Chapter Text
“Last night wasn’t too good on him,” Taehyung’s voice pulls Jimin’s gaze away from the chart he’s looking at.
It’s a report from what Taehyung is mentioning. I also talks about this morning. Of course, hearing it from Taehyung gives him much more information.
“He had a nightmare?” He asks, putting the papers down and focusing on Taehyung.
“Yeah,” Taehyung responds. “Of course, he hasn’t talked what it was about. He hasn’t talked at all this morning, actually. Not even to Namjoon. You know how he always says at least hello to him. He just nodded and turned his face to the other side. Like he was lost in his thoughts.”
“Was the nightmare too bad?” He asks, pained that Jeongguk is struggling so much even after all this time. He wishes he could make everything better for him, take away his pain.
Taehyung nods, looking just as heartbroken as Jimin feels. “We had to sedate him. He was yelling and hitting the walls.”
Jimin sighs. It’s not a setback, but just the same, it feels like Jeongguk has been stuck in the same place for a long time. Jimin has only been assigned to him for two months, many came before him that Jeongguk didn’t ever trust, didn’t ever allow close enough to himself. But, apparently, he’s opened up to Jimin. Somewhat. Enough that he was assigned to him. He was brought in to see how it went, Jimin is the beta with most experience in the facility, the one who’s helped out many alphas and omegas going through things like what Jeongguk is going through.
Within a week, Jeongguk had shown more progress than he had in months with other betas. Naturally, he was permanently assigned to him. Learning about his story was painful. Even though Jimin thinks he does well in his job, he tends to be too emotional and the stories are always sad, always make him wish he could do more, even though he’s already doing something .
“I’m gonna go in there,” he murmurs, gently patting Taehyung’s shoulder as he brushes past him. “Thank you for looking out for him during the morning.”
“No problem, Min,” he responds, smiling. “Be careful in there.”
“He won’t hurt me,” Jimin says instantly.
Taehyung smiles knowingly. “That’s not what I meant. I meant you . Your emotions. It’s not your fault.”
Jimin nods and looks away.
“I know that,” he mumbles. “I still wish I could do something to help more. It’s been three years.”
“He’s done a lot of progress with you, Jimin. He’s doing so much better. He talks to you.”
Jimin knows that Taehyung isn’t the only one who thinks that. He knows Jeongguk seems to trust him more than he trusts anybody else. But that doesn’t mean much. Not enough, at least. Jeongguk deserves to be out of the facility, to be back in society, to live the life he was supposed to live. Instead, he’s stuck here, trying to move on.
“I know,” he whispers.
Taehyung doesn’t say anything else and Jimin is grateful that the conversation ends. He leaves the lounging room and heads down the corridor towards the elevator. Jeongguk’s mini apartment is on the third floor. Each alpha and omega gets their own apartment, something small enough that it has a room, a small kitchen and a living room that fits at least three people.
He knocks on the door and waits. It’s easy to hear shuffling around the place, someone coming closer to the door and then it opens. He’s met with a distressed looking Jeongguk. His hair has gotten long and it’s sticking out in several places, a mess of curls and waves.
He looks exhausted. Jimin shows him a small smile.
“Hi, Jeongguk,” he greets him softly.
Jeongguk doesn’t smile. But he nods.
“Hi, Jimin.”
He doesn’t offer more, but that’s understandable. Jimin doesn’t press for more just yet. He watches Jeongguk retreat back towards his bedroom and he steps inside, knowing it’s his way of letting Jimin know he’s welcome to come in. He gently closes the door and follows suit. Jeongguk is sitting on his bed when he steps in. Shoulders slumped, head lowered, legs crossed and back against the wall.
It’s obvious that he’s still bothered by the nightmare and Jimin wants to soothe away the memory. There’s not much he can do but talk with him and hope it’ll help Jeongguk in some way.
Jimin takes a seat on the edge of the bed, making sure to twist his body towards Jeongguk.
“How are you feeling?” He asks.
Jeongguk doesn’t answer for a long time. Jimin almost thinks that he won’t respond, that he’ll prefer to keep his thoughts to himself, but finally, he clears his throat and plays with his fingers. He doesn’t lift his head when he replies.
“Not so good.”
Taehyung is right. Jimin doesn’t know why, but Jeongguk trusts him. He doesn’t say all that much, but he evidently tries to. Baby steps. Jimin has never pressured him to open up and Jeongguk always seems so grateful that Jimin doesn’t ask more when Jeongguk gives him a little bit.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Jeongguk immediately shakes his head.
“Not really.”
His voice is always a mixture of sadness and fear. His expression never gives away much. Jimin makes sure not to ask too much, to let him decide how much he wants to say.
“That bad, huh?” He tries to be lighthearted. Jeongguk nods, a small jerk of his head. Jimin decides to change the subject. “How about your week? What have you been up to?”
Jeongguk’s whole body sags, as if he’d been incredibly tense and now he can relax.
“Not much,” he mumbles. He tilts his head back and lets it lean against the wall. His gaze falls to Jimin and it feels strangely heavy. “I went out a couple of times.”
“That’s great,” Jimin quickly says, latching onto that to continue the conversation. “What did you do?”
“Nothing different to what I usually do,” he replies. He’s always encouraged to go out at least once or twice during the week, even if it’s just to get some fresh air, walk around for a bit.
“Did you get a new book?” Jimin asks, knowing this is a safe zone.
Jeongguk likes talking about books. He likes that they take his mind away from real life and that they’re quiet. Jimin had understood what he meant even before he explained. It’s one of the best conversations they’ve had. It went on for a long time, Jeongguk seeming the tiniest bit excited about the fact that Jimin is a writer.
"No, I just sat down to read for a while,” he replies. “I did go to the park for a while. Just sat down and…” he trails off.
Jimin’s lips tilt up into a smile. “Just…existed?”
Jeongguk’s eyes close. He doesn’t smile, but he whispers a soft: “yeah.”
“I hope it was nice,” he whispers sincerely. “I might have to join you one of these days. I’ve been stuck with my writing for a while.”
“I didn’t think you could get stuck,” Jeongguk says. His eyes remain closed, but his expression looks serene.
“Of course, I can.” He’s gotten stuck several times before. It’s not something he can control. Sometimes there are reasons, sometimes there just aren’t. It just happens. “I guess it’s because right now I’m kind of not struggling with deadlines. After all that writing, I now have to think about a new idea. Or work on something I left unfinished before,” he tries to explain.
“You have unfinished books?” Jeongguk asks, curious.
“Not unfinished books,” Jimin responds. He always finds that Jeongguk speaks up more when he hears Jimin sharing more about himself―even if it’s just the small things, the things that don’t feel too important. “Mostly ideas I never carried out or stuff I wrote for a long time and ended up not liking anymore. I think one of those I’m going to work on for my next book.”
Jeongguk’s eyes open and he spots Jimin. Even though he gets caught looking at him, he smiles warmly. It’s just often hard to pull his eyes away from Jeongguk. He’s beautiful, but it’s not about that. When he starts to relax, it’s like his face becomes an open box of emotions. He guards himself so much normally, but when he doesn’t, Jimin can’t look away.
“I’m going to ask for one of your books the next time I go to the bookstore,” Jeongguk says. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that he caught Jimin looking at him. “You keep telling me you’re not famous, but I think you are.”
Jimin laughs and shakes his head. He’s not famous, but he’s not unknown either. People buy his books, they send him messages on his social media accounts. He gets recognized on the streets sometimes. But it’s nothing major, it’s nothing that feels life changing. He likes the way things are right now.
“I’m really not,” he assures. When their eyes meet, he finds that Jeongguk’s expression is different. Gaze sparkling, humor dancing in his features. He doesn’t smile, but Jimin almost thinks he will. “I can bring you one of my books, you don’t have to buy one.”
Jeongguk tilts his head to the side. He looks away a second later, as if realizing that he was letting his guard down. He seems to tense up all over again, playing with his fingers nervously.
“If that’s okay,” he mumbles.
“Of course, it’s okay,” he reassures. “I’ll bring one next week.”
Silence falls around them. Jimin isn’t sure of what more to say and Jeongguk doesn’t respond to his words. Raking through his brain for a new question, he wonders if there’s a way for him to ask more about how Jeongguk is feeling without making him feel pressured.
But Jeongguk speaks up not too long after. He ducks his head, looks at his hands as if they’re the most interesting thing in the room.
“Are you only allowed to come once a week?” He asks.
His voice is so low, Jimin almost thinks he’s imagined what he just said. But Jeongguk’s gaze lifts, nervous and shy and something warm stirs in Jimin’s chest at the sight. It’s always shocking to see Jeongguk show this, show these emotions that he normally keeps hidden.
“No,” he replies softly, a little bit scared of shattering the moment, something that’s clearly important because Jeongguk isn’t holding back his emotions. “I mean. I come in once a week because that’s what the facility thinks is best for you, but I can come as many times as I want. If you want me to come more frequently, I can do that. Of course, I’ll come, Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk looks away, but his expression still shows the same vulnerability.
“It’s just,” he starts, his hands closing in fists. “It’s easier,” he finally whispers. “When you come, the nightmares aren’t as bad.”
There’s something about the way in which he says it that makes Jimin’s heart jump. It sounds so sincere and like he genuinely wants Jimin to come more often because it helps him in a way. And Jimin wants to help. He always does. He’s glad that he can.
“Then, I’ll come more often,” he reassures. “I can come twice a week. Or three times. I’m glad I can help a bit, at least.”
Jeongguk shifts, pulls his knees to his chest and hesitates for a second before he responds. “You help a lot.”
That’s it. He grows quiet, doesn’t seem to want to say more. Jimin doesn’t push it. Jeongguk has already said so much more than he could have ever imagined him saying. And he’s told him there’s something that makes things better. That’s so much more than Jimin expected from today.
“I’m glad,” he whispers.
Jeongguk doesn’t say more, as if opening up about that has already been too much for him. He clears his throat and presses his forehead to his knees, hiding himself from Jimin. And for the first time since they met each other, Jimin itches to reach out and touch him, give him comfort with gentle hands. Betas assigned to alphas and omegas do that a lot. It’s a great way to build trust and to give comfort.
When it comes to Jeongguk, Jimin hasn’t tried. Because he knows other betas have tried it and Jeongguk has always asked them not to. It’s all in the reports. And yet, Jimin wishes he could slip his fingers into his hair and scratch his scalp, sooth him, maybe ruffle his hair until he falls asleep.
Instead, he keeps his hands to himself and lets the silence drag on for a little bit longer because he can tell it’s something Jeongguk needs after saying everything he’s said.
The silence isn’t uncomfortable. It drags on for a long time. Until Jimin finally asks Jeongguk when he would like him to come and Jeongguk asks him to come again as soon as he can and wants to.
Needless to say, Jimin comes back the next day. And Jeongguk tells him, again hesitant, again shy and worried, that he slept better and longer than he has in days.
↢↣
There are so many layers to Jeongguk that Jimin wishes he could uncover all at once. Everything he hides behind his gentle gazes and the way in which he pulls back whenever he realizes that he’s saying a little bit too much. Jimin wishes he could help more. He knows he’s doing something , but it never feels like enough.
Today Jeongguk is strangely relaxed. He’s laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, seeming a little bit lost in thought. Distracted. But he’s talking. He’s saying so many things that Jimin is too scared to speak up and make him realize and stop.
“I worry a lot about my instincts,” Jeongguk mumbles. “I never want to give in to them because I’m scared I’m doing something I shouldn’t be doing. I’m scared I’ll lose control.”
“Being connected to your instincts is perfectly okay,” Jimin reassures. “You don’t have to give into them entirely, but they can help out in lots of ways. It helps you be connected with your wolf, with your emotions. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’ll know when you need to control yourself because that’s also part of your instincts,” he explains.
Jeongguk hums. He’s quiet for a few seconds, as if thinking about Jimin’s response. Finally, he says something new.
“I always wonder what I’d be doing now if I wasn’t stuck here, pulled down by what happened,” he says. “I know what I wanted to do, but it’s kind of hard thinking about doing all of those things now. I don’t know if I can.”
“I know it feels that way now,” Jimin gently replies. Jeongguk’s gaze remains on the ceiling, but he doesn’t seem to tense up, his guard doesn’t pull up. He’s still relaxed. “But these things can help you. It can be scary, but you can try. I’m here too, if you ever want to and want me to be there.”
He braces himself for Jeongguk to close up and stop talking, change the subject. But he doesn’t. He sits up and pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He’s tall and toned, but when he holds onto himself like that he looks small and fragile.
“I’ve been meaning to buy a camera,” he murmurs. It’s shy and hesitant. He clears his throat and leans his chin on his knees. “I used to enjoy taking pictures. I haven’t held a camera in a long time.”
“Do you have one?” Jimin asks. “If not, I have one. I can lend it to you if you’d like to give it a try again.”
Jeongguk’s eyes gleam with excitement, but he does a good job at concealing it before he nods softly.
“You’re always bringing me things these days,” he points out, although he doesn’t sound bothered by it.
If anything, his lips twitch, a small smile taking over them. Jimin is so taken aback by it that he’s left mesmerized, unable to reply. He doesn’t think he’s seen Jeongguk smile in the time he’s known him. And it’s such a pretty one. He should be able to smile all the time, whenever he wants, without having bad things clouding over his happiness.
He was only eighteen when he was taken away. Forced to fight other alphas for money he barely got to see. Jimin doesn’t know about every detail, but he knows enough to be aware of how hard it must be for Jeongguk to move on, to continue on with his life after what happened.
“I don’t mind bringing you things,” he reassures. “As long as it makes you happy.”
Jeongguk’s gaze meets his and Jimin feels his cheeks grow warm when he realizes what he just said. He’s not here to make Jeongguk happy, but to help him move on, to help him feel better and be ready to go on with his life. Sure, happiness is great. But that’s just a personal goal he has. He wants Jeongguk to be happy again.
“Thank you,” Jeongguk whispers. “If it’s really okay, then…yeah. I would like to try it out. Take some pictures. Can I take it outside?”
“Of course,” Jimin quickly replies. “I’ll bring it over next time,” he promises.
“Okay.”
Jeongguk’s voice is low now, his expression a little bit lost. Jimin can see the way in which his expression changes. How he starts to grow tense and serious, maybe remembering something that happened three years ago. And Jimin isn’t really thinking. It’s a mistake, he knows the second he reaches out, but by the time he wants to stop himself, his hand is already touching Jeongguk’s.
His body tenses up almost immediately. Jimin can’t help but notice how Jeongguk flinches. It’s a subtle movement. A second later, Jeongguk lets go of his knees and sits cross-legged. He turns his hand around, placing it palm up for Jimin to touch. It feels like a sign of trust, as if Jeongguk is giving him a little bit more.
He’s gentle about it. Slowly, he presses his fingertips to Jeongguk’s palm, traces the skin gently, hoping it’ll give Jeongguk some calmness. Hoping it’ll help somehow. Then he holds his hand more firmly, presses his thumb into his skin, rubs back and forth for a few seconds. When he looks up, he finds Jeongguk’s eyes closed, lips parted, expression relaxed.
Jimin takes his time touching his skin, moving closer and closer to his wrist. Even though he goes slowly, even though he’s sure he’s being obvious about where he’s heading, when his thumb presses to Jeongguk’s scent gland, his body tenses up all over again. This time, his eyes snap open, he pulls his arm back and stands up, walking all the way to the other side of the room.
“Jeongguk,” he tries, standing up and lifting his hands in front of himself to show Jeongguk that he means no harm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to―”
“No, I―” Jeongguk interrupts, shaking his head, reaching up to tug at his hair desperately. Jimin has been so careful. It feels like it’s all crumbling down. “I’m sorry. Please, go. Please leave, Jimin.”
“I didn’t mean to do that, okay?” Jimin quickly says, taking a small step forward. Jeongguk’s expression fills with panic so Jimin takes a step back immediately. “I’m so sorry. I really am.”
Jeongguk shakes his head and turns around. “Please, Jimin. I’m sorry. I just can’t―I can’t .”
“Don’t apologize,” Jimin whispers, stepping back and heading towards the living room. “You did nothing wrong. I’ll go. I’m sorry,”
He leaves the apartment before Jeongguk starts to panic even more. He doesn’t want that. They’d done so much progress, he’s terrified they’ll go back to the beginning. He’s scared Jeongguk will be hurting because of him. He’s worried. But all he can do is do what Jeongguk wants. So, he leaves and decides to give him a few days to settle down, to calm down, give him the space he must need.
Jimin has grown used to spending a lot of time with Jeongguk. When he’s not writing, he’s here. Despite everything, despite knowing he shouldn’t get attached, Jeongguk has become a part of his life, has become someone he wants to see all the time. Not seeing him for a couple of days will be hard, but he’ll always put Jeongguk’s wellbeing first.
↢↣
Jimin waits rather impatiently for Jeongguk to open the door for him. He’s nervous. It’s been a week. He’s been giving Jeongguk space because of what happened the last time they saw each other. And, anyway, Jeongguk hasn’t asked him to come around. Sure, even though Jimin asked him to tell him if he wanted him to come on days that weren’t his weekly visit, he hadn’t done it. But this time around, Jimin was worried Jeongguk wouldn’t be happy to see him just yet.
He probably needed time, space.
Yet, when the door opens and Jeongguk spots him, the reaction is not one he could have ever expected. Jeongguk looks bothered for a moment―angry, even. But then he realizes it’s Jimin and his expression changes entirely. His eyes widen and he takes a step forward, stops himself and then steps forward again. Jimin doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before having his strong arms wrapped around his body. They stumble with the force of the embrace, Jimin almost loosing his balance.
It’s a hug full of fear and worry and anxiousness. Jeongguk’s emotions are all over the place, Jimin can smell his distress and can feel him shaking as he holds onto him. He slips his arms around Jeongguk’s waist a little too late, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem anywhere near ready to let go. He isn’t crying, but the moment feels so intense once would think he is. Jimin rubs his back up and down, but it’s mostly instinct.
Because he can’t really believe that Jeongguk is touching him, that he’s holding onto him like this, especially after the last time he was here.
“Jimin,” he says, pleading, although Jimin doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. “Jimin. Jimin. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispers, a little bit distracted with how close Jeongguk’s breath is to his scent gland, how tightly he’s holding onto him, how desperately the whole moment feels. “It was my fault, I shouldn’t have―”
“No, no,” Jeongguk interrupts, shaking his head, his forehead pressing to Jimin’s shoulder. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”
The words take a second to register. Jimin blinks and pauses and realizes what Jeongguk means. Slowly, he tries to lean away, to talk properly. But Jeongguk makes a sound of protest, desperate. He tugs Jimin closer, tightens his arms around him. It should be painful because he’s bigger and so strong. But it doesn’t. It does make them stumble again.
They step into the apartment, Jimin tries to close the door with his foot. It clicks shut, but then the world tilts and he falls. Jeongguk’s arms take most of the fall and Jimin is left hazy, confused. They’d stumbled again, so that’s how they fell. He’s not scared now that he has Jeongguk’s body on top of his. His face is now pressed to the crook of Jimin’s neck. Jimin can sense his fear.
He’s not sure why Jeongguk is scared, but he slides his hands up and down his back to continue with his soothing pattern.
“Jeongguk,” he whispers, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t know how much he can touch. He’s scared of stepping over a line again and having Jeongguk recoil once more. “It’s okay,” he promises softly. “Calm down. I’m here. It’s okay.”
“It scared me,” Jeongguk blurts out. “When you touched my scent gland, you were suddenly all I could smell and it scared me,” he explains, breathless. Jimin listens, even more surprised that Jeongguk is saying all of that, opening up about what happened.
Maybe it’s because Jeongguk’s senses are heightened. Having been continuously exposed to violent alphas, to intense pheromones, to situations that made his instincts go wild. It’s no surprise he can smell Jimin so well. His scent is faint because he’s a beta, sometimes others don’t even smell it.
He clears his throat, trying to calm his breathing and the rapid beating of his heart. “Why?” He asks softly. “Why did it scare you?”
They have to talk about it. Jeongguk is showing a side of himself that Jeongguk would have never expected to see. Talking about this is the best thing to do.
“Because it made my alpha react,” Jeongguk confesses. “I wanted it. I wanted you to scent me. I just don’t remember the last time―it’s been so long,” he explains.
“Scenting can also help,” Jimin whispers. “I know you might be sensitive to scents, or to being touched. I know it’s hard for you. You don’t have to work through it. But you could. It could help,” he says. “Whatever you want is good. Don’t ever feel like you have to force yourself or―”
“I want to try,” Jeongguk interrupts. “I want to try with you. You always calm my alpha down. I trust you, Jimin. I―” he stops himself, as if realizing how much he’s giving away, how much he’s saying.
Jimin gently slips one hand into Jeongguk’s hair. He scratches his scalp. He doesn’t pause to think, but he has a feeling this time Jeongguk won’t mind it. Sure enough, Jeongguk makes a soft sound, as if pleased and shudders, body relaxing again.
“I’m glad,” he murmurs. “I can help with whatever you need. But you have to talk to me. Tell me what you’re fine with, what you’re not. I don’t want to do something that will scare you like that again.”
Jeongguk is quiet for a long moment. Long enough that Jimin starts to think that he’s hiding himself away again. But then he whispers softly, his breath tickling Jimin’s skin.
“I will.” And then: “don’t leave again,” he pleads. “You were gone for a week. I thought―” he stops himself, shaking his head, hugging Jimin tighter. “Please don’t disappear again. I missed you so much.”
It’s almost as if now that he’s opened up a little bit he can’t stop. Jimin’s heart warms at Jeongguk’s words. I missed you so much . Jimin missed him too. He didn’t know that Jeongguk felt that way, too. He didn’t know that he trusts him. All of a sudden, it feels like maybe they’ve done more progress than he thought. Maybe Jeongguk is doing better than he expected, only he’s had it hidden away, he’s been too busy protecting himself to show everything he has in his chest.
“I missed you too.” The words are easy to voice out. “I was trying to give you space,” he explains. “I didn’t―I was worried you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“I always want to see you,” Jeongguk says, almost instantly. “Everything is better when I see you.”
Jimin doesn’t want to feel this way, but he can’t help liking Jeongguk’s words. It’s only been a few months and yet he’s grown so close to him, he’s grown so attached, he thinks about him a lot, about finding ways to help him, about being there for him. He tries not to think about what all of that might mean. Still, it’s impossible to stop himself from feeling that tingling sensation in his chest.
“I thought you were angry,” Jeongguk whispers. And he sounds so broken, so terrified.
Jimin tightens his arm around him, slides his other hand from his hair down to his nape. Jeongguk ‘s body slumps against him, he absolutely melts into the touch.
“I could never be angry at you,” Jimin reassures. “All I want is for things to be better. I want to take care of you, Jeongguk.”
Maybe he’s saying too much, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind. He rubs his forehead over Jimin’s shoulder, not scenting, but close enough as it is. It seems to be calming enough for him because he settles down with a sigh and murmurs a soft thank you that somehow makes Jimin’s inside feel warmer.
They stay there for an awfully long time, wrapped around each other. Jimin shifts after a while and Jeongguk apologizes for keeping him on the floor, instantly gets up and helps Jimin up as well. He lets go a little too fast and hesitates before turning around to head towards his bedroom.
Jimin takes that as his invitation to follow. He finds Jeongguk hesitating next to the bed. When Jimin settles beside him, he clears his throat and gently places his hand on Jeongguk’s arm.
“What is it?” He asks softly.
Jeongguk shakes his head.
“Can we just―” he starts, taking a deep breath, as if it’s something that’s too difficult to say. “Can we lay down for a little bit?”
Even though it surprises him, he pretends it doesn’t and nods.
“Of course, Jeongguk.”
After Jimin says that, Jeongguk quickly slides onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, making sure to stay as close to the wall as possible, leaving as much space for Jimin as he can. And Jimin is careful not to invade his space as he settles beside him, also facing the ceiling.
They lay beside each other. The bed is big enough to fit one person comfortably and Jeongguk is on the big side, so they fit rather tightly. It’s awkward for a moment, but then Jeongguk takes a deep breath, his body relaxing, as if some sort of weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
“You didn’t bring your camera,” Jeongguk mumbles, after a long time.
Right. He promised that. With what happened, it completely slipped his mind. All he’s thought about this whole week was Jeongguk’s reaction, all the things Jimin should have done differently. He didn’t even remember about the camera. When he turns his head to the side, he finds Jeongguk smiling. It’s a small smile, a barely there one. But it’s enough for Jimin to know he’s teasing.
“I’ll bring it to you next time,” he promises, playfully pushing his elbow against his.
Jeongguk’s smile slowly fades away and his eyes close.
“Tomorrow?” He asks softly. “I mean, you don’t have to bring it tomorrow. But…will you come tomorrow?”
“I’ll come tomorrow,” he promises.
The bed shifts, Jeongguk moves. Jimin stays exactly where he is, but he can feel Jeongguk’s forehead pressing to his bicep. Nothing more is said, both of them remain quiet as the minutes go by.
Jeongguk falls asleep. Jimin hears it happening, his breathing slowing down, his body relaxing entirely. He shifts at some point, presses closer, rubs his forehead briefly against him before he settles down again.
It takes him a couple of minutes to feel like he can move without waking him up. He does it slowly, wincing when the bed dips and Jeongguk shifts. But he doesn’t wake up and Jimin ends up being able to slip away without him doing so. It downs on him that all the emotions Jeongguk felt and expressed so freely took a toll on him and that’s why he fell asleep so easily, so quickly.
He’s glad. Even if it tired him out, he’s glad that he could let out everything he was feeling. He heads downstairs to see Taehyung before leaving. He wants to ask about how Jeongguk’s week has been. What he’s done. If he was okay.
Jimin steps into the lounging room and texts Taehyung if he’s free. Ten minutes later he walks inside, showing Jimin a smile.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a very long time,” he states, dropping down beside him on the sofa. “You went from coming almost daily to disappearing for a whole week.”
“I know,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I had to give him space.”
“It didn’t seem to me like he wanted space,” Taehyung replies. “He kept asking about you. Asking if you were okay, why you weren’t coming in.”
“He did?” Jimin asks. Today has really been filled with surprises from Jeongguk. Jimin was worried this would be a setback for him, that he’d end up losing Jeongguk, that he’d be all the way back to cero and that he’d hide himself away.
“ Yes , he did,” Taehyung states. “Every time someone came in, he’d ask if you were okay or if they knew when you’d be back.”
He had my number, though , Jimin thinks. Maybe Jeongguk was also worried about texting Jimin and being met with silence, of learning he didn’t want to talk to him. After all, Jeongguk made it clear he thought Jimin was angry about what had happened. “What did you tell him?”
“That we didn’t know.” Taehyung shrugs. “I think not seeing you for a week was…painful. For him, I mean. He looked so sad.”
His words break Jimin’s heart. He didn’t know Jeongguk wanted him around so much. He knew that Jeongguk had connected with him somewhat, but he didn’t know it was something so big, so important for him.
“I noticed,” he murmurs. “He was panicking so much when he saw me. It was as if a million emotions washed over him all at once. He was so exhausted he fell asleep.”
Taehyung’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? He’s been sleeping so poorly this week. I can’t believe he fell asleep so easily, but I’m glad he did. It was starting to take a toll on him.”
“I shouldn’t have stayed away.”
He sighs and cards his fingers through his hair.
“It’s not your fault. You thought you were doing the right thing and, honestly, maybe it was a good thing. He missed you, but space is always good,” Taehyung reassures. “Come on, don’t beat yourself up about it. Just be glad that he’s fine now. Tell me about you, Jimin. How are you? What have you been up to this week?”
He smiles. Taehyung always has a way of taking away whatever bad feeling Jimin has in his chest. They’ve known each other for a long time and they’ve grown close over the years. Taehyung can always tell when Jimin needs to talk, the same way Jimin always knows when Taehyung needs a shoulder to lean on.
So, for a few minutes, they talk back and forth about their week before Taehyung has to go back to work.
↢↣
“You’re leaving already?” Jeongguk asks.
Jimin has been here for almost four hours already. And he’s supposed to go downstairs to talk with Management before he leaves―something about Jeongguk. Even though it worried him from the second the message came through, Jeongguk has done a great job distracting him.
Talking and talking and talking so much. Saying so much, even if not everything was laced with a lot of importance, even if some things were small, like his favorite colors to mix on a painting, the pictures he took when he went out last week, the books he’s been reading. How much he liked Jimin’s last book. How much he liked the manuscript that Jimin has never given in.
“It’s getting late,” he replies softly. “And I still have something to do before I leave,” he adds, when Jeongguk seems ready to protest.
Jimin has been staying longer, has found it harder to leave these days. Jeongguk sometimes asks him to stay a little bit longer, although he never presses too hard, he gives up after an attempt or two, but he looks disappointed as Jimin leaves. Jimin doesn’t mind spending more time here. He’s a full-time writer. He can work on his own schedule and, anyway, his inspiration is flowing nicely these days, so he has nothing to worry about.
Jeongguk tilts his head to the side. He’s already standing close to Jimin, but he takes a step forward and it suddenly feels as if he’s invading his space. It doesn’t feel wrong, though. Jimin’s heart jumps, especially when Jeongguk suddenly leans down, nose hovering over his neck. He sniffs, stays there for a little bit before he leans back. He seems hesitant before he starts speaking.
“You always mostly smell like yourself, but…” he trails off. His hesitance turns into something different. Something Jimin can’t quite pinpoint. “I’ve never asked, but I keep wondering. Are you working with someone else?” He asks. He only allows a second between his question and his next words and Jimin gets nowhere near responding. “I mean, I’m not sure how it works here. Are you just assigned to one person? Or…”
“Hey,” Jimin whispers, reaching out and placing his hands on Jeongguk’s shoulders. He’s still too close, enough that Jimin can smell his nice and intense scent, but Jimin tries to stay focused. “It’s just you,” he says.
Other betas tend to take up more patients at a time. There are so many wolves here at the facility that it would be impossible to have a beta for each other. Jimin doesn’t do that, though. He thinks it better to bond with one, to focus on one, for things to work out better. Because his success rate is so high, he’s allowed to do that.
And he should say more, probably, but he has a feeling that’s all Jeongguk needed to hear. As if he was worried there was someone else taking away Jimin’s time.
Jeongguk exhales softly, his expression turning apologetic almost instantly.
“I’m sorry.”
Jimin’s eyebrow furrow. “Why are you apologizing?”
“I just―” Jeongguk stops himself, looks away. “I don’t know.”
He has a feeling that Jeongguk isn’t being one hundred percent honest right now, but he doesn’t press for more. Instead, he slides one hand down and presses his thumb to Jeongguk’s wrist. Instantly, Jeongguk relaxes. He sighs and drops his forehead to Jimin’s shoulder. It’s so sudden and something Jimin wasn’t expecting. So they stumble for a second, Jeongguk’s hands reaching up to steady him. They settle on his hips and they burn. At least it feels like they’re directly touching Jimin’s skin. It’s a nice feeling.
“I have a meeting,” he explains softly, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.
Jeongguk mumbles something that Jimin doesn’t really hear and suddenly he wraps his arms tightly around Jimin’s waist. His face drowns in his neck, nose inches away from his scent gland.
So far, Jimin has only ever scented Jeongguk by the wrists, touching gently, comforting. Nothing too intimate―even though this hug feels so intimate already. He has a feeling Jeongguk isn’t ready for Jimin to come near to his neck. Probably because of the vulnerability that comes with it. Jeongguk also doesn’t cross that line, but he doesn’t really scent Jimin all that much either. A brief brush of his fingers across his wrist, tapping the skin to grab his attention.
He places his hands on Jeongguk’s back and rubs gently. This isn’t something infrequent, either. Jeongguk has been hugging him a lot ever since that first time. Always eager to hold onto him, always sighing happily when Jimin touches the skin of his wrist. Like a puppy. It’s cute and Jimin wants nothing more than to give him what he wants, what makes him happy.
Soon enough, Jeongguk lets go with a shy smile and reaches up to card his fingers through his hair.
“Thank you for coming today,” he whispers.
Jimin reaches up and ruffles his hair. Jeongguk leans into his touch, tilting his head down, closing his eyes. Puppy , Jimin thinks, he really does act like one sometimes .
“You have nothing to thank me for,” he reassures. “I’ll see you again soon, Jeongguk.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, not the usual ‘you’re not coming tomorrow? ’
Jimin doesn’t question it too much. He pulls his hand away and smiles, saying goodbye and heading out. Jeongguk says goodbye with a smile, too. The door closes behind Jimin and he stays there for a second too long, unable to push away the thought that Jeongguk’s expression has seemed sad as he left. He knows they spend a lot more time together these days, he’s grown used to being with Jeongguk all the time, but he didn’t know he felt just as sad when having to leave.
Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he moves towards the elevator and heads down to the main office. Because he’s a volunteer here at the facility, he’s let in with a smile and he makes his way towards the Management sector. It’s towards the end of the floor and once Hoseok spots him, he waves him over, standing up as he reaches his side.
“Jimin,” he greats him, pulling him in for a hug. “It’s been such a long time since I last saw you. How are you doing? How’s everything with Jeongguk?” He asks.
He’s right. The last time they saw each other, it was during a meeting for Jimin’s assignment to Jeongguk’s case. Hoseok is the one who has the information of all the alphas and omegas staying at the facility and the betas they have assigned. They talked with Namjoon, the head doctor of the facility, also the one who looks after the wolves, focuses on their mental and physical health. The one in charge of letting them go when they’re ready to be on their own again.
Taehyung was also at that meeting. He was the last beta to be assigned to Jeongguk. Needless to say, things hadn’t worked out well enough. And Taehyung had been the one to suggest Jimin as the person to take over.
“Everything is going good, actually,” he replies, showing him a smile once they step away from each other. “He’s progressed a lot and he smiles more.”
“I’m glad Jeongguk connected with you,” Hoseok says sincerely. “I know how much he’s struggled since he got here. That’s actually what Namjoon and I wanted to talk to you about.”
Jimin’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
For a brief moment, he wonders if they’re going to tell him Jeongguk is ready to leave the facility. It’s only been about four months. It’s good . That Jeongguk could be ready to move on, even though it’s only been a few months. He’s been here much longer, he’s been here before Jimin was assigned to him. But leaving the facility would mean Jimin wouldn’t see him anymore and that makes him sad.
“Come on, lets head into a meeting room,” Hoseok says, gesturing for him to follow.
He guides him to the same room they were in the day they told him about Jeongguk. And as he takes a seat on one of the chairs, Hoseok takes his phone out and sends out a text to Namjoon.
Hoseok settles in front of him in another chair.
“Namjoon is on his way, but in the meantime, let me explain a little bit,” he starts. “You know how we’ve had a large influx of alphas and omegas in the past months, a lot of them staying for a long time. The place is big, but space has been running out.”
“Really?” Jimin asks, genuinely surprised. The facility is big, space has never run out. It’s good, on one hand, because they’re taking care of more wolves. But it’s not good that they’re running out of space.
“Yeah,” Hoseok replies, nodding. “It’s great, but it also puts us in a tough spot. We’ve been having meeting after meeting trying to figure out what to do.” Jimin nods in understanding, prompting him to go on. “Poor Namjoon has been struggling with keeping up with all the patients, but we finally have a better idea of what we’re dealing with. Basically, we’ve decided to add a new stage to the recovery process for the wolves.”
“Okay, I’m here!” Namjoon exclaims, almost bursting into the meeting room. He squeezes Jimin’s shoulder as he walks in and settles beside Hoseok, dropping down on the chair. He seems ten times more exhausted than he did the last time he saw him. “Sorry, I was caught up with a patient. What did I miss?”
“Not much,” Hoseok reassures. “I was explaining the situation to Jimin and you got here just on time. I was explaining about the new stage in the recovery process.”
Namjoon nods and puts aside the papers he has in his hands.
“Right, that new stage is basically for wolves that don’t really needed to be in here anymore, but aren’t fully ready to be out there interacting with new people on their own. There are a lot of them here at the facility that are already going out a lot, spending their days outside. We think it could be an adaptation phase of some sorts,” he explains. “It wasn’t too hard to convince the higher-ups. They thought it was a good idea, too. So, we’re going to be sending away some of the wolves with their assigned betas.”
It takes Jimin a couple of seconds to understand what it means. Unsure, he tilts his head to the side.
“Like, to live with the betas?” He asks.
Namjoon nods. “Of course, it’s not an obligation. We’re trying hard only to consider cases where we think this will work and where we’re completely sure that the wolves are ready for it. Betas are allowed to say no, too. It’s happened. But a lot of them have agreed and we’re already doing the paperwork to get that to happen.”
This isn’t what Jimin was expecting when he came down here. Honestly, he thought he’d be told Jeongguk didn’t need him anymore. But, apparently, they think Jeongguk need to spend more time with him, that he should live with him.
“For how long?” He asks. “How does it work? The new stage, I mean. They just live with the beta and that’s that? Or is it the same as it is here, only at the beta’s home?”
Hoseok laughs. “Told you he would have a lot of questions.”
Jimin smiles.
“You know I always want to know everything,” he replies, shrugging.
“It’s okay, I’m glad you have questions,” Namjoon says. “The length of the stay doesn’t have to be an established one. It can last as long as it takes for the wolf to be comfortable enough to be on their own. I’m thinking it’ll only be a couple of months, maybe three or four. The wolves that will be sent out will be on the final stages of recovery, so it shouldn’t take too long,” he explains. “It works the same as it does here. The wolf should come here for check-ups every two or three weeks. And, all you have to do is be there for them, help them move on and adapt.”
Jimin takes in all the information. He thinks about it for a moment, even though he already half knows he’ll say yes. He doesn’t hate the idea of having Jeongguk around more, it’s actually something that he knows he’ll like. It’ll give him a chance to help him even more, it’ll make them grow closer. It could make Jeongguk trust him more, finally let go entirely and be ready to move on.
“I take it you think Jeongguk is ready for this stage,” he starts. When he gets a nod in confirmation from both of them, he nods to himself and leans back in his chair. “Jeongguk can stay in my house for as long as he needs. And, as long as it’s something he’s fine with, too. Don’t tell him what I’ve said. First ask him how he feels about it. If he’s okay with it, then yeah. We can do that.”
“Great!” Hoseok exclaims. “I had a feeling you’d say yes. I know how much you care about the wolves that get assigned to you.”
Jimin laughs. “Yeah.”
“Then, we’ll talk to Jeongguk and contact you soon, Jimin,” Namjoon says. “Thank you so much for everything you do for the facility.”
“Please, thank you guys for all your hard work. This place has grown because of you,” he replies with a smile. “Let me know what Jeongguk says.”
They say quick goodbyes and agree to talk soon before the three of them part ways. As Jimin drives back home, he wonders if Jeongguk will say yes. He knows that Jeongguk has grown to like the time they spend together, he never hesitates to tell him that he makes things better, but living with him might be too much. Maybe he’s not ready.
He hopes Jeongguk will go for whatever is better for him, for whatever he’s the most comfortable with.