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San was exhausted.
The comeback preparations had become brutal in the past two weeks. Practice hours stretched longer and longer every day. What had started as six-hour sessions quietly became ten, then twelve. Sometimes, they would arrive at the practice room while the city was still waking up and leave when it had already sunk into darkness, carrying bags and way too many bottles of water.
There were still formations that needed tightening, harmonies that needed adjusting. Camera angles and stage transitions had to be worked out. Tiny details that nobody outside of the eight of them would ever notice mattered more than anything.
The situation wasn't helped by the fact that Seonghwa had just come out of his heat.
It wasn't his fault, San knew that. Every alpha and omega in the group understood that sometimes biology won, making schedules bend around bodies that wouldn't cooperate. But Seonghwa had missed enough rehearsals that now all of them were scrambling to catch up, pushing themselves harder to make sure the performance met the standards they had set for themselves years ago.
However, none of that was the real issue for San.
The real problem was that Wooyoung wasn't there.
San wasn't entirely sure how he had survived this long without his mate beside him.
He sat in the corner of the practice room while the staff corrected Seonghwa's move, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging low for a moment, sweat cooling against the back of his neck beneath the air conditioning. Around him, the others were drinking water, stretching, and talking quietly.
Their voices felt distant.
His instincts had been wrong for weeks now. That was the only way he knew how to describe it.
Everything inside him felt sharpened to a painful degree, every instinct stretched so taut that he felt as though one more pull would make something snap. He was irritable all the time, restless, uneasy. Constantly aware of an absence that his body refused to accept.
Even the clothes and personal belongings that carried traces of Wooyoung’s scent didn't help anymore—San’s body and instincts immediately recognized that it wasn't the real deal. Nothing could quiet his raging inner alpha, not even for a fleeting moment, leaving him unable to finish a single practice session without unnecessarily growling at one of the members.
The air in the practice room was thick with the heavy scents of exhausted alphas and omegas. Normally, San could tune them out—they were his pack, his brothers, his teammates, after all. But today, every pheromone in the room felt like sandpaper scraping against his raw, exposed nerves.
He needed the sweet, soothing scent of vanilla and cinnamon.
He needed his Wooyoung.
Instead, he was drowning in the stench of stale sweat and mismatched scents.
It was a pathetic substitute for the nest he had left behind that morning.
"Hey, hyung."
The voice was quiet, but it cut through the fog in San’s mind like a knife. Still, he didn’t lift his head immediately. His vision was slightly blurred from exhaustion, his chest heaving as he stared at the floor between his sneakers stubbornly.
A hand appeared in his field of vision then.
The youngest alpha in the group was standing over him, offering a hand to help him up. Jongho’s scent—something akin to orange and pepper—flared slightly, a subtle, instinctive attempt to offer some comfort to an older pack member who was clearly losing his grip.
To San’s hyper-vigilant, sleep-deprived brain, it wasn't an anchor, but an intrusion. It was an unspoken challenge to his authority, a violation of the fragile boundary he had drawn around his miserable corner of the room.
Before he could consciously register the thought, a low vibration rumbled deep within his chest.
It wasn't the playful growl they sometimes used during high-energy performances or variety shows, but a warning. It was a jagged sound that bared implicit teeth.
Back off, it screamed.
The quiet chatter near the mirrors stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, San saw Hongjoong freeze, a water bottle halfway to his lips. Yunho’s eyes narrowed, and he straightened, deciding if he needed to step in and de-escalate a fight.
Jongho didn’t flinch. He was one of the few people who could stand his ground against spiraling San without blinking, but still, the younger alpha did slowly lower his hand. His eyes darkened slightly, a brief flash of his own alpha rising to defend itself against San's unwarranted hostility, before he quickly reigned it in.
"Just seeing if you were ready, hyung," Jongho shrugged, his voice flat, stripped of anything that could be interpreted as a threat. He took a single step back, giving San the space his frantic instincts were screaming for. "We need to get in formation."
The realization of what he had just done hit San like a bucket of ice water.
Shame, hot and suffocating, flooded his veins, temporarily drowning out the irritation. He closed his eyes, drawing in a sharp, ragged breath. He had growled at Jongho. He was ruining the atmosphere of the room because he couldn't control his own biology.
"I'm sorry," San muttered, his voice hoarse. He didn't look Jongho in the eye, unable to bear the weight of his own guilt, even when he knew everyone in the room understood. "Sorry, I'm— I'm ready."
Using his own strength, he pushed himself up from the floor. His thighs burned, the lactic acid from hours of dancing making his knees wobble for a terrifying moment before his stubbornness locked them into place. He wiped a hand across his sweating forehead, pushing his damp hair back, and forced his feet to move forward.
Every step felt like walking through wet cement. Without Wooyoung to balance him, San felt like a ship without a rudder, tossing violently in a storm of his own making. When Wooyoung was there, their bond acted as a natural shock absorber. A single touch, a shared breath, or the simple comfort of having his mate in sight was enough to keep San’s instincts perfectly balanced. Wooyoung’s presence was the anchor that kept San grounded, allowing him to channel his energy into his dancing rather than let it turn into aggression.
Now, without that anchor, the energy was toxic. It was eating him alive from the inside out.
San took his place in the center of the formation. To his right was Yunho, to his left was Mingi. He could feel both of them deliberately keeping their scents neutral, trying to create a buffer zone for him. He hated that they had to walk on eggshells around him—hated that all of this was affecting the team.
"Alright, everyone! From the second verse, transitions into the bridge!" the performance director shouted from behind the laptop, clapping his hands to shatter the lingering tension in the room. "Let's go. Music playing in three, two..."
The heavy, booming bass of the track exploded from the studio speakers, vibrating through the floor and rattling in San's chest.
Instantly, the idol persona took over. It was muscle memory, a defense mechanism that bypassed his tired mind entirely. The moment the beat dropped, San’s posture corrected. His chin tilted up, his gaze sharpened into the mirror, and his body snapped into the first movement.
In the mirror, he watched his reflection—pale, drenched in sweat, his eyes dark and hyper-focused. He looked like a man possessed. He was fighting—was trying to burn off the excess, frantic alpha energy that was poisoning his system. He wanted to exhaust himself so thoroughly that his brain would finally stop screaming for the mate who wasn't there with him.
But as the song shifted into the pre-chorus, the formation changed. San had to move to the back, clearing the center for the other vocalists.
And that was where the illusion shattered.
As he stepped backward into the secondary line, his hand instinctively reached out to grip the shoulder of the person next to him—a core piece of the transition he had practiced hundreds of times.
His hand met empty air.
Right. The formation had been adjusted. Yeosang was supposed to fill the gap, but because of the changes made, the timing was completely different.
The sudden, brutal reminder of the empty space beside him hit San like a physical blow. His right foot caught on the edge of his own sneaker, and for a second, his flawless balance faltered. He stumbled, his shoulder clipping into Mingi as he hurried to steady himself.
"Watch it," a staff member muttered near the mirror, though it was drowned out by the music.
San’s heart leaped into his throat. He forced his body to catch up to the beat, throwing himself into the main chorus with double the effort to make up for the mistake, but the mental damage was done. The phantom feeling of Wooyoung’s missing shoulder burned against his palm.
His inner alpha howled in agony—a silent, pathetic sound of mourning that made his chest ache.
Where is he? Why isn't he here? Why aren't we protecting him?
San had to keep moving, his muscles protesting, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. He clenched his jaw, staring at his own face in the mirror, refusing to let the weakness show on his face. He would finish the practice. He would do his duty as an idol and as a member of this group.
Deep down, he was counting down the seconds until the music stopped, until the lights turned off, and until he could finally crawl back to the only place where he could relax.
The grueling run finally drew to a close, the final booming chord of the track echoing off the walls before cutting into silence. For a long moment, the only sound in the practice room was the ragged breathing of seven men.
"Okay, let's wrap it there for today," the performance director announced, closing his laptop with a definitive snap. "Good corrections on the transitions. Rest up, we start early tomorrow."
The tension that had filled the room for the past hours finally began to fade, leaving a heavy, bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. The staff began to pack up, and the members automatically moved into a loose circle. Gathering the last remnants of their energy, they bowed deeply to everyone. A chorus of tired voices filled the room.
"Good work today."
"Thank you for your hard work."
"Drive safely."
San bowed mechanically, his eyes fixed on the floor as he murmured his own polite goodbyes. His shirt was soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his chest and back, and his legs felt like jelly. All around him, the members were slowly moving toward their bags, sliding on hoodies, and finishing the last sips of their water.
He reached down to grab his own duffel bag, his hands trembling slightly from physical exertion.
He just wanted to get into a car.
"San-ah."
San turned to find Hongjoong walking over, pulling a black beanie over his damp hair. The leader’s sharp scent had softened, replaced by a weary but warm aura. He looked incredibly small in his baggy clothes, yet he still carried the undeniable authority of the group's captain.
"The managers are dropping us off at that barbecue place we like," Hongjoong said, tilting his head toward the door where the others were already gathering. "Everyone's going, we need to put some fuel back in our bodies after today. Do you want to come?"
San froze, his hand tightening around the strap of his bag. The offer was kind—a leader looking after a stressed alpha, trying to lift his spirits after a tense day. But the mere thought of sitting in a loud, crowded restaurant, surrounded by the heavy smell of roasting meat, made his stomach turn. His instincts fiercely rejected it—every second he spent there was another second away from the nest.
He shook his head, a look of genuine apology breaking through his exhausted expression. "Ah, hyung... thank you, but I don't think I can. I should really just head straight back. Wooyoung is..." San hesitated, his voice dipping into a lower, more vulnerable register as his throat tightened. "He's waiting at home. And honestly, with how things have been, I really need to get back home. I know I’ve been on edge today, and I shouldn't be skipping pack dinners when we're this close to the comeback, but I just—"
Before he could spiral further into his own anxious explanations, Hongjoong stepped closer.
The leader reached out, his hand firmly clasping San’s shoulder. Hongjoong squeezed gently, his expression softening into one of complete, unspoken understanding. He didn't need San to explain himself—he had known them both for years, and he knew exactly what a mated, but separated, alpha looked like when his nest was calling to him.
"San-ah, it's fine," Hongjoong interrupted gently, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. "You don't need to explain. Go home to Wooyoung, and say hi to him from us. Tell him we miss him. "
A wave of intense relief washed over San, his shoulders visibly dropping. The tight knot that had been in his chest, that had been there all day, finally began to loosen.
"I will," San managed, a genuine smile breaking through his exhaustion for the first time all day. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but the gratitude in his expression was unmistakable. "Thank you, hyung. Really."
Hongjoong patted his shoulder one last time before letting go, offering a reassuring nod. "Get some rest, San. We'll see you tomorrow."
San didn’t waste another second. He quickly gathered the rest of his things, stuffing his damp towel and almost empty water bottle into his duffel bag with hurried, clumsy movements. He threw an oversized hoodie over his soaked practice shirt, pulling the hood low over his eyes. After bidding a hasty goodbye to the rest of the members—who all waved him off with understanding smiles, knowing exactly where his heart was racing to—San practically bolted out the door.
Waiting in the hallway was one of their managers, keys already jingling in his hand. He took one look at San’s determined, frantic energy and chuckled softly. "Ready to go home?"
"Yes, please," San replied, his voice breathless.
The walk down to the underground parking lot felt like it took an eternity, but the moment they stepped into the quiet concrete garage, a thrill of pure excitement shot straight down San’s spine. His alpha, which had been mourning and snapping in agony for hours, suddenly woke up with a ferocious, joyful spark. Soon. Almost there. His hands shook as he pulled open the passenger door of the company van and slid into the seat.
As the manager started the engine and the car began to glide up the ramp, leaving the agency building behind, San leaned his head back against the headrest.
The drive through the neon-lit streets was a blur. Outside, the city was alive with late-evening traffic and bustling crowds, but inside the quiet cabin of the car, San was in his own world. He couldn't stop smiling. The exhaustion that had weighed down his limbs just minutes ago vanished, replaced by restless, giddy anticipation.
He kept staring out the window, watching the streetlights reflect off the glass, his mind already racing ahead to their apartment. He could practically taste the sweet, comforting scent of vanilla and cinnamon waiting for him behind that front door.
He was finally going back to his Wooyoung. Back to their nest.
Back to their pup.
The car hadn’t even come to a complete halt in the apartment building’s underground parking lot before San’s hand was already on the door handle. The second the vehicle shifted into park, he threw the door open, his body moving on pure, adrenaline-fueled instinct.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on there," the manager called after him, catching the door before it could swing back, and he pointed toward the floor mat of the passenger seat. "Are you planning on leaving your bag behind?"
San blinked, looking down to see his heavy duffel bag sitting exactly where he’d dropped it. In his absolute desperation to get upstairs, he had completely forgotten about it.
A bright, carefree laugh bubbled out of his chest—the first real sound of joy he had made all day.
"Ah, sorry! Thank you so much," San snatched up the bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he slammed the car door shut. "See you tomorrow! Drive safely!"
He didn’t wait for a reply. He practically sprinted across the concrete garage, his sneakers squeaking loudly against the floor. His legs, which had been practically giving out from exhaustion during the final dance run, suddenly felt lighter than air.
He burst through the doors leading to the elevator lobby and aggressively pressed the call button, his heart hammering against his ribs in a wild, erratic rhythm.
Come on, come on!
When the metal doors finally slid open, he stepped inside and slammed the button for their floor, leaning his back against the mirrored wall.
As the elevator began its ascent, San caught sight of his reflection.
His hair was a wild, damp mess, his skin pale from ten hours of sweating under studio lights, and there were dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes. He looked completely wrecked, but the grin stretching across his face was so wide it made his cheeks ache. He looked like a madman, completely intoxicated by the mere thought of the proximity of his mate.
The elevator doors finally parted, and San stepped out into the quiet corridor of their floor. The moment his feet hit the hallway, his senses flared to life.
The metallic smell of the elevator was instantly replaced by a faint, familiar undertone drifting from under their door. It was a soft, delicate whisper of warm vanilla and rich, spicy cinnamon.
Wooyoung.
The scent was faint out there, but to San’s starved instincts, it was like an oasis in the middle of a desert. His alpha practically purred, a deep, contented rumble vibrating in his throat. The smile on his face widened even further, pulling at the corners of his mouth until his eyes crinkled shut into happy crescents.
He walked down the corridor, his pace quickening with every step until he was standing directly in front of their apartment door, his hand trembling with excitement as he reached for the keypad.
He punched in the security code with rapid movements, the digital beeps sounding like music to his ears. The moment the lock clicked open, San slid inside and closed the door behind him, kicking off his sneakers.
The scent hit him with full force. The apartment was completely saturated with it—rich, sweet vanilla wrapped in the cozy, enveloping warmth of spicy cinnamon. It was thick, heavy, and so distinctly Wooyoung.
San stood in the entryway for a second, his eyes fluttering shut as he took a deep, greedy breath, letting the familiar scent wash over his battered system. His inner alpha instantly began to settle, the jagged edges of his mood smoothing out in a matter of seconds.
But as much as he wanted to sprint straight to the bedroom, a sudden wave of self-awareness stopped him. He smelled like ten hours of intense choreography, stale sweat, and the heavy, mixed scents of the rest of the guys.
He couldn’t bring that grime into Wooyoung’s space.
Forcing his restless legs to cooperate, San slipped straight into the bathroom. He dropped his duffel bag heavily onto the floor and immediately stripped off his hoodie, tossing it aside before gripping the hem of his soaked practice shirt and pulling it over his head too.
Turning on the faucet, he let the water run hot, grabbing a bar of soap and rubbing his hands together until a thick lather formed, and began to frantically wash away the day. He splashed the warm, soapy water over his neck, his arms, his chest, and his armpits, desperate to rid himself of the studio's smells.
After rinsing off and drying himself with a towel, he stepped out of his sweat-stained cargo pants, kicking them into the laundry hamper. He grabbed a pair of clean, loose grey sweatpants from the shelf, stepping into them with a sigh of relief. Then, his eyes fell on a discarded, soft cotton shirt resting on top of the washing machine, and he picked it up. It was one of his own old, oversized t-shirts, but Wooyoung had clearly been wearing it recently—it was completely infused with his mate's comforting scent. San smiled softly, pulling the fabric over his head, the soft cotton feeling like a balm against his tired skin, and the immediate proximity of Wooyoung’s scent right against his chest made his heart swell.
Finally clean, finally smelling like himself and his mate, San turned off the bathroom light.
He stepped out into the quiet, dimly lit hallway. His heart began to thud in his chest again, a steady, rhythmic pulse of pure anticipation. He turned the corner and headed down the short corridor toward the master bedroom, knowing that just beyond that door, the nest—and his entire world—was waiting for him.
San pushed the bedroom door open, the hinges moving with a soft click.
The room was bathed in a soft, amber glow. The only source of light was the small lamp on the bedside table, casting long, warm shadows across the space. The curtains were drawn tightly against the city lights outside, creating a perfect, insulated sanctuary.
And there, in the center of the massive bed, was the nest.
It was a beautiful, chaotic fortress of comfort. San’s eyes instantly locked onto the figure curled up in the middle of a mountain of plush blankets, pillows, and worn-out t-shirts.
Wooyoung was asleep, or drifting on the edge of it. He looked impossibly small, completely wrapped in San’s favorite, oversized grey hoodie, the sleeves swallowing his hands entirely.
But it wasn't just Wooyoung—bound tightly in his mate’s arms, curled securely against his chest, was their tiny pup. The baby was a perfect, peaceful bundle, breathing in a rhythm that matched Wooyoung’s.
A sound broke from San’s throat before he could stop it—a soft, involuntary coo that melted instantly into a deep, vibrating purr. The sound rumbled all the way from his chest, heavy with a profound, overwhelming wave of love and instinctual relief.
His alpha was completely, entirely satisfied.
His family was safe. They were right here.
San practically floated across the room, closing the distance in three long strides. He dropped to his knees beside the bed so he was eye-level with the mattress. He leaned forward, careful not to disturb the fragile peace of the nest, and breathed in the concentrated scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and the sweet, milky scent of their pup.
"Hi, love," San whispered, his voice raspy with a mixture of exhaustion and pure love.
He shifted his gaze down to the tiny tuft of soft hair. Slowly, with a hand that was still trembling slightly, San extended a single finger. He feather-lightly stroked the side of their pup’s head, his heart overflowing.
"Hi, little love."
At the sound of his voice and the soothing rumble of his purr, Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered open. A sleepy, soft smile immediately tugged at the corners of his lips. His scent flared, welcoming his alpha home with a sudden, beautiful burst of warmth.
"You're back," Wooyoung murmured, a quiet, raspy chuckle bubbling in his throat at how intensely San was staring at them.
Careful not to jostle the sleeping baby, Wooyoung shifted. He braced his weight on one elbow, pushing himself up just enough to clear the small gap over their pup. He leaned across the mattress, his eyes locked onto San's, and pressed his lips gently against his mate's.
The kiss was soft and tasted entirely like home. It washed away every single second of the brutal ten-hour practice, every ounce of frustration, and every jagged edge left in San’s soul.
"Hi," Wooyoung whispered against his lips, pulling back slightly, his eyes shining in the dim lamplight. He reached out with his free hand, his fingers tangling into the hem of the shirt San had just put on, tugging him weakly but insistently forward. "Come here. Get in."
Wooyoung nudged the blankets aside with his knee, clearing a space on the other side of their pup, directly in front of him.
San didn’t need to be told twice. He stood up from the floor and carefully slid beneath the heavy, warm blanket, taking extra care not to disrupt the delicate structure of the nest.
The moment his body hit the mattress, the sheer bliss of it made his eyes close. He adjusted his position, lying on his side so he was directly facing Wooyoung, with their tiny pup nestled safely in the middle. Immediately, San reached his arm over the baby, his hand settling firmly against the curve of Wooyoung’s waist. He pulled his mate just a fraction closer, effectively enclosing their pup in a complete, unbreakable circle of protection.
Safe. Shielded from the outside world by two devoted parents.
San dipped his head down, his nose brushing against the soft hair of their pup's head. He pressed a featherlight kiss there, breathing in that sweet newborn scent mixed with Wooyoung's vanilla and his own bergamot. When he lifted his head, a soft grin broke across his face, his eyes crinkling as he looked into Wooyoung’s face.
"How are you feeling, love?" San asked, his voice a breathy rumble in the quiet room. He gently rubbed his thumb against Wooyoung's hip through the thick fabric of the grey hoodie. "Is everything fine? Your body isn't hurting? What did the two of you do all day?"
Wooyoung let out a tiny, soft huff, a fond look passing through his eyes as he absorbed his alpha's frantic, protective fretting. He reached up, his fingertips lightly tracing the line of San’s jaw, feeling the slight tension that was finally draining from the older man's muscles.
"We're perfect. Just missed you," Wooyoung whispered, his thumb brushing over San’s cheekbone now. "What about you? How was practice? Hongjoong said it’s been brutal lately."
San just shook his head, shifting closer so their foreheads could touch over their sleeping pup.
"It doesn't matter," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he tightened his grip on Wooyoung's waist. "What matters is that I'm finally back home. With you, and with our pup."
Wooyoung rolled his eyes, a soft, breathless laugh escaping his lips.
"You are such a sap, Sannie," he teased softly, though the pure affection radiating from his scent completely betrayed him.
Before San could even attempt a playful retort, Wooyoung closed the small distance between them once more. He pulled San in by the nape of his neck for another kiss—deep, lingering, and full of a quiet reassurance that made San’s alpha entirely melt.
"But I'm glad you're home now," Wooyoung whispered against his lips, pulling back just enough to look into San's eyes. "We both missed you so much."
The bedroom was silent save for the quiet, rhythmic breathing of the three of them, and San felt a blissful warmth settling deep into his bones. The grueling practice, the aching muscles, the frustration from earlier—it all completely evaporated, leaving nothing but an overwhelming wave of love.
Then a tiny, wet sigh broke the quiet.
Between them, the small bundle began to squirm. Their pup stretched his tiny arms as his eyes slowly blinked open. He let out a soft, questioning little peep, looking around the dim room.
Wooyoung immediately melted, a high, adoring coo leaving his throat.
"Oh, look who's awake," he said quietly, his voice dripping with pure honey. He leaned down, brushing his nose against the baby’s chubby cheek.
With practiced, incredibly gentle movements, Wooyoung carefully shifted the pup. He supported the pup's tiny head and back, turning him around to face San. "Look who it is, sweetie. Your dad is finally back home. See? Appa is right here."
The moment the baby’s blurry, wide eyes locked onto San, a brilliant, toothless smile broke across his tiny face. He let out a happy, high-pitched babble, his little legs kicking beneath the blanket in recognition of his father's scent.
San’s heart completely flipped over.
"Oh, little one," San choked out, his eyes instantly stinging with happy tears.
He carefully shifted onto his back, flattening himself against the mattress to create a sturdy platform. He reached out with both hands, his palms easily and securely cradling the tiny baby, lifting him and placing him gently onto his own broad chest.
The pup immediately settled, letting out a contented little sigh as he rested his cheek right over San’s heart, his tiny hands fisted into the soft cotton of the shirt San was wearing, and he kept one hand protectively splayed across the baby's back.
Seeing the space open up beside him, Wooyoung shifted too. He slid closer, draping his body over San's side and resting his head comfortably on San's shoulder.
San automatically lifted his free arm, wrapping it securely around Wooyoung’s shoulders, pulling his mate tightly against his side. Wooyoung let out a soft, purring sigh, reaching down to place his own hand directly over San's, resting it right on their pup’s back.
San turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against the soft crown of Wooyoung’s head.
"The guys said hi," San murmured into the quiet room, his voice a low vibration that resonated right through to the baby resting on him. "Hongjoong told me to tell you. They all miss you like crazy."
Wooyoung let out a soft hum, his fingers lightly tracing the back of San’s hand where it rested on their pup's tiny back. For a moment, he just watched the baby's eyelids flutter, heavy with sleep once more.
"I miss them too," Wooyoung admitted softly. His voice held a rare, vulnerable weight that made San tighten his grip around his shoulders. "Don't get me wrong, Sannie... Staying home like this, just holding him and watching him grow every single day... It’s amazing. It’s everything I ever wanted. But..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting to the far wall of the bedroom. "I see the teasers. I know how hard you're all working, and I can't wait until I'm recovered enough to be back out there with the group. I miss the stage. I miss the noise."
San felt a familiar pang of empathy in his chest. He knew how deeply Wooyoung loved performing, how much of his soul was tied to the music and the brotherhood they shared with the others. To be pulled away from it, even for the most beautiful reason in the world, wasn't easy.
"You'll be back before you know it," San reassured him gently, pressing another warm, lingering kiss into Wooyoung's hair, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and home. "The stage isn't going anywhere, and neither are we. The members, the fans... everyone is just waiting for you to heal. Take your time, love. Right now, your only job is to let us take care of you."
Wooyoung smiled against San's shoulder, the tension leaving his body as he let his eyes finally close. "Mm, lucky me. I have the best alpha in the world looking after me."
"Damn right you do," San teased softly, a quiet purr vibrating in his chest.
Between them, the pup let out one final sigh, completely falling back into a deep, peaceful sleep, comforted by the synchronized heartbeats of his parents.
San let his eyes close, his cheek resting against the silky strands of Wooyoung’s hair, and the crushing pressure of the upcoming comeback faded into a distant, irrelevant hum. In the quiet safety of their bedroom, the fierce, overprotective ache that had clawed at San's chest for weeks finally dissolved into absolute peace.
"Sleep, Sannie," Wooyoung whispered, his voice drifting off into a sleepy slur as his fingers loosely tangled with San’s over the pup's back. "You're home now."
"Yeah," San murmured, a faint, incredibly content smile gracing his lips as he tightened his embrace, sealing them in a cocoon of perfect safety. "I'm home."
With his mate in his arms, and their little love resting safely over his heart, the alpha finally let himself let go, drifting into the deepest, most peaceful sleep he had known in a very long time.