Work Text:
Riku thinks he’s getting sick.
Yes, that must be it. It explains the nauseous feeling that keeps overwhelming him as they watch episode one of Ode to Love House. When Daeyoung professes his affection for Yushi, bile creeps up Riku’s throat and he clenches his jaw so tight that his teeth start to hurt. It ebbs and flows throughout the rest of the recording, transitioning into aching stomach pains that plague Riku as he slouches in his seat in the back of the van. His entire body buzzes. He just feels so… off. Maybe all of the dieting is finally catching up to him.
“Hyung, are you alright?” Daeyoung asks quietly, not wanting to disturb Ryo asleep on his shoulder. This close to Daeyoung, Riku can smell hints of pine and patchouli leaking out from beneath his scent blocking patches. He inhales deeply and his headache eases.
Strange.
“Shouldn’t you be asking Yushi that?” Riku replies snarkily, crossing his arms and turning to face the window. Daeyoung just laughs softly like knows something Riku doesn’t. Riku huffs and clenches his fists.
His anger quickly dissipates when Daeyoung’s hand snakes up his nape. Riku stills. An omega’s nape is an… intimate place to touch. A shiver runs down his spine and he feels his eyelids begin to droop as Daeyoung cards his fingers through the silky locks brushing against his neck. He shouldn’t be allowed to use Riku’s body against him to escape an argument. It’s cheating.
“You’re the only one for me, hyung,” Daeyoung whispers, laughter imbued in his tone. Liar, Riku thinks. Daeyoung is just being nice. He’s so nice to everyone.
Riku wants more than just nice.
Riku slips into sleep, mostly sated and still a little pissed off.
He dreams he is lying face down in a pine forest, cheek pressed into the warm damp soil, pinned by the weight of Daeyoung’s body.
Caught you, Daeyoung says smugly, lips brushing against the shell of Riku’s ear. Riku can feel his chest rising and falling against his back, Daeyoung’s breathing labored from the chase. His sweat magnifies his scent tenfold and Riku feels like he’s drowning in a thick fog of wood and musk. He should be afraid, trapped in such a vulnerable position beneath an alpha, but this is Daeyoung. Daeyoung who was the only one able to catch him and the only one who deserves to. Riku feels floaty, euphoric, and utterly unhinged. He squirms in Daeyoung’s hold.
Quit the act, Daeyoung laughs. You’re right where you want to be. Infuriatingly, he’s right. It’s nice to be held like this, Daeyoung’s scent pressed into his skin, shielded from the warm rain dripping through the canopy by his broad body. It is nice, it’s just that Riku feels so warm, uncomfortably so, and his scent just keeps getting sweeter, and sweeter, and swee-
Riku wakes up in a cold sweat. Mortifyingly, his bedroom smells like somebody baked macaroons in there and doubled the amount of sugar in the recipe. He sniffs his T-shirt and frowns. Daeyoung’s scent is no longer detectable, drowned out by the overwhelming aroma of sweet toasted coconut. Oh well. He’ll just have to get a replacement.
Riku steps into Daeyoung and Yushi’s room and his scent instantly turns. Yushi is in Daeyoung’s bed, forehead pressed against his sternum, Daeyoung’s arm draped over his back. Their scents intertwine together, Daeyoung’s woody musk complimenting Yushi’s floral sweetness perfectly, making the bedroom smell like some kind of enchanted garden. Yushi’s scent is so delicate, so mild. It isn’t like Riku’s, so saccharine and potent and promiscuous, stinking up every room and seeping into everyone’s clothes like a brand.
Riku thinks he might dry heave all over the plush white carpet.
It doesn’t mean anything, he knows that. Sion and Yushi are committed to their… thing. Sion is away right now for a brand deal and Yushi must have needed a little comfort from another alpha in place of his own. After all, Daeyoung is just so nice, so warm and kind and patient, that it makes sense for Yushi to turn to him for reassurance. It’s no big deal.
So why does Riku feel like he’s dying?
He returns to his room without waking the pair, curls up under his blankets, and imagines the macaroons burning, the flames leaking out of the oven and lapping up the walls, burning the entire dorm to ash.
Ode to Love promotions are over and they finally get to let loose a little.
Riku lays his head in Daeyoung’s lap, pressing his face into his stomach and inhaling. When he drinks, his scent acquires a citrusy tang that Riku is entranced by.
“Kuri,” Daeyoung chides. He hears the rest of the members laughing but he can’t bring himself to care.
“Keep letting him do that, hyung, and he’s gonna get scent-drunk,” Sakuya warns. His voice sounds far away, like he’s speaking from the opposite end of a long tunnel.
“Mm,” Daeyoung acknowledges, carding his fingers hypnotically through Riku’s hair. Don’t stop me, Riku thinks, his nose digging into Daeyoung’s abs. Let me keep going, let me forget everything for just a night. It’s been so stressful for so long. I don’t want to think anymore.
“It might be good for him,” Daeyoung says carefully. “It’ll give him a real break from everything. Even just for a little while.”
The rest of the members make various noises, ooh-ing and aah-ing. Sion lets out a low whistle.
“Just don’t overdo it, Daeyoung,” their leader warns.
Daeyoung sighs. “I won’t, hyung,” he says sincerely. He draws circles on Riku’s nape with his index finger and Riku melts. “He just seems so relaxed right now. You can smell it too, can’t you?”
Riku can. His scent is less syrupy than normal and notes of floral jasmine and clean soap creep through the coconut haze. It makes Riku preen. He craves feeling clean on a bone-deep level.
Riku doesn’t notice when the other members leave the living room. One moment, they’re there and Riku’s face is pressed into Daeyoung’s stomach. The next moment, they’re gone, and Daeyoung sits Riku up and pulls him into his lap.
Riku feels like he did in his dream, like all of the colors of the world are bleeding into one another around him, like everything is blurry except Daeyoung who is crystal clear. He sits on his heels, straddling Daeyoung, and gets dizzy when he notes the difference between the girth of their thighs, the bulges of muscle rippling beneath Daeyoung’s skin. They dwarf Riku’s and it makes him flush with humiliation. Yes, it’s harder for omegas to build muscle, but he can’t use that as an excuse when he hasn’t lifted weights once in the past year. But why is he worrying about that when Daeyoung is touching him? Kind, beautiful, selfless, perfect Daeyoung.
“I want to live inside your skin,” Riku confesses. He presses his nose under Daeyoung’s jaw where his scent is the strongest and keens. Suddenly, Riku’s vision sharpens and everything is technicolor. He doesn’t care about the extremely humiliating noises escaping his lips, although he knows he’ll regret his lack of restraint later. How could he care when Daeyoung smells so pleased? Daeyoung’s hands are big and heavy on his waist, resting atop his hips. Riku whines. He wants Daeyoung to actually hold him, to squeeze him hard enough to leave bruises on his bronze skin, so during costume fittings or stages with a short shirt everyone knows that he is Daeyoung’s and Daeyoung is his. Mine, mine, mine.
But then he remembers, and everything comes crashing down.
“Why don’t you…” Riku tries. Alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha… “You don’t- ugh.” He gets frustrated trying to vocalize his thoughts with his head all fuzzy and the only words he can think of are “alpha” and “Daeyoung” and other things he can’t bring himself to address. Stupid omega brain.
“What’s that, jagi?” Riku almost moans, disguising it at the last second with a fake cough. Daeyoung definitely notices, if his smirk is anything to go by. God. The living room smells like it’s made of coconut cake. It’s humiliating.
I wish I was a beta.
Daeyoung is teasing him. This is a serious issue and Daeyoung is teasing him!
“You,” Riku growls, although it comes out sounding more like a whine. “Stop treating them so- so nicely.”
Daeyoung doesn’t have to ask who “they” refers to. He laughs and Riku huffs exasperatedly. “They’re our members,” Daeyoung replies. “Would you rather I be mean to them?”
“Yes,” Riku answers breathlessly, grabbing Daeyoung’s shirt and twisting the thin fabric between his fingers. “I want you to be nice to only me.” Well, that may actually not be possible considering they work and eat and live with their members… “At least be the nicest to me,” Riku settles. He frowns and frees Daeyoung’s shirt from his grasp, rests his hands on his chest and feels his heartbeat, slow and steady, beneath his palms. It’s nothing like Riku’s, whose heart jackrabbiting so fast he’s afraid it’ll burst. “I want you to want to be the nicest to me.”
Daeyoung is silent and Riku feels sick again. Does he care about anything Riku said? Was he even listening? Understanding dawns on Riku, cresting and crashing over him like a tidal wave.
“It’s you,” he hisses, withdrawing his nose from Daeyoung’s neck and shoving his chest. “You’re making me this way.”
“Making you what?” Daeyoung asks patiently, always patiently, completely unphased by Riku’s violence. While Riku sounds anguished and wrecked, Daeyoung sounds completely normal, as though he’s unaffected by Riku’s scent, utterly indifferent to the warm, pliant omega in his lap. Despite what he has been through, Riku (stupidly) has offered Daeyoung everything— his affection, his body, his whole heart— on a silver platter and the alpha doesn’t even care.
Riku stands up, head reeling. “Sick,” he spits. “You make me sick.” Riku sprints out of the living room, leaving Daeyoung perplexed on the couch. He locks the bathroom door and strips off his clothes, tears welling up in his eyes. He turns the shower up to the highest temperature, searing his skin tender to erase the warmth of Daeyoung’s touch and scrubbing himself raw until the alpha’s scent is nothing more than a painful memory.
Riku avoids Daeyoung like the plague. Since Daeyoung seems to be the cause of his sickness, he theorizes that his condition will improve if he distances himself as much as possible from the alpha. Unfortunately, his nausea only worsens the more they grow apart.
Daeyoung tries to talk to him but every interaction with him is like rubbing salt in the wound. Riku comes up with an excuse each time. Eventually, Daeyoung gives up and stops pestering him. As the weeks pass, Riku’s scent grows milder, subdued, and sour. The members tell him that he looks tired. He loses his appetite because he’s nauseous all of the time. His weight drops so drastically that the executives, who usually praise skin and bones, summon him to a private meeting to voice their concerns. It’s not good for your image, Riku-ssi, they say. Nobody wants to see a sickly omega. You’re supposed to look… They don’t finish their sentence but Riku understands what they’re implying: he’s supposed to look attractive, desirable, fertile. Including omegas in the idolsphere, especially those in the same groups as alphas, is a relatively new and controversial concept. While his fellow members are extremely respectful and the company isn’t too gross to him, Riku’s trainee period at his old label was a different story. While SM is better, he and Yushi are afforded far fewer freedoms than their band mates. Their contracts are twice as long, partially because of the massive amount of rules dictating their medical autonomy. Yushi responds well to the standard pharmacy heat suppressants; Riku does not, so he is mandated to get shots (that he is pretty sure are illegal) four times a year. The side effects completely incapacitate him for days after each injection. It hurts almost as bad as an actual heat does. And don’t even get him started on the birth control. The side effect sheet is the size of a king size comforter, and Riku’s pretty sure he’s experienced over half of them in the mere three years he’s been on it.
So much suffering just to achieve the same dream as every other trainee. Still, he believes it is worth it. He has to, or the grief would crush him.
The executive meeting only makes Riku more nauseous.
Everything comes crashing down on a Tuesday night. It’s just him and Daeyoung in the dorm, the other members staying late to finish up their solo shots at the company.
Riku is in the kitchen making a smoothie that contains more peanut butter than fruit. It’s easier and faster to get down than food and provides him with enough calories that his organs won’t shut down. He’s so tired that the weight of his own bones is excruciating. Exhaustion follows him constantly, heavy and suffocating like a lead blanket.
Daeyoung is washing dishes, ignoring Riku as though he’s a ghost. Riku remembers just weeks ago when they would laugh together while cooking or doing chores. He sniffs the air out of instinct but Daeyoung’s scent is undetectable. He's been wearing blockers constantly recently, clearly uncomfortable to be around Riku because of his open infatuation with his scent.
The plastic jar of peanut butter slips out of Riku’s loose grip. It rolls across the kitchen floor and bumps against the back of Daeyoung’s ankles. Riku holds his breath and wonders if Daeyoung will yell at him. It’s a strange thought considering Daeyoung has never been aggressive towards him before, not like other alphas have. Although it’s spring, bitter hints of winter still linger, and cold weather always brings back bad memories. He struggles to think clearly when it feels like he’s losing a game of tug-of-war with the past with each gust of biting wind, each whiff of the sweaty practice room, and now, the constant lingering scent of his own despair.
Wordlessly, Daeyoung picks up the peanut butter jar and hands it back to Riku. Their fingers brush for a split second and Daeyoung withdraws his hand as though Riku’s skin burns.
It hits Riku like a knife to the heart. By avoiding interacting with Daeyoung altogether over these past few weeks, Riku hasn’t been able to truly grasp the magnitude of how drastically their relationship has changed. It is only now that he fully understands why Daeyoung has been treating him so coldly.
He knows.
He drops the peanut butter again, crippled with fear.
“Am I really that disgusting?” Riku asks incredulously. “You- you can’t even touch me.” And shit— he’s gonna throw up again. He clenches his fists and swallows the hot bile, digging crescent-shaped cuts into his palms. Daeyoung just stands there with his mouth slightly open like a fish out of water.
“You think I’m some kind of slut, Daeyoung? Is that why I’m so repulsive to you?” His own words dredge up those memories again, the ones he tries so hard to keep buried. “You think I just throw myself into alpha’s laps and let them do whatever they want to me, don’t you?” Riku is tearing up and he’s mortified. “I’ve been taken advantage of by alphas so many times. But you know that already, don’t you?”
I heard he sold himself to the CEO.
Not just the CEO! I heard he was passed around to all of the execs— and all of their high-profile friends. Explains how he got into SM.
Nah, the real story isn’t that crazy. I heard he was at the company practicing late at night all alone and a group of alpha trainees came into the studio and-
Riku thinks– knows he's having a panic attack. He’s never confirmed that part of his past before to any of the members and he should really shut up before he says anything else he’ll regret but now that he’s started talking he can’t stop. “I thought I would never trust an alpha again. But then you came along and I trusted you, Daeyoung. I trusted you.”
Riku grabs the trash can and promptly vomits. He hasn’t eaten today so the only thing that comes up is yellowish acid. It sears the cuts on Riku’s chapped lips and burns his nose with its vile scent. When there’s no liquid left in him, he dry-heaves over and over again, sinking into a crouch on the tile floor. At some point, Daeyoung kneels down next to him and holds Riku’s bangs away from his face.
Riku spits and rocks back on his heels, his salty tears mixing with the sour taste of vomit on his tongue. Daeyoung rubs his back, murmuring gentle words that Riku is too disoriented to process.
I’m disgusting, Riku thinks. They were right. They really did ruin me for everyone else.
“Jagi,” Daeyoung murmurs, dark eyes swimming with concern. “Are you alright?”
Riku twists out from under his touch. “Does it look like I’m alright?” he coughs.
“I should probably… I should go.” Daeyoung stands up, looking incredibly torn. When he turns towards the door, Riku laughs cruelly.
“Are you fucking serious?” Riku scoffs. “You’re leaving? This is all your fault, you know.”
“I know.” Daeyoung chews his lip. He looks terribly sad, slouching like a wilted flower, wringing his hands. “So it’s obviously better for you if I go.”
Riku wonders if Daeyoung is actually making no sense or if his brain is just mush. “What?”
“You said I made you sick,” Daeyoung breathes. The cold tile floor digs into Riku’s knees, the pain bringing the present into focus. “So I figured if I le-“
“Because you do, Daeyoung!” Riku yells, cutting him off. “I get so fucking jealous when you give other people attention that it makes me feel like I’m gonna throw up. Especially Yushi, because he’s everything I’m not. He’s quiet and he’s pretty and his scent isn’t asking for it-“
“Riku, who told you th-“
“And when you ignore me, it makes me feel like- like what they said i-is true.”
“What did they say, hyung?” Daeyoung asks quietly. His tone is so unfamiliar that it takes Riku a moment to process it: Daeyoung sounds enraged. And this is the moment Riku reveals what has been eating him up inside for years, leeching away at his life force like a tape worm. This is the moment he cracks himself open and lets Daeyoung see his soft, sensitive parts that are so used to the all-consuming darkness that the light hurts.
“That I’m dirty,” Riku whispers, eyes fixed on the kitchen floor. He no longer burns with anger anymore; instead, he burns with shame. “That I’m ruined.”
“Oh, Riku,” Daeyoung murmurs. When he raises his hand to cup Riku’s face, Riku flinches like he’s expecting a slap. I just threw up, he really should not be my touching m- Daeyoung forgoes caressing his cheek and pulls him into a crushing embrace instead, pressing kiss after kiss to the crown of his head. He uses his free hand to rip off his scent blocking patches. Pine floods his lungs and Riku’s labored breathing begins to ease.
“I thought you wanted me to stay away from you,” Daeyoung says. “You were drunk that night and I took advantage of that. Sion told me not to go overboard and I forced you to scent me anyway. I assumed you were disgusted with me.”
Riku sniffles. “You didn’t force me to do anything,” he says. “I was the one crawling all over you.”
“I’m sorry,” Daeyoung says. “I’m so sorry for causing you so much pain.” The pine grows sharper and takes on a scorched undertone, making Riku’s nose tingle. He rubs circles onto Daeyoung’s broad back. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.
The pain you caused me is nothing compared to what I was in before we met, he wants to say. You saved me.
Instead he laughs wetly and says, “I need to shower. Can you cuddle me for a little while after?”
Daeyoung ruffles his hair affectionately. “Yes,” he hums. “But I’m cooking you a four course meal after, and you have to eat all of it as payment.”
Riku’s scent glands are scarred from that winter five years ago. After it happened, he blamed himself. Your scent is too much, people always told him. It attracts a certain kind of attention. So he went into the bathroom, armed with a small pocket knife, and mutilated them. It hurt like hell, but the pain was far less than it was when they were bitten bloody during the attack. It was cleaner, sharper, controlled, and Riku welcomed it.
He didn’t cut deep enough. His glands healed in their own twisted way. Infuriatingly, his scent became more potent.
Turns out, cosmetic reconstruction of scent glands is extremely tricky, even for the Korean plastic surgery industry. Since Riku’s are still functional, such a procedure was deemed an unnecessary risk (and a waste of SM’s funds).
At work, the company-mandated scent blocking patches obscure what is left of the glands completely. Riku keeps his hair long to conceal the scar tissue at home. He doesn’t let anyone near his neck.
Tonight, he thinks he might.
Maeda Riku is in Daeyoung’s bed. Maeda Riku is in Daeyoung’s bed. This should be one of the happiest moments of his life; instead, Daeyoung is heartbroken.
Riku is so thin and his skin is a dull, sandy shade instead of his usual golden tan. He scents terribly, like sadness and anxiety and distress. His cuticles are bloody and frayed and his nails have been bitten down to the beds.
Riku’s words echo in his head. I’m sure you heard the rumors… I thought I’d never trust an alpha again… I’m dirty… I’m ruined…
Daeyoung had heard the rumors– he just didn’t believe them. He figured it was all just hearsay spread by jealous trainees trying to tear a successful omega down. Riku was so bright, so cheerful, so affectionate. He didn’t show any signs of experiencing something so traumatic.
Then, last year, a young alpha approached him when he was leaving a bar. Kim Daeyoung, right? he said and Daeyoung had bristled, unnerved. Maeda Riku, he’s a pretty little thing, isn’t he? the alpha continued, and Daeyoung almost punched him right then and there. And then the man smirked and drawled, He was a good fuck. Fought like hell at first, but he gave up once he realized we had him. I was the third, so by the time it was my turn, he just laid there and took it.
The alleyway was secluded enough that Daeyoung didn’t have to worry about witnesses. Not that that would have stopped him anyway. Daeyoung had beaten the alpha until he passed out, and then beat him more for good measure. He planned on continuing until he killed the guy, but it was almost three which only gave him around twenty minutes to get to Riku’s favorite fried chicken place before it closed. Daeyoung had sworn he would bring him a box and a promise was a promise. He figured it would take longer than twelve minutes (Daeyoung could make it to the restaurant in eight if he ran) to kill the alpha so instead he exercised restraint and left him, bloody and broken, on the filthy pavement, praying that nobody would find him until he after he hopefully hemorrhaged to death.
“Jagi,” he says sweetly because he knows Riku likes being called that. “Would you be comfortable with skin-to-skin contact?”
Riku is touch-starved in the most scientific sense of the phrase. Omegas struggle with rejection, especially omegas like Riku that thrive on physical affection. And Daeyoung has weeks to make up for. He can’t believe he was stupid enough to believe that the dramatic decline in Riku’s health was caused by his proximity and not his withdrawal.
“Uh,” Riku mumbles. “I don’t think my body looks very nice right now.” He exhales shakily. “It’s been hard for me to eat these past few weeks.”
Yeah, Daeyoung is going to rot in hell.
“You’re always beautiful to me,” Daeyoung says because it’s true. When I look at you, the rest of the world turns black and white. “We’ll work on eating better later, hyung. Just focus on me right now, okay?”
Riku is taut, jaw clenched in restraint. He’s been demonizing his instincts for so long that he is paralyzed, unable to succumb to them even with permission.
“It’s not a trap, Kuri,” Daeyoung murmurs as he releases calming pheromones into the air. “I just wanna make you feel good.”
Riku’s eyes flutter shut. He swallows and Daeyoung’s eyes greedily track the swell of his Adam’s apple, the pale hollow of his exposed throat.
“Okay,” Riku finally whispers guiltily like it’s a confession. He pulls his T-shirt over his head, his weak coconut scent immediately growing stronger. Daeyoung has seen Riku topless before but this is different because this is only meant for him. He’s dazzled by the expanse of unmarked skin, the cinch of his waist, the juts of his clavicles. He’s entranced by the chocolate-colored moles scattered across his torso like constellations, his dusty rose nipples, his belly button. Is it weird to think somebody has a cute belly button?
Riku pokes him in the chest. “My eyes are up here,” he croons, lips curling into a smirk. Daeyoung blushes and busies himself with removing his sweatshirt.
Daeyoung’s embarrassed flush earlier is nothing compared to Riku’s reaction to him shirtless. All the blood rushes to Riku’s face, tinting his skin fire-engine red. Daeyoung knows he has a nice body; he doesn’t spend hours in the gym and force down gross protein shakes twice a day for no reason, but to be appreciated in such an overt way is incredibly flattering.
Riku crawls on top of him. He runs his fingers up Daeyoung’s defined biceps, over his large shoulders, and down his hard chest. He traces the contours between his abs before worming his hands beneath Daeyoung’s body to feel his back. He decides to flex his back for good measure and Riku groans, short nails digging into his lats.
Daeyoung doesn’t feel any inclination to be macho just because of his secondary sex. Despite this, he finds himself anxious under Riku’s assessing touch. Feel how strong I am, he wants to say. Feel how I can protect you.
Riku’s nose digs into his stomach. Daeyoung tugs at his hair gently until he looks up. Instantly, he’s fucked. He thinks he could pop a knot right now with Riku staring up at him like, his pupils dilated and his eyes glassy, his skin flushed and dewy, his chest bare, and his lips glossy with spit.
“C’mere,” he begs hoarsley, and Riku presses his face beneath Daeyoung’s jaw. He goes limp instantly and Daeyoung laughs.
“I hate you,” Riku says into his skin. Daeyoung smiles and runs his hands up and down Riku’s back before setting them on his hips. Riku keeps making soft whimpering noises that make Daeyoung’s heart squeeze.
He startles when he feels the warm, wet drag of Riku’s tongue lick a stripe along his jaw line. He tries to think about repulsive things, like the bathroom in his trainee dorm and the rotten apple he bit into last week, and wills his blood to flow as far away from his crotch as possible. Riku, oblivious to Daeyoung’s predicament, continues on to lick his face, his neck, his scent glands, all while humming happily. Daeyoung is overwhelmed with a confusing mixture of cuteness-aggression and dizzying arousal.
“You’re so… fuck, Riku,” Daeyoung marvels, beaming. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this. I’m the richest man in the world.”
“Dork,” Riku mutters before returning to his work. But now he has awoken a hunger in Daeyoung that eats away at him and festers in his stomach, hot and heavy and expecting.
“Let me have a turn,” Daeyoung complains. His hands slip below Riku’s hips and cup his ass. He pinches the soft fat between his thumb and index finger and Riku hisses, rearing up with his teeth bared. He looks enraged. His scent says otherwise.
Daeyoung flips them over so he’s on top of Riku. Daeyoung’s scent is pressed into his skin and it awakens something primal in him. “Let me take care of you.”
Although Daeyoung swears he’s never been more turned on in his life, his attack is surprisingly soft. He presses a kiss to Riku’s forehead, each cheek, and the tip of his nose. He kisses the hollow of his throat, licks a stripe down his sternum, before nosing beneath his jaw and-
Riku startles, scent souring instantly, and Daeyoung reels back. The moment his touch leaves Riku’s body, the omega begins to hyperventilate and shake like a leaf.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Daeyoung says breathlessly. “Did I go too far?”
Riku shakes his head frantically. “No,” he says miserably. “I’m the problem. My scent glands are… different.”
The idea of Daeyoung caring about something so superficial about Riku’s body is ridiculous to him. He loves Riku’s body because it is his. His individuality just makes him more special.
“I don’t care,” Daeyoung replies confidently. “They’re yours, and that’s all that matters.”
“Daeyoung,” Riku says softly. “I cut myself.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut. Riku grinds his teeth in an attempt to soothe himself. His gaze begins to slide out of focus and he trembles more violently.
“Don’t make me go back there again,“ he begs deliriously, leaking the acrid scent of smoke and rotting coconut into the air. “Don’t let them pull me back in.”
Daeyoung snakes his arms around Riku and presses their foreheads together, horrified but refusing to show it for Riku’s sake. “Shhh,” he hushes. “You’re here with me.” Riku grips his shoulders like a life line. “It’s 2026 and we’re in my bedroom in our dorm in Seoul. It’s spring and the cherry blossoms just finished blooming.”
“It’s spring,” Riku repeats slowly.
“Spring,” Daeyoung affirms. Riku’s shoulders slump, the fear draining from his body and leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its place. Daeyoung pulls his forehead away and rests a hand on Riku’s cheek.
“You know what everyone says about my scent,” Riku says. His eyes flit around the room, looking everywhere but at Daeyoung. “That it’s… you know.”
Arousing, tempting, promiscuous, slutty. Daeyoung’s heard all sorts of terrible words from terrible people, from netizens to company staff to even other idols.
“After I…” Riku squeezes his eyes shut. “After I was… fuck. Why can’t I just say it? It’s been five years, damn it!”
“You’re doing great, hyung.”
Riku huffs. “After it… well, I figured it was my fault. So I took a knife and… you can guess the rest.”
Daeyoung takes a deep breath and rests his thumbs on Riku’s clavicles. “Can I?” he asks.
“They’re real ugly,” Riku says. He smiles humourlessly. “The cuts on my thighs are much neater, though they’re not so pretty either.”
“Stop saying that,” Daeyoung says, frustration bleeding into his voice. “They’re marks of your survival. They brought you to me. What could be more beautiful than you, living and breathing, in front of me?”
He trails his hands up Riku’s lithe neck and slips them beneath the angle of his jaw. The skin is rough and raised beneath his finger tips. He presses his lips to one of his scent glands and Riku moans, silent tears running down his cheeks, his fingers digging into the meat of his deltoids.
“You’re so gorgeous, jagi,” Daeyoung murmurs into his neck. “The prettiest omega on this planet.”
“Really?” Riku slurs blissfully in Japanese.
Oh. He’s seriously out of it.
“Yes,” Daeyoung responds in his mother tongue. Riku’s grip is so tight that it’s painful. “Beautiful. Perfect.” And Riku is gone.
Daeyoung has heard about headspaces the same way he’s heard about urban legends. He’s never witnessed an omega slip into one before. He wasn’t even sure they were real until now.
Daeyoung drops down beside Riku on his side and pulls Riku into his chest. He whispers praises to him, using as much Japanese as possible and filling in the gaps in his knowledge with Korean. When Riku starts purring, Daeyoung’s chest feels like it’s going to explode. Riku’s scent swells, growing stronger and sweeter by the minute. Daeyoung wonders what immeasurably good deed he accomplished in his past life to deserve this.
Eventually, Riku slips into sleep. He’s drooling on Daeyoung’s bare chest and it should be gross but he kind of likes the idea of being marked by him in some way.
Yushi is going to freak the fuck out when he returns from his photo shoot.
With that thought, Daeyoung drifts into blissful sleep, his and Riku’s hearts beating in tandem.
Yushi doesn’t freak out.
First of all, Riku and Daeyoung are stinking up the entire dorm so it isn’t difficult to discern that something happened between them. Based on the sweetness of Riku’s scent and the mere presence of Daeyoung’s after weeks of blockers, they must have made up.
Yushi cracks open the door to his shared bedroom a couple of centimeters and peeks in. Please don’t be naked.
Fortunately, if they are, Yushi can’t tell. The two are wrapped in Daeyoung’s plush comforter. The only part of Riku visible is the top of his head which is tucked beneath Daeyoung’s chin.
Yushi chews his lip and thinks about Riku: Riku with his scarred scent glands that he accidentally revealed to Yushi in the throes of his suppressant-induced delirium, the scars carved into his thighs revealed when Yushi bathed him that same day. Riku who Yushi understands better than anybody because omega recognizes omega and pain recognizes pain. Riku, who glows and loves and lives despite it all. He thinks about Daeyoung, who is recklessly selfless and endlessly kind and loves like he sings: with his whole being.
He closes the door and pads down the hallway to Sion’s bedroom. Sion is leaning against the headboard reading. He’s wearing those stupid, nerdy, ridiculously attractive thick black glasses.
Yushi wants to jump his bones.
His scent must spike because Sion looks up, his gaze softening. “Ushi-ya,” he says softly. “What happened? How are they?”
“They’re good, hyung,” Yushi affirms. “It’s good.”
Sion chews on his lip, deep in thought. Yushi is sure he has a million things running through his head right now. As the leader, spiraling and overthinking is his default response to any unexpected situation.
Yushi plops onto the bed next to him and rests his head on Sion’s shoulder. His comforting aroma of black tea and sandalwood bleeds the tension out of Yushi’s muscles. He rotates his head and presses his face into Sion’s shoulder. His skin is warm and Yushi can taste his salty sweat when he speaks.
“It’s okay,” Yushi repeats. Still, the bitter note of anxiety in Sion’s scent remains.
He decides to take a different approach.
“Stop thinking about them when I’m right here.”
Sion’s scent spikes. He slowly sets his book down on his bedside table.
“Maybe I should find someone else to keep me company,” Yushi taunts. “Somebody who can give me his full attention.”
All of a sudden, Yushi’s back is pressed to the bed and Sion looms over him. Yushi licks his lips and laughs, all teeth.
“Oh, I’ll give you my full attention.”