Chapter Text
Seungmin was dying.
It wasn’t the fearful looming question of if, but the certainty of when. Because, no matter which way he looked at it, his options had run out and the timer was ticking down on him. Ticking in his ears like the pulse of his heartbeat, ticking one second closer to the inevitability of his flawed life finding its end.
There was no way out.
The privilege of being an omega was only a privilege when one lived in absolute stability, so most omegas, most people regardless of their sub-gender, had no idea how easy it was for an omega to die.
Just for being packless.
His fingers trembled as he unloaded the last box of new stock from the truck into the grocery store-room, body jittery and skin cold. His heart was racing and as he stood to his full height, he had to take a moment before taking another step.
It was two in the morning. He didn’t get off work until five, but it already felt as if his body was ready to give out on him. It used to only get this bad around four, and he’d always been able to push through for the last hour, thinking about crashing into bed and knocking out the second his head hit the pillow. But it was only two.
Tonight was going to be a long night.
Wiping his brow, he let out a breath, the heavy lifting for the night was, for the most part, over and that meant he had a couple of hours of stocking shelves and getting the store ready for the opening shift workers. Then he could go home.
He’d never be able to work in the daylight hours, a reality he’d resigned to accept. His lack of pack scent, his sickly appearance and jittery tendencies would have made for a horrible cashier, and he was sure that his night shift colleagues already thought he was on drugs. But at the same time, the freedom of choice would have been nice. Not that it mattered.
Omegas couldn’t be packless, not just by law, but biologically. If an omega wasn’t tied to a pack, their body would shut down. Their life would become a ticking time bomb; something he was acutely well aware of. It was simply biology, similar in the way that alphas who didn’t have an omega in their pack could start to lose their sanity. Could. That was the difference. The certainty of an omega dying without a pack was as certain as night becoming day.
And Seungmin had been doomed from the beginning.
“You okay, Min?” Yoonjae asked, half way down the aisle from where Seungmin had set up his stock filled trolley. He was a nice man, a long haired beta who rode a motorcycle and wore battered leather jackets. He was rough around the edges, but being a couple of years older, Yoonjae reminded Seungmin of a big brother. A cool one.
He also suspected Yoonjae was nice to him out of concern, and that if Seungmin needed help, he’d feel like he could go to him for it. But Seungmin was beyond help, and burdening anyone with the tribulations of his imminent death would just…bring down the mood. Still, it felt nice to have someone look out for him, so he allowed himself to selfishly lean into the act of kindness.
“Fine,” He nodded, giving him a tight smile as he began stocking the shelves of cereal. He could still feel the man’s eyes on him, analysing and uncertain, but he disregarded the attention and put on a brave face. Only a few more hours.
“Well, if you need anything, just give me a shout,” Yoonjae replied and then finally looked away, attention returning to his work as silence fell over them again.
Seungmin, for the longest time, had wished for more silence in his life, but in the last year, he’d found himself dreading its presence. Because silence let the brain think, and when his brain had time to think, it spiralled into memories he wished he could have already long forgotten. It would have been naive to believe that the nightmares wouldn’t resurface every time the silence seeped in. And so, the past continued to haunt him.
He’d had a complicated upbringing, but that was to be expected given that he was currently a ‘twenty-four year old dying packless omega’. While the other omegas his age probably grew up in loving family packs, found a mate and joined their pack, created happiness and started a family– Seungmin’s life had been one domino falling down after another, each hitting harder, knocking the next one down with more force.
His alpha mother had fallen sick when he was six, and too young to be able to comprehend it at the time, Seungmin still, to this day, didn’t know the exact cause of her death. His omega father had apparently mourned her so deeply that he was given permission by her pack to stay until he found another pack to take him in. A kindness given within the harshness of the tradition.
Omegas always joined the pack of their alpha mate, usually given over by their family pack at a young adult age. If they were lucky, they’d stay with that pack for the rest of their lives, but, if their alpha died, the pack was under no obligation to allow them to say. So, after wearing thin the kindness of his mother’s pack, his father had to rush to join a pack on the other side of the country with a new alpha that agreed to let them join, only if Seungmin’s father would become their mate.
Seungmin had tried to make things work there, he’d optimistically thought that once adjusted, he’d feel welcomed and happy in the new pack. But it wasn’t like that, the children didn’t like him; said he didn’t belong. The older omegas in the pack gossiped about his father and how drunk he always was, and Seungmin started to barely see him anymore.
Two years later, when he was eleven, his father died in a bar fight. An escalated brawl between two packs who both claimed they held authority over the area. That was what he had been told right before they’d sent him away, because without a tie to the pack, they no longer wanted him.
His new foster group pack was run by a church. They were kind, helped him finish his schooling, and talked highly of him to the packs that came with the intention of adopting. However, their looks turned pitying the older he became. Children younger than three were always the first choice, then under eights, because both were young enough to be raised and shaped into the new pack’s dynamic, usually mostly seamlessly. But Seungmin was eleven when he’d arrived and eleven turned into twelve, and thirteen, which became fourteen, and with each passing year he lost more hope. He daydreamed less about being welcomed into a new family that would love and care about him. A pack that would accept his difficult past and help him become a lively and happy omega.
But at eighteen, the foster group pack turned him over to the government which held authority over placing him into one of their formed packs for omega adults who were packless. The next five years of his life were more horrific than anything he’d experienced before. Worse than how unwanted he’d felt growing up, worse than watching everyone leave him, worse than where he was now. Dying.
“You should take a break,” Yoonjae spoke up, and Seungmin jolted as the beta wheeled his trolley closer. He had a concerned frown on his face, and it was only then that Seungmin noticed he had been sitting on the ground, eyes locked onto a cartoon character mascot on the front of a cereal box without any intent of stocking anything. Yoonjae crouched beside him, his small hand coming out and pressing against his forehead. “You’re burning up.”
Seungmin let out a shaky breath. He felt cold. “My break is at three. I’ll take medicine then.” The gel pack on his forehead and the two over the counter tablets were usually enough to get him through the rest of his shift and then sometimes through a makeshift dinner.
“It’s three thirty,” Yoonjae replied, eyebrows raised. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital.” He stood up decisively, looking around for another coworker, and Seungmin felt his blood run cold, stomach dropping. He couldn't go to the hospital.
“No!” He forced himself to stand, his legs shaky like a baby deer. How long had he been sitting on the ground for? “No, I don’t need the hospital. I’ll go take my break. There's only a couple hours left. I can manage.” He’d have to. He’d find a way.
Going to the hospital was a sure-fire way to end up back in his assigned pack. It wouldn't take much for the hospital staff to figure out that he was packless when he couldn’t supply them with a pack alpha’s phone number. They’d go to the police and he’d be done for– no way was he letting that happen.
Yoonjae drew his lips into a thin line but didn’t protest, and Seungmin stepped past him, hastily making his way to the break room. His fingers were shaking hard enough that it was hard to get the pills into his mouth, and his cup of water almost slipped out of his grasp.
He took a seat at one of the break room tables, images crawling around his brain of a life he wished he could escape the remembrance of. He pressed a closed fist to his forehead, resisting the urge to bash it against his skin. There was no escape, and yet, in that moment, he oddly yearned for a sense of comfort. Something he could never have.
One would think an all omega pack would be rather nice, especially considering omegas were known for their kindness and protection of others. However, instead of providing Seungmin with that accepting warmth, the leaders treated him the same way all new members were treated. Like their own personal servants to control, abuse, and do whatever they wanted with as long as no one of importance outside the pack ever saw the bruises.
It was an age based hierarchy that dictated the oldest members as the leaders, rather than a voting system that allowed everyone to have a say and elected a pack leader based on fairness. So, for as long as Seungmin had been there, and for years before that, a group of four older omegas had ruled over the group with the expectation of true dedication and respect. But respect was only a thin veil over the sadistic control the omegas built to be what they considered their personal empire.
As a new member, Seungmin had been at the bottom of the ladder. Usually, the youngest omegas were given the worst ‘chores’ as they were young and deemed more capable. But unfortunately, Seungmin had unintentionally captured the attention of one of the leaders, Yook. And he’d come to learn that being a favourite was far worse than going mostly unnoticed.
The medicine helped, and he kept the gel pack on his forehead for the rest of his shift to keep his temperature down. Thankfully, by the time he was leaving to go home, he felt well enough to walk the fifteen minutes that it took to get back to his apartment.
Luck had been on his side in finding a place that would allow a packless omega to live there. Of course, they didn’t know he was packless as he’d given them the brief explanation of ‘I work night shifts and getting a second apartment means I won’t disrupt my pack members’ sleep schedule.’ Naturally, they’d believed him and the building owner never visited. Small mercies.
His apartment, like the rest of the building, was dingy, walls yellowed from a previous smoker and persistent mold on the ceilings. Every day he had to wipe the one window in the apartment of condensation and air out the room of its stale smell. The bed creaked with even the slightest movement and the microwave left a burnt smell around the room after every use. He should probably be more concerned about that.
The light flickered above his head as he flipped the switch, and he threw his keys on the counter before dragging himself to sit at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He was so tired, so worn down to his bones that he ached from just breathing.
The sun was beginning to rise in the sky and its brightness made his eyelids flutter as the pain in his head threatened to return. He got up, pulled the blinds and shuffled to the kitchen side of the room. It was small; There was one counter, one stove top and oven, a mini fridge and a sink with a single cabinet above it. he flicked on the jug that took up almost half of the counter space and ripped the top off a cup of instant noodles. A well earned dinner.
It was a mundane existence, and he might have even considered such a life to be nice if it didn’t have a dark looming ending. With the silence of his apartment around him, it was easy to dwell on what life might have been like if he wasn’t an omega, if things hadn’t happened the way they had, if the government assigned pack hadn’t stripped away everything he was as a person. ‘ Is’ as a person. He’s not gone yet.
The jug switched off, bubbling as steam rose too close to the fire alarm for comfort. Quickly, and with shaky hands, he filled the noodle cup, watching with his mouth beginning to moisten as the hot water softened the noodles. His hunger outweighed the fact that instant noodles had become his daily meal. The idea of preparing anything more complicated was just too much to handle now. Six months ago he could have done it, but these days the decline in his health stole more from him each day.
He could already tell that his next shift would be just as rough as the previous one, and resigned, he knew it would probably be like that from now on. He’d just try to adapt, find a way to get through each shift so he could keep a roof over his head and hot noodles in his tummy. At least he’d never have to deal with a heat on top of everything else, which should come as more of a concern than a sense of relief, but if it made his life easier, he’d live in ignorant bliss.
“I’m surprised you’re here today. Thought you might have called in sick,” Yoonjae commented as Seungmin put his backpack in his company assigned locker, hands smoothing down his shirt as he prepared himself for his shift.
Seungmin glanced at him, shutting the locker, “Have I ever called in sick before?”
Yoonjae chuckled, “There’s a first time for everything.”
He repressed a sigh, “I’m fine. I probably just have a head cold,” he shrugged through the lie. Yoonjae wouldn’t believe him, but he also wouldn't press further, and Seungmin’s oncoming headache really appreciated that.
The older man hummed, looking him up and down before throwing the wrapper from the muesli bar he’d been eating into the trash. “Let’s start unloading the truck.”
Yoonjae was a packless beta and the epitome of independence. His scent was strong with emotion, crisp and readable the way beta’s scents usually were. He hadn’t told Seungmin much about his life, and Seungmin didn’t expect him to. Their relationship wasn’t like that. Instead, Seungmin liked to focus on how stable Yoonjae was compared to the betas that had been in his early childhood packs. Betas didn’t always do so well in packs, which is why they often lived independently. But that didn’t mean it was impossible for them to be in a pack, it all depended on their individual personality.
Personally, Seungmin liked how carefree Yoonjae was.
The boxes in the truck felt significantly heavier than usual, and Seungmin’s arms trembled as he unloaded one after another, each seemingly increasingly heavier than the last. His bones were aching, muscles yearning to be taken pity on, and the headache that always gnawed behind his eyes was clawing its way into his consciousness faster than usual.
“Why do people eat this shit?” He heard Juwon huff. The alpha was all brute strength as he managed to hold one box under his arm, the other sifting through the contents of it. It looked to contain some sort of processed snack. Seungmin hadn’t tried it, nor did he really care to.
“It’s good,” Eunkyung protested, reaching to snatch it out of his hand. She made a joke and Juwon laughed, the pair effortlessly flirty with each other.
Seungmin turned his head away, forcing himself to get back on track with his work as something small and bitter tingled in the pit of his stomach. Love, or even just attraction. It was a concept so foreign he couldn’t imagine himself ever understanding it, let alone feeling it. What did the comfort of another person bring other than the fear of their death, or the fear of them hurting him? Keeping people at arms length was as poetic as it got; wanting something he could not have, and pretending it was something he did not want.
By the end of his shift, Seungmin could barely think a cohesive thought. He clocked out, skin prickling with shivers as sweat built on his forehead. Home, gel pack, medicine, He told himself as he pulled his backpack from his locker and headed to the back exit. He’d get some warm food into him, take a tepid shower and get some sleep. He’d feel better. At least better than this.
The sky was beginning to lighten as he walked, the sun just shying away from rising into view, and Seungmin was thankful for its hesitance. The streets were quiet, the only sounds coming from the birds chirping their morning calls, and the sound of his sneakers on the cobbled pavement.
A winded breath punched through him, taking him by surprise as he gripped the side of a utility pole. His head spun, the world shifting nauseously as he squeezed his eyes shut. One more block, turn right, keep walking. He let out a shuddering breath, taking one step and then another. His vision blurred, body swaying and he knew he was going to fall a second before he tumbled forward.
“Woah!” Someone’s voice broke through the whooshing in his ears, their presence lunging into his consciousness. Their arms clumsily tried to catch him, but his weight must have taken them by surprise as together, they fell to the ground.
The skin of Seungmin’s exposed arms scraped against the pavement and a hiss left his lips as he tried to get his eyes to focus on the figure in front of him. Everything was blurry, was there just one person or two?
“J-just…a second…fuck,” The person moved, swearing under their breath. “I can’t find them…”
There was a lot of shuffling, and Seungmin’s vision began to return to him, his eyes settling on a man on his hands and knees, reaching out blindly for a pair of glasses. For a moment, he watched in shock, staring at the stranger, before quickly snapping out of it and reaching for the glasses. Thankfully, they didn’t seem broken, he observed as he placed them on one of the man’s hands.
“Oh!” The man exclaimed, “Thank you. Sorry, I can’t see a thing without these.” He fumbled to take hold of and put them on. Easily, he lifted himself into a sitting position, and Seungmin finally got a look at his face.
As though the air had been stolen from him, his breath hitched in his throat.
The man was an omega, his features delicate and nose pointed. He was the kind of beautiful that came effortlessly, even in something as simple as blinking– and it took Seungmin’s breath away. With his lips parted, his front two teeth were noticeable under his upturned top lip, and his skin held a glow of health , of a happy and healthy omega.
He was dressed in a grey cardigan and a pair of sweatpants with a convenient store shopping bag hooked under his arm. The only reasonable reason to be up this early for anything other than work, Seungmin supposed.
“Are you okay? You fell pretty hard.” The man’s brows pulled in with concern as he reached to gently take hold of one of Seungmin’s arms. He had an expressive face, sharp yet handsome and his concern was genuine.
The hair on Seungmin’s arm prickled with the man’s cool touch. His palms were small and his skin soft.
“I’m…” He swallowed, pushing the words from his chest, “I’m okay. Just tired.” He tentatively lifted his arm away, attempting to stand up, but the man quickly moved to help him, his grip firm and reliable. It had Seungmin’s stomach flipping because no one had touched him in a long time. Not like this, anyway.
His scent was nice; one of a healthy omega, and his hair was black, styled neatly in a way that complemented the black rimmed top of his glasses and rimless bottom. He was certainly an omega with a pack.
“Should I take you to the hospital? You should get checked. Just in case,” The man tried to insist but Seungmin was quick to shake his head.
“No, it’s okay. I have a health condition, I’m used to this.” It wasn’t technically a lie, and it seemed to calm the man a little, even if he continued to nibble at the corner of his lip with worry.
“Can I help you home? Is that where you’re heading?”
He should say no, it was safest to say no, but his legs were so tired and the help would make the walk tolerable. Plus, it wasn’t far, he wouldn’t be too much of a burden to the man. So yet again, he let himself be selfish.
“If you want to,” He replied, uncertain, and the man’s eyes brightened, lips spreading into a smile. Genuine, again. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth settled within Seungmin’s cold bones.
“Of course.”
They began walking, the man helping him stay stable with each step as they moved in silence. His omega scent was of fresh lavender, calm and caring, and Seungmin found himself wondering what kind of pack the man was in. One of care, support and kindness– and love– He was certain.
“Thank you,” He said as they turned right into the street of his apartment. “I’m sorry I made you fall.” The road was lined each side with apartment blocks, some recently renovated and updated, others traditional and built up from old houses, and some, like Seungmin’s, were run down and gloomy looking.
“It’s okay, I’m glad I was able to sort of catch you.” There was a smile in his voice, “I’m Minho.”
Minho.
Minho with his elegantly expressive face, his attractive pointed nose and his pretty lips. With his soft smooth voice and his genuine kindness.
“Seungmin. Just up here,” he nodded, throat bobbing as his apartment block came into view. “That one there, black building.” It stuck out like a sore thumb.
He didn’t expect Minho to follow him up, but when they got to the entrance, surprisingly he asked, “What floor are you?” He re-adjusted his grip and Seungmin shuffled, feeling guilty.
“Oh, you don’t have to take me up. I’m on the fourth floor.” He didn’t want Minho to go that out of his way, and he wasn’t exactly proud of his apartment. What kind of pack house might Minho live in? Something simple? Something luxurious? Seeing as he’d been to the convenience store nearest Seungmin’s apartment, he could only assume that Minho and his pack lived in the area.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” Minho reached for the dusty glass door and pushed it open.
Seungmin pursed his lips but didn’t protest. It was fine, it’s not like the man’s opinion on the place mattered, especially as Seungmin would never see him again after this. And, Minho seemed pretty set on his decision to help, so Seungmin would allow himself the assistance for as long as it was offered to him. Even if the voice in the back of his head told him that he was being greedy.
Thankfully, the elevator was working, because walking up four flights of stairs would have been rather uncomfortable for both of them– and Seungmin would have felt terrible for the inconvenience. So, they stood in silence as the rickety elevator made its way past each floor, dinging as it opened on the fourth.
The carpet was a murky red, walls green and strangely carpeted. He brought his backpack round, stuffing his hand inside for his keys that jingled as he pulled them free. A small silver dog keychain was attached to them; a little trinket he’d found at a market during his first month of living on his own.
“Thank you for walking me home. It was very kind of you,” He told Minho as they arrived at the door of his apartment. A finality. The man was a very good person, and Seungmin would remember him for that.
Minho hesitated, his eyes flicking down Seungmin’s arms. “You’re bleeding,” he said, reminding Seungmin of the dull sting of his scraped skin from when they fell. It wasn’t bad, he’d heal quick enough with some ointment and a few bandaids, but Minho still looked concerned. “Let me help bandage you up.”
Seungmin was a weak man, weak to the worry in Minho’s eyes and the smell of his scent that yearned to help. Caring and gentle, and all the things the omegas in his old pack weren’t.
“Okay…” he swallowed, “I guess that’s okay.” He stuck his key in the lock and twisted the door open.
The room was the same as he’d left it the previous evening, bed made but sheets creased, kitchen wiped clean but a pair of chopsticks sitting out from his last meal. The portable heater was unplugged with the cable running across the room in a slightly hazardous way. And, his gardenia scent was strong in the air as it mixed with the familiar ‘lived in’ smell.
“You can sit on the bed…I’ll just get the first aid kit,” he gestured, dipping his head as he slipped into the bathroom. A breath left his lips, shuddery and heavy as a new wave of emotions washed over him. His apartment wasn’t empty, life was breathing into it in the form of an omega with a good heart. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion of work, or Minho’s presence, but it was almost painful having him here, taking up space in a room that was only meant for Seungmin’s desolation. Yet, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t desperately lonely. He was being taken care of.
The small green first aid bag sat under the sink on a wooden shelf, and after looking at himself in the mirror for more than a moment, he grabbed the bag and headed back out to the main room. Exhausted and hopeless, was what he saw whenever he looked at himself in a mirror. It screamed from his entire being, his hunched posture, the bags under his eyes, the dullness in his skin. His black hair, a touch unruly and in need of a haircut, looking heavy on his face. It matched his dark irises in a way that almost seemed too harsh and out of place.
Minho was sitting on his bed in a position too comfortable to be acceptable for a stranger, but Seungmin found himself not minding the man’s leisurely crossed legs and relaxed hands that supported his weight as he looked around the room curiously. He was also wearing cat socks.
“I think this has everything,” He cleared his throat, putting the bag on the bed and then taking a seat on the edge, a little less comfortably, a little more gingerly. He felt restless, his hands clammy and limbs tight with the uncertainty of how to hold himself. He should be the comfortable one; In his own apartment with nothing out of the ordinary, except Minho.
“Great,” Minho leaned forward, unzipping the bag and poking around inside. His eyebrows scrunched with focus and pinching his tongue between his teeth, he started pulling out different bandages, wipes and a tube of ointment.
Seungmin watched him, trying to fully convince himself that this wasn’t just a dream where he longed to be taken care of. This was real, because Minho was too real for him to be able to dream up. Still, even now, he appeared so composed, and Seungmin had almost forgotten that he too could have been injured. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Minho looked up from the bag, seemingly satisfied with the supplies he’d pulled out. “No. I think you took most of the fall.”
Seungmin nodded, relieved. The situation would have been a whole lot worse had Minho also been injured. Surely his pack would have been furious, but unlike Seungmin’s old one, Minho’s pack were probably open to a civil conversation about the issue. He didn’t take Minho as the kind of person to let an alpha harm someone over an honest mistake.
The omega’s hands came to touch his arm and Seungmin felt his skin buzz under the touch. Now warm hands, small, smooth, gentle but confident in his actions. He almost let out a full body shiver as Minho cleaned the dried blood from his scraped arms; His mind relaxing into a peculiar soothed state, and then Minho popped his bubble with a question.
“You live alone?”
He tried not to let his muscles tighten defensively. “I stay here sometimes because it’s closer to work and I don’t want to disturb my pack with my inconvenient work hours.” The practised lie flew from his lips. It was the answer he gave anyone that looked his way with either curiosity or suspicion; To the older beta who lived across the hall, nosy in her old age, and to the repair man that came to fix the leaking pipe that one time.
Minho rolled his lips in. He didn’t respond, and his silence instantly put Seungmin on edge, skin prickling with goosebumps. Minho finding out that he was packless was not an option, because living like this on his own and of his own volition, kind of, was against the law. Seungmin knew, if found out, he’d be thrown back into his government pack and into imminent danger. Sure, he’d no longer be on the brink of death at first, but his mental and physical health would pay the price– and he truly didn’t have the strength in him to take what he went through all over again. The same pack with their same hierarchy, and their same abuse. But worse because he dared to leave.
“Do you want a drink of something…I have…tea,” he swallowed, trying to change the subject. Even if getting Minho out of here as quickly as possible was the most sensible thing to do, he couldn’t bear the thought that he might dwell on suspicion and potentially report him ‘just in case’, thinking he was protecting and doing him justice.
“Sure,” Minho replied as he secured the last bandage, pressed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and then stood up to wash his hands in the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute, you don’t mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Yes, I mean– no. No, I don’t mind,” Seungmin stood up, dusting his hands down his crinkled pants. “Thank you. For helping me. For patching me up,” he tried to smile, tight, “You didn’t have to, so I really appreciate it.”
Minho tipped his head, giving him a hum and then disappeared into the bathroom. His swift turn to reserved silence had Seungmin’s insides squirming with discomfort. He knew , he had to have figured it out. He was clearly too sensible to not see right through Seungmin’s lie.
He wanted to throw up.
Instead, he flicked the jug on and shakily took down two cups from the cupboard, dropping tea bags into them and taking a slow calming breath to ease the weight of his heart pounding in his chest, loud and heavy. Then, he heard Minho speaking from inside the bathroom. Hush toned and muffled. He was on the phone to someone.
He was on the phone to someone. To the police, probably.
Feeling an ice cold rush of fear jolt down his spine, his breathing picked up again, hurtling straight towards hyperventilation. No. No, No No.
An agonising second later, the door opened and Seungmin nearly dropped to the ground again, his legs desperate to give out on him. He had to use the counter to hold himself up, eyes stinging with tears.
“Please– please you can’t let them take me. Please Minho.” He felt pathetic, his ears burning red with shame. He wasn’t above begging, he’d get on his hands and knees and promise anything as long as it kept him from being sent back there.
Minho blinked at him, almost as if he was surprised at the sudden outburst, and then the look in his eyes turned sympathetic. “I was just talking to my pack alpha. I hadn’t told him where I was…so he was getting worried.” He looked Seungmin up and down, “I didn’t say anything about you to him…I think I should hear that from you first.” His words were tentative, as if he said one wrong thing, Seungmin might explode into a thousand pieces right in front of him.
His throat tightened. He felt trapped. Until now, no one knew of his situation and he truly believed it would stay that way– but now this stranger knew. Minho was a stranger; Seungmin didn’t know anything about him other than he was an omega with a pack. He didn’t know where he lived, how many members were in his pack, what he did for work or if he worked. He knew nothing of Minho’s life and yet within an hour, Minho had managed to figure out his deepest secret. The room was starting to feel a lot smaller, like Minho was too big for it, too out of place to exist in his space.
“Let’s sit down, here I’ll finish the tea. You take a seat… You’re not in danger, I promise.” Minho’s scent was a veil of calm over a plethora of emotions that Seungmin couldn’t read.
Against his own will, he followed his instructions and shuffled to take a seat on the bed. How was he supposed to explain this? How was he supposed to convince Minho that this was the life he needed to live, for as long as he got to live it? Minho would think that being back there was better than dying, and Seungmin planned to take to the grave what his old pack would do to him if he ended up back there.
They remained in tense silence as Minho handed him his mug and then sat near him, not quite close enough to be considered sitting side by side. Seungmin took a sip of his tea, the taste numb on his tongue as steam rose from the cup.
“You’re sick, and you’re living on your own,” Minho stated, starting the conversation off with not even a sprinkle of sugar coating. He was tapping his fingers against his mug, staring at Seungmin to prompt him for a further explanation, and Seungmin wished he didn’t feel like he had to give him one.
“I’m getting by. I…I’m in a…situation, but I’m handling it,” he swallowed, glancing away because he knew he wouldn’t like the look Minho was giving him. “You don’t need to worry. Please just let me work this out on my own.”
Minho had no obligation to even be here. He’d helped Seungmin home and bandaged up his injuries. He’d done his act of kindness and had no further need to care– but he was still sitting here insisting Seungmin tell him his deepest secrets. And the worst thing was, Seungmin was letting him.
He continued to tap his fingers against his cup, almost in time with the beating of Seungmin’s heart. “By handling it…”
“I mean I’m handling it,” Seungmin met his gaze again, the words coming out stiff. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone. I know that’s a lot to ask but it’s important. Please don’t pry into something you don’t understand.”
Minho pursed his lips, looking him over again. “I thought your scent was strange. Hollow. But I've never met a packless omega before–” Seungmin’s breath hitched, throat drying at the phrase being so boldly said out loud, its absolute finality making his skin crawl. “I just assumed it was because you weren’t feeling well…How long have you been living alone for?”
“Six months,” he mumbled. Shame was the forefront emotion that engulfed him, because being a packless omega was really a synonym of being an unwanted omega, and that’s what he’d always been. Unwanted, a burden, a nuisance whenever he’d ended up.
“ Six months, ” Minho repeated, lips falling open. “You’ve…you’re…” he trailed off, his loss for words loud in the silence that followed.
“Like I said, I’m getting by–”
“You’re not getting by, you’re dying, ” He interrupted, horrified.
Seungmin’s shoulders hunched in. Why did Minho care so much? How did it affect his life? It didn’t . He would toddle on home after this to a pack that loved him. Seungmin would just be a bad memory that flickered into his mind on occasion. Nothing more. His compassion was starting to feel like a cruel joke.
“I don’t need you to tell me that…Like it’s something I don’t already know.” A bitterness rose inside his chest. What gave Minho the right to pry?
“You’re just…” Minho scoffed in disbelief, “You’re just going to let yourself die? You know there are resources, packs you can be assigned to. There’s help out there.”
Seungmin’s insides turned to stone. “There isn’t. If there was actual help, I wouldn’t be in this situation.” He snapped, face burning, “You know nothing Minho. Respectfully, you’re just a nice stranger that helped me. Don’t pretend to care, don’t act like you can save my life just to make yourself feel better.”
Minho spluttered, taken aback. His tea was forgotten, placed on the nightstand with the steam ebbing away from the cool temperature of the room. “I’m not– it’s not to make me feel better. You’re choosing to die, how could I not care? Anyone would care.”
“They wouldn’t,” Seungmin said firmly through gritted teeth. To him, most people were born to hurt others, to take and take and take– He wanted Minho out, gone from his life. He was a nightmare concealed in a dream, or perhaps a dream concealed in a nightmare; dangerous yet glowing with hope and innocent optimism.
And bitterly, it was painful to know that there was a caring pack waiting for him to get home from helping a sick omega. They’d praise him, hug him for his selflessness and scent him because they loved him. Because Minho and his pack were the same, all they knew was humanity in the way it should be. Seungmin hadn’t had the privilege of that since he was a young child, held and cuddled in his mother’s arms as she sang songs to him about the stars and the sky.
“There are still options. Being in a pack and surviving is a better option than this. ” Minho gestured to nothing in particular. Frustration and pity flooded his expression and no matter how long this conversation went on for, Seungmin knew he’d only be talking to a brick wall.
He put his mug down, hands trembling too much to be able to hold it securely. “You don’t know my life. You don’t get a say in my decisions.” He said in an attempt to shut down the conversation, but Minho wasn’t done.
“And deciding to die when you have the chance– the right to live is the best choice?” He leaned towards him but Seungmin shifted away. “What are you going to do when you can’t take care of yourself anymore? When you can’t work? When you can’t eat– because I know going to the hospital isn’t an option. What then?”
“That’s not your problem!” Seungmin shouted, standing up. The world spun as the abrupt movement sent his vision blurring and body crumbling. Dismayed, he was proving Minho’s point; proving the facts that he vehemently refused to accept. He expected to hit the carpet in a way that would leave him aching for days, but suddenly, Minho was at his side, catching and holding his weight.
He felt tears stinging in his eyes again, a sob concealed in his throat. He couldn’t do this anymore. “Please,” he whispered, humiliated. “Please leave.” He pushed himself out of Minho’s grip as soon as he trusted himself not to fall.
With his scent radiating hurt and sadness, Minho stepped back. “I don’t…understand.” His voice came out softer, weaker, and it made Seungmin’s chest ache guiltily. He should never have allowed himself to bring Minho into this. He should have refused the omega’s offer to bandage him up, or even allow him into the building in the first place.
“You don’t need to,” Seungmin replied, deflating as his anger retreated. “I don’t want you to…I just want you to go.”
Minho shifted his weight, his throat bobbing. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” They held eye contact for a moment, before Seungmin nodded and moved to walk him to the door. The silence was a drowning sorrow that made his heart ache as he resigned to the fact that he’d be all alone again. But it was for the best. In the long run, it would be the right decision.
Before leaving, Minho met his eyes again. They were shining miserably, pitying and, for some reason, apologetic. He stepped out into the hall and the absence of his presence in the room seemed to suck the life out of it immediately. Then he turned,
“Good bye, Seungmin.”