Chapter Text
Choi Hyunjoon, for what it was worth, had always been happy to be a beta.
It mattered little when he’d first gotten called up in Griffin, where there had only been an older beta and alpha on their roster; Siwoo, while being a year older than Seungyong, was also still unpresented then. It wasn’t uncommon for pro players to present late - the kind of sleeping and eating habits, on top of their practice hours, were just unhealthy enough to cause delays.
2020 with DRX had put him with three other young players and Deft, another older omega with a soft, downy scent that the four of them can’t really smell even if they tried to bury their undeveloped noses in his shirt. As far as they’re concerned, dividing into either alpha or omega would mean some of the habits they’ve built with each other would become too inappropriate.
It’s at the end of the year, when their new contracts have been finalized and they catch Changhyun pretending to sleep on their packed up bags in an attempt to make them stay a little longer, that Minseok explodes, scent cloying like overripe fruit, the change in the air noticeable even to Hyunjoon who had watched as the support ended up sobbing as he refused to be pried away from the crook of Hyukkyu’s neck.
The distress from the youngest had been palpable that night without the need to smell pheromones. Jihoon had found him early in the next morning, muttering about how secondary genders seemed so bothersome, and they should just stay the way they are forever. Hyunjoon wholeheartedly agreed.
They even bond over their shared freedom from not having to deal with Ruler and a now-presented Siwoo’s scents the way Peanut has to, when they join Gen.G a year down the line. But then Jihoon presents near the summer of 2023, right around the time he finally gets his braces taken off and loses the baby snaggleteeth.
Hyunjoon thinks nothing of it; at most, he’d have to sleep somewhere else if his longtime friend went into an unexpected rut. He let Jihoon press against him during waiting rooms, smiling apologetically as the LCK staff angle their cameras away from the newly presented, overly irritable alpha, inconsolable by all but one. You have no pheromones, he’d explained the first time he’d shoved his whole being into Hyunjoon’s space, it just smells like you. It’s comforting.
“Do you need anything?” he would whisper, shifting awkwardly so he can lean against the couch better. “You need to tell me or Wangho-hyung if you do. I can’t smell you like that, you know.”
The only response Hyunjoon gets would be a rough grunt as he nods into the crook of his neck, fist tightening around the back of his shirt. Though he makes a big show of huffing exasperatedly, he moves to accommodate his gangly teammate anyway, and he smiles when he meets Wangho’s eyes across the room - half-moons and fond at the sight of the two of them huddled together.
It’s still the same Jihoon he grew up with, the same one he’s long learned how to read; Hyunjoon didn’t need pheromones to know how he’s been having a fitful sleep ever since Hangzhou, or that he’s stressing over the upcoming playoffs, or that he’s growing anxious from reading too much comments about Worlds that’s still a few months away.
So Hyunjoon lets Jihoon cling onto him and lets him soak in the neutrality of his skin. Hyunjoon doesn’t quite understand his biology yet, or his newfound need to aggressively scent everything in their shared room, but he finds himself relishing in the fact that he’s the one that can calm Jihoon down anyway, and that he’s the one Wangho leans on, too, when everything becomes overwhelming for the older omega. There is a warmth that fizzles in his chest whenever his hyung would try to storm out of a room with a sigh, but still turn back to pull him by the wrist as he brings him along ‘for fresh air’ - a joy almost incomparable to anything else.
So Hyunjoon tries not to think about whether or not he’s missing something he can’t pick up because of pheromones he can’t smell; as far as he’s concerned, he was needed. And as long as he was reliable and strong enough to be needed by Jihoon and Wangho and the team, the rest of it shouldn’t matter to him. As far as he was concerned, being a beta was more convenient, anyway.
***
Joining T1 had given Hyunjoon the feeling of being suspended mid-air: half ecstatic with disbelief at the sensation of almost flying, and half fear at the anticipation of the fall that comes after.
He was, after all, singled out as the only new player replacing a star of what had been a beloved lineup. He knew what Hyukkyu said; besides, he wasn’t foolish enough to think the world would accept the change so readily.
And as far as the players’ feelings on the change went, they seemed to accept him easily. Minseok and Minhyung were happy to reunite with him; Faker was welcoming and more carefree than he’d expected, and Oner, once they got past those weird, awkward first few weeks, had started going the extra mile to help him loosen up around them as well.
Of course, there’s the way Minhyung hovers behind Minseok carefully, and the way Minseok frowns both when he’s too close and when he isn’t around; there’s still the way Oner tenses up in crowded rooms, busying himself by massaging where his patch would be around his neck; and there’s still a quiet exasperation in Faker’s sigh, the one time Hyunjoon overheard Manager Mun calling him over to look over their schedule, in case it would coincide with someone’s cycle - he’d ducked his head as he walked past the doorway.
Hyunjoon wasn’t quite sure why he had to be so flustered and anxious around the topic of his new team’s subgenders - it wasn’t like he was a stranger to it, jumping around and trying to find where he could stand amongst his latest new ‘pack’ as a beta. It just so happened that he’d come to fill the shoes of this new pack’s previous youngest - Zeus had been precious here, and even as an alpha it was visible how they’d come to spoil him.
There’s a nagging voice at the back of Hyunjoon’s mind - one that’s been there for a few years now, but that he’d learned to keep quiet over time. The one that keeps reminding him how lonely it is, to be left out of all the scents and subtle shifts everyone else could pick up on. The one that tells him he’s always going to be missing out and a step behind, no matter how well he thinks he can read his friends. It comes back now, enabled by a newfound, sort-of-impostor syndrome over this new roster.
It looms over Hyunjoon’s head like a heavy cloud, the question of whether his presence would be enough to fill the space that was left behind. It doesn’t help that they have quite a rough start into their season - losing at 6th in the LCK Cup, and having a weekly up-and-down performance at the start of the Spring split; Minhyung had been off the lineup for a couple of months, and it lingered in the back of his mind with unease. Still, he did his best to look out for Smash, who was even younger than Suhwan had been.
Geumjae, in a way, brings Hyunjoon a comfortable familiarity as much as he makes him feel conflicted. The younger ADC sticks close to him most of the time, and a quiet voice in Hyunjoon’s head had wondered once if he’d felt the same apprehension about being out of place when it came to slotting in with what used to be - or what remained of - ZOFGK. There was some sort of kinship he found with Geumjae, too - what with the two of them essentially being the betas of the team, though he doubted that the younger would stay unpresented for too long.
But Hyunjoon tried not to let himself dwell on those thoughts too much, and to focus on what he’s able to do for his new team instead. He lets Geumjae tail behind him when he doesn’t want to be left alone, and offers Faker his favourite snacks if he’d like, and gives Minhyung little nudges when he’s particularly quiet, just to let him know he’s seen. Minseok is easier - they’d grown up together in DRX, and Hyunjoon knows just how to go along with his little brother’s whims, presented or not. And Oner seemed to enjoy the distraction that their betting and banter provide, so he lets him have his fun - if anything, he’d also made it easier for Hyunjoon to make familiar little rituals out of this new environment.
Minhyung smiles gratefully with one of his smug little remarks when he would come around, though he’s still a little subdued. Oner latches onto him alongside Geumjae, and though the maknaes can be overwhelming at times, Hyunjoon finds their warmth more than welcome. Faker seems pleasantly surprised each time, like he’s never been given such offers before, which Hyunjoon doubts but still feels a self-satisfied thrill in his chest over anyway.
Minseok had happily tried to jump onto his back after the two of them testing an item interaction had devolved into a particularly stupid 1v1, which then sent the two of them stumbling and rolling around the floor of their otherwise empty practice room, breathless with laughter.
“You smell so good, hyung,” Minseok tells him later, as he nuzzled into the soft material of Hyunjoon’s hoodie.
“I don’t smell like anything,” Hyunjoon replied.
“No, it’s just yourself,” Minseok said. Hyunjoon thought of Jihoon, freshly an alpha, sensitive and clingy. “That’s why. You’re so comfy… Don’t ever change your shampoo.”
Hyunjoon laughed in reply, bringing a hand up to ruffle the crown of Minseok’s hair as he thought again, this is how he is - calm, steady, a beta. Even his members thought so; how else would he ever have it?
***
T1 lose an odd few matches in the early rounds of Spring, and the air begins to sour, something acrid and heavy where it shouldn’t be.
Hyunjoon feels like the walking dead most of these days - he’s playing badly, losing lane, and they can’t quite figure out how to draft around the team with the new lineup, especially not with their turbulent form. He’s far too conscious of the comments floating around the internet regarding his individual performance - he’s not good enough, they say. Bring Zeus back. He doesn’t fit in T1.
He pretends not to see any of it, though everyone knows better; he takes what company he’s offered, and tries to let the noise of Oner’s teasing and Faker’s own subtle playfulness wash over the words that dig into the soft of his brain. Too weak, he can’t help but recall, he can’t handle the pressure.
It doesn’t help that he feels nauseous nowadays - partly from the unease in his stomach from their upcoming games, and because of his habit of sacrificing his sleep and meals to be able to practice more on his own. Oner helps, in a way, weaving food into their bets over solo queue and damage when he’s not convincing him to head home early, though Hyunjoon doubts how beneficial extra sugar at midnight could really be. Still, he appreciates the jungler’s efforts.
He finds that it’s calmer around Untara, as well - Untara, who is odd and plays Teemo and pollutes the streaming room through the walls, but is kind and gives him his eel and is weirdly protective of him, and likes to come up with ‘creative’ ideas for their gameplay, if not a little goofy. He’s tactful when it comes to bringing up the team’s atmosphere, and tries to encourage Hyunjoon in a way that doesn’t feel overbearing.
It’s nice - Hyunjoon doesn’t need to overthink around him, and he finds himself slouching over in the corner of Untara’s room more often than not to get a break when he can. It was just that he can’t simply spend all his time catching a break - the season was still underway, demanding perfection from all of them, and it didn’t care about how tired or tense the players were, even if they were part of T1.
If anything, the tag on their names had only put them in a more precarious spot, and it had started getting under their skin. The more their coaches pull Minseok aside for a specific discussion, the shorter his temper got; Minhyung’s shadow hung over the practice room, like lightning suspended just over where it was supposed to strike.
Hyunjoon tried not to show it, but he had gotten the subtle feeling that everyone was walking on eggshells ever since the stream that had accidentally shown a message from Tom regarding Minhyung from Minseok’s shared screen. The in-team criticism was one thing, but that it had been shown to the public - worsening speculations about the team in turn - had turned the atmosphere completely brittle.
Even Oner had been antsier than usual - watching over his same-aged friends with deep eyes, and restless in the empty air in between scrims and feedback.
It comes to a head like this: T1 lose to BFX in the middle of April, and it’s only a few days after when something snaps between their bot duo.
Hyunjoon had been personally trying to scrub the loss from his mind as much as he was trying to figure out what kept going wrong. He refused to pin the blame on Oner and Sanghyeok, who had done nothing but support him; his botlane was in enough of a dilemma without him adding to their burdens.
The ringing in his ears as he stared down at his hands was loud, the murmur of discussions in the room drowned out by the thoughts plaguing his mind - he’s at the bottom of toplane stats. Why is he even here? There was something lodged in his chest that made him feel tired and heavy, and forced him to wallow in his own thoughts more than he would ever normally allow himself to.
It was a sick, strange sensation sticking around the corners of his heart, making him feel out of control. He hated it; he prided himself on being reliable, and right now he wasn’t anything close to it - both in the game and out of it.
The dull ache in his chest bubbled with higher and higher with every breath he took, hurtling up towards his throat faster each time, like the frustration he was trying to stamp down was coming up, trying to make his shame known to everyone in the room -
Hyunjoon blinked, feeling something wet in his eyes as the rest of his senses came rushing back, noise flooding into his ears..
“- just expect me to fix everything with a miracle?”
His head snapped up at the sound of Minhyung’s scoff, warbly with disbelief. The ADC was staring up incredulously at Minseok, whose face had crumpled in complete devastation. And that makes Hyunjoon realize - he did. He still does. Minseok had thought Minhyung coming in would save the match for them, like he’d always done. And now, the weight of his belief had come crashing down on both of their hearts, leaving fractures on something meant to be so tender.
“No - I don’t know,” Minseok grits out. “But I thought we could at least have played better. Even in the lane we were just overextending, and there was no pressure - ”
“I haven’t even gotten to be in half of the scrims you do!” Minhyung’s eyes were bright with hurt. “How was that fair?”
As he spoke, Hyunjoon felt someone next to him move a little closer - Geumjae, he soon realized. The younger player had curled up in his own seat behind Hyunjoon, hands picking at the worn sleeves of his hoodie as he tried to make himself look smaller. A substitute player, feeling responsible for the discord between his own team - Hyunjoon looks at Geumjae, and thinks of Griffin. His stomach churns with the weight of his own failure and his guilt.
“You two,” Oner says, eyes darting to Minseok once before he turns his solemn gaze back onto their ADC. “I don’t think you’re in a state to be discussing this right now.”
To Hyunjoon’s surprise, Minseok turns to their jungler with a hiss, teeth bared, and he realizes belatedly what Oner meant as he caught the way even Sanghyeok’s nose had started to twitch at what Hyunjoon assumed to be the others’ pheromones beginning to leak through their own blockers. A small, detached part of him - the one trying to dissociate from the whole situation - thinks blandly about bringing up better HVAC to the staff, an attempt to make up for his cluelessness as much as it was him trying to grasp at straws for a sense of normalcy.
Minhyung doesn’t react as violently as Minseok, though he stays rigid for a few more seconds before his shoulders finally drop, sighing wearily at their situation. “My bad,” he says in a low voice, hand coming up to rub at his neck. Hyunjoon could almost convince himself he could see where Minhyung’s skin ends and where the patch could peel away. “I’m going first if that’s alright, hyung.”
Sanghyeok nods, the usual mischievous curve of his mouth gone for the time being. “Hyeonjun can go with you,” he says. They don’t need to wonder which one he’s referring to - Oner nods as he, too, begins to gather his coat and bag. “We’ll be right after you.”
The room stays quiet as the pair shuffles out of the room; Hyunjoon thinks he hears Oner’s faint nagging to use his extra blocker before they head out of the building. Minseok stays standing, body faintly heaving from exertion - exhausted by the conflict with his own partner, and from holding back as instinct kicked in from the untimely triggering of his cycle.
Across the room, Sanghyeok watched the rise and fall of Minseok’s shoulders with a pensive look on his face. Hyunjoon catches his eye just as he starts to move to go to the younger, and there’s a flicker of understanding between the two of them - Sanghyeok gives him a nod as he gets up from his seat. You talk to him first, I’m here.
“Minseokie,” Hyunjoon starts, hovering just behind the familiar, small figure. His hands must look awkward from where they hover in the air, just inches away from making contact with Minseok’s skin - knowing not to touch an omega so riled up was something he’d learned from watching Wangho and Siwoo. “Look at me, Minseokie. Are you -”
But then Minseok turns to him, eyes baleful and shockingly bloodshot for the amount of time that had passed. “What?” he snaps, catching Hyunjoon off guard. He hadn’t expected Minseok to be so hostile - it was almost a completely different person, the near-hysteria visible on his face. “What do you want?”
“Minseok, please,” Hyunjoon tries to keep his voice even through the palpable tension. “I want to help, but you need to calm down and breathe before you wor-”
“I don’t want it,” Minseok says shrilly. In the corner of his eye, Hyunjoon sees the way Sanghyeok jolts forward urgently. “Where’s Minhyung - I was talking to him and you let him leave!”
His heart stutters, feeling utterly struck as he realized his mistake. That this was not any simple reaction from Minseok’s omega - his recent, unfamiliar friction with Minhyung and the fog of his pre-heat were all tangled up in his haywire brain. That he had no idea how to help this time, nor was it his place to.
Hyunjoon felt Sanghyeok’s hand land on his shoulder, and what should have been a steadying warmth instead felt like it was burning his skin through the layers of clothing. “Hyunjoon-ah,” he hears, “it’s fine. Hyung will take it from here.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers to Faker, eyes wide. “I thought I could help -”
“I don’t want your help, hyung,” Minseok said, still close enough to hear and nowhere near rational in the first place. “Why can’t you just stay out of the way and do whatever betas do -”
“Minseok,” Sanghyeok cuts in, his tone nowhere near harsh, but enough to make his disapproval clear and for Minseok to avert his eyes. “Hyunjoon is right, you need to breathe. We need to get you an inhibitor -”
“That’s not what I -”
“- and then we’ll see if we can get to Minhyung,” Sanghyeok finishes firmly. “Listen to your hyungs. You’re not yourself right now.” He softens, then, at the distress still on the younger omega’s face. “He’s not mad at you.”
Minseok wavers, the sharp edge of his shoulders melting away as Sanghyeok speaks to him. The eldest turns to Hyunjoon again, something like worry in his eyes - for both Minseok and himself, Hyunjoon realizes. Or hopes.
“You and Geumjae should go ahead,” he says. “I need to get Minseok to calm down first - if you could check on the others if we’re not back yet - ?”
“Sure, hyung,” Hyunjoon agrees. He looks at Minseok again, who seems to have begun to curl in on himself - “Tell me when Minseok is okay?”
Sanghyeok nods, studying his face carefully - like there was something he was trying to find. “I should have known better than to let you put yourself in that spot,” he finally murmurs, the apology mellow in the air between them. “Geumjae-ah - just get home safe first. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
So Hyunjoon walks back to where Geumjae is as their captain leads Minseok out of the room, feeling oddly blanked out after the whole ordeal. His brain was - empty, but loud still. Like white noise buzzing in his ears again.
“You good, Geumjae?” Hyunjoon asks, watching as the other stood up, the bag in his hand making him remember to do the same.
Geumjae peers at him, brows furrowing slightly. “I’m okay,” he says slowly. “But what about you, hyung - you’re shaking.”
Hyunjoon blinks, looking down. Geumjae was right - his hands were trembling, even through the way he gripped onto the strap of his bag. “Oh,” he says dully. “Oh. I’m fine, I was just - a little surprised.”
“Just surprised,” Geumjae repeats, his tone half-questioning, though he follows the toplaner as they finally empty out of the room. Hyunjoon almost thinks he could smell how the hallway air is void of pheromones compared to the stuffiness after what had happened inside.
“Yes… Minseok’s never done that before,” Hyunjoon swallows around the moroseness of his words as they pour out. “I didn’t think about how strong his bond with Minhyung would’ve affected him tonight… It’s just - it’s not something that comes to me naturally.” The admission tastes bitter on his tongue - he’d just wanted to help. Instead he’d overstepped.
“I know we’re not doing well, but I didn’t think - and with the pheromones and all -” Geumjae stops for a moment, his brain going too fast and too nervous for the words to come out coherently, before he ends up with. “... should it always this complicated?”
Hyunjoon can’t help but smile at the question, parts sheepish and sad. “I wouldn’t know,” he tells Geumjae. “I’ve always just been there. Maybe you’ll figure it out someday, and you tell me about it.”
Geumjae snorts. “If that’s what it does to us,” he says quietly, “I’m not even sure if I want it anymore.”
The dorm is still by the time they get back.
Hyunjoon drops Geumjae off at his room, and lingers in the silence at the front of Minhyung’s door. He knocks on Oner’s, just to ask how they’d been after they got home - ‘it’s alright, hyung. Minhyung’s going to be okay, I think. How was Minseok?’ - before he finally finds himself in the quiet of his own space.
He doesn’t quite remember how he’d managed to wash up without slipping in the shower in his current state, but he finds himself clean as he settles into his bed, the clothes from earlier ending up in the hamper, though a little haphazard for his liking.
Lying on his bed, Hyunjoon closed his eyes. He was tired, but not enough to sleep - something in his system was still alive, too on the edge after tonight’s events.
I need to clean my room tomorrow, he thinks to himself. And I need to check with Sanghyeok-hyung. And then with Minseok - but his heat might blow up tomorrow -
The thought of Minseok seems to be a key to the floodgate of all the thoughts that had been festering in the back of his mind throughout the night.
Minseok’s words echoed in his head - ‘just stay out of the way and do whatever betas do.’ Hyunjoon had just wanted to help his friend - he had been aching to help Minseok, and still managed to screw it up.
And the worst part is that he knows Minseok didn’t mean it, especially not in the way that Hyunjoon’s brain had begun twisting towards. But it was still there, and it dug into the thin skin of his heart - not so reliable now, are you, they tell him. Even after knowing Minseok for years before joining T1, it wasn’t enough to understand what he’s going through.
He simply wasn’t enough. Not as a player on their team. Not as a friend trying to reach out. And most definitely as a beta, sticking sorely out of a pack with bonds that predated his presence within it.
Hyunjoon lets out a deep breath from his chest, and still feels heavy - his throat felt constricted. And his eyes were hot and wet and they were strangely starting to burn -
Oh, he thinks, a hand coming up to wipe away at the tears on his face. Vaguely, he can hear Jihoon’s voice, half-teasing him about being an ugly crier - so please stop crying already, hyung? And the memory sticks something sore in his heart, too -
Hyunjoon is sobbing before he realizes it, face buried in the soggy fabric of his pillow as he hopes his voice is muffled enough to stay inside the walls of his room. He’s not sure what finally does it, not after the pile-up of hate around him joining T1, or just as a player in general; not after the sheer helplessness he’d felt tonight towards one of his oldest friends.
If Hyunjoon had been a little more awake, he’d have thought about how uncharacteristic it was of him to be falling apart the way he was. But the exhaustion of today had completely addled his mind, and it burst out of him in desperate gasps and uneven cries, leaving him raw and fragile and completely undone by the time sleep had finally come to claim him.