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The studio was a chaotic symphony of thumping bass, the sharp intake of breath, and the occasional shout of frustration. It was a late-night practice session, the kind that left sweat dripping down the dancers’ brows and their muscles screaming in protest. Jeonghan, who had been leaning against the wall drinking water, had his eyes locked on Joshua the entire time. It was a habit he had never managed to break—tracking his Omega’s movements, ensuring his grace remained unmarred by the exhaustion of the day.
During a particularly sharp transition, Joshua pivoted, his foot catching on the loose edge of a floor mat. He didn’t fall, but he stumbled heavily, his shin clipping the metal frame of a lighting rig as he tried to stabilize himself. It was a dull, hollow thud that echoed through the room.
Joshua gasped, his face scrunching up in a momentary grimace of sharp pain, and he instinctively clutched his shin. He stayed there for a second, catching his breath, before waving a hand at the others to show he was fine. "I’m good, I’m good! Just a scrape. Keep going."
But Jeonghan was already moving.
The Alpha’s predatory grace, usually kept under wraps, surged to the surface. He crossed the floor in three long strides, his expression a mask of sudden, intense concern. He didn’t care that they were in the middle of a routine; he didn't care that the rest of the group was watching. All he saw was the small, jagged red line forming on Joshua’s pale skin where the metal had grazed him.
"Stop," Jeonghan commanded, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative register that always sent a shiver down Joshua’s spine. He dropped to his knees in front of his Omega, his hands hovering over Joshua’s leg with frantic, uncharacteristic hesitation. "Joshua. Let me see."
"Jeonghan, it’s nothing, seriously," Joshua laughed, trying to pull his leg back, but Jeonghan’s grip on his ankle was firm, warm, and unshakable.
"Nothing? It’s bleeding, Shua. It’s broken skin," Jeonghan muttered, his Alpha pheromones beginning to spike—a scent of sharp, protective sandalwood mixed with a frantic, agitated musk that started to fill the room. He looked up at the others, his eyes dark with a momentary, irrational flash of territorial frustration. "Practice is over. Take five."
The other members, well-versed in Jeonghan’s protective tendencies, wisely cleared the room, heading toward the kitchen area and leaving the two of them alone.
Jeonghan didn't waste a second. He pulled a first-aid kit from the corner—the one he personally kept stocked, just in case—and began to fuss over the minor scrape as if it were a life-threatening wound. He cleaned the area with a wet wipe, his hands trembling slightly, his brows furrowed in intense, adorable concentration.
"I told you the floor was uneven," Jeonghan grumbled, his voice thick with guilt and worry. "I should have moved that mat. I should have been watching closer. You’re too delicate for these rigs, Joshua, why do they put them so close to the center?"
Joshua watched him, a fond, melting expression softening his features. He loved this side of Jeonghan—the side that stripped away the cool, nonchalant "Yoon Jeonghan" persona to reveal the deeply loving, slightly over-dramatic Alpha underneath.
"Jeonghan-ah," Joshua said softly, reaching out to tangle his fingers in the Alpha’s hair. Jeonghan didn't look up, instead dabbing at the skin with a cotton ball as if he were trying to heal a deep laceration.
"Don't 'Jeonghan-ah' me," the Alpha retorted, though his touch remained incredibly gentle. "You could have bruised your bone. You could have twisted your ankle. My poor Omega, hurting yourself because of some stupid metal pipe..." Jeonghan pulled out a small, colorful bandage—one with tiny cartoon bears on it, likely stolen from one of the younger members' bags—and began to peel the backing off with the precision of a surgeon. He applied it to the tiny scrape, smoothing it down with his thumb three or four times to ensure it was perfectly secure.
"There," Jeonghan breathed, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Joshua with wide, soulful eyes. "Does it still sting? Should we go to the clinic? I can call a doctor. No, I should probably just carry you to the car so you don't put any more weight on it."
Joshua couldn't take it anymore. The sheer, concentrated love emanating from Jeonghan was overwhelming, and the sight of the mischievous, charismatic angel of Seventeen fretting over a tiny, barely-visible scrape was far too sweet to handle.
"You’re being ridiculous," Joshua whispered, a playful glint in his eyes. He reached down and cupped Jeonghan’s cheeks, forcing the Alpha to meet his gaze.
"I am not being ridiculous. I am being observant," Jeonghan insisted, though he leaned into Joshua’s touch, his own scent settling into a more content, purring hum of calm.
"You’re being the most dramatic Alpha in the world," Joshua teased. He leaned down, capturing Jeonghan’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Jeonghan made a small, surprised noise, his hands automatically finding Joshua’s waist to steady him.
Joshua pulled back just an inch, his nose brushing against Jeonghan’s. He pressed another quick, light kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his cheek, and one more to the tip of his nose. "And you’re the sweetest. Thank you for taking care of me."
Jeonghan’s expression shifted, the frantic anxiety melting into a soft, dazed adoration. His hands squeezed Joshua’s waist gently, and he let out a long, shaky breath, his forehead dropping to rest against Joshua’s knee.
"I just... I hate seeing you hurt, even a little bit," Jeonghan confessed, his voice muffled against the fabric of Joshua’s sweatpants. "It’s my job to keep you safe. If I can't keep you safe, what kind of Alpha am I?"
Joshua smiled, a genuine, warm feeling radiating through his chest. He carded his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair, massaging the Alpha’s scalp in the way he knew Jeonghan loved. "You keep me safe every single day, Jeonghan. This was just an accident. And honestly? I think I’d take a thousand more scrapes if it meant getting this much fussing from you."
Jeonghan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against Joshua’s leg. He looked up, his eyes shining with a deep, unwavering affection. "Don't tempt me. I’ll wrap you in bubble wrap before you leave the house tomorrow."
"Try it," Joshua challenged, his eyes sparkling. "I'll just peel it off and use it to pop bubbles while you're trying to practice."
Jeonghan stood up then, pulling Joshua into his arms and lifting him effortlessly from the floor. He didn't wait for Joshua to protest, simply cradling him against his chest, his nose buried in the junction of Joshua’s neck, scenting him thoroughly to banish the lingering smell of the injury.
"No more practice for today," Jeonghan decided, carrying him toward the exit. "We’re going home. I’m going to make you tea, and we’re going to sit on the couch, and you are not moving your leg for the rest of the night."
Joshua rested his head on Jeonghan’s shoulder, feeling the familiar, grounding weight of his Alpha’s devotion. He felt cherished—protected in a way that was both fierce and infinitely tender. As they walked out of the practice room, Joshua kissed the side of Jeonghan’s neck, whispering, "You win, Alpha."
Jeonghan just tightened his hold, his stride steady and sure. "I always win when it comes to you."