carefully on the edge of the bed, movements slow enough not to startle him further.

The alpha scent reached Jay almost instantly.

Pine. Cold rain. Warm skin beneath it now from sleep.

Safe.

His instincts reacted so fast it made his throat tighten painfully. Jay curled tighter around himself to compensate.

“I can leave,” Sunghoon said quietly. “But you’re shaking.”

Jay hated that his voice sounded small when he answered.

“Please don’t.”

The words slipped out before pride could stop them. For one horrible second Jay wanted to disappear completely.

Sunghoon only softened.

Not visibly, maybe. Another person might not have noticed. But the sharp edges of his posture eased slightly. His scent warmed deeper into something grounding and protective.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmured.

That nearly undid him. Because Jay had spent years hiding this part of himself. The ugly needy omega instincts. The loneliness. The embarrassing self-soothing purrs and whimpers he could never fully silence.

No alpha had ever seen it without eventually looking irritated. Sunghoon looked heartbroken instead.

Jay turned his face away quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

The honesty of it sounded miserable.

Sunghoon exhaled softly through his nose before something low and resonant filled the room.

A croon.

Jay went completely still.

The sound vibrated deep in Sunghoon’s chest, warm and soothing and impossibly gentle coming from someone who looked like winter given human form. It wrapped through the dark bedroom slowly, instinctive and grounding in ways Jay had never experienced before.

Not directed to dominate.

Directed to comfort.

Jay’s breath caught painfully. Another croon followed, lower this time. His omega instincts reacted instantly.

The panic loosening. His heartbeat slowing. Every terrified shaking nerve inside him turning helplessly toward the sound like starving plants toward sunlight.

A broken little noise escaped Jay’s throat.

Tears burned immediately behind his eyes.

“Oh,” Sunghoon whispered softly, like the sound hurt him somehow.

Jay pressed a hand hard against his mouth. No one had ever done this before. Not once.

Not his parents who treated omega instincts like inconveniences to outgrow. Not past partners who liked having an omega but not the emotional responsibility attached to one. Nobody.

He had spent years comforting himself because there was never anyone else.

Sunghoon crooned again.

Warm, steady, and protective.

Jay felt something inside him crack wide open.

The first tear slid down his cheek before he could stop it.

“Hey,” Sunghoon murmured immediately. The alpha shifted carefully closer. Not crowding. Just enough that warmth brushed against Jay through the blankets. “You’re okay.”

Jay shook his head hard.

“I know,” Sunghoon corrected gently. “Feels awful right now anyway.”

Another trembling whimper escaped Jay’s throat. Sunghoon’s expression tightened for half a second like hearing it physically hurt him. Then his hand lifted carefully.

“Can I touch you?”

The question alone nearly made Jay cry harder. Alphas usually just touched. Assumed. Took instinctive closeness for granted.

Jay nodded shakily.

Sunghoon rested one warm hand lightly against his arm.

Nothing more.

Still, relief crashed through Jay so intensely his entire body loosened involuntarily beneath the blankets.

“There you go,” Sunghoon crooned softly. “Good job.”

Good job.

Such stupidly simple praise.

Jay’s eyes squeezed shut as another tear slipped free.

“You’ve been handling all this alone?” Sunghoon asked quietly.

Jay gave the tiniest nod.

The alpha looked devastated.

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

Something unbearably tender settled into Sunghoon’s voice after that. Each word low and soothing between soft croons vibrating through the room.

“You’re doing so well. So good for me. You don’t have to force yourself to be okay right now. I’ve got you. That’s it, sweetheart. Breathe.”

Sweetheart.

Jay made a small wounded sound at the name. Sunghoon’s hand slid carefully upward, fingers brushing slowly through his hair. The gentleness of it felt unreal.

Jay’s purring started again without permission. Weak at first. Embarrassed. Instinctive vibrations trembling through his chest.

He tried to stop immediately.

Sunghoon crooned warmer in response.

“No,” he whispered softly. “Don’t hide it.”

Jay’s throat tightened painfully.

“It’s embarrassing. It’s beautiful.”

The immediate sincerity in Sunghoon’s voice destroyed him.

Jay curled instinctively closer before he could stop himself. Half seeking warmth, half seeking the safety wrapped inside that deep resonant croon still surrounding him.

Sunghoon opened his arm immediately. No hesitation. Jay tucked himself shakily against the alpha’s chest. Safe in a way that felt almost frightening.

Sunghoon’s scent wrapped around him completely now, thick with calm protective instinct. The crooning deepened beneath Jay’s ear where his head rested against Sunghoon’s chest.

Strong alpha heartbeat. Deep soothing rumbles. Warm fingers brushing through his hair slowly.

Jay felt his body melting apart from relief.

“You’re alright,” Sunghoon whispered against the top of his head. “I’m here.”

Another tiny whimper escaped Jay before he could stop it.

Sunghoon only held him closer.

“That’s it,” he praised softly. “You can let it out.”

The tears came harder after that. Just quiet exhausted crying from someone who had been lonely too long. Jay hid his face against Sunghoon’s shirt, ashamed of every shaking breath.

Sunghoon treated him like something precious anyway.

“So strong,” the alpha murmured. “You’ve been trying so hard.I know, sweetheart. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself tonight.”

Jay’s purring grew louder unconsciously beneath the praise and crooning, finally evening into something steadier instead of broken.

Sunghoon noticed immediately.

“There he is,” he whispered warmly. “That sounds better.”

Jay actually felt himself relax fully for the first time in weeks.

Maybe years.

Half asleep from exhaustion and comfort, he finally risked something tiny in return. A hesitant little answering purr.

Sunghoon went still.

Then the alpha made the softest sound Jay had ever heard from him. Almost disbelieving.

His own purr answered low in his chest beneath the croons. The vibration wrapped around Jay completely.

Safe safe safe, his instincts sighed happily.

Sunghoon pressed one gentle kiss into his hair.

“Good omega,” he whispered.

Jay nearly melted straight through the mattress. And somewhere between one breath and the next, held safely against the most intimidating alpha he had ever met, Jay finally fell asleep to the sound of someone answering him back.

Jay woke slowly.

Not abruptly dragged upward from shallow sleep by anxiety or loneliness or instinctive restlessness clawing under his skin.

Just slowly.

Warmth surrounded him first. A steady heartbeat beneath his cheek. Strong arms loosely around his waist. The lingering deep vibration of alpha purring against his back.

For one disoriented second, Jay thought he was still dreaming.

Then Sunghoon shifted slightly behind him. Reality arrived all at once. Jay froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

Memory crashed back in humiliatingly vivid pieces. Panic attack. Crying. Curling against Sunghoon like a distressed rescue animal. The crooning. The praise.

Good omega.

Jay nearly stopped breathing from embarrassment.

As if sensing the spiral immediately, Sunghoon’s arm tightened faintly around him.

“Morning,” the alpha murmured sleepily.

His voice sounded rougher after waking up. Lower. Jay’s omega instincts melted traitorously on impact.

“Morning,” he croaked back.

Neither of them moved.

Rain still tapped softly against the windows. Pale gray light spilled across the room, turning everything quiet and blurred around the edges.

Jay realized something slowly.

His chest didn’t hurt.

Usually mornings felt heavy from the second he opened his eyes. Exhaustion sitting deep in his bones before the day even began.

Today he felt...

rested.

The realization unsettled him almost more than the intimacy itself.

Sunghoon shifted slightly again behind him, probably trying not to crowd him too much. Even half asleep, the alpha moved carefully around his space.

“You slept,” Sunghoon observed quietly.

Jay swallowed.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

That simple word warmed something embarrassingly deep inside him. Jay stared at the blankets for another long moment before finally speaking.

“You don’t have to pretend last night didn’t happen.”

Sunghoon was silent briefly.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Jay’s face burned immediately.

“I mean,” he muttered, “it was kind of pathetic.”

That earned him the faintest tightening of Sunghoon’s arms.

“No,” the alpha said softly. “It wasn’t.”

Jay looked down hard at his hands.

“You were overwhelmed,” Sunghoon continued. “You trusted me anyway.”

The words landed carefully. Gently. Like something precious being set down between them.

Jay didn’t know what to do with that kind of tenderness. It felt too large for him somehow. Like trying to hold sunlight in bare hands.

He laughed weakly instead.

“You make panic attacks sound noble.”

"You apologized to me while crying,” Sunghoon replied dryly. “Very brave behavior.”

Jay groaned immediately and buried his face into the pillow.

“Please kill me.”

A quiet sound rumbled in Sunghoon’s chest. Close enough to a laugh. 

“You’re cute when embarrassed.”

Jay went completely still. Sunghoon probably realized what he said half a second too late because the alpha’s purring stuttered briefly behind him.

Silence swallowed the room.

“Well,” Sunghoon said calmly, despite the faint pink rising near his ears, “you are.”

Jay stared at the wall in absolute horror. His omega instincts, meanwhile, rolled happily across the floor like delighted idiots.

The days after changed something between them quietly. Just small things.

Jay stopped hiding in his room so often. Sunghoon started making enough tea for two automatically. Sometimes they sat together in comfortable silence while rain pressed softly against the apartment windows.

Sunghoon’s presence no longer felt intimidating in the same sharp way. Heavy, yes. Overwhelming sometimes. But warm underneath it now.

Jay caught glimpses of softness more often lately. The way Sunghoon always handed him the less cracked mug without comment. The way he lowered his scent automatically whenever Jay looked stressed. The way his eyes followed Jay around the apartment sometimes, quiet and attentive like he was checking Jay still existed.

It should have scared him. Instead it made his chest ache.

One evening, Jay fell asleep accidentally on the couch while working. He woke sometime later with a blanket tucked carefully around his shoulders. Sunghoon sat nearby reading on his phone.

"You could’ve woken me,” Jay mumbled sleepily.

“You looked comfortable.”

Simple as that.

Like Jay’s comfort mattered naturally. Dangerous behavior from an alpha, honestly.

A week later, Jay had the worst day he’d had in months.

Everything went wrong in irritating tiny ways that stacked together until he felt hollowed out by the end of it.

One client canceled a project after weeks of work. An older alpha on the train snapped at him for standing too close despite the carriage being packed shoulder-to-shoulder. By the time Jay climbed the apartment stairs that evening, exhaustion sat so heavily inside him he could barely think around it.

His omega instincts felt raw again. Overstimulated. Lonely in that deep animal way he still hated admitting existed inside him.

The apartment door clicked open quietly. Warm light spilled from the kitchen. Sunghoon looked up from the stove immediately.

Their eyes met.

Jay didn’t even have enough energy left to fake being okay. Something in his expression must have given him away instantly. Sunghoon turned the stove off without a word.

Then he opened his arms.

That was it.

No questions. No careful probing conversation. No “what happened?” No expectation for Jay to explain his misery in coherent bullet points like a workplace presentation.

Just open arms waiting patiently in the kitchen light.

Jay almost started crying on the spot.

Humans were ridiculous creatures. Capable of surviving years of emotional neglect but one act of uncomplicated tenderness could reduce them to trembling immediately.

Jay dropped his bag onto the floor and crossed the kitchen before pride could stop him.

Sunghoon caught him easily. Warm arms wrapped securely around his waist and shoulders, grounding him instantly. Jay buried his face into the alpha’s chest with a small broken exhale he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“There you are,” Sunghoon murmured softly.

The praise in his voice alone nearly dissolved the remaining tension out of Jay’s body.

Sunghoon’s scent settled around him immediately. Pine. Rain. Safety.

Then came the crooning. Low. Deep. Resonant against Jay’s cheek where it rested over Sunghoon’s chest.

His omega instincts melted completely.

“Tough day?” Sunghoon asked quietly.

Jay nodded once against his shirt.

“So strong,” Sunghoon whispered. “You worked hard today.”

Jay made a tiny miserable sound. Sunghoon’s hand slid gently into his hair.

“I know,” he crooned softly. “C’mere. I’ve got you.”

No one had ever said things like that to him before.

Not naturally.

Not like they meant it.

Jay’s purring started almost immediately now around Sunghoon. Easier than before. Less ashamed. The vibration spread through his chest slowly as he relaxed further into the alpha’s warmth.

Sunghoon answered with his own low purr beneath the croons instantly.

The sound wrapped around Jay’s tired nervous system like blankets fresh from a dryer.

Safe safe safe.

“You’re getting better at letting yourself be cared for,” Sunghoon murmured after a while.

Jay huffed weakly against his chest. “Still feels weird.”

“I know.”

“Feels fake sometimes.”

Sunghoon pulled back just enough to look at him properly then. Dark eyes steady. Certain.

“It isn’t.”

The sincerity in his face hurt almost unbearably. Jay looked away first before feelings could kill him publicly in his own kitchen.

Sunghoon guided him gently toward the couch afterward, settling them together beneath a blanket while rain whispered softly against the windows outside.

Jay curled instinctively into his side now without thinking much about it. Sunghoon welcomed him there just as naturally.

Neither of them mentioned it. The apartment no longer felt hollow. No sharp lonely silence. No empty rooms pressing inward at night.

Just warmth. Soft lamp light. The steady rise and fall of Sunghoon’s breathing beneath Jay’s cheek.

Sunghoon crooned quietly as Jay drifted toward sleep again, fingers moving slowly through his hair.

“Good omega,” he murmured softly. “So good at coming back to me. Rest now.”

Jay’s eyes slipped shut.

***
The email arrived on a Tuesday morning.

Jay noticed it halfway through breakfast while half-awake and leaning against the kitchen counter in one of Sunghoon’s hoodies. The oversized sleeves covered his hands completely. Sunghoon had given it to him weeks ago after catching him shivering during another stormy night.

Jay never gave it back.

His eyes skimmed lazily over the message at first.

Repairs completed. Temporary tenant reassignment ending effective Friday...

Jay stopped breathing for a second.

Across the kitchen, Sunghoon looked up from making coffee immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

Jay reread the email three times like the words might rearrange themselves into something less horrifying.

They did not.

The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.

“Oh,” Jay said faintly.

Sunghoon set his mug down carefully. “Jay.”

“The building repairs are done.”

Silence.

The alpha went very still. And somehow that calmness made panic bloom hotter inside Jay’s chest.

Because of course Sunghoon would leave now. The arrangement had always been temporary. Rationally Jay knew that. He’d repeated it to himself constantly in the beginning like some protective spell.

Temporary.

Except somewhere along the way, Sunghoon had become woven into the apartment so completely that imagining the space without him felt wrong in a physical sense.

The kitchen would smell empty again. The couch would feel too cold. No low sleepy croons drifting through late nights. No warm tea silently appearing beside Jay while he worked. No arms opening automatically when he had bad days.

The thought made his omega instincts recoil violently.

Sunghoon watched him quietly for a long moment.

“I can start moving things back this weekend.”

Absolutely not. The possessiveness hit Jay so fast it startled even him.

“No.”

The word came out sharp enough that both of them blinked. Sunghoon’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Jay’s face burned instantly, but panic overrode embarrassment before it could fully settle.

“No,” he repeated stubbornly. “You can’t leave.”

Something warm flickered behind Sunghoon’s eyes immediately.

Dangerously pleased.

Jay ignored that and barreled forward before pride could stop him.

“You just got everything settled here,” he argued quickly. “And the landlord already adjusted the lease once so clearly it’s not impossible and I...” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to go.”

There.

Humiliating.

The apartment fell silent except for the rain tapping faintly against the windows.

Sunghoon stared at him with an expression Jay couldn’t fully read at first. Then the alpha’s scent deepened slowly into something rich with satisfaction.

Oh no.

“You don’t,” Sunghoon repeated softly.

Jay crossed his arms defensively. “Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“That alpha face.”

Sunghoon’s mouth twitched upward slightly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Jay groaned and looked away immediately.

A second later, warmth surrounded him.

Sunghoon stepped close enough that their chests nearly brushed, one hand settling carefully at Jay’s waist.

“You’re being possessive,” the alpha murmured.

The worst part was how pleased he sounded about it. Jay’s omega instincts purred happily despite his dignity collapsing in real time.

“I am not.”

“You basically bared your teeth at the concept of me moving out.”

“I can do it for real if necessary.”

That actually pulled a soft laugh from Sunghoon. Quiet. Warm. Rare enough that Jay felt absurdly victorious hearing it.

Then Sunghoon tilted his head slightly downward, eyes gentling in a way that always made Jay’s chest ache.

“You want me to stay that badly?”

Jay hesitated.

Because vulnerability still scared him sometimes. Because wanting things openly felt dangerous after years of teaching himself not to need too much from anyone.

But Sunghoon waited patiently. No pressure. No teasing now.

Just warmth.

Jay looked down at the front of Sunghoon’s shirt and admitted quietly, “The apartment feels wrong without you in it.”

The silence afterward felt enormous.

Then Sunghoon’s hand slid upward into his hair carefully, thumb brushing softly near his temple.

“That’s good,” the alpha said gently. “Because I really didn’t want to leave.”

Jay blinked up at him.

Sunghoon looked almost unbearably fond suddenly. The intimidating sharpness people feared so easily softened into something protective and deeply attached.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he added.

Jay’s chest gave one traitorous happy flutter.

Sunghoon noticed immediately, obviously.

His purring started low in his chest a second later.

Satisfied alpha.

Completely unbearable.

Jay buried his burning face into Sunghoon’s shoulder with a groan while the alpha wrapped both arms around him securely.

“You’re happy about this,” Jay accused weakly.

“Very.”

“Your ego must be insane right now.”

Sunghoon pressed a kiss softly into his hair before tilting Jay’s chin upward gently.

Then he kissed him.

Slow.

Warm.

Unhurried in a way that made Jay’s chest ache painfully around the edges.

Sunghoon kissed like he did everything else. Carefully. Intentionally. Like Jay was something worth handling gently.

Jay melted immediately. Absolutely humiliating behavior from a grown omega with supposedly functional survival instincts.

When Sunghoon pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against Jay’s.

“You came home to me,” he murmured softly. “Then refused to let me leave. I’m only human, Jay.”

Jay wanted to argue.

Instead he curled closer instinctively while Sunghoon crooned quietly against his temple, warm and pleased and impossibly gentle.

The apartment no longer felt temporary at all.