Chapter 1: we are nothing to each other
Chapter Text
Chan looked from the assessment area to the waiting area and quickly calculated how long it would take for him and Minho to treat everyone waiting. Aeri, the third doctor on shift with them, had been pulled into majors, so it was just the two of them for the rest of the night. Chan rubbed his temples and leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of the night settling into his bones.
As he thought of getting another cup of coffee, he suddenly heard loud noises coming from the waiting area. A dark-haired figure rushed into the emergency department carrying a young man in his arms. The young man’s arm trembled as he clutched onto the one holding him.
“Please, someone help!” the man screamed, his voice cracking. Those nearby rushed to his side to assess his condition. He was sweating profusely, his body shaking, and his speech slurred as he repeated words no one could understand. Chan swiftly reacted to the unfolding situation by getting the patient on a stretcher and wheeling him into the nearest assessment room.
“Are you his partner or family?” someone had asked the dark-haired young man.
“No, I am his friend,” he answered without even looking at the person before him, quickly following the doctor who had taken his friend.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there. You have to wait here” The nurse stopped him gently, grabbing his shoulder. “Everything will be okay, please have a seat”, she continued.
Jisung looked as pale as the walls of the hospital corridors. He followed the nurse's instructions and took the nearest available seat. The waiting room was filled with people who sat quietly, hoping for good news about their loved ones. The heavy atmosphere hung over the space with thick anxiety. Jisung heard someone’s muffled cries from the corner, and his own tears began to fall. He and Felix had been friends since middle school when Jisung's parents moved, and he was seated next to Felix. That's how the two boys formed a deep bond that lasted through the years.
Minho emerged from one of the assessment rooms. Upon seeing this, a nurse quickly rushed over to inform him about the current situation Dr. Chan was overseeing. After shaking his head a little, he took a deep breath and headed towards the computer to finish the documentation. Suddenly, he paused and noticed a young man sitting in the waiting area. The man had dark hair and silently wept, tears streaming down his cheeks. Although he appeared lost in thought, his gaze was fixed on one spot. Minho was overcome with the desire to comfort the young man and wipe away his tears. Despite the man's tears, he was incredibly beautiful. Minho quickly dismissed these thoughts when he heard someone screaming from the corner assessment room.
Jisung jumped up and headed towards the source of the noise. However, he soon realised that someone was blocking his way.
“He will be okay, and he’s in good hands. I assure you, Dr. Chan is the best one we have.” Minho spoke calmly and quietly, trying to calm the young man's fears.
His eyes were red from crying as Jisung spoke in a quiet voice, “I'm so scared of losing him.”
“You won’t lose him. This isn’t something that we haven’t dealt with before. He will be okay, there are multiple treatment options…” Minho wanted to continue but suddenly felt the young man’s hand on his chest.
“You don’t understand!” Jisung almost shouted at Minho, pushing him further away. “He will refuse all of them! He is too stubborn, and he doesn’t even take his suppressants!”
Minho saw despair in his eyes. It was visible he had been drained, the weight of countless tears leaving him hollow and exhausted. Minho realised this might be more complicated than it seems.
“I will check on Dr. Chan and your friend, okay? You stay here, I promise it will be okay.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
After successfully transferring Felix onto the hospital bed, Chan started to prepare the IV drip.
“You will feel better soon, don't worry,” said Chan, calming the patient. “Any allergies?” he asked Felix to ensure he administered the correct medication.
Felix's frustration was palpable as he yelled, “I don’t want these damned drips!” With a forceful push, he shoved the bedside table, knocking the prepared items to the floor. Felix’s outburst echoed through the assessment room, tension thickening the air as he resisted the treatment to help him feel better.
“Felix, I understand you’re feeling overwhelmed right now, but refusing treatment could put your health at serious risk,” Chan spoke, his voice steady and reassuring.
“I don’t care, I don’t want any of that stuff in my body!” Felix kept yelling.
Chan started to search through the files quickly and sighed when he noticed a yellow warning pop up once he entered the omega’s name. The yellow warning, a document similar to DNAR, meant that the omega has the capacity to make a decision about their treatment even in critical heat. Since omegas were oppressed for a long time, having this autonomy over their bodies meant a lot. Chan always thought that it was an overstretch. In his opinion, he never thought that alphas should own omegas, but dying over this matter was ridiculous. There had been a case in this hospital where one of the doctors proceeded with treatment despite a yellow warning and ended up serving time in prison. No matter how much Chan wanted to help him, he could do nothing without his consent.
“But please, help me! I cannot stand this pain anymore, you must help me right now” Felix’s body was aching, he was burning up and becoming short of breath as he begged Chan.
“Felix, whilst IV treatment is the quickest and most effective way to treat your condition, there are still other options. We can try some oral medication first and see if that helps. What do you think?” Chan was hoping to get through to the patient.
“No, I don’t want any of the treatments you would usually give other omegas” Felix closed his eyes, struggling to breathe, his hand on his chest. “It hurts so much, I don’t think I can bear any more pain. I need this to end, and I need your help!” omega continued.
Felix stared into his dark brown eyes, and Chan looked at him closely, taking in every detail. He noticed the tiny freckles scattered across Felix's nose and cheeks, each adding a unique charm to his already captivating face. A few strands of blond hair were stuck to Felix's forehead, slightly damp with sweat, making him appear both vulnerable and incredibly alluring. Chan was mesmerised by Felix's beauty, feeling a pull stronger than he had ever experienced before. He seriously considered ignoring all the yellow warnings in the world just to save this beautiful omega. Even if it meant losing his license, Chan felt that ensuring Felix’s safety and well-being was worth any sacrifice. The conflict within him was intense, but nothing mattered more than Felix in this moment.
“I’m sorry, Felix. I don’t know how I can help you when you refuse all the treatment options!” The doctor raised his voice slightly in frustration.
“Not all,” said Felix. I’m sure, as a doctor, you know how they used to treat conditions like this before.” The omega tried to smirk but immediately groaned from the pain.
“What are you saying, Felix?” Chan raised his eyebrows.
“You know what I’m saying, Dr. Chan” Felix paused “You are an alpha, I can smell your pheromones. Not that you need them.”
They both heard a quick knock, and the doors opened slowly, with Minho trying to peek inside.
“Is eve—” Minho wanted to ask a question but was interrupted by Chan’s firm tone.
“Minho, please close the door and leave,” he ordered. Minho quickly closed the door and heard a lock click shortly after.
Felix and Chan looked at each other with longing gazes, their eyes locked in a moment of silent understanding. Felix slowly licked his lips, a subtle but undeniable signal of his desire. Unable to resist, Chan reached out and gently grabbed Felix's chin, lifting it slightly to ensure their eyes remained locked.
The moment hung in the air, heavy with anticipation, before Chan quickly leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in an ecstatic kiss. Felix responded immediately, his lips parting to deepen the kiss, matching Chan's passion with his own. His hands travelled up Chan’s chest under his uniform. Chan moaned into the omega’s mouth, starting to kiss him deeper and faster. The sounds of them kissing echoed through the room.
“Mmm, alpha…touch me, please,” Felix cried out when they pulled apart for a moment to catch their breath.
It had been long since Chan had been with an omega; most of his partners were betas, and he preferred it that way. Chan wouldn’t have to worry about his pheromones being too strong because betas couldn’t smell them. All the omegas always told him his pheromones were ‘too much’, which ruined their experience. These words had lingered in his mind, casting a shadow over any potential interactions with omegas, and he became too self-conscious to pursue them romantically. He had forgotten how different it is to have a connection with an omega.
Chan’s hands went under the smaller man’s t-shirt, finding his nipples and feeling the small buttons harden under the touch of his rough fingertips. Felix let out what felt like the sexiest moan Chan had ever heard, and he couldn’t resist lifting the omega’s t-shirt and sucking on his hard nipples and nibbling at them a little.
Felix was lost in his sensations. He carefully ran his fingers through Chan’s curls while squeezing Chan’s shoulder, silently asking the alpha not to stop. His mind was clouded. This strong alpha was on top of him, making him squirm underneath his weight, his pheromones soothing his pain from being in heat for too long. Felix detested alphas, and their pheromones always made him feel sick. He wasn't sure what was different about Chan or why he liked the smell of his pheromones so much. He couldn't help but lean in and bury his face in Chan's neck to inhale his scent.
“Ah, Chan… your... your pheromones…” Felix struggled to find the right words to describe how it made him feel.
"I'm sorry. Is it too strong? Do you want to stop?" Chan asked with concern as he immediately pulled himself away from the omega.
Felix gave Chan a confused look, not understanding why he would think that he wanted him to stop.
“Gods, please, don’t stop. I need your touch, I need you deep inside me and your pheromones…”, Felix leaned in close to Chan, whispering in his ear, with his lips barely brushing Chan's skin, “I want them all over my body so I can smell them long after you’ve fucked me”
Felix’s words made Chan’s head spin. Felix likes his pheromones and they aren’t too much for him. Felix’s words seemed to dull his insecurities, and Chan found himself letting go of his fears, allowing himself to stay fully present in this moment. This beautiful omega is in front of him, so vulnerable and open. He wants to make him feel good, and he doesn’t want to wait a second longer.
He sat on the bed, pulling Felix closer. He let him climb onto his lap and quickly removed his top. Chan admired the omega's body; it was so small compared to his own. He wrapped his hands around the smaller man’s body, reaching for his shoulder blades and pulling him closer to his chest. Felix groaned in frustration as Chan’s top prevented them from full skin-to-skin intimacy. He hated the barrier between them, as did Chan, so he swiftly discarded his scrubs and tossed them on the floor.
Felix moved his hips in a grinding motion, feeling Chan's arousal growing harder against him. The sensation sent a jolt straight to his lower stomach, causing his own arousal to become uncomfortably hard. The fabric of his bottoms felt tight and constricting, making him want just to tear them off. It seemed like Chan could read his mind because suddenly his hands were eagerly undoing Felix's jeans, and as they slipped lower, Chan's hands squeezed Felix's ass, causing him to arch his back in pleasure.
“Fuck, you are so beautiful. You’re perfect, Felix”, said Chan, his voice filled with a need for more.
Chan looked at Felix, and the depth of his brown eyes drew him in, like a mesmerising ocean in which he could drown willingly. Every glance between them was electric. Chan’s hands tightened on Felix’s hips, pulling him closer. The intensity of his feelings was almost overwhelming, a mix of desire and tenderness. He wanted to protect Felix and shield him from the world, but the sounds Felix was making also made him want to pleasure the omega so well that he could never forget him.
Chan slid his hand into his boxers and was pleased to feel how hard Felix was. He slowly started to stroke his length, noting that Felix was much bigger than most omegas.
“Ahh, Channie, please…can you, ahh, please put your fingers in me?” Felix begged, overwhelmed by the sensation of the alpha touching him, but he needed to feel full.
Chan slid Felix’s boxers down, squeezing his ass a couple of times more before teasing him at his entrance with his fingers. “You are so wet”, Chan commented, feeling the slick dripping down his fingers. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I promise,” said Chan as he filled his hole with two fingers. Felix gasped and naturally ground his hips, practically fucking himself on Chan’s fingers, he let out a loud sound of pleasure when Chan touched the sweet spot.
“Yes, Channie, please touch me there... A little more,” Felix whimpered, and Chan made sure to graze the spot every time his fingers went in.
The dizzying and overwhelming sensations of being caught up in a whirlwind of new experiences, Felix felt like his world had turned upside down. Being in the presence of an alpha, letting him touch him, and letting his body get what he needed was all very new to Felix. Each touch from Chan sent shivers down his spine, igniting sensations he had never felt before. The mix of vulnerability and excitement coursing through him was almost too much to bear. The warmth of Chan’s hands and the gentle yet possessive way he held him were both comforting and intoxicating. He had never felt so exposed, yet so safe, all at once.
“Felix, my sweet omega, I want to taste you” Chan looked at Felix, silently seeking permission. When the omega nodded, Chan carefully lifted Felix and placed him on the edge of the bed. He went down on his knees to position his head in between Felix’s thighs. Chan slowly licked his entrance, tasting the wetness on his tongue before pushing it slightly in, making Felix’s body tremble and causing his hips to jolt forward involuntarily.
Seeing Felix in such a state, trembling with desire and begging for more, stirred the primal part within the alpha. The sight of Felix, vulnerable yet bold in his pursuit of pleasure, ignited a fire within Chan that burnt so hot he couldn’t bear it anymore. He reached to pull his trousers off and started to pump his aching dick. With each whimper that escaped Felix's lips and every tremble that shook his body, Chan felt he would give Felix everything he desired and more. He would be the one to quench the omega's thirst, to satisfy his every craving, and to leave him breathless with pleasure.
Felix heard Chan’s breath getting faster and glanced down just to see the alpha getting off to pleasuring him. Felix's breath hitched, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped his lips. The vulnerability Felix felt in showing his raw desire suddenly didn't make him feel weak; instead, it empowered him, knowing that Chan was equally lost in the moment.
“Chan”, Felix moaned, “I need you inside me, please.”
Chan felt like he was going to combust right then and there. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, and his entire body was on fire. It was as if the world around him had dissolved, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of raw, unfiltered emotion. Gripped by a primal urge, Chan grabbed both of their cocks in his hand, marvelling at the heat and hardness of their arousal. Barely able to fit them both in his grip, Chan couldn't help but think again how big Felix was for an omega. His dick was only a little smaller than Chan's, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
“Your cock is so pretty”, Chan breathed, rubbing their tips together.
“I swear to god, if you are going to edge me any longer…” Felix groaned, but Chan interrupted him.
“What are you gonna do about it, huh?” he asked playfully.
“I’m gonna sit you the fuck down and do it myself”, Felix threatened.
“Yeah? Someone is impatient.” As soon as Chan finished his sentence, he lowered his hips and pushed himself fully into Felix. Felix opened his mouth to respond but instead gasped in surprise. The sensation that followed wasn't painful, but the feeling of fullness was overwhelming, sending a shockwave of intense pleasure through his body. His eyes widened, a mixture of astonishment and desire reflected in their depths.
Chan paused, his eyes searching Felix's face for any sign of distress. Finding none, only the raw desire that mirrored his own, he felt a rush of relief and exhilaration. Chan moved slowly, allowing Felix time to adjust, his movements gentle but filled with a growing urgency. Felix's gasp turned into a soft moan as he began to acclimate to the sensation, his body instinctively responding to Chan’s, starting to move faster. He clung to Chan, his fingers digging into his skin, his breaths coming in short, heated bursts. Every fibre of his being was attuned to Chan, and the overwhelming feeling of fullness quickly transformed into euphoric pleasure.
Chan had wholly lost himself in sensations; Felix was so tight, and he felt so good. The omega was moaning so loud, and Chan was thankful for the soundproof rooms. It would be a disaster if anyone ever discovered what was happening here. His thoughts were interrupted by Felix whispering his name. Felix's voice trembled with a mix of need and gratitude, silently urging Chan to continue, to take them both higher.
“Chan, Channie”, whispered Felix, “My alpha…fuck me harder, please.”
Somewhere in the back of Chan’s mind, he understood how wrong this was on so many levels. But right here, in this moment, he was Felix's alpha, and Felix was his omega—no one else’s. Nothing else mattered except their bodies pressed together. Every touch and caress seemed to soothe Felix's pain, replacing it with a growing sense of relief. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just them, lost in the rhythm they created together.
“Anything you wish, my omega”, Chan whispered back into Felix’s ear.
Chan's strong hands firmly held Felix’s hips, guiding their movements harder and deeper with each thrust. He could feel the vibration of Felix's body beneath his grip and hear the whimpers of pleasure that escaped his lips.
“Oh fuck, feels so good”, Felix cried out, “Just like that, oh my god, Chan, please don’t stop, harder, please.”
At this point, Chan was worried that his hold might be too tight and that he might leave bruises on Felix’s delicate skin. He tried to balance his instinctual need to possess with the deep affection and care he felt for Felix at the moment.
Felix's eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting as he surrendered to the sensations. Chan’s presence was all-consuming, and his strength and dominance made him beg for more. With every thrust, every dirty whisper, they both fell closer to the climax.
The soundproof walls held their secret, absorbing the loud gasps and moans that filled the room. Chan’s mind was a whirl of conflicting thoughts, the awareness of the situation clashing with the undeniable rightness of this moment. Here, with Felix, everything made sense. They belonged to each other in this moment, and in this swaddle of closeness, they were safe from judgement.
“Chan, I’m close” whimpered Felix
Chan took Felix’s palm and placed it onto his stiff cock that was leaking with pre cum, begging for attention.
“Yes, my pretty, touch yourself for me” ordered Chan.
Felix began jerking his aching cock as Chan’s hand remained firmly on his. He could feel an overwhelming wave of sheer pleasure building within him, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Chan’s rhythm was flawless as he moved inside the omega at a precise angle, ensuring that every thrust grazed Felix's most sensitive spot, bringing Felix to the edge of almost hypnotic bliss.
“How do you do it when no one is around?” Chan murmured in a raspy voice. Show me, you look so pretty when you desperately want to come.”
Felix felt his breath hitch, completely entranced by how Chan spoke. He wanted to be a good omega for Chan, to satisfy him, to give him everything he desired at this moment. A part of Felix hesitated to completely surrender just yet, though. Where's the fun in that?
He felt Chan’s grip loosening as the alpha was getting lost in his own pleasure. A wave of confidence washed over Felix, and with a swift and decisive movement, he acted on his instincts, using his strength to lift himself up and flip Chan onto his back, reversing their positions. Beneath him, Chan lay sprawled, his expression a blend of surprise and arousal, his chest rising and falling with the rapid rhythm of his breath.
“I can certainly show you how I do it whilst you are watching”, Felix whispered into Chan’s neck, biting but not hard enough to leave the marks.
He hated the feeling of sudden emptiness, so he quickly adjusted his position and began to ride his alpha’s cock, rapidly increasing the rhythm, his hands pressed into Chan’s knees behind him, his back arched.
“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Chan growled as he gripped Felix’s hips tight, no longer worried about leaving bruises.
He started to pound Felix hard, both men moaning in ecstasy, the air between them crackling with energy. With each arch of Felix's back, each press of his hands, they both found themselves unable to hold back much longer. Felix struggled to steady his breathing, his gaze locked onto Chan's, seeing the same burning need to let it out.
Chan felt the pressure building as his knot began to swell, ready to lock the omega down. A sudden realisation struck him in that intense moment – Felix is an omega. If Chan doesn't take control of the situation right fucking now, he's going to end up knotting Felix.
“Knot me, Chan,” grunted Felix. The omega's words cut off Chan's rapid chain of thoughts. Did he hear him correctly? Did Felix even understand the implications of what he was saying? Chan wasn’t sure, and there was no time to find out.
“Felix, no…I, I can’t, I’m not…” Chan stumbled over his words, unable to express the internal struggle he was experiencing. He knew he needed to stop it before it spiralled out of control, before everything they had here, even if it wasn’t much, was fucking destroyed. Because Chan has never knotted anyone before and the fact that he had only just met Felix a couple of hours ago made the situation even more messed up. Chan wasn’t naive; he knew people did it for the sheer pleasure of it, but he was never one of them. Knotting an omega was a serious matter; it could lead to the creation of a bond neither of them was ready for, nor needed, for that matter.
“For god's sake, Chan, just fucking do it,” Felix commanded, his tone urgent and demanding. He leaned in closer, his hand lightly pressing against Chan's throat to show that his command was more than a simple request; it was a desperate need fueled by the intensity of his heat.
Chan's instincts were screaming at him to take control. Uncertainty still gnawed at him, but Felix pressed up against his chest and kissed him so intensely that Chan thought this kiss alone was enough to bond them forever. Chan’s reaction was one of complete and utter surrender. He kissed him back, their tongues intertwining, igniting a firestorm. Chan’s thrusts turned faster and deeper, once, twice – “Fuck, Felix…Oh my god”, growled Chan as he began to lock the omega down with his knot.
Unable to contain the flood of intense emotions, Felix buried his face in Chan's neck, seeking refuge. Chan reached to stroke the omega’s length, his thumb brushing over the tip to slick his cock with precum for easier friction. He tightened his grip, giving him more pressure, and Felix couldn’t help but bite down on Chan's neck, a loud moan escaping his lips. He climaxes into Chan's hand and all over his stomach, collapsing onto Chan, utterly depleted. Chan gently cradles Felix's head against his chest, whispering, "Felix, my omega, you're amazing," As he reaches his own climax inside the omega.
They lay there like that, trying to calm their breaths, thoughts racing in their heads with lightning speed. Felix worried that the downpour of emotions would engulf him. His heart pounded against his chest like a caged animal desperate for freedom, but Chan's scent provided comfort amidst the chaos of sensation.
Chan allowed himself to relax in this seemingly perfect moment, a warm, fuzzy feeling lingering in his chest. He knew he would worry about everything else later. What mattered now was Felix, exhausted and probably emotionally overwhelmed, lying on top of him. Chan could feel the tremors of Felix's breath against his skin, each exhale reflecting a storm of emotions raging inside him. Chan wanted to take care of him and help him feel relaxed and safe. Gently, he ran his fingers through Felix's hair, silently reassuring him. Felix's mind began to slow down; his anxiety slowly ebbed away under Chan's tender touch. He could feel Chan's heartbeat, steady and reassuring, grounding him in the present. Felix couldn't help but let out a soft cry, tears spilling from his eyes onto Chan’s chest.
“You’re okay, gorgeous, you’re okay,” Chan whispered soothingly. “Felix, look at me, please,” he asked gently.
“No, I don’t want you to see me like this,” Felix murmured, burying his face deeper into Chan’s neck.
Chan raised his arm slightly, prompting Felix to lift his head slightly. He cupped Felix's cheeks, looking into his eyes with a soft smile on his lips, his thumbs softly brushing away the lingering traces of tears.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Chan said softly. “I could stare at you for hours and never need anything else.”
He gently stroked the omega’s face, his touch light and soothing. Felix felt his worries melting away, and despite the cluster of emotions, he realised that the pain from being in heat was no longer there. The knot had been released by now, and Felix found himself thinking there was no reason for Chan to stay any longer. That thought struck him deeply, like a sharp pain, piercing through the comfort and peace he had just started to feel.
Felix's eyes flickered with uncertainty as he processed the idea of Chan leaving. He had never needed anyone, never wanted anyone. Felix was used to being on his own, and that's how he liked it. He thought this must be all from the highs he had just experienced, and it would settle once this, whatever it was with Chan, was over. Felix needed this to be over. Chan's presence had stirred something deep within him, something Felix wasn't sure he was ready to confront. He wanted to retreat to the safety of his solitude, where emotions were manageable and predictable.
“Felix,” Chan said softly, noticing the shift in Felix’s expression, “Can you tell me what’s on your mind?” Chan asked.
“It’s nothing,” lied Felix.
“You don't have to push me away. I'm here now because I care about you. I know it’s messed up; I don’t know you well, but you make me wonder who you are,” admitted Chan.
Felix didn’t know how to react, and thankfully, Chan's pager went off, breaking the moment between them. The sound jolted the doctor back to reality, reminding him of his responsibilities. Guilt flooded over him as he realized he had lost track of time with Felix, leaving Minho to handle the ED patients alone.
“I’m sorry, Felix,” Chan said, his expression heavy with guilt. “I hate to do it this way, but I need to go. Can we …um, talk about this later?” He didn’t want to leave Felix like this, especially after what had just unfolded between them. He longed to talk about their connection, to let Felix know how he felt, but duty called, pulling him away from the moment he wished could last forever.
“It’s okay, Dr. Chan, I understand,” said Felix, his voice tinged with relief. He wasn't ready to talk about what had happened, not now, not ever. “Thank you for…” Felix paused, searching for the right words. “For helping me deal with this,” he finished his sentence, trying to sound nonchalant as if it were no big deal. Hiding his real emotions behind a facade, he added, “Ehmm, it was fun!”
Hearing Felix call him “Dr. Chan” sent a dull ache through Chan's chest. It was a stark contrast to the warm ‘Channie’ that had escaped Felix’s lips earlier, a nickname Felix made up whilst being caught up in the moment of their connection. Chan liked it so much but was too afraid to mention it. And now, as Felix spoke those formal words, Chan couldn't help but feel heavy-hearted. He noticed the forced tone in Felix's voice and how he tried to brush off the significance of their encounter. Clearly, Felix was trying to protect himself and distance himself from Chan. As much as Chan wanted to reach out to reassure Felix that it was okay to feel vulnerable, he knew he had to respect Felix's boundaries.
“We’re nothing to each other”, Chan thought, a feeling of disappointment settling over him. The contrast between the intimate connection they had shared just moments ago and the casual dismissal of Felix’s words now felt like a chasm opening between them. He understood that Felix needed space, needed to process everything on his own terms. But maybe there was nothing to process. Perhaps this is what Felix wanted, Chan to help him with his condition – and he is the one who had imagined something that wasn’t real. Unfortunately, that didn’t make it any easier to walk away. The warmth of Felix’s body still lingered on his skin, a tangible reminder of what they had shared, however brief.
“Anytime, Felix,” Chan replied softly, forcing a smile to mask the ache in his heart. “Take care of yourself.”
With a final, lingering glance, Chan turned and left, each step feeling heavier than the last. As he made his way back to the waiting room, the noise and chaos of the hospital seemed distant, muffled by the thoughts swirling in his mind.
Felix watched Chan leave, a mix of relief and sadness washing over him. He had convinced himself that keeping distance was the best way to protect his heart, yet some of him regretted not letting Chan in just a little more. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his conflicted emotions. “It’s better this way,” he told himself, hoping the ache in his chest would soon fade.
“Dr. Chan, is the patient okay? Dr. Minho ensured a bed was available upstairs whenever the patient was ready to transfer.” A nurse rushed to assure Chan.
“No need. Please start the discharge paperwork. Thank you, Sister Gina,” Chan said, trying to refocus on his duties. The nurse nodded and hurried off to complete the necessary paperwork.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
The nurse had told Jisung that his friend was ready to go home and asked him if he had a means of transport to take the patient home. Jisung nodded, but he was confused. How was it possible that Felix could go home so soon?
“Doesn’t he need admission? Isn’t that usually what happens?” he asked the nurse.
“Usually, yes,” the nurse replied, “but your friend seems to have improved much quicker, so he can go home now.”
“I see. Thank you for your help,” said Jisung.
Felix showed up shortly afterwards. He didn't look sick anymore, but Jisung saw the heavy worries etched on Felix’s face.
“Felix! I was so worried”, Jisung exclaimed and immediately hugged his friend “Are you feeling better?”
Felix managed a weak smile. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
As they walked towards the exit, Jisung couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Felix was physically better, but the weight of something unsaid hung heavily over him. Jisung decided not to press Felix for details right now, sensing that his friend needed space.
As the doors shut behind the two friends leaving the ED, Minho’s loud voice echoed through the walls, startling everyone nearby.
“YOU DID WHAT?!”
Chapter 2: sweet dreams
Notes:
As promised, I'm back with the second chapter :) I hope you like it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jisung was relieved to know Felix was safe, but he hoped Felix would soon open up about what was troubling him. He didn’t want his friend to keep bottling his emotions. Their drive had been mostly silent, with only gentle rhythms of chill music playing softly in the background.
As they pulled into the driveway, the first light of dawn began to paint the sky with soft hues of orange and pink. Jisung turned off the engine and sat for a moment, appreciating the peaceful morning stillness. He took a deep breath, the crisp air filling his lungs, and looked over at Felix, who was staring out the window, lost in thought.
“Felix,” Jisung said softly, breaking the silence. “I’m really glad you’re okay. You know you can tell me anything, right?”
Felix sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I know, Jisung. It’s just... complicated.”
“Are you hungry? Do you want me to make something for us?” Jisung asked, changing the topic because he didn’t want to push Felix too far if he wasn’t ready to talk.
“I think I need to get some sleep first if that’s okay. Thank you, Jisung. Really, thank you so much for being my friend and thank you for… well, saving my life today,” Felix said, his words coming out more casual than he intended. He wanted to let Jisung know just how grateful he was to have a friend like him and how much it meant to him. But Felix felt numb, unable to express any of the emotions right now. The weight of the night pressed down on him, creating a barrier between his heart and his words.
Jisung reached out and gave Felix's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “Get some rest.”
Felix made his way to his room, the familiar surroundings felt comforting. The walls were painted a soothing shade of light grey, decorated with posters of his favourite bands and framed photographs showcasing memories of him and Jisung. A string of warm fairy lights hung above the bed, adding to the room’s cosy atmosphere.
Felix plunked himself on the bed that was covered with a soft yellow duvet and a heap of plush pillows next to a large window draped with sheer curtains that allowed the first light of morning to filter in softly. He knew he needed to sort through his emotions and the chaos inside him. But for now, all he could manage was the overwhelming need to escape into sleep, hoping it would make it all go away.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jisung lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing as sleep continued to elude him. It had always been this way, ever since he was a child. Strong emotions would wrap around his thoughts like an iron grip, refusing to let go. He would remain calm during stressful situations, handling every crisis with a steady hand and never allowing panic to seep into his actions. But once the adrenaline wore off and the chaos settled, the anxiety would creep in, filling the quiet with a suffocating weight and keeping sleep just out of reach.
He gave up on trying to sleep and reached for his phone, hoping that watching some videos might lull him into rest. As he turned on the screen, the time glared back at him: 5:35 AM.
His eyes caught a notification—a message from an unknown number. Curiosity piqued, he opened it.
Unknown:
Hi, I hope you don’t mind me texting you.
Unknown:
I just wanted to check on you, to see if you are okay. Sorry I couldn’t come back to comfort you more, I know it was very hard for you.
Unknown:
This is Minho, btw, from ED.
He reread the messages, feeling a surge of unexpected warmth. Minho, from the ED. He remembered his kindness, calm presence amidst the chaos, and how Minho’s eyes had met him with a reassuring steadiness during the crisis.
His fingers hovered over the screen, unsure of what to type. The words felt inadequate, but he wanted to thank Minho for his extended kindness.
Jisung: Thank you, Minho. I really appreciate you checking in. It means a lot. Tonight was... tough. But you helped a lot. Thanks again.
Jisung responded, but a ton of questions suddenly entered his mind. How did Minho even have his number? They had barely spoken, so why would he reach out to him personally? Jisung was certain that Minho would offer the same support to anyone else, yet something about him reaching out felt different, more personal.
His phone buzzed again, jolting him from his thoughts—another message from Minho.
Minho: I got your number from the emergency contact list. I hope that’s okay. You seemed really shaken, and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.
It would make sense that Minho could pull up his contact number from the records, but…
Jisung: Dr. Minho, isn’t getting someone’s emergency contact number for personal purposes breaching? 😉
Jisung hesitated, unsure whether to add a wink emoji. What exactly was he trying to do here? Before he could overthink it, he tapped send.
Several minutes passed without a response from Minho. Jisung began to worry that he might have said the wrong thing and upset Minho. But what troubled him even more was why he cared so much.
On the other side, Minho was sitting on a green couch in the staff room, waiting for Chan to finish showering so they could both go home. Minho and Chan were neighbours, so they took turns driving to work when they had shifts together.
Minho hoped Jisung wasn’t actually upset that he had used his position to get his number. He had hesitated a lot before texting him that morning, but the image of the cute boy with curly hair and chubby cheeks was imprinted in his mind. It was all he could think about, which was embarrassing for Minho, a serious ED doctor, not a 15-year-old girl.
He debated whether to explain himself or brush it off as a joke. As he hesitated, Chan emerged from the shower room, looking exhausted. Minho saw the countless worries on his face and felt guilty for shouting at him earlier.
When Chan told him what happened with Felix, Minho was stunned. It sounded like a TV drama, not something real, especially not involving his best friend. Shocked, his first reaction was to scold Chan.
“Chan, for fuck's sake, you’re a doctor! You could’ve lost your license!” Minho shouted.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Chan snapped back. “I just... I don’t know, Minho, he was fucking dying! What was I supposed to do?”
“So, you saved him with your dick, huh?” Minho asked.
“You know, Minho, that is exactly what happened!” Chan said, dropping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You forgot the part where you enjoyed it, and now you’re whipped for him,” Minho laughed. “Seriously, Chan, you’re not the type to be easily smitten. What's so special about this omega? Besides, didn’t you say you were staying away from omegas?” Minho continued.
“I don't know,” Chan admitted. “Something about him feels different. He didn’t even mind my pheromones, which had never happened before. At some point, I just lost it at the thought of being unable to save him. But you're right; that wasn't the only reason I did it, and I feel extremely fucking guilty about it. I couldn't control myself when he was looking at me like that, begging.” Chan tried to explain to Minho.
“That's heavy, Chan. What do you want to do about it now?” asked Minho.
“I'll give Felix some space and check on him later. I need to make sure that…” Chan paused, knowing what he was about to say would make Minho scold him even more. “We kind of didn’t use any protection, and I also, um… knotted him,” Chan admitted, looking down to avoid his friend’s eyes.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” Minho's loud voice echoed through the walls, startling everyone nearby.
Minho thought this couldn’t get any worse, but here they were. He scolded Chan for being too reckless, recounting all kinds of scary stories about what could happen with him and Felix now. Minho wanted to continue, but he realised that his friend might start crying at any moment and decided to stop. He knew that Chan needed support right now, and he was going to help him, but he needed to process this whole thing first.
As their night shift neared its end, and once the day shift arrived and the handover was complete, Minho and Chan headed to the lockers to change into their regular clothes.
“You look awful, Dr. Chan,” Minho remarked. “Let’s get going. You need to sleep more than anything. We can worry about everything else later,” he added.
Chan nodded, grabbed his bag, and moved toward the doors. As they walked through the hospital corridors, the early morning light filtering through the windows, Minho couldn't help but feel a wave of sympathy for his friend.
“Chan, we'll figure this out,” Minho said softly as they stepped outside into the cool morning air. “Just get some rest”.
Chan sighed, feeling a bit of the weight lift off his shoulders. “Thanks, Minho. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
They reached Minho's car, and the night's exhaustion began to settle as they got in. Minho drove in silence for a while, giving Chan the space to collect his thoughts. Finally, Chan spoke up.
“I just... I never expected to feel this way about anyone, especially not so suddenly. Felix is different, and I can't ignore that. But I'm scared, Minho. Scared of what this means for my career, for my life.”
Minho nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “It's complicated, Chan, but you're not alone in this. We'll figure out a way to handle it. Right now, focus on getting some rest. Everything will seem a bit clearer after some sleep.”
As they pulled up to Chan's house, Minho turned to him. “Call me if you need anything, okay? And promise me you'll try to get some rest.”
“I will,” Chan replied, giving Minho a grateful look. “Thanks again.”
Minho watched Chan disappear into his house and suddenly remembered he had forgotten to reply to Jisung. He pulled out his phone and quickly started to type.
Minho: Maybe it is a little breaching, but I had to make sure you’re okay :)
Minho decided to keep the message lighthearted rather than overexplaining, hoping to keep the conversation flowing naturally.
He wondered whether Jisung knew about what happened with Felix and Chan. If Jisung did know, would he still speak so nicely to Minho? Realising he didn’t know how Felix felt or what Felix had told Jisung—or might tell him—Minho felt a pang of uncertainty. He hoped Felix was doing okay, but seeing Chan's state, he severely doubted it. Hesitating a little, Minho decided to send Jisung another text.
He took a deep breath and typed:
Minho: Btw, how’s Felix doing? I hope he’s alright.
Minho knew exactly what he was doing—trying to find out how much Jisung knew. He hoped this would provide some insight without raising suspicion. As he hit send, he anxiously awaited Jisung's response. A few minutes later, his phone buzzed with a new message.
Jisung: Felix is okay, I guess. He's been pretty quiet about everything, but that's typical for him. How are you doing, Minho?
Minho smiled faintly. Jisung's response didn't give away much, but it hinted that Felix hadn't shared the full extent of what had happened. He felt Jisung needed to know the full story. With the full picture, Jisung could support Felix, and together, they might help both Felix and Chan to deal with this. Minho believed both Chan and Felix needed to have a strong support system right now. But it wasn’t Minho’s place to tell him.
Minho: Just finished a night shift, so I’m pretty wiped out haha. You must be tired from being awake the whole night too, you should get some sleep.
Jisung: I can’t sleep
Minho frowned at his phone, concerned despite not knowing Jisung well yet. This is the thing about Minho—he's always concerned but not always able to show it. Somehow, it was easier with this boy he had just barely met. There was something very reassuring about him, something that slowed Minho’s racing mind. He thought for a moment before typing his next message.
Minho: If you can't sleep, how about a call? Talking always helps me.
There was a pause, and Minho wondered if he'd overstepped. Just as he was about to put his phone away, it buzzed again.
Jisung: Yeah, maybe you're right. Give me a sec.
Minho took a deep breath and dialled Jisung's number. It rang a couple of times before Jisung picked up.
“Hi,” Jisung's voice sounded tired.
“Hey,” Minho replied softly.
It was a little awkward at the beginning, but they quickly warmed up to each other and started talking about different things, like Jisung asking Minho about his work in ED and Minho trying to find out more about Jisung. Their conversation soon flowed naturally, with laughter and genuine interest sparking between them.
“Wow, that's incredible!” Minho exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “So you’re just waiting for your first placement as a junior doctor?”
“Yeah, Felix and I are both on pins and needles,” Jisung replied, his excitement palpable. “Letter should be arriving any minute now.”
“Oh, I know, it’s nerve-wracking” Minho chuckled softly. “What is your chosen speciality?” he asked enthusiastically.
“Renal,” Jisung answered with a smile that Minho couldn’t see. “There is something captivating about it. It's like solving a puzzle, piecing together the complexities of kidney disease.”
“That's amazing,” Minho said, “What led you to choose renal?”
“Funny story, actually”, Jisung laughed as he reminisced. “Back in med school, I was all over the map. But then this renal specialist came to speak to us. The passion in his voice and how he described his experiences just resonated with me. From that moment on, I knew it was my calling.”
As they shared stories and laughed about their memories from med school, Jisung felt a soft yawn escape him. Minho's gentle, soothing voice was hypnotic, lulling him into slumber. Before realising it, Jisung found himself drifting away into the realm of dreams guided by Morpheus's gentle touch.
Continuing to talk, Minho paused expectantly, only to be met with silence from the other end. Frowning slightly, he strained to catch any sound. It didn't take long for him to discern a soft, rhythmic noise coming from Jisung's side of the call.
Minho listened intently, his ears picking up the unmistakable sound of gentle snoring. Chuckling to himself, he realised that Jisung had drifted off to sleep, the phone positioned so close to his face that Minho could hear every exhale. “Sweet dreams,” whispered Minho, ending the call with a fond smile. He realised he was still in Chan’s driveway, and suddenly, the fatigue of the shift caught up with him. Hurriedly starting the car, he drove just a few houses down.
Minho's mind wandered back to his conversation with Jisung, the image of him vivid in his thoughts. Dark, curly hair that falls slightly long, framing his face. Plump and endearing cheeks that add a youthful charm to his appearance. His large eyes, drawing attention with their expressive gaze. But it was Jisung's lips that lingered in Minho's memory the most. Soft and inviting, tinted with a delicate shade of pink that seemed to beckon to him. Lost in thought, Minho found himself longing for the next opportunity to see the boy again. Is this what Chan feels about Felix? This warmth towards a virtual stranger?
Jisung was out like a light, snuggled up with his favourite dino plushie. It was one of those rare moments where it felt like he'd found the secret to a good night's sleep. The kind where you're so comfy and cosy, it's like you're wrapped up in a cloud. He was so relaxed, as if he hadn't slept that soundly in forever. Maybe it was the exhaustion from worrying about Felix, or maybe it was the magic of Minho’s calming energy.
The coils of unconsciousness were gently weaving around his mind, drawing him into the depths of his imagination. Jisung was, without a doubt, a vivid dreamer — something he considered both a blessing and a curse. Sure, he got to explore all sorts of crazy scenarios in his sleep, but he would also suffer from nightmares. They stuck around like unwelcome guests, ruining his mornings. Today, however, the realm of dreams seemed poised to offer him something different.
A gentle whisper tickled his ear. He could feel the warmth and sensation of another person pressed snugly against his back, their presence comforting and arousing at the same time. Soft fingers trailed along his arm, leaving a tingling sensation, followed by whispered words that stirred a flutter in his chest.
“You’re so cute, baby boy,” the voice whispered. Jisung recognised it immediately—it was Minho’s voice. Turning to face him, Jisung was met with the softest smile, Minho’s eyes shining with warmth but also something else – desire? Minho’s fingers now trailed along Jisung’s thighs, gently squeezing occasionally, sending a rush of warmth. He pulled Jisung closer, their bodies pressed tightly together, Minho’s hand firmly on his ass now.
“I wanna make you all hot and bothered,” Minho murmured, leaning close to Jisung’s ear, his lips gently brushing over the earlobe. “If you let me.”
Jisung hummed in response, unable to form words as he melted under Minho’s strong hands. He leaned in intuitively, longing for Minho’s lips to touch his.
“Uh uh,” Minho murmured, pressing his finger lightly against Jisung’s soft lips. “You gotta deserve that first, sweetheart.”
Jisung let out a whine of protest when Minho denied him what he wanted. He was desperate, the need for Minho’s lips growing stronger with each breath he took. His eyes pleaded, hoping to convince Minho to give in.
“You’re so adorable with your little puppy eyes”, remarked Minho. “But you’re gonna have to do a little more than that.”
Minho squeezed his ass hard, making the younger man squirm. Jisung pushed his hips forward, seeking friction, his desperation evident as he moved against Minho, trying to satisfy the burning desire building inside him. He let out a soft moan when he felt Minho’s cock getting hard against his thigh.
Minho looked at him for a long moment, gauging him. “How good are you at taking orders, kitten?” Minho’s fingers continued their teasing exploration, squeezing and caressing, driving Jisung to the edge of his self-control.
“Real good”, Jisung breathed out.
“Very good” Minho purred, licking his lips. “I’m gonna need you to listen carefully to my instructions.” He trailed his lips along Jisung’s jawline, sending shivers down his spine. “Onto your back,” he commanded.
Jisung obeyed without hesitation, quickly positioning himself on his back, his head resting on the pillows behind him. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked up at Minho, anticipation and desire written all over his face. Minho’s eyes roamed over Jisung’s body, taking in the sight of him sprawled out and ready.
“Good boy,” he murmured, his voice a blend of approval and lust. “I’m gonna need you to cum nicely for me, understood?”
“Y-yes,” Jisung managed to blurt out, his voice shaky.
Minho climbed over Jisung, positioning himself so their bodies were aligned, and leaned down to press little kisses on Jisung’s shoulder. Minho’s hands took on a mind of their own, roaming freely, exploring every inch of Jisung’s body. He took his time, savouring each touch, gasp, and moan that escaped Jisung’s lips. Jisung tried to keep his cool, but his dick gave him away as Minho slowly tugged the younger’s boxers down to just below his knees.
“Keep your hands above your head,” Minho instructed, pulling back to look into Jisung’s eyes. “Don’t move them unless I say so.”
Jisung nodded, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He lifted his arms and placed his hands above his head, gripping the pillow tightly to keep himself steady.
“You like that, don’t you?” Minho whispered, his voice low and husky. Jisung could only nod, his breath hitching as he felt Minho’s hand move lower, teasingly brushing against his twitching cock.
“Please,” Jisung managed to gasp, his voice a mix of desperation and desire. “I need you, Minho.”
Minho’s lips curled into a mischievous smile as he watched Jisung writhe beneath him. “Oh, I know you do, baby boy,” he replied, his voice dripping with intent. “And I promise, I’ll give you everything you want. But first, you have to be a good boy for me.”
Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut as he tried to regain his composure, willing himself to focus on Minho’s words. He would do anything to feel Minho’s lips on his, to have that connection he craved so desperately.
Minho spat in his hand and wrapped it around Jisung’s cock, sliding it up and down his length. Jisung bit the back of his hand to hold back a loud moan, overwhelmed by the sensations.
“That won’t do,” Minho said, suddenly stopping his touches. His tone turned serious as he added, “I want to hear every sound that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours.” Minho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I thought I told you to keep your hands still.”
Jisung’s eyes widened with a mix of apology and frustration. He quickly moved his hand back above his head and whispered a little, “I’m sorry”, his voice trembling with need.
Minho’s expression softened slightly, but his command remained firm. “Just remember, if you disobey again, I will stop altogether.”
Jisung nodded quickly, understanding the seriousness in Minho’s voice. He bit his lip, determined to follow Minho’s instructions. With that, Minho resumed, his hands handling Jisung’s body with renewed intensity. Every touch was calculated to draw out the most exquisite sounds from Jisung’s lips. This time, Jisung let himself go, moaning freely as Minho’s hands worked their magic, the room filled with the sounds of his pleasure.
Jisung started to pump his hips, fucking into Minho’s fist in quick, rhythmic thrusts. And Minho let him, revelling in the sight. He loved seeing Jisung like this, desperately seeking pleasure, his body responding eagerly to every touch. Jisung's moans grew louder, filling the room with a raw need. Minho's eyes drank in the sight of him, completely lost in the moment, his movements becoming more frantic and urgent.
“That's it," Minho murmured, his voice thick. "Show me how much you want it.”
Encouraged by Minho's words, Jisung’s hips bucked harder, the friction intensifying with the sensations coursing through him. His fingers dug into the pillow above his head, his knuckles turning white as he held on, letting Minho's hand guide him to the brink of ecstasy.
“You did so well, baby” cooed Minho. “Such a good pet for me”
“Please, Minho, kiss me.” Jisung looked at Minho from under his lashes, still quivering from his orgasm.
Minho’s smile widened, and he leaned in, his lips hovering just above Jisung’s. “Good boy,” he murmured before finally closing the distance, capturing Jisung’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss.
Jisung batted his eyes open, blinking rapidly a few times in confusion. “What the heck,” he said as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The remnants of the dream lingered in his mind, the sensations still vivid and real, but the abrupt return to reality left him disoriented. He glanced around the room, searching for any sign of Minho or the dream that had felt so incredibly lifelike just moments ago.
“Oh, for fucks sake!” he groaned as he looked down.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Felix woke up feeling as if he'd been asleep for an eternity. As he groggily sat up and stretched, he noticed his digital clock's display was blank. He picked up his phone from the nightstand, but it was dead, too. He had no idea what time it was, and the light filtering through the window was muted, making it hard to tell whether it was dawn or dusk. His body felt sticky, drenched in sweat, and all he could think about was a nice, warm shower.
He went to the bathroom, eager for the comfort of running water. He felt a sharp twinge of discomfort as he lightly grazed his hips. Glancing into the mirror, he was startled to find tiny bruises scattered across his hips.
As he delicately touched his body, fragments of yesterday's events began to resurface in his mind. He paused at his lips, lightly brushing them with his fingertips, gasping into the silence. Memories of Chan’s hands on his body, his lips on his, and his soft, soothing voice flooded back. Felix felt tears welling up, his throat tightening as they threatened to escape.
In the background of his thoughts, Felix heard a quiet knock on his door, followed by the sound of it slowly creaking open.
“Felix?” asked Jisung, searching for Felix in his room.
Felix wanted to leave the bathroom to say something but was too frozen to move. His tears started to spill, with the quiet sobs he tried to suppress. Jisung must have heard him crying because he suddenly barged into the bathroom, looking worried, his eyes frantically searching for Felix. He found him sitting on the floor, holding his head and fingers nervously running through his hair. Jisung immediately recognised that Felix was distressed. This was one of Felix's telltale signs—he was picking at his scalp, a habit he often resorted to when overwhelmed.
Jisung quietly sat in front of Felix, lightly touching his knees to let him know he was there with him. They sat in silence for several long moments, Jisung noticing Felix's sobs becoming less frequent as he began to calm down.
“Ji, I fucked up”, Felix finally said as he lifted his head to look at his friend. His expression was numb, like he had run out of energy to feel anything.
“What happened, Lix?” Jisung asked quietly, taking Felix’s hand in his to comfort him.
So Felix poured out his heart. He recounted every agonising detail of what happened in the ED that night. How he was consumed by pain and just wanted it to go away, how he had never experienced a heat this strong before. He told him how he begged Chan to help him, how, in that moment, he couldn’t think about anything else, and how good it felt to give in, to give his body what it needed.
“And that is fucking terrifying, Ji!” shouted Felix, his voice cracking with emotion. “I'm not supposed to be like this. I don't need an alpha,” he added, the words tumbling out in a rush.
“I know, Lix, I know,” said Jisung softly, his heart aching for his friend, urging him to release the flood of emotions pent up inside.
“But it wasn't just physical,” Felix continued, his voice now choked with tears that began to collect at the corners of his eyes again.
He confessed to Jisung how Chan stood out from every other alpha he'd encountered and how his very presence made him feel so safe. He admitted that he didn't want Chan to leave, how his pheromones smelled exactly like the comfort-scented pillow from his childhood, and that he wanted him to stay forever. Lastly, he told Jisung that he and Chan might have accidentally bonded, or worse, Felix was at risk of becoming pregnant.
“Shit, Felix, I'm so sorry,” Jisung said, his voice heavy with regret. “I couldn't even begin to imagine that's what happened.” He pulled Felix closer, enveloping him in a tight hug. “We'll figure it out, Lix. You're not alone, okay? You have me,” he reassured, his hand gently stroking the back of Felix’s head.
Jisung's blood boiled with anger. He seethed at the thought of Chan taking advantage of an omega in heat. This should have never happened. But right now, Felix needed him. He needed his support and tenderness, and Jisung would give it to him. He would deal with Chan later. For now, all that mattered was being there for Felix in his time of need.
Jisung helped Felix bathe, making sure he felt refreshed and cared for. He then prepared a fresh set of comfy clothes, selecting each item carefully. As he glanced at the array of food he had ordered, Jisung realised he might have gone overboard, but he shrugged it off, knowing that Felix deserved all the comfort he could get.
With a warm smile, Jisung suggested they have a movie night, complete with cuddles and a temporary escape from the world. It was a simple thing, but he hoped it would bring Felix a moment of peace.
Jisung wrapped his arm around Felix, pulling him close as they settled onto the couch. Felix nestled against Jisung's side, finding comfort in the warmth of his body. They formed a cosy cocoon with their legs entwined and their bodies pressed close together. Felix rested his head on Jisung's chest, and Jisung's other hand gently stroked Felix's back, tracing soothing circles as they both focused on the movie playing on the screen. Occasionally, one of them would reach for the popcorn bowl or grab a handful of snacks.
They ended up watching “My Neighbour Totoro,” an animation Jisung knew Felix would choose. It had been Felix's ultimate comfort movie ever since they first watched it during a particularly hard time in his life. Felix had once told Jisung that Totoro felt like his spirit animal, bringing him a sense of safety and calm.
As the opening song played, Jisung glanced over at Felix, remembering how he would listen to it almost on repeat whenever anxiety waves crashed over him. Seeing Felix now, wrapped up in the familiar scenes of the film, Jisung felt a tug at his heart. Part of him longed to pretend that everything was okay, to snuggle together on the couch and lose themselves in the enchanting world of Totoro. But Jisung wasn't one to bury his feelings or ignore the truth.
Quietly, he pulled out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly as he opened the chat with Minho. With a mixture of frustration and anger bubbling inside him, he typed out his message:
Jisung: Minho, you fuckin’ asshole. You knew about what happened, didn't you?!
Notes:
thank you for reading! What do you think will come next?
Chapter 3: don't you cry tonight
Notes:
This one is a little emotional, hope you enjoy :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Minho had been awake for a while, debating whether he should check on Chan. Jisung was still on his mind; he wondered if Jisung had slept well after their call ended. Part of him wanted to send a text to ask, but he didn’t want to seem overbearing. Just as he grabbed his phone to call Chan, it buzzed in his hand. Seeing Jisung’s name pop up brought a smile to his face. However, that smile quickly vanished as he read the text.
Jisung: Minho, you fuckin’ asshole. You knew about what happened, didn't you?!
“Shit,” Minho muttered, running his fingers across his face. That means Felix talked, and he had no idea what Felix had told Jisung. Not that it wouldn’t sound bad either way. His mind was racing, creating thousands of scenarios, and he had to shake his head to snap himself out of it. He didn’t know what to say. He started to type a response but quickly deleted it. What could he possibly say to make Jisung not mad? But Minho didn’t have to think about what to text anymore, as Jisung was calling him just a moment later.
Startled, Minho dropped his phone. He quickly picked it up from the floor and hit answer, his heart pounding with nervousness.
“Hello?”
“What the hell, Minho?” Jisung's voice was laced with anger.
“Jisung, I’m sorry,” Minho sighed deeply. “It wasn’t my place to tell you.”
“But it was your place to keep your fucking department in check! What the hell, Minho? I thought this kind of thing only happened in shitty dramas!” Jisung's yelling was relentless, and Minho completely understood. If their roles were reversed, he would have done a lot worse than just yelling. Minho realised he hadn’t thought this through before deciding to talk to Jisung this morning.
“Jisung, please,” Minho tried to come up with the right words. “I completely understand, and I don’t want to make excuses, but can you please hear me out? I want to try and explain,” he pleaded.
“No fucking way,” Jisung snapped. “You aren’t explaining anything. I want to hear what the one who did this to Felix has to say.” His tone was dead serious. “I need the address, now.”
Minho's heart sank. He hadn't expected Jisung's reaction to escalate to this level. Now, he was panicking; he didn't know what to do for the first time in his life.
“Let's talk this through calmly. I understand your anger, but we need to handle this carefully,” Minho tried to reason, but his own words felt hollow, even to him. “ What the hell are you saying, Minho? This isn’t the time to go all professional”, he scolded himself in his head.
"Handle this carefully? Ah, so that’s why you fucking sweet-talked me this morning, yeah? Because you want to keep your friend’s dirty deeds under wraps?" Jisung's voice was rising, each word a dagger aimed at Minho's conscience. "You’re a fucking shitty doctor, Minho. I hope you know it."
Minho winced at the words, each one striking like a physical blow. His chest tightened with guilt. He had never felt so helpless, so utterly powerless.
“Jisung, no”, Minho said, “Our morning talk has nothing to do with this.”
“I don’t care. This isn’t about us, I don’t even fucking know you,” Jisung snarled, his tone bitter. “Address or I’m gonna report this straight away,” reminded Jisung.
Minho hesitated, but he knew that whatever Jisung was planning would probably still be better than the fallout if this were reported to the board. He honestly couldn’t imagine someone like Jisung doing anything to anyone, but despite his doubts, he had to remind himself that he didn’t know Jisung well enough to predict his actions.
“Okay, I’ll send you the address. But I will be there too,” Minho said finally, his voice tense.
“Sweet,” said Jisung with sarcasm, and he hung up, leaving Minho with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Felix had now fallen asleep on the couch, his breathing steady and peaceful. Jisung carefully placed him in a comfortable position, tucking a soft blanket around him to keep him warm. He hurriedly put on his coat and shoes, trying not to wake his friend. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as he searched frantically for his car keys. He wasn't even sure what he was going to say to Chan once he saw him. Jisung wasn't an aggressive person; he hated confrontations and arguments. He was the complete opposite of what he had just shown Minho.
His knees trembled slightly with a mix of anger and nerves. Despite his determination, Jisung knew he was still very much shaken up. He decided he would just have to figure out what to do as he went along, trusting his instincts.
“Sung, you’re leaving?” Jisung heard a soft voice just as he reached the door. He froze, realising that he must have woken Felix up. He turned slowly to face him.
Felix looked at him with sleepy eyes and concern in his expression. Jisung hesitated, unsure of how to explain to Felix that he was going to confront the alpha who had hurt him. He knew Felix would try to stop him, and deep down, he knew that Felix would succeed.
Taking a deep breath, Jisung forced himself to meet Felix's gaze. “Yeah, Felix,” he said softly, “I need to take care of something. I'll be back soon, I promise.”
“I don’t like this,” Felix said, sitting up quickly, his expression concerned. “I don’t know what you're planning, but I’m coming with you,” he declared.
At this moment, Jisung hated how well Felix knew him; after all their years of friendship, they could practically read each other like open books. It was hard to hide anything from Felix; he seemed to see and hear everything.
Reluctantly, Jisung nodded, knowing he couldn't argue with Felix. “Okay,” he said, “Let's go.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho dialled Chan’s number as quickly as he could. It took Chan a hot minute to pick up, his voice thick with sleep.
"Chan, wake the fuck up," Minho barked urgently, leaving no room for argument. "We have a problem. I need you to come over to mine, like right now."
“Shit, okay. I’ll be there in five,” said Chan. Minho was a serious man, and if he said it was urgent, then Chan believed him. He would ask questions later.
Minho thought that giving his address was a better idea, at least then Jisung wouldn't know where Chan lived. You know, just in case. Maybe Minho was paranoid, but you can never be too careful. He didn’t really care if Jisung knew where he lived.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“We’re going to see Chan, aren’t we?” said Felix with suspicious calm.
“How did you know?” Jisung asked.
“Superpowers,” chuckled Felix, trying to lighten the mood. But when Jisung didn’t laugh, he continued, “I might have overheard you shouting. You were super loud.”
Of course Felix would pretend to sleep. Jisung should’ve known better.
“Seriously, Lix, how can you be so calm right now?” Jisung questioned, his voice frustrated.
“I don’t know, Ji. I think I’m a little numb,” Felix admitted, “My world has just turned upside down; I think I’m still processing.” He let out an awkward laugh.
Felix had never imagined that he would have to face Chan so soon. But after his mind had calmed down and his head was much clearer, he realised this might be good. He would talk to him and get it over with quickly, and then they would never have to see each other again. The truth was, Felix didn’t regret what had happened. Sure, he had trouble understanding why, but he didn’t regret it like he thought he would.
He decided he would simply accept it. There had been so many challenges Felix had to come to peace with since birth; what was one more thing added to the list? He could just forget about this and move on. Felix just hoped that no accidental bond had formed between him and Chan. He had read that bonding was rare, though, especially if it was his first time getting knotted.
“Who did you talk to on the phone, anyway?” asked Felix, breaking the silence as they drove.
“Minho,” said Jisung. “He’s another doctor from the ED. I spoke to him when you were…” Jisung paused for a second, choosing his words carefully. “…getting treated.”
“How do you have his number?” Felix raised his eyebrows.
“Long story,” said Jisung, and Felix sensed that he wouldn't get more from him at this point, so he let the matter drop.
“Jisung,” said Felix, giggling and clearly holding back his laughter.
“What?” asked Jisung, slight annoyance in his voice.
“You know you went fucking brutal on the phone,” Felix said between laughs. “That is not you in real life. How are you planning to keep up with that image?” Felix was no longer holding back as he dropped his head and started laughing loudly.
They pulled up into what they thought was Chan’s driveway but was actually Minho’s. Jisung gripped the steering wheel tightly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steady himself. Felix, on the other hand, seemed relaxed. They got out of the car and stood in front of the doors. Jisung suddenly felt like he was going to throw up, his anxiety choking him. Felix noticed Jisung’s heavy breaths as he tried to stave off a panic attack.
“Sung, hey,” Felix said gently, grabbing his hand. “We don’t have to go in there. We can just go home and forget about this,” he suggested.
“No, Felix, we cannot just go home and forget about this! He must take responsibility,” Jisung snapped, his anger flaring up and pushing the anxiety to the background. Felix was so calm that Jisung felt he needed to carry the anger for both of them.
Felix looked at Jisung with concern, "Alright, but let's take this one step at a time. We confront him, but we stay calm and in control, okay?" he said, squeezing Jisung's hand.
“I will make no promises,” Jisung barked as he turned towards the door and pressed the doorbell so hard that he heard his nail snap under the pressure.
They waited, the seconds stretching into what felt like an eternity until, finally, the door creaked open.
“Of course it’s you,” moaned Jisung, his face twisting with irritation as he saw Minho standing in the doorway.
“Jisung, I told you I was going to be here too,” Minho replied, equally annoyed. He stepped aside to let them in, and that’s when he noticed Jisung wasn’t alone.
“Why did you bring Felix with you? He should be resting,” Minho asked, a judgy look on his face.
“I came here to talk to Chan, not you,” Jisung snapped, pointing a finger at Minho.
Felix glanced between the two, sensing the thick tension in the air. “I’m fine. I wanted to come,” Felix interjected. He nudged Jisung gently, hoping to diffuse some anger radiating from him. "Let's just get this over with," he murmured, stepping into the dimly lit hallway.
In the kitchen, Chan sat at the table, his face etched with exhaustion and apprehension. He looked up as they entered, and his eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected Felix to be here, and the sight of him sent a jolt of anxiety through his chest. He hadn’t prepared for this or even thought about what he would say to Felix.
Felix stood by the door, his gaze unwavering as he looked at Chan, while Jisung’s expression was a mix of anger and disappointment. The tension in the room was palpable, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap at any moment.
Chan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Felix,” he began, his voice faltering slightly, “I… I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Felix’s eyes softened briefly, but then he hardened his resolve. “We need to talk, Chan. We need to clear the air.”
Jisung stepped forward, his posture tense and bristling with anger. “You,” he spat, pointing an accusatory finger at Chan. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he shouted, his voice echoing harshly.
Chan swallowed hard; there was no escaping the conversation that was about to unfold. He just hoped he could find the right words to make things right, though he doubted anything he said could truly fix this. The kitchen now felt like a battleground.
“I’m sorry, I—” Chan began, trying to muster an explanation, but he was harshly interrupted.
“I’m not fucking done,” Jisung cut him off, “How could you do this to him? I know it’s nothing to you, alphas, but you’re a doctor! You’re supposed to protect people, not think with your dick!”
Chan’s face was etched with pain as he listened to Jisung's tirade. “You’re right, I fucked up,” he admitted, his voice breaking with regret. “I fucking know that, and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, Felix,” Chan said, turning to face him, his voice choked with remorse. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
Felix watched the exchange, his eyes flicking between Jisung and Chan. He stood there, his expression unreadable, taking in the raw emotion on Chan’s face. Chan's voice was filled with pain and regret, and he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Enough!” Felix's voice thundered, catching everyone off guard. Minho's grip faltered, and a clatter echoed as something slipped from his grasp. Chan and Jisung's eyes immediately darted to Felix.
“I wanted it. I was the one who backed Chan into a corner because I wanted him to fuck me,” Felix declared, his voice quivering with emotion. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he held his ground.
“And Chan,” he said, each word heavy with meaning, “I don’t regret it. I loved every fucking moment of it. As painful as it is to admit.”
And it was excruciating. It demanded every ounce of courage within Felix to utter those words. Admitting that he enjoyed his time with an alpha was a monumental struggle. It went against everything he'd vowed to himself, everything shaped by his past and the cruelty he'd witnessed alphas inflict upon omegas. Raised in a toxic environment, Felix had sworn never to let an alpha into his life, believing he was strong enough to stand alone.
But Chan shattered those barriers, making Felix feel something he couldn't ignore. Felix refused to be seen as a victim, a powerless omega manipulated by an alpha. Because that is not what happened, he was sure of it. He didn’t want Chan to take all this abuse from his friend because he didn't deserve it. It wasn’t fair. The rules, laws, and whatever Jisung believed were trivial to Felix.
“Felix, you were in heat! You didn’t know what you were doing!” Jisung exclaimed, his voice full of frustration.
“Han Jisung, stop it,” Felix snapped, giving Jisung a deadly look. “Don’t you dare go there. You know I hate those assumptions, and you know damn well I knew exactly what I was doing. You’re an omega, too; you understand we don’t lose complete control!” Felix’s voice trembled with fury now, his eyes blazing. He knew Jisung's concern came from a place of care, but the words stung nonetheless.
“Fucking hell, Felix!” Jisung shouted back, his own anger breaking through. “I just don’t want to pick up your pieces again! Do you have any idea how heart-wrenching it was to watch you fall apart? I can’t go through that again—I can’t bear to see you so broken!” Jisung’s voice cracked, his tears now streaming freely down his face. His legs wobbled, threatening to give out as he sank to his knees, his body trembling violently. Anxiety gripped him like a vice, his breath coming in short, frantic gasps as he struggled to contain the emotions crashing over him.
Minho, who had been trying to stay out of the heated exchange until now, saw Jisung and sprang into action. His eyes were filled with worry as he rushed to Jisung's side, his usual calmness slipping away.
“Shit, Sung, I’m sorry,” Felix blurted out, rushing to Jisung. His voice was choked with regret as he sank to his knees too, reaching out to Jisung. “Shit, I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, his words desperate.
Felix leaned in closer, pushing Minho aside to embrace Jisung tightly. The warmth of Felix’s hug was helping Jisung to calm down and Felix held on as if trying to physically apologise to his friend.
“Lix, I’m sorry too,” Jisung murmured, his voice barely a whisper. His chest hurt with the remnants of his sobs, each breath a struggle. “I’m just worried. What if…” he gasped, trying to steady his breathing. “What if you bonded or got pregnant? Is he going to take responsibility? Lix, you’re finally out of that dark place, and I just don’t want anything to ruin that.”
“I promise I will take responsibility no matter what,” Chan interjected, “I’m not running away. I never would”
“I think you two should talk in private,” Minho suggested. He turned to Felix and added, “I’ll stay with Jisung. Go on.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, pointing towards the stairs.
Felix hesitated, his gaze flickering between Minho and Jisung. He didn’t fully trust Minho, but he knew Minho was right—he and Chan needed to talk and do it away from the chaos that had erupted here.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Felix asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he glanced at Jisung, whose tears had finally begun to slow.
“We’ll be fine,” Minho assured him, his eyes softening with understanding. “Go on. You two need this.”
Reluctantly, Felix nodded. He cast one last worried glance at Jisung, then turned towards the stairs as Chan motioned to follow him. They needed to find a quieter place to untangle the mess of emotions and words between them.
Minho gently rubbed Jisung’s shoulder, offering a comforting presence as Jisung remained kneeling on the floor. Minho squatted down, bringing himself to eye level with him.
“Jisung, look at me, please,” Minho asked softly. Jisung lifted his head slightly, his eyes red and puffy from crying, glistening with lingering tears.
“Don’t cry, you’re okay,” Minho reassured him, his voice a soothing murmur. He cupped Jisung’s face tenderly in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears, and gently traced them down his cheeks. His touch was gentle, a quiet promise of support.
Minho wanted to help Jisung off the floor, but he quickly noticed the tremors in Jisung’s legs and the way his body continued to quake with occasional sobs. Jisung's legs seemed unable to support him, still trembling from the overwhelming surge of anxiety he had just experienced.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Minho said softly, his voice full of concern. He slid an arm around Jisung’s back, providing steady support, and carefully helped him to a sitting position. “Just take a few deep breaths, alright? We’re in no rush.” Minho stayed close as Jisung’s sobs still escaped now and then.
Jisung wanted to stop crying, get off the floor, and leave this place. He didn't want anyone besides Felix to see him in this state. He knew he looked pathetic. He had come here to confront Chan, to give him a hard time out of anger and concern, but now he was a crying mess on the floor.
Struggling to gather himself, Jisung wiped at his eyes with trembling hands. “I’m sorry, Minho,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you. I just... I wanted to protect Felix.”
“Shh, it’s okay, don’t apologise” Minho whispered.
“No, that was wrong of me. You’ve been nothing but kind to me,” Jisung continued, his voice a little more stable now. “You helped me calm down at the hospital, and you checked on me afterwards. You even talked to me until I fell asleep. And now, you’re here again, holding me on the floor as I cry.”
He looked up at Minho, his gaze drifted to his lips, which glistened with a soft red tint from the lip balm Minho had likely applied before they arrived. The sight triggered a memory, bringing back a vivid image from Jisung’s dreams. Minho’s lips had been just as close, just as soft-looking, and the memory made Jisung’s heart race. He felt a confusing mix of emotions—comfort from Minho’s kindness, embarrassment over his vulnerability, and a strange fluttering in his chest that he couldn’t quite place.
Jisung’s breath hitched slightly as he struggled to focus on the present, trying to push the dream from his mind. He couldn't comprehend how, while coming down from a massive anxiety attack, his mind could wander to thoughts like these. But Minho was provoking those strange thoughts, and he didn’t understand much when it came to Minho. He couldn’t understand why, amid his vulnerability, he was so acutely aware of Minho’s every movement and word. The gentle curve of Minho’s lips, the warmth of his gaze, the way his touch sent an unexpected shiver through him—it all left Jisung feeling off-balance, as though the ground beneath him was shifting. His mind was filled with thoughts of Minho—thoughts that didn’t quite fit with the chaos he was feeling.
"Jisung?" Minho's voice interrupted Jisung's wandering mind. Startled, he snapped back to attention, realising he hadn't caught Minho's words.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I said I understand why you did what you did”, repeated Minho. "Are you feeling better? Maybe we should go sit down on the couch," Minho said with concern. "The floor is quite cold."
"Um, I don’t think I can walk still for a little while," said Jisung, his gaze dropping to the floor in embarrassment. "I have this weird thing… um, my legs don’t work well after having a particularly bad panic attack," he explained.
"It’s not weird. I’ve seen it before," reassured Minho. Unsure if his next offer was appropriate, he hesitated briefly before asking, "Can I carry you? It’s just the floor is uncomfortable and…"
"Please," Jisung interrupted and Minho’s face relaxed in relief.
Minho bent down with a gentle smile, wrapping his arms securely around Jisung's shoulders and under his knees. With a slight grunt, he lifted Jisung effortlessly from the kitchen floor. Jisung's arms instinctively looped around Minho's neck, seeking stability, his face flushed with lingering embarrassment. As Minho straightened, he adjusted his grip to ensure Jisung was comfortable. He began to navigate the short distance to the couch, moving slowly to avoid jostling Jisung. The proximity made Jisung acutely aware of the warmth and strength emanating from Minho’s body.
As they reached the couch, Minho tried to lower Jisung gently. However, his foot slipped on the rug while trying to adjust his grip, sending both of them tumbling onto the couch with a surprised yelp. Minho fell backwards into the soft cushions, and Jisung landed awkwardly on top of him, their bodies tangling. For a moment, everything was still; the only sound was the quick breathing of both men. Minho's arms were still around Jisung, cradling him protectively despite the fall. Jisung’s hands had braced against Minho's chest, his heart pounding as he realised their faces were mere inches apart. He could feel Minho’s warm and slightly uneven breath mingling with his own. Their eyes locked, and something unspoken passed between them. The world seemed to shrink around them, leaving just the two of them in a suspended moment, their closeness a tangible tension that neither of them had expected.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Chan led Felix into Minho’s bedroom and hesitated at the threshold, his hand resting on the door. He glanced back at Felix, unsure whether to leave it open for a sense of safety or to close it for privacy. Chan worried that closing the door might make Felix feel more uncomfortable by making him feel confined.
Before Chan could decide, Felix's voice cut through his thoughts. "Can you close the door?" he asked quietly, his eyes avoiding Chan's. "I don’t want anyone to overhear us."
Chan nodded and gently pushed the door closed with a soft click, ensuring it didn’t lock but providing the seclusion they both seemed to need. The room fell into a deeper silence, cocooned from the rest of the house, creating a private bubble where they could speak freely.
"Your room is kinda dark and depressing," chuckled Felix as he took in his surroundings. The room was shrouded in muted tones. The walls were painted a deep shade that absorbed the light. Most of the furniture was made of rich, dark wood. Even the bedsheets were a sombre charcoal grey, with a few decorations scattered about.
"Yeah, Minho likes things... understated," Chan responded with a faint smile, glancing around as if seeing the room through Felix's eyes for the first time. He could see how the dark, minimalist aesthetic might appear gloomy to someone like Felix.
"Minho? I thought this was your house," Felix said, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
"No, I live a few houses up the street. We’re neighbours," Chan explained with a slight shrug. "Um, Minho thought it would be better to..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain the reasons.
"Yeah, I get it," Felix interrupted, a warm smile spreading across his face. "It's cute that he tried to protect you. I would’ve done the same thing. He seems like a good friend." Felix’s eyes softened.
Chan's lips curved into a small smile, "Yeah, he really is," he said.
The atmosphere between them was a little awkward. Felix shifted uncomfortably, looking for the right words to break it. "Right," he began, his voice hesitant. "You're kind, and I genuinely loved our time together. Thank you for... well, not letting me meet my demise," Felix chuckled softly. But Chan's expression remained serious as he absorbed each word Felix uttered.
"Felix, I'm not sure what Jisung was referring to regarding your past, but it seems like you're in a better place now. I'd hate to be the one to disrupt that for you," Chan said, his face reflecting concern and pain.
"You're not," Felix reassured him with a smile. "I'm okay, truly" His smile was radiant and sincere, easing some of Chan's worry. Chan couldn't help but imagine how wonderful it would be to see that smile every day and wished he could make it happen.
Felix’s smile disappeared quickly and Chan braced himself, not fully prepared for what Felix would say next.
“But I think if everything is okay with me, with us, we shouldn't see each other again," he said.
A sharp pain jolted through Chan’s body, each word striking him. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the disappointment was hard to hide. His mind raced, questioning if he had really expected this to go any other way. A part of him had hoped for something different, something more, but the reality of Felix’s words brought him back to earth.
Chan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I understand," he managed to say, his voice steadier than he felt. "If that's what you think is best, then... I respect that." He forced a small, bittersweet smile, though inside, his heart ached at the thought of losing the connection they had, however fleeting it might have been.
Felix looked at Chan, sensing the effort behind his words. He nodded slowly, appreciating Chan's acceptance despite the hurt it clearly caused. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to Chan with a tentative smile.
“Please, give me your number,” Felix said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I promise to let you know if the worst happens. Otherwise, just assume everything is okay.”
Chan took the phone, his fingers hovered over the keypad for a moment. He entered his number, feeling a little sorrow, knowing this might be their final exchange. As he handed the phone back, their fingers brushed for a brief moment, sending a fleeting spark between them. "Thank you, Felix," Chan said quietly. "Can I... hug you? If that's okay," he asked, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
"Sure," Felix's smile returned as he tucked the phone back into his pocket.
Chan moved closer, cautiously wrapping his arms around Felix as if he feared he might shatter. They stood there in each other's embrace, and Chan could feel the subtle rise and fall of Felix's chest with each breath. Felix's response was not immediate, but as their bodies pressed together, Chan sensed a gradual relaxation in his frame. The tension in Felix's muscles seemed to melt away, replaced by a feeling of warmth that was alarming for Felix, but he surrendered, allowing himself to enjoy this one last moment of closeness with Chan.
As much as Chan wanted to stay in this moment forever, he gently broke the hug apart, releasing Felix from his embrace with a reluctant but tender touch. "Take care of yourself, okay?”
Felix looked at Chan, his eyes softening with a hint of emotion. "You too, Chan," he replied. He turned to leave, pausing at the door for a final glance. The air was thick with unspoken words and lingering sentiments, but for now, this was their way of saying goodbye.
Felix hurried down the stairs, his heart beating fast. He scanned the room, looking for Jisung. As he reached the bottom, his gaze fell upon an unexpected scene that made him stop in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise.
There, on the couch, Jisung and Minho were tangled together. Jisung was sprawled atop Minho, and they looked like they were about to kiss. He saw the blush creeping up Jisung’s cheeks as he realised Felix was staring at them.
"Uh, sorry for interrupting," Felix blurted out, his voice breaking the silence. He tried to suppress a smile, unsure how to react to the unexpected sight.
Jisung scrambled to untangle himself from Minho, his face flushed with embarrassment. "It's not what it looks like," he stammered, quickly moving to sit up.
Minho, too, was flustered, his usual composure momentarily shattered. He offered Felix a sheepish smile, pushing himself up from the couch. "We just… um, had a bit of a fall," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
Felix couldn't help but chuckle, "Well, it looked like quite the fall," he teased, his tone light and playful. "Are you two okay?"
Jisung nodded, still a bit pink around the ears. "Yeah, we’re fine.”
Minho's lips twitched into a small smile. "We’re good.”
Chan was already standing behind Felix at this point; his face hardened, and he shot Minho a look of disapproval and shook his head in disbelief. Minho, catching Chan’s intense gaze, quickly averted his eyes as he sat up on the couch, his movements quick and a bit clumsy.
“You two need to be more careful," said Chan, but his gaze softened slightly.
Minho rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling the weight of Chan’s disapproving look. “Sorry, it wasn’t intentional. Just trying to help Jisung, but we ended up in a... well, awkward position.”
Sensing the tension in the room, Felix tried to lighten the mood with a gentle chuckle. "Look, it’s okay. Accidents happen. We should get going, though," he said, turning to Jisung.
Jisung nodded, still looking a bit flustered but grateful for the opportunity to escape the awkward situation. "Yeah, let's go," he agreed, casting a quick, apologetic glance at Minho.
As Felix and Jisung made their way towards the door, the room fell into a brief silence. The door closed softly behind them, the quiet click echoing in the stillness.
Still standing with his arms crossed, Chan finally turned to Minho, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Following my tracks, huh?" he said, his tone teasing.
“Oh shut up, Christopher” Minho rolled his eyes.
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading!
Chapter 4: the first impression
Notes:
hey, hey :) I'm back, and this time with new characters ^^ I hope you enjoy this chapter <3
Chapter Text
Changbin was already running late for work when his sister called him last minute, asking if he could take her kids to school because she had an urgent meeting. He rushed through his morning, barely managing to throw on some clothes and grab his keys. His day was off to a hectic start, feeling the pressure of being behind schedule as he hurried to get his niece and nephew to school.
Changbin hated being late, but lately, it seemed to happen more often. He was under a lot of stress since many of his staff had left the unit in the past few weeks. Although he was happy about his colleague's new opportunities, he felt immense pressure to hire new staff quickly to prevent the unit from collapsing. He couldn't help but feel a bit sad, too. They had carefully chosen each staff member to fit the team and were proud of that accomplishment. With so many leaving in such a short time, he worried about whether he could find new hires who would fit just as well. Being a dialysis unit manager was certainly stressful, but Changbin was doing really well. He had managed to keep the unit running smoothly despite the challenges that came with the job. However, he despised the administrative side of his role and often found himself missing the days when he could spend more time with patients in the unit. The hands-on patient care that he loved so much had taken a backseat to paperwork, meetings, and staffing issues, leaving him feeling disconnected from the very reason he got into healthcare in the first place.
Today was the day of the interviews, and Changbin had already received a worried message from his friend, the nurse in charge, asking about his whereabouts. Apparently, candidates were already waiting to be interviewed.
He struggled to find a parking spot, and his stress levels skyrocketed as the minutes ticked by. The clock seemed to mock his efforts. Changbin was already exhausted, and he hadn't even reached work yet.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to squeeze his car into a tight spot, muttering curses under his breath. His frustration bubbled over as he grabbed his things and hurried towards the hospital entrance. Changbin opted for the A&E entrance, knowing it would be the quickest route from where he had parked.
“Oh, hey, Binnie!” someone shouted across the corridor.
Changbin turned around, instantly recognising the voice. There was only one person in the entire hospital who called him “Binnie”—Minho. Sure enough, Minho was walking towards him with a friendly smile and a slight wave as he approached.
Despite being in a hurry, Changbin couldn’t help but smile back. Minho’s calm demeanour had a way of cutting through his stress, if only for a moment.
“Minho, hey!” Changbin greeted, trying to catch his breath.
“You seem in a rush. Everything okay?” Minho asked, concern mingled with his usual light-hearted tone as he drew closer, his eyes scanning Changbin’s tired face.
“Just a crazy morning. Running late for some interviews,” Changbin explained.
“Ah, I see. Need any help?” Minho offered.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it. I just need to get there before the candidates think I stood them up. Besides, I’m not sure how you could help me,” Changbin said with a small chuckle.
“That is also true”, Minho chuckled, giving Changbin a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Well, don't keep them waiting too long, Binnie. Good luck with the interviews!”
With a quick nod, Changbin continued his hurried journey to the unit. Long and seemingly identical hospital corridors stretched out before him, a maze of white walls. Yet, having worked here for so many years—since he finished his nursing degree a little over eight years ago—he knew every turn and shortcut by heart.
As Changbin hurried down, he rounded a corner and almost collided with a young man who seemed to be lost. The young man was glancing around anxiously, heading toward the mortuary, a place that was clearly not where he intended to be.
“Whoa, sorry!” Changbin said, catching his balance. He quickly looked at the young man's worried face and asked, “Are you lost? Where are you headed?”
The young man nodded, looking relieved to see someone who could help. “Yes, I’m here for an interview, but I think I took a wrong turn. I was told to go to the dialysis unit, but now I'm completely turned around.”
“You're in luck. I'm heading to the dialysis unit for the interviews,” he said, smiling reassuringly. “Follow me, and I'll get you there.”
Changbin found the whole situation amusing. Here he was, rushing and stressed about being late to the interviews, only to find that at least one of his candidates was running behind, too. The irony of it all made him chuckle.
“Thank you so much! I thought I was going to miss it. My name is Jeongin, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Jeongin. I'm Changbin, the unit manager.”
The young man's face turned to shock as he realised who he had nearly collided with. His eyes widened, and a flush crept up his cheeks. This was probably the man who was going to interview him. “What a great start,” he thought to himself, mentally cringing at the awkwardness of the situation.
“Oh, that’s amazing! Nice to meet you too,” Jeongin tried to hide his panic.
This interview was incredibly important to Jeongin, but he would be lying if he said he genuinely wanted the job. He had been heavily pushed towards the medical field by his parents, who came from a long line of doctors and nurses. For as long as he could remember, his path had been laid out before him, every step guided by their expectations and hopes.
Jeongin had always admired his parents and respected the work they did. They were dedicated and devoted their lives to helping others. Growing up in such an environment, it had seemed only natural that he would follow in their footsteps. But deep down, he felt a disconnection, a yearning for something different that he struggled to articulate.
Once, there had been a moment when Jeongin tried to explain his feelings to his parents. He had gently suggested that he might be interested in pursuing something else, something that sparked his true passion. But the disappointment in their eyes had been crushing, a silent rebuke that stung more than words ever could. Faced with their expectations and the weight of their dreams for him, Jeongin had quickly dropped the subject, resolving instead to do what they wanted.
He knew his parents loved him dearly and wanted the best for him. This career path was important to them; it was a symbol of success. And because he respected them so much, it had become important to him too, at least outwardly. He didn't want to let them down, didn't want to see the look of sadness and confusion in their eyes again. So, he had committed himself to the path they had mapped out, even as his heart quietly rebelled.
As they made their way through the hospital's long, brightly lit corridors, passing a few gates, Changbin gestured and explained the hospital layout to Jeongin as they took the lift to the upper floor. Jeongin appeared highly nervous, and Changbin noticed the subtle shift in the young man's expression. With a warm smile, Changbin reassured Jeongin, “Don't worry, you’ll do great.”
Jeongin nodded and forced a little smile. “Thank you,” he managed, hoping his voice didn’t betray the panic simmering beneath the surface. As they walked, he tried to calm his racing thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Despite his doubts about his path, he was determined to give it his best shot.
They reached the interview room, and Jeongin noticed a few people already seated, patiently waiting for their turn. Little did they know that the man who would make the decision today had just walked past them with barely a glance.
“You can take a seat here,” Changbin said with a warm smile, gesturing to an empty chair before disappearing into the interview room.
Jeongin quietly sat in the only available space beside a man with short brown hair. The man seemed engrossed in his phone, his face expressionless, giving no clues about his thoughts or emotions. Jeongin glanced around the room, taking in the other candidates who sat looking just as nervous as Jeongin was. The room was filled with a hushed tension, the kind that hangs in the air before something significant. Jeongin felt a knot in his stomach, knowing that each person here was likely feeling the same pressure that he was.
Jeongin turned his gaze back to the man beside him, noting how he absently scrolled through his phone, lost in his own world. The man's detached demeanour was in stark contrast to Jeongin’s anxious thoughts. He wondered if the man was as nervous as he was or if he was simply better at hiding it.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“Look who’s here!” exclaimed a man sitting comfortably in the room, his voice filled with playful sarcasm.
“Yeah, yeah,” Changbin responded with a slight grin as he rolled his eyes. “I'm only 15 minutes late, so don't be dramatic.”
The man who had called out to Changbin was a familiar face. He looked slightly older than Changbin. The man had long, dark hair styled in a messy look, with strands falling over his left eye just enough to give him a mysterious appearance. His hair framed his face as though each strand had been purposefully placed to achieve the perfect balance of casual elegance. His eyes were a deep, captivating brown, holding a subtle intensity. The subtle makeup enhanced his natural features without drawing undue attention—a light layer of concealer blending seamlessly with his skin tone. A hint of light bronzer dusted his eyelids, adding a gentle warmth that complemented his eyes and created a soft contour that accentuated their shape. The lip tint, a delicate pink hue, added just a touch of colour, making his mouth look fresh and youthful.
When Changbin first started at the hospital, this man had been his guide and mentor. Changbin remembered those early days vividly—nervous, eager, and trying to absorb everything about the fast-paced environment. Min Yoongi, back then a regular nurse himself, had taken him under his wing, showing him the ropes.
“Remember when you were the new guy, Bin?” Yoongi said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with the memory. “Seems like I was showing you around only yesterday, making sure you didn’t get lost on your way to the break room.”
Changbin laughed, a genuine, warm sound, “I remember that, hyung,” he said, “I was a nervous wreck, and you made sure I didn’t completely embarrass myself.”
“Well, look at you now, interviewing the new guys”, Yoongi laughed. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
Changbin sat comfortably beside Yoongi and looked at the list of candidates for the day. The list was a mix of nurses with varying experience levels, some from specialities quite different from dialysis. A few were fresh out of nursing school, eager to prove themselves and start their careers. Changbin quickly found himself leafing through the stack of resumes, searching for Jeongin’s. He was struck by how young Jeongin looked, guessing he must be a recent graduate. His hunch was correct: Jeongin had just finished his degree and had little experience beyond a few placements during his studies. Seeing the nervousness in Jeongin's eyes earlier, Changbin couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy. Perhaps it was because they had shared a brief, awkward interaction before the interviews started.
“Hyung, we should call this candidate in first,” Changbin suggested, glancing at Yoongi.
Yoongi raised his eyebrows in surprise. “A fresh graduate? We always interview them last,” he said, a hint of scepticism in his voice.
“Yeah, I know, I just… eh, forget it,” Changbin muttered, feeling a bit self-conscious about his sudden proposal.
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly with curiosity. “Do you know him or something?” he asked, trying to gauge Changbin’s unusual interest.
“Not really,” Changbin replied, lightly tapping his neck nervously. “We just bumped into each other this morning, and I helped him find his way here. He looked a bit lost.”
“Ah, love at first sight,” Yoongi teased mischievously.
“Like hell,” Changbin retorted with a playful scoff. “You know I don’t fall in love easily, hyung.”
Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Let’s just make sure we give everyone a fair chance. Fresh graduate or not, they all deserve a shot.”
Despite Changbin’s initial suggestion, they decided to stick to their usual interview order and didn't call Jeongin first. By now, they had already interviewed four candidates and were more than halfway through, leaving only two yet to be interviewed.
“I’m hungry!” Changbin exclaimed dramatically as the latest candidate exited the room.
“You’re always hungry,” Yoongi remarked with a laugh. “Just two more interviews, and we can grab an early lunch. Here, have a snack.” He tossed a small packet of seaweed in Changbin’s direction.
“Seriously, hyung, seaweed?” Changbin grumbled, catching the packet and eyeing it with mock disdain. “You want me to stink up the place so the candidates will bolt as soon as they step in?”
“Ah, right, it’s almost your boyfriend’s turn to come in,” Yoongi teased, his laughter filling the room as he threw his head back in amusement.
“Hyung, seriously, I just met him this morning! Why are you always like this?” Changbin complained, though he couldn’t help but smile at Yoongi’s relentless teasing. “And besides, he’s too young!”
“Age is just a number, baby,” Yoongi chuckled, winking playfully.
Changbin rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he shook his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” Yoongi quipped, still grinning. “Now, let’s get through these last two so we can eat something more substantial than seaweed.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“Well, it’s just the two of us left now,” the dark-haired man suddenly said, turning his attention to Jeongin.
Jeongin was taken aback. The man had seemed so absorbed in his own world that Jeongin hadn't expected him to acknowledge anyone else. He had been sitting quietly this whole time. He had an air of detached calm about him, which made this sudden conversation all the more surprising.
“Yeah, seems like it,” Jeongin replied, studying the other man’s face.
“I’m Seungmin,” the man said, and for the first time, Jeongin noticed a subtle smile breaking through his previously expressionless facade.
The slight smile made Seungmin seem more approachable and less intimidating. “I’m Jeongin,” he replied, offering a tentative smile of his own.
Seungmin’s eyes flickered with interest. “Nice to meet you, Jeongin. Nervous?” he asked, his tone gentle yet probing.
Jeongin nodded, letting out a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah, a bit. This is my first big interview, so I’m kind of freaking out inside,” he admitted, feeling a little more at ease now that the ice had been broken.
Seungmin nodded in understanding. “I get that. It’s a lot of pressure, especially when it’s something as important as this. But just remember, they’re looking for good people, not perfect people. Just be yourself.”
Jeongin appreciated the reassurance. “Thanks, Seungmin. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Seungmin leaned back in his chair, “You’re welcome. We all start out a little nervous, but it gets easier once you get into the flow of things. Just focus on what you know and why you want to be here.”
Jeongin found himself feeling more at ease. There was something comforting about Seungmin’s calm presence, as if he had an unspoken confidence that things would work out. It was so different from Jeongin’s own jumbled nerves and uncertainties.
“So, what’s your background?” Jeongin asked, curious about the man who seemed so self-assured.
Seungmin’s smile widened slightly as he spoke, his voice carrying a hint of fondness. “I’ve been working in orthopaedic back in my hometown. It was intense, but I loved it. I moved here recently and decided I wanted a change. My boyfriend, who works next door in the chemo suite, mentioned that the dialysis unit was looking for people. He thought it would be a good fit for me.”
Jeongin’s eyes widened in curiosity. “Oh, that’s interesting! It’s nice that you have someone here looking out for you.”
Seungmin nodded, his smile deepening. “Yeah, he’s been really supportive. Plus, he’s the one who suggested I apply here, and I trust his judgment. He said he thought I’d fit the team and the environment.”
Jeongin couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at the thought of Seungmin’s boyfriend being so involved and supportive. Having someone in your corner must be comforting, especially in a new place. At 23, Jeongin had never been in a relationship before, and it wasn’t for lack of desire. His life had been consumed by school and an inner turmoil that he kept carefully concealed from everyone around him.
Not only did Jeongin come from a long line of doctors and nurses, but his family took immense pride in their status as betas, somewhat even more than their professional achievements. In a world where the dynamics of alphas, betas, and omegas played a significant role in identity and social structure, the fact that their family lineage had remained strictly beta was a point of pride. They valued the stability, rationality, and lack of biological complications that came with being betas. There were no messy heats, no societal expectations to lead or submit. Betas, in his family’s view, embodied a balance that avoided the extremes faced by alphas and omegas.
Growing up, Jeongin had internalised these beliefs. He was taught that being a beta was a gift, a unique position that allowed for clear thinking and an uncomplicated life. The family narrative was clear: betas were the most rational, dependable, and balanced. They were free from the volatile emotions and physical challenges that characterised the lives of alphas and omegas.
However, this narrative didn’t align with Jeongin’s inner reality. Deep down, he had always felt different, a feeling that had only grown stronger over the years. When Jeongin turned 19, he realised he was probably an alpha. He had spent countless nights lying awake, grappling with an identity that felt at odds with his family's ideals. The idea of being anything other than a beta terrified him, not just because it would disrupt his sense of self but because it would shatter the carefully curated image his family held so dear.
The thought of revealing these feelings to anyone, especially his family, filled him with dread. He had seen the pride in his parent’s eyes, the way they spoke of their beta lineage as if it were a badge of honour. To confess that he didn’t fit into that mould felt like an impossible task. It wasn’t just fear of disappointment; it was fear of rejection, of being seen as a failure. He felt like an outsider in his own life, constantly at odds with the expectations placed upon him.
He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone who understood him. Jeongin had never had that kind of connection, and he longed for it more than he could admit.
The sound of the door opening snapped him back to reality. The previous candidate was leaving, and it was clear that one of them would be called in next. Just then, Changbin appeared, scanning the room. “Yang Jeongin, you’re up next,” he said with a welcoming smile.
Jeongin took a deep breath, stood up, and gave Seungmin one last look. “See you on the other side,” he said with a nervous chuckle.
Seungmin gave a supportive nod. “You got this.”
Jeongin walked in, his heart pounding. The room was modest but well-lit, with a simple table at the centre and two chairs on either side. Yoongi sat on one side, and a chair was waiting for Jeongin on the other.
“Hello, my name is Yoongi,” he said, offering a reassuring smile. “I’m a nurse in charge here, and I’ll just be making notes while Changbin conducts your interview. Please, relax and good luck!”
Jeongin nodded, trying to steady his nerves as he took a seat.
Changbin sat next to Yoongi, leaned forward slightly, and smiled warmly. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Changbin was asked the usual questions, and Jeongin seemed well-prepared, his answers polished and thoughtful. However, Changbin found himself more captivated by Jeongin himself than by his responses. Something was endearing about how Jeongin would glance nervously to the right corner before answering questions he was less confident about, as if gathering his thoughts from that particular spot.
Jeongin's fluffy hair caught Changbin's attention next. The colour was intriguing—light brown with a hint of ginger that seemed almost magical under the lights. Changbin wondered if it was naturally like that or if Jeongin had dyed it. Either way, it suited him perfectly.
And then there was Jeongin's smile. Whenever he smiled, his eyes would narrow into crescent shapes, giving him a look that Changbin couldn’t help but find adorable. He looked like a cute little fox, with his sharp, delicate features and the way his expression would light up when he felt confident about his answer.
Changbin caught himself staring a few times, quickly refocusing on his notes and the next question. He could feel Yoongi's amused gaze, probably noticing his distraction. Changbin cleared his throat and asked the following question. He leaned back in his chair, an unexpected look of curiosity on his face.
“Jeongin, have you spoken to any of the other candidates sitting with you in the room?” The question seemed out of place, catching Jeongin off guard.
“Um, I’ve spoken to Seungmin,” Jeongin replied cautiously, wondering where this question led.
“No way! Seungminnie is here?” Yoongi's eyes widened with excitement.
“You know him?” Changbin turned his attention to Yoongi, eyebrows raised.
“Of course! Well, I don't know him personally, but you know Hyunjin from chemo? That’s his boyfriend,” Yoongi explained, his excitement bubbling over.
“Ah, the always dancing guy?” Changbin asked, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Yeah, that one! He used to be a professional dancer,” said Yoongi, nodding. “But wasn’t Seungmin supposed to come tomorrow? I can't see his name on our list today,” he added, rummaging through the papers on the table.
Changbin turned his attention back to Jeongin, a thoughtful expression replacing his earlier smile. “What impression did Seungmin give you?” he asked.
Jeongin thought for a moment, recalling his brief interaction with Seungmin. “Honestly? At first, he was really quiet and seemed to mind his business only. He almost looked like he didn't want to be here,” Jeongin chuckled softly, remembering the initial tension. “But then he spoke to me and helped calm my nerves. He also talked about his boyfriend, which was sweet.”
As Jeongin spoke, a soft smile played on his lips, but it quickly faded as he realised he might have misstepped by discussing another candidate. His expression turned serious, worry creeping in. Had he said too much? Was he being tested on his discretion?
Changbin watched Jeongin intently, noting the shift in his demeanour. “It’s interesting to hear your perspective. Seungmin sounds like he made a good impression on you,” he said, his tone reassuring.
“Yes, he did,” Jeongin replied, feeling a bit more at ease. “He seemed very calm and collected, which helped me a lot. I was really nervous before he spoke to me.”
“That’s good to hear," Yoongi said, shuffling through the papers. “Hyunjin has mentioned him a few times and always speaks highly of him. I think he’ll be a good fit for our team if he’s anything like what I’ve heard.”
“Seems like you’ve already built a bit of rapport with one of the other candidates,” Changbin said, leaning forward slightly. “That’s a good trait for a nurse—to connect and create a supportive environment even with people you’ve just met.”
Jeongin nodded, feeling more confident. “Thank you. I really appreciate that,” he said, glancing down at his hands momentarily before looking back up at Changbin. “I try to be open and supportive, especially in stressful situations.”
“Well, that's a quality we value here,” Changbin said, peeking at Yoongi, who nodded in agreement. “And don’t worry about talking about other candidates. We want to understand how you interact with others, especially in a team setting.”
Yoongi finally found the paper he was looking for and let out a small triumphant noise. “Ah, here it is. Seungmin’s interview was rescheduled last minute for today. That’s why he wasn’t on the initial list. Guess our admin team was a bit behind on updating the schedule.”
Changbin chuckled. “Well, that clears things up,” he said to Yoongi, but his eyes were on Jeongin. Rising from his seat, he walked over to the door and opened it, spotting Seungmin sitting in the waiting area.
“Seungmin, right?” asked Changbin.
“Kim Seungmin, yes,” Seungmin replied, his gaze filled with curiosity and suspicion as he looked at Changbin.
“Would you please come in?” Changbin gestured towards the interview room.
Seungmin's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but he stood up and followed Changbin inside. Jeongin, still seated, mirrored Seungmin's puzzled expression.
“Yang Jeongin,” said Changbin, addressing Jeongin first before turning to Seungmin. “Kim Seungmin. Welcome to the team.”
Both Jeongin and Seungmin looked at him, eyes wide with shock and confusion. Yoongi, who had been momentarily puzzled, suddenly burst into loud laughter.
“Bin, you’re truly something else,” Yoongi said, laughing so hard that tears began to form at the corners of his eyes.
“I'm sorry, I don’t think I understand. Does this mean…” Jeongin's voice trailed off, struggling to wrap his mind around what was happening.
“Yeah, that means you’re both hired,” Yoongi confirmed, his face split into a wide grin. “Guess Changbinnie here works in mysterious ways.”
“Do you accept the offer?” Changbin asked, looking from Jeongin to Seungmin.
“I'm not sure, I mean…” Jeongin began, still reeling from the surprise, but Seungmin quickly cut in.
“Yes, we accept the offer!” He exclaimed, his voice firm and clear. “Thank you so much!” He bowed slightly to Changbin and Yoongi.
“Great, we’ll send you all the details via e-mail then,” said Yoongi, still grinning widely.
Jeongin remained seated, his mind spinning in disbelief. He could hardly believe what had just happened. Seungmin, on the other hand, was already by his side, grabbing his hand and gently pulling him towards the exit.
Outside the interview room, Jeongin finally found his voice. “Did that really just happen?” he asked, looking at Seungmin, still holding his hand.
“Yes, it did,” Seungmin replied with a reassuring smile. “We got the job. We’re officially part of the team now.”
Jeongin shook his head, a smile starting to spread across his face. “I can't believe it. This is incredible.”
As they made their way out of the hospital, Seungmin’s confident stride contrasted with Jeongin's hesitant steps. “I told you we’d make it,” Seungmin said, “Now, let's celebrate!”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Back in the interview room, Changbin and Yoongi were still chuckling. “Well, that was certainly unconventional,” Yoongi said, shaking his head with amusement.
“Maybe you all made a wrong decision when you pushed me to become a manager after Siwoo left,” Changbin laughed, trying to hide his mixed feelings behind a joke.
“Nah, we made the right call. Besides, no one else wanted the job, so…” teased Yoongi.
“Well, someone had to do it. Being without a manager sucks,” said Changbin, recalling the chaos and stress they endured. It had been a tough period, managing all the responsibilities on top of their regular duties. He remembered how difficult it had been without a manager, how the workload had piled up and stress levels had skyrocketed. There were days when it seemed like they would never get through it all.
Changbin hadn’t initially wanted the managerial position. He enjoyed working directly with patients, and the thought of spending entire days stuck in an office handling administrative tasks was far from appealing. But the team had insisted that he was the best candidate to take over after their previous manager, Siwoo, had left. He had applied reluctantly and, just as Yoongi said, was the only applicant. So, in a way, he felt he had no choice but to step up and take on the role. That’s how Seo Changbin became a dialysis unit manager at just 30 years old.
Despite his initial reluctance, Changbin couldn’t deny the positive changes his leadership had brought. The unit was running more smoothly now, and his colleagues seemed generally less stressed. The added burden of managing on top of their demanding jobs had been overwhelming for everyone. Seeing the unit stabilise and his colleague's stress levels drop made him feel that sacrificing his preferred work style had been worth it. If taking on the managerial role was what it took to improve the situation for everyone, then he was more than happy to bear that responsibility.
Yoongi noticed the contemplative look on Changbin’s face and gave him a supportive pat on the back. “You’re doing a great job, Bin. We needed someone who cares as much as you do.”
“Thanks, Hyung,” Changbin replied with a genuine smile. Now, can we please finally get lunch?” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
Just as they were about to head out, Changbin's phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a call from Minho, accompanied by a cat emoji.
“Binnie!” Minho's familiar voice chirped as soon as Changbin answered. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Are you free this Sunday?”
Changbin raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Minho's excitement. “Uh, sure, I think I can make time. Who is it?”
“It’s a surprise! I’ll text you the details. Don’t bail on me, okay?”
“Alright, alright,” Changbin chuckled. “I’ll be there. See you Sunday.”
As he hung up, Yoongi gave him a curious look. “What’s that about?”
“Minho wants me to meet someone. Knowing him, it could be anything from a new cat to a boyfriend,” Changbin said, shaking his head with a smile.
“Well, I hope it’s not another cat. He already has enough of those furballs at home,” said Yoongi.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Changbin laughed.
Chapter 5: old records
Summary:
Felix and Jisung learn about their new placements, marking the start of a fresh chapter. Later, a casual outing turns unexpectedly when Felix crosses paths with someone he didn’t expect to see.
Chapter Text
“I’m so fucking tired!” Felix shouted as he slammed the door shut, tossing his keys onto the small table beside it. “Can you believe they want me to compete for them? I told them it’s just a hobby for me!” he groaned, his voice tinged with annoyance. He was met with silence. “Sung?” he called out.
Felix kicked off his shoes and went in search of Jisung. He found him sitting on the sofa in the living room, staring intently at the small table next to him, eyes wide. Felix opened his mouth to ask if he was okay, but his gaze followed Jisung’s and landed on two small, white envelopes.
“Shit,” Felix breathed out.
Jisung finally snapped out of his trance and looked at Felix.
“Yeah, shit,” he echoed.
Felix moved to sit beside Jisung, trying to mask the anxiety that churned in his stomach. “Well, I guess it’s time,” he said, trying to sound far less nervous than he was.
“God, I really hope we end up in the same hospital,” Jisung said.
The moment finally came for Felix and Jisung to find out their placements as junior doctors. Both knew there was a real possibility they might not be assigned to the same hospital, but they clung to the hope that they would be—especially Jisung. The thought of being separated from Felix and working in different places was unbearable to him. Maybe it was a little strange and over the top, but the idea of navigating such a significant change without Felix by his side filled him with dread.
He and Felix had weathered nearly every storm life threw their way together. They met when they were both 13 and became best friends after discovering their birthdays were less than a day apart. Now, at 25, they knew they were soulmates. To hell with what anyone else thought—soulmates weren’t just for romance. Although Felix often joked about them getting married, Jisung sometimes entertained the thought mainly because he couldn’t imagine them living separately, having separate homes and families, and not being able to be close to each other all the time.
“Let’s find out,” Felix said, reaching for the envelopes. He quickly handed Jisung his, and they both opened them on Felix’s count.
“Lonely St. Hospital!” they exclaimed simultaneously as their eyes landed on the location of their placements.
Jisung gasped, his eyes wide, a smile spreading across his face as he looked at Felix.
“Shit, Sung, we made it!” Felix shouted, pulling Jisung into a hug, a bit tighter than he’d intended, but Jisung didn’t mind.
Felix’s happy expression didn’t last long, though. His speciality was ED, and you know who else works in the ED at Lonely St. Hospital? Yes, Dr. Chan. Felix flinched at the realisation, pulling away from Jisung almost as quickly as he had hugged him. His face was etched with pure panic. He couldn’t believe this thought had never crossed his mind. Sure, the city is enormous, and the odds of being placed in the same hospital as Chan were slim, but still, Felix should have seen this coming. Nothing in his life was ever uncomplicated.
“Felix?” Jisung noticed the shift, and worry began to swell in his chest.
“Jisung, I... f-fuck,” Felix stammered. It was as if all the words he wanted to say had slipped away, scattered across their living room like puzzle pieces he now had to gather painstakingly.
Jisung didn’t understand at first, but then it clicked. “Chan,” he breathed out, covering his mouth in sudden realisation.
Things had been relatively quiet since they returned from Minho’s house. Almost everything had returned to normal—or so it seemed. Days passed without noticeable change for Felix, indicating they hadn't accidentally bonded with Chan. Just to be sure, Felix even took a pregnancy test, which confirmed he wasn't pregnant. That night, he got utterly drunk, trying to drown out the voice of his inner omega screaming at him.
Felix kept his word—he never contacted Chan after that. Yet, for some reason, he found himself staring at Chan’s phone number a few times, his fingers hovering over the name. He debated whether to call Chan and tell him everything was okay, feeling he might deserve at least that much. But then he reminded himself of his promise: he had said he would only reach out if “the worst” happens, as he referred to it.
Chan, on the other hand, was visibly restless throughout these weeks, according to Minho. Jisung and Minho had been exchanging texts almost daily. They didn’t always talk much, sometimes they shared a few videos or funny pictures. Then, at other times, they would chat late into the night, discussing everything and nothing, with Minho's soothing voice often lulling Jisung to sleep. It had become somewhat of a routine for them. Jisung was scared of the idea, but on those nights, he slept deeply, feeling as calm as a baby. If that's what it takes for Jisung to find even a bit of rest, he’ll take it.
Chan was desperate to know how Felix was doing, so he constantly begged Minho to ask Jisung for updates. The uncertainty gnawed at him, and he couldn’t bear not knowing if Felix was alright. Chan’s never-ending questions—often asked multiple times a day—drove Minho to the brink of frustration. Finally, Minho explained to Jisung that if he didn’t receive regular updates on Felix, Chan might just drive him insane, potentially putting him to an early grave.
And so Jisung began regularly updating Minho on Felix. After all, what harm could it do? Felix didn’t need to be aware of it. Sometimes, Jisung felt like he was being a shitty friend to Felix, but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for Chan. It must have been tough for him to be cut off by Felix like that.
“What do I do?” Felix groaned, dropping his head into his hands and sighing deeply. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stave off the tears.
“Lix, you’re gonna be okay. You said it yourself—you want to move on,” Jisung said carefully, though he wasn’t sure if his words would help. Felix’s expression shifted from sadness to annoyance.
“Sung, I love you. I love you so much, but sometimes you say dumb shit,” Felix replied bluntly.
Jisung sighed, frustration seeping into his voice. “Yeah, maybe I say dumb shit, but what do you want me to say? There’s nothing we can do. You can’t just change your placement without risking everything you’ve worked for.”
Felix’s eyes widened in irritation. “Seriously, Sung? I feel like crap, and you’re giving me a reality check?”
“Damn right, I’m giving you a reality check! I don’t care what’s happening between you and Chan, but you will not give this up. Do you hear me? You did not go through all that,” Jisung emphasised, “just to fuck it all up!”
Jisung got off the sofa, his face flush with emotion, and pointed at himself. “ I didn’t go through all that for you to fuck it up!”
Felix’s eyes widened as he fell silent. He knew Jisung was right, and a wave of guilt washed over him. Being a doctor was the one thing Felix was sure he wanted in his life, and he had worked tirelessly to achieve it. The journey had been anything but easy.
When Felix ran away from home at 18, he couldn’t have imagined that his dream of becoming a doctor would one day come true. Back then, he had no choice but to live in a shelter, feeling lost and vulnerable. Although Jisung's family had kindly offered him a place to stay, Felix knew he needed to get far away from his family. He couldn't risk putting Jisung and his family in danger.
The hardships and sacrifices he had endured flashed through his mind, making him realise how much he had overcome to be where he was. Felix's heart ached, knowing he couldn't throw away everything he had fought for, despite his emotional turmoil.
Felix had to escape to a ridiculously large city, where he could disappear into the crowd, somewhere his family wouldn’t easily find him. The early months were a struggle, teetering on the brink of homelessness, but Felix had no regrets.
A couple of months into this exhausting life, Felix received an unexpected call from a woman claiming to be his aunt. Felix was immediately suspicious, convinced it was a cruel trick by his family to lure him back and imprison him forever. Despite the woman's genuine tone and offer of help, he declined and blocked her number, unable to trust anyone connected to his past.
Meanwhile, Jisung planned to move to Seoul to study medicine. The thought of them living together kept Felix going, a glimmer of hope amidst his struggles. Jisung was taking a gap year before starting university, and Felix saw this as an opportunity. This extra time would allow him to work hard and save up, ensuring they could afford a modest apartment together when Jisung finally joined him. Felix clung to this vision, knowing it was the one thing that made this relentless grind and uncertainty bearable.
Just as Felix started to adjust to his new way of living, juggling multiple jobs, he faced another harsh blow. He was abruptly kicked out of the shelter, leaving him nowhere to go again. The reason for his eviction was as bizarre as it was unfair: the shelter owner, consumed by jealousy, accused Felix of seducing her partner. In reality, Felix was blindsided when the man made an unwelcome advance, trying to pin Felix down and kiss him.
The incident happened out of the blue, and Felix was shocked. As he struggled to push the man away, the shelter owner walked in, her face twisting in rage. Before Felix could even explain, she erupted, spitting curses he had never heard before and accusing him of trying to seduce her partner.
Without listening to him, she threw him out on the streets. Felix wasn’t even allowed to collect his belongings. He was simply forced out, left standing on the cold pavement with nothing but the clothes he was wearing and a growing sense of despair. The few possessions he had managed to accumulate during his brief time at the shelter were now out of reach, locked away behind a door that had just slammed shut on yet another chapter of his life. Felix was back at square one, grappling with the cruel reality, wondering how he would ever find his footing again in a world that seemed determined to knock him down.
Felix has never felt so empty and hopeless, his mind racing for a solution. The woman's voice echoed in his head: “If you need anything at all, please Felix, reach out.” With no other viable option, it was either this or facing the grim prospect of freezing to death on the unforgiving streets.
Felix prayed to every God out there that his aunt wasn't somehow connected to his toxic family. With trembling fingers, he retrieved his phone and hesitantly unblocked her number.
That night, Felix called Jisung, his voice trembling as he broke the news that he would catch the next flight to Australia. Despite the excruciating pain in his voice, Felix promised Jisung it wouldn't be long and reassured him that he would explain everything soon.
Jisung felt like his world was crumbling around him. He struggled to comprehend why Felix was leaving, why Australia, and how he had managed to arrange it all so suddenly. Endless questions swirled in his mind, each one amplifying his anxiety and pushing him closer to the edge as he imagined the worst possible scenarios.
“Felix, when you called me from fucking Australia , I tried so hard to open my eyes and wake up, praying it was just a nightmare,” Jisung continued, tears welling at the corners of his eyes.
“I know, Ji. I'm sorry,” Felix replied softly, “It was hard for me, too, and I'll never forgive myself for leaving you like that.”
They rarely broached this subject—it was too raw and too emotionally laden for both of them.
“I know you are, Lix, and you know I’m not mad. I'm just glad it all worked out in the end,” Jisung said, his voice thick with emotion. “That's my point. Everything turned out okay, so don't you dare throw it all away now.”
“I promise I won't,” Felix said softly, rising from the sofa to embrace Jisung tightly. They held each other for a moment, silent tears streaming down their cheeks. Eventually, Felix gently pulled away, saying he needed to take a walk to clear his mind.
“Please, don't do anything stupid,” Jisung urged, his voice filled with grave concern.
Felix met his gaze, closed his eyes briefly, and took a deep breath. “I won't do that if that's what you're thinking,” he replied.
“Shit, Lix, I'm sorry,” Jisung muttered.
“Don't be,” Felix managed a small, forced smile.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Quokka:
I got my placement letter today…
Leebit:
Omg, which hospital?
Quokka:
Lonely St. Hospital…
Leebit:
Are you joking? Please don’t joke like that, Jisung.
Quokka:
I’m not joking!
Leebit:
That’s amazing! We need to celebrate.
Are you free this Sunday? I want to introduce you to someone.
Quokka:
Who?
Leebit:
I promise you will thank me later. Do you trust me?
Quokka:
Okay, yeah, I’m free.
Jisung found himself wondering when he had started trusting Minho. Perhaps it was that time they made up those funny nicknames for each other that ended up sticking.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“Rise and shine, Sungie!” Felix shouted, bursting through the doors to Jisung's bedroom with a loud flourish. It was early Sunday morning, and Jisung had barely gotten any sleep after a late night.
“Get lost, Felix,” Jisung groaned, pulling the covers over his head.
“It's flea market Sunday, Ji! You need to get up right now,” Felix insisted, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.
Shit. Jisung's eyes shot open as he remembered: it was the Sunday they were supposed to hit the local flea market. Every other week, he and Felix would scour the market for the weirdest finds, competing to outdo each other. But he had completely forgotten about it when he made plans with Minho for this morning.
“Shit, I forgot the flea market is today,” Jisung breathed out.
“That's why you've got me,” Felix laughed, “Now get up so we can get there early!”
Jisung cursed under his breath; he was torn between his tradition with Felix and the commitment he'd made to Minho. He took a deep breath and decided to come clean, or at least as clean as he could manage.
“Lix, I'm afraid I won't be able to go to the flea market with you today,” he said carefully, watching Felix's face for any hint of disappointment.
“What? Why?” Felix asked, visibly surprised. “You never say no to flea markets!” He wrinkled his brow, trying to understand why Jisung would skip their outing.
“I need to sort out some stuff today,” Jisung replied, sidestepping the whole truth. He didn't want to lie, but admitting he was meeting Minho was not an option.
Felix's eyes narrowed, a knowing look crossing his face. “You're meeting that doctor, aren't you?” he asked, but there was no hint of anger in his voice, just curiosity and a touch of amusement.
Jisung's eyes widened in surprise, his secret exposed. He had underestimated Felix's perceptiveness.
“It's okay, Ji,” Felix said with a smile. “I know you two are always talking on the phone.”
Jisung let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing. “How did you know?” he asked, still stunned that Felix had figured it out so quickly.
“Please,” Felix scoffed playfully. “You think I wouldn't notice? You light up every time you get a text from him.”
“It’s not like that!” Jisung shook his head.
“Go meet him,” Felix encouraged, giving Jisung a gentle shove. “I'll hit the flea market solo this time. But you owe me one!”
Jisung smiled, feeling a little more relaxed. “Thanks, Lix. I'll make it up to you, I promise.”
Felix winked. “You better. Now get out of here before I change my mind and drag you with me!”
Jisung quickly washed up, his mind racing as he fumbled through his wardrobe. He agonised over every detail of his outfit, second-guessing each choice. Should he go for a casual look or something a bit more polished? After changing shirts three times, he finally settled on a dark, fitted, cropped T-shirt and jeans that accentuated his figure without looking like he was trying too hard.
His hair proved to be another ordeal. He ran his fingers through it repeatedly, trying to achieve a tousled yet effortless style. Every strand seemed to defy him, adding to his growing frustration. Why was he putting so much effort into this? He felt ridiculous, nervously checking his reflection in the mirror, dissatisfied with how his hair fell over his forehead.
As he worked on taming the last strands, Jisung couldn’t help but feel silly. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t the type to fuss over his appearance or worry about making a perfect impression. Normally, he would throw on the first thing he grabbed and be out the door in minutes. But today was different. Today, he was meeting Minho.
His heart fluttered at the thought, a sensation that made him uneasy. He didn’t like how it made him feel—vulnerable, exposed. Why was he getting so worked up over a simple meeting? It’s not like he and Minho could ever be something. They were just friends, right? Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
Jisung glanced at his phone. He was going to be late if he didn’t leave now. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.
“Get a grip, Han Jisung”, he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “It’s just coffee. No big deal.”
But deep down, he knew it was more than that. It felt like an opportunity, a chance to connect with someone who had quickly become important to him. The thought of Minho’s warm smile and how his eyes crinkled when he laughed made Jisung’s heart race. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to impress Minho.
He wanted to impress Minho so much that he kept forgetting the actual reason for their meeting. Minho had planned to introduce Jisung to someone, and it wouldn't be just the two of them. As he walked briskly through the bustling streets, Jisung’s mind raced. The initial excitement of seeing Minho had clouded his focus. He hadn't even thought about the purpose behind the meeting. Who was this person Minho wanted him to meet? And why did it matter so much? But every time he tried to shift his thoughts, they drifted back to Minho—his charming smile, the way he always managed to make Jisung laugh, and his voice that made Jisung's heart flutter.
Jisung cursed under his breath, feeling foolish for letting his feelings cloud his judgment. He didn’t even know what this meeting was about, and here he was, acting as if it were a date. With a final glance at his reflection in a cafe window, Jisung squared his shoulders and walked into the café. His eyes scanned the room, searching for Minho. The nerves tightened in his stomach, but he pushed them down, determined to stay calm.
As he spotted Minho sitting at a table near the window, Jisung forced a smile and approached, reminding himself to keep his focus and not let his emotions get the better of him.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
For the first time in a long time, Felix felt free. His mind, usually a chaotic swirl of worries and what-ifs, was surprisingly calm. He strolled down the cobbled streets towards the flea market, savouring the feeling of the cool breeze against his skin. He smiled to himself, thinking about Jisung. Ever since Jisung started talking to Minho, there has been a noticeable change in him. The once-familiar look of exhaustion and stress that had etched itself onto Jisung’s face was now replaced with a lively expression. Minho had a way of understanding Jisung that few others did, and their conversations had been a turning point for him. Jisung was finally sleeping well, free from the anxieties that had kept him awake night after night. Felix was genuinely happy for him. Felix had always been a firm believer in higher powers. Maybe that was why his heat got so bad this time. Perhaps it was fate's way of ensuring Jisung and Minho met, and if that were the case, Felix was more than happy to pay the price.
Felix didn't want to be with an alpha, or anyone, for that matter. But that didn't mean Jisung felt the same way. Jisung rarely brought it up, knowing Felix's views on romantic relationships, especially after his last relationship with another omega failed miserably. That isn't to say Jisung hasn't had his fair share of heartbreaks. The last person he was with earlier practically ghosted him overnight, saying he just didn't feel the same anymore, with no further explanation. That alpha was no good for Jisung, but he was so in love that he couldn't see it. He fell for all of the alpha’s lies. When Felix suggested something was wrong with how he was being treated, Jisung didn’t speak to him for days.
To the outside world, the alpha didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong, but Felix could see right through the facade and knew he wasn’t serious about Jisung. Not wanting to lose his friend, Felix dropped the subject and just kept a close eye on the alpha instead.
One day, Jisung came home and climbed the stairs of their back then tiny flat, which they affectionately called ‘the trashcan’. He suddenly sank to his knees and let out the most heartbreaking cries Felix had ever heard. Without hesitation, Felix rushed to his side, trying to prevent Jisung from hitting his face on the floor. Jisung was sobbing so hard he could barely form a sentence, gasping for air between his cries.
One thing about Jisung was that it was almost impossible for him to stop once he started crying like this. His airways would get blocked, making it hard for him to breathe, and he often passed out.
“He broke up with me,” Jisung finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper, exhausted from all the crying.
He had just recovered from falling unconscious earlier. Felix held him tightly, pressing Jisung against his chest and gently stroking his head. They were still sitting on the floor, so Felix quickly grabbed pillows, blankets, and every soft plush toy he could find to make them comfortable.
“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Felix whispered back, his heart aching for Jisung. Felix knew exactly what it felt like to be utterly heartbroken. He wished he could take away Jisung’s pain, wishing he had never met that alpha and never had to go through this. Felix hated the alpha for doing this to Jisung. Someone like Jisung deserved the world. He seriously wanted to murder that piece of shit for breaking his friend like this.
To Felix, this was more proof that all alphas are the same. Maybe not all of them will physically abuse you, but they will all break you in the end. But there was nothing he could do except be there for Jisung, let him cry on his chest as much as he needed and listen to him.
Buried in his thoughts, Felix hadn't even realised he had already wandered into the bustling flea market. The aroma of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of flowers from the nearby park. Vendors called out their deals, and the conversation buzzed around him. Felix inhaled deeply, allowing himself to be present at the moment, something he hadn’t done in what felt like forever.
As he wandered among the stalls, Felix admired the array of items on display. There were old records stacked in crates, their covers worn but hinting at musical nostalgia; shelves filled with books of all genres, their spines cracked and pages yellowed with time; tables overflowing with trinkets, from delicate porcelain figurines to bold, statement jewellery.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Felix spotted someone familiar standing at a booth with old vinyl records. At first, he couldn’t quite place the person. They had their back to Felix, holding a worn Nirvana vinyl in one hand and gesturing animatedly with the other as they passionately discussed something with the vendor. Then, the person threw their head back and let out a distinctive, perky laugh. Felix froze—it was Chan.
Felix felt a sudden urge to run, hide, or disappear—anything to avoid standing there, right behind Chan. His heart pounded in his chest, and panic flowed over him. But it was as if his feet were glued to the ground, and he couldn't move. He stood frozen, watching Chan from a distance.
And then, suddenly, it was too late—Chan turned around and locked eyes with him.
“Felix,” Chan breathed out, almost inaudibly, still holding the vinyl in his hands.
Felix’s mind raced as he mentally cycled through all the possible tones and styles of talking he could use with Chan. He considered ignoring him completely, pretending not to notice the familiar face standing before him. Then he thought about acting like an old friend, smiling and exchanging pleasantries as if nothing had ever come between them. But in the end, he decided to settle on a nonchalant approach, as if Chan’s presence didn’t bother him at all.
“Hi, Chan,” said Felix, his demeanour composed and calm. “Vinyls?” he asked, nodding towards the crate in front of Chan.
Chan hesitated, taking a moment longer than usual to respond, but he finally said, “Ah, yes. I thought I might find some rare ones here.”
“Looks like you did,” Felix replied, nodding towards the Nirvana vinyl.
Chan's eyes lit up with excitement as he spoke. “Honestly, I've been looking for this one for ages,” he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. “It’s an exclusive Australian '92 Tour EP. I looked everywhere in Australia for it; there are less than 4,000 copies! I can’t believe I found it here.”
As Chan became wholly immersed in his talk about the vinyl, it was as if he suddenly forgot who Felix was and why he had been nervous just a moment ago. Felix watched him with amusement, captivated by this side of Chan he hadn’t seen before. Chan looked like a happy child, his smile wide and infectious, showing off his teeth. His eyes were shaped into crescent moons, and his dimples were on full display. Oh my god, Felix realised he was staring.
“You’ve been to Australia?” Felix asked, his eyes widening in surprise.
“Yeah,” Chan replied, his voice echoing with nostalgia. I lived there before moving to Korea, but I still visit regularly.”
Felix’s mind flashed with mixed memories of Australia. He had enjoyed his time there during the brief period he lived with his aunt, but it was also where he made some of the worst decisions of his life. Despite this, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of connection, realising that he and Chan shared something in common.
“I see,” Felix said, keeping his tone neutral and his feelings hidden. He chose not to delve into his past in Australia, keeping the conversation light and avoiding any revelation about his own experiences.
“Also, how did you know this was rare?” Chan asked, clearly taken aback.
“Someone I used to know was a huge fan,” Felix replied honestly. “They wanted this exact EP.” His gaze wandered off, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he seemed lost in a fond memory.
Chan watched him intently, his heart aching with longing. He felt an irresistible urge to reach out, to brush Felix’s stray strands of hair from his face, and to kiss his soft lips. More than anything, Chan was simply grateful to have run into Felix and to see him again, to know that he was okay and to share the same space, if only for a little while. That, he thought, would be enough for now. He decided to take a chance even if he knew it wasn’t what Felix might want.
“Would you like to come with me to this vinyl cafe?” Chan asked, his voice tentative as he struggled to meet Felix’s eyes. “We could listen to this EP together.”
Felix hadn’t expected Chan to ask him to spend more time together. He was caught off guard, unsure of how to respond. But they will work together very soon, so it made sense to start easing into Chan’s presence now. The sooner they could navigate this awkwardness and put the past behind them, the better. After a moment of hesitation, Felix agreed to go with Chan to the vinyl cafe. He told himself it was a practical decision—nothing more. He tried not to dwell on it or read too much into it.
Felix knew they had to get comfortable around each other to avoid awkward moments at work. The last thing he needed was tension with Chan screwing things up. But there was a hitch: Chan didn’t even know about Felix’s placement yet.
Felix thought Jisung might have mentioned something to Minho, but he wasn’t entirely sure. If Minho did know, would he share it with Chan? He wondered how things might unfold once everyone was clued in.
They would work together soon, and Felix didn’t want any drama. He just wanted things to be smooth and easygoing. Getting on the same page with Chan was essential, and Felix was determined to make that happen. After all, it was better to clear the air now rather than let it linger and become a bigger issue later.
“Yeah, sure,” Felix responded quickly before he had time to overthink and change his mind.
Chan looked a little surprised at first, but only for a millisecond. Then, his face broke into a big, genuine smile. Anyone watching might have thought he had some hidden agenda, but Chan was really just thrilled that Felix agreed to spend time with him. That was all he wanted right now.
Chan wasn’t thinking about the future or anything complicated. All he knew was that he felt drawn to Felix like a magnet and would do just about anything to stay close to him. He didn’t fully understand this feeling, but there was a lot Chan didn’t understand about himself, so he told himself it was okay not to have all the answers.
“Let’s go, then,” said Chan, his voice filled with joyful excitement. He could barely contain himself and almost reached out to grab Felix's hand, eager to pull him along. At the last moment, he caught himself and rubbed the back of his neck shyly instead.
“Hold on," Felix said suddenly, “I promised Jisung I’d get us a movie to watch.” He paused for a moment, “It’s our tradition. We always buy an old VHS and watch it together,” Felix explained.
“I love that idea,” Chan said, smiling warmly. “You and Jisung are very close,” he added.
“We are," Felix said, his voice getting a little quieter. “We've only got each other.” He turned his attention to the stall, where stacks of dusty old VHS tapes were piled up like forgotten treasures. He hoped Chan wouldn't ask any more questions about him and Jisung. It felt too personal, too precious to share right now.
“Want to help me find something?” Felix asked, trying to change the subject and keep things light. He shot Chan a hopeful smile, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything too deep.
Chan picked up on the change in Felix's tone. He knew this wasn't the right moment to dig into Felix's past. He hoped that there would be a right time for that. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy this moment with him.
“Sure,” Chan said with a grin, happy to go along. “Let's see what we can find.”
They walked over to the stall, where the VHS tapes were scattered like hidden gems. As they sifted through the collection, Chan's eyes lit up. He raised one particular tape in his hand, grinning like a kid in a candy store.
“Oh my God, I used to love this as a child!” he exclaimed.
Felix immediately turned his head, curious to see what Chan had found.
“Pokemon Indigo League?” Felix asked, squinting a little as he read the title.
“Yeah! This is the first one,” Chan replied, beaming. “This right here is the definition of nostalgia.” He stared into space for a moment, his smile growing even wider.
Felix couldn’t help but smile, too. Chan's excitement was infectious and incredibly genuine. Clearly, Chan wasn't the type to put on a show. Even if he tried, Felix doubted Chan could be anything but authentic.
Felix wondered who Chan really was. He had seen him as an ED doctor. He'd seen him as an alpha, strong and confident. But this was the first time he was seeing a different side of him—carefree, playful, and endearing.
“I’ll take this one, please,” Felix said, turning to the vendor and pointing at the VHS in Chan’s hand.
“Hey! I was gonna get it!” Chan protested, pouting slightly.
“You got the vinyl, so this is mine,” Felix replied, sticking out his tongue playfully. “Besides, do you even own a VHS player?”
“I’m older than you, you know,” Chan pointed out, trying to look serious but failing.
“So what? Do you have one?” Felix asked again, teasing him with a grin.
“Well, no,” Chan admitted with a laugh.
“Thought so,” Felix laughed, joining in the fun.
Felix’s heart skipped a beat every time Chan’s shoulder brushed against his as they walked to Chan’s car.
“Ready for some music?” Chan asked, jingling the keys and flashing Felix a smile.
“Absolutely,” Felix replied.
The idea of spending more time with Felix filled Chan with a pleasant thrill. As they drove through the city streets, Chan couldn’t help but steal glances at Felix, who was gazing out the window with a thoughtful expression. It was risky business, as Minho would say, but Chan was willing to pay any price for even a few moments with Felix.
Ever since he met Felix, he couldn’t get him out of his head. When Felix was around, Chan felt an undeniable sense of calm and warmth, as if he’d finally found something he hadn’t realised he was searching for. He might have thought they had bonded that night if Chan didn’t know any better. But he felt none of the discomfort or pain that he would have if they had actually bonded, and Felix seemed fine, too, according to what Minho knew from Jisung.
Soon, they arrived at the vinyl café, a cosy little spot tucked away on a quiet street. From the outside, it looked inviting, with large windows glowing softly with the lights and the sign above the door reading “Oddinary Vibes” in bold, retro lettering.
Each booth in the café was like a cosy little hideaway, complete with a comfortable sofa and its own vinyl player. It invited guests to sit back and lose themselves in the music. Vintage music posters adorned the walls, adding to the nostalgic vibe of the place.
“How about that one?” Chan suggested, pointing to a booth in the corner with a plush, deep-blue sofa. It was tucked away, offering some privacy.
“Yeah, that looks perfect,” Felix agreed, and they made their way over.
They sat back on the sofa, their shoulders just barely touching, sending little sparks of electricity through Felix. He tried to focus on the music instead of the way Chan’s presence made him feel.
“You know,” Chan said as he carefully placed the vinyl record on the turntable, “when I was a kid, my dad used to play vinyl records every Sunday morning. It was our little tradition. He had this old turntable that always made the music sound so warm and alive.”
Felix listened intently, feeling the warmth in Chan’s voice, but his own childhood memories were far less comforting. His mind wandered to the chaotic household he grew up in, where happiness was a fleeting guest. The thought made him go quiet for a moment, and he stared out the window.
Chan glanced over, noticing the shift in Felix’s mood but deciding not to press. Instead, he turned the volume up, filling the silence with music that seemed to lift the weight off Felix’s shoulders.
The waiter approached their table, pen and notepad in hand, ready to take their drink orders. Chan glanced up with a friendly smile.
“I’ll have a coffee, please,” he said, his voice warm and casual.
Without missing a beat, Felix said, “I’ll have a raspberry swirl milkshake with two extra pumps of syrup, please.”
The waitress chuckled as she jotted down the order. “Coming right up,” she replied, smiling before heading off to prepare their drinks.
Chan turned to Felix, eyebrows raised in mock horror. “Felix, that is literally diabetes in a cup!” He shook his head, feigning disapproval. “You’re a doctor now; you should know better,” he added, a warm laugh bubbling up.
“Then just don’t tell this to our patients,” Felix replied with a grin.
Chan’s smile faded momentarily, replaced by a hint of confusion. “Our patients?” he asked, his voice cautious and eyebrows furrowing slightly.
Felix paused when he realised Chan had not yet learned about his placement. He took a deep breath and met Chan’s gaze with a serious expression. “Chan,” Felix said, his voice steady, “I got my junior doctor placement.”
Chan’s eyes widened with surprise. “Are you saying…” he began, trailing off as the pieces clicked into place.
“Yeah,” Felix confirmed, feeling a little anxious. “We’re going to work together.”
Chan searched Felix’s eyes for a moment before asking genuinely, “Are you okay with it?”
Felix let out a small sigh, then chuckled softly. “It doesn’t really matter because I can’t change it even if I wanted to. But I think I actually am okay with it.”
A weight seemed to lift from Chan’s shoulders, but he felt a pang of guilt nonetheless. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was apologising for. Maybe it was for everything—for meeting Felix that night, for having sex with him, for constantly thinking about him and pestering Minho for updates. For bringing him to this cafe even if it seemed like Felix wanted to come. For just existing in Felix’s life at all.
“Chan, please, stop apologising,” Felix sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. “Life happens, and it’s okay. We’re here now, and we’re both fine, aren’t we? I mean, look at us—we’re hanging out in a café, listening to Nirvana. We’ll be just fine working together.”
Chan nodded, absorbing Felix’s words. Whatever he was starting to feel for Felix, he would bury it deep. He would never let those feelings interfere with Felix’s future. He vowed never to make him uncomfortable or put him in an awkward situation again. He would be the best mentor possible, content to have Felix near, ensuring he was okay and offering support whenever needed.
“You’re right,” Chan said, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “I’m excited to work with you,” he added, then quickly panicked. “I mean, not in an inappropriate way, I mean, shit…” His words stumbled over each other, a blush creeping up his cheeks.
“Chan, hey, it’s okay, I get it,” Felix said, a soft smile spreading across his face. Without thinking, he reached out and covered Chan’s hand with his own. This was how Felix expressed his love and support for all his friends. He was naturally touchy and affectionate, so this gesture felt completely normal to him.
Chan’s heart skipped a beat at the touch, but he forced himself to focus. “I just wanted to say I’m glad I’ll have the opportunity to teach you more about ED work,” he finally managed to say, his words steadying.
Felix’s smile widened, his eyes shining. “And I’m glad I’ll get to learn from you, Chan. We’re going to make a great team.”
Chan squeezed Felix’s hand gently before letting go, a wave of relief enveloping him. For now, this was enough. Having Felix in his life, even just as a colleague and friend, was enough.
Chan and Felix continued their conversation, effortlessly shifting between work, music, and everything in between. Laughter occasionally punctuated their words as if they were old friends who had known each other for years. Felix felt at ease, and for once, it seemed like everything might finally work out in his life.
As he listened to Chan animatedly talk about the latest album he'd been obsessing over, Felix allowed himself a moment of reflection. He realised that despite the chaos of the past few months—the stress of med school, his unbearable heat and the uncertainty of his future—he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Meanwhile, in a different part of the city, Han Jisung struggled against his desire to turn his dream from the other night into reality. Or was he really?
Chapter 6: can i be brave?
Summary:
“I kinda wanna be brave again...” Jisung said quietly, scanning Minho’s face for his reaction. His eyes were full of hope and vulnerability as if he were taking a leap of faith.
This boy is gonna be the death of me, Minho thought, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness. Before he could second-guess himself, he replied with a soft smile, “You can be as brave as you want.”TW - mention of suicide (not described in detail)
Chapter Text
Minho stood by the stove, happily humming a tune as he expertly flipped pancakes in the pan. The aroma of buttery batter filled the kitchen, mingling with the morning light streaming through the window. Cooking was Minho's passion, but he rarely cooked just for himself. There was something uniquely rewarding about preparing meals for others—the delighted expressions on their faces when they tasted his creations.
This morning was special because Chan was coming over. It had been ages since they had spent quality time together outside of work. With their hectic schedules, having a weekend off was a rare treat, especially one they could enjoy together. They planned to make the most of this Saturday, savouring every moment of their free time.
As the door creaked open, Chan entered Minho's house, a grin spreading across his face. “You seem super cheerful this morning,” he remarked, taking in the inviting smells of breakfast. Soonie, one of Minho's affectionate cats, immediately trotted over to Chan, rubbing against his leg in greeting. He squatted to pet the little fluffball, and Soonie immediately flipped onto his back, eagerly inviting Chan to scratch his chest. Chan chuckled at the cat's antics, his fingers weaving through Soonie’s soft fur.
“Oh, hi, Chan,” Minho said, glancing over his shoulder with a warm smile. “I’m just finishing up. Thought you might want some homemade food.” He laughed, knowing that Chan had been running on a crazy busy schedule lately and probably hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.
“Minho, you’re the best. I freaking love you, man,” Chan said, his gratitude genuine and heartfelt.
“Alright, enough with the mushy words,” Minho replied, shaking his head with a grin as he placed the last of the golden pancakes onto a plate. He took off his apron and folded it neatly, gesturing for Chan to sit at the table.
“Do you want to go out or spend time at home?” Minho asked as he savoured a bite of pancake, the sweetness of maple syrup complementing the fluffy texture.
“I think we should just stay and hang out here. I’m so tired of seeing people,” Chan groaned, though a chuckle slipped through his words.
“That’s fair,” Minho agreed with a chuckle of his own. “I’m going out tomorrow, so I could use some chill time too.”
Chan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You? Going out?” he asked sceptically. Minho was more of a homebody, preferring the comfort of his cosy living room, surrounded by his cats, music, or a good book.
“I’m meeting Changbin,” Minho replied, rolling his eyes.
“Changbinnie? I haven’t seen him in ages. Can I come?” Chan asked eagerly, a spark of interest lighting up his eyes.
“Um, not really,” Minho said, “There’ll be someone else there, too,” he added, a hint of caution in his voice.
“Oh, is that so?” Chan asked, his gaze drifting somewhere beyond Minho. He felt a slight flip in his stomach and knew he had to ask. “It’s not Felix, is it?” he inquired, his voice soft.
“No, Chan, it’s not Felix,” Minho laughed, shaking his head. “You’re down bad for him.”
“I was just asking. Besides—” Chan started to defend himself, but Minho cut him off.
“It’s Jisung,” Minho admitted.
“Of course it’s Jisung,” Chan said with a knowing laugh. “Now, who’s down bad, huh?” he teased, watching Minho’s cheeks flush with colour.
“I just wanted to introduce him to Changbin in case he gets a placement in our hospital, you know,” Minho said, attempting to sound casual. He was half-lying; he already knew Jisung had secured a placement at Lonely St. Hospital, which likely meant that Felix did too. Minho had deliberately avoided asking Jisung about Felix because he didn’t want to put himself in a position where he might have to lie to Chan. It was easier not to know for sure.
Chan just hummed in response, his eyes fixed on his messy plate. The pancakes were cut into tiny pieces, swimming in a pool of maple syrup that had spread across the entire plate. Brightly coloured fruits were scattered haphazardly, creating a chaotic yet delicious-looking mosaic. He lazily moved the food around with his fork, lost in thought.
His mind drifted to Felix. Was it the way he looked at Chan or the way he hugged him the last time they talked? Either way, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was drawn to Felix, like a moth to a flame.
“Earth to Chan,” Minho teased, snapping Chan back to the present.
“Sorry, just spaced out a bit,” Chan replied sheepishly, finally taking a bite of his pancake. The sweet, buttery flavour was comforting, reminding him of simpler times when things weren’t so complicated.
“Thinking about Felix again?” Minho asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly.
Chan sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “He’s just... different, you know?”
“I know, I wish I could do something,” Minho sighed. It hurt him to see Chan so downcast. Chan always claimed he didn’t mind being alone, but Minho knew better. Didn’t everyone feel the need to be loved sometimes? He could see the loneliness that often lingered in Chan’s eyes, a silent longing for connection.
Minho knew Chan was highly selective about the people he allowed into his life. Chan treated his energy as a precious resource, one he reserved for those who truly mattered to him. He always emphasised the importance of choosing wisely when it came to sharing your energy.
“I'll trust the universe to bring us back together if it’s meant to be,” Chan said with a bittersweet smile. His eyes held a flicker of hope, yet they couldn't quite mask how much he missed Felix.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho couldn’t fall asleep after Chan left. His mind kept racing with thoughts of meeting Jisung the next day. He wanted to get some rest so tomorrow would come sooner, but sleep just wouldn’t come. A small part of him felt like a fraud; meeting Changbin was a perfect excuse for Minho to see Jisung. But he wasn’t lying; Minho wanted Jisung to have a friend from day one. Having someone solid to lean on during his new placement would be great. Changbin was a great guy, and Minho thought they’d get along like a house on fire. Finally, Minho drifted off after what felt like hours, only to wake up way too early. The sky was just starting to lighten, the first hints of dawn peeking through his curtains. He knew trying to sleep any longer was pointless, so he decided to get up and go for a walk. As Minho strolled past Chan’s house, he spotted Chan stepping outside, fiddling with his car keys like he was working on a puzzle.
“Chan!” Minho called out. His outfit suggested he wasn’t just taking out the bins. Chan was wearing a crisp white T-shirt layered with a black-and-white chequered crocheted vest, paired with black trousers accented by white stitching. A small 8-ball pendant dangling from his neck, so not Chan’s style , Minho thought to himself.
Chan turned around, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Minho, the hell you doing here so early?” he asked.
Minho grinned, unable to hide his amusement. “I’m just taking a morning walk,” he replied. “The real question is, where are you off to, dressed like a hipster?” he teased, raising his eyebrows as he took in Chan's unexpected ensemble.
“Um, I’m trying something new,” Chan said with a sheepish smile, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Hannah suggested I do something I normally wouldn’t to clear my mind a little,” he added, adjusting the 8-ball pendant nervously as if seeking reassurance from the small object.
Minho chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “And since when do you listen to Hannah?” he teased. He knew how incredibly close Chan was to his sister, Hannah, but it was rare for Chan to take advice from his siblings seriously. Chan usually marched to the beat of his own drum, making this change all the more intriguing.
Chan shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going skydiving, Minho. I’m just heading to the flea market. Maybe I can find some old vinyl,” he explained, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
“God, Chan, you’re a hopeless romantic,” Minho laughed, though his laughter was warm and devoid of ill intentions. Deep down, he was genuinely happy to see Chan taking steps to distract himself from Felix, the person who had been occupying his thoughts lately.
Chan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but grin. “Alright, you have fun with Jisung,” he said with a playful wink.
“And Changbin! We’re meeting Changbin!” Minho corrected him, crossing his arms in mock annoyance.
“Eh, details,” Chan replied casually, waving his hand dismissively as if it were a minor oversight.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho arrived at the café way too early, but that was kind of his thing. The place was half empty, which meant he had his pick of the best seats. As he scanned the room, he thought about which spot Jisung might choose. He imagined Jisung would want to sit somewhere cosy and tucked away from the crowd.
His eyes landed on a corner table with comfy chairs right next to a big window. It wasn’t in the main walkway, so it offered some privacy and a beautiful view of a strawberry garden outside. Perfect. Minho headed over and plopped himself down on one of the pastel green chairs.
Minho fiddled with his phone as he sat there, glancing at the time every few seconds. Changbin had developed a habit of running late lately, which Minho had come to expect. But Jisung... well, Minho had no idea what Jisung's habits were like when it came to these everyday things. The thought made him pout slightly. He realised he wanted to know every detail about Jisung, even the little quirks and routines.
Minho, from a few years ago, would have been terrified by such thoughts. Back then, relationships were the last thing on his mind. He didn’t believe in love; he was all about chasing a good time, not a long time. During med school, Minho was known for going out with a different person every week, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him in this damn city. But he couldn’t help it. The idea of having one partner for the rest of his life was utterly off-putting.
“It’s not fun,” he’d always say whenever Chan tried to talk some sense into him. “Why tie yourself down when you can have all the fun without the drama?” Chan would roll his eyes, knowing Minho wasn't ready to listen.
Minho was all about living in the moment, which meant never getting too attached. The thought of settling down felt like a trap, a way to put a leash on the freedom he loved so much. Back then, love seemed like a myth, something for people who believed in fairy tales, not for someone like him who was all about reality and instant gratification.
That was until Minho met him—the person who completely changed his view on life. At the age of 28, Minho had fallen in love for the first time, and it was nothing like he had imagined. This person made him feel things he never thought he was capable of feeling and showed him parts of life he never knew existed.
When they were together, Minho felt truly at ease for the first time. It was nice to have someone to kiss, hug, and feel something real with. They laughed together, went to the cinema, cooked meals, and did all sorts of random things that made everyday life feel special. Minho realised he had underestimated the power of falling in love and being loved back.
But sadly, life played a cruel joke on him, turning his own words against him. “Good time, not a long time” became an unbearably painful truth. Just after a year, Minho lost his loved one to suicide.
Minho tried to drown his grief in alcohol, hoping it would numb the pain. He tried getting lost in casual connections like before, but it didn’t feel the same anymore. Those empty flings that once gave him a rush now left him feeling hollow. Every encounter felt like an echo, a reminder of what he had lost.
Maybe it was the utter sadness or the guilt of not being able to help someone he loved. But Minho knew it was more than that. His partner had shown him a world full of warmth and colour; now, everything felt grey. He realised he could never go back to his old lifestyle. The thrill of temporary pleasures had faded into insignificance.
That’s when Minho decided he would stay alone. “There’s no one out there who will accept me for who I am,” he said when Chan suggested he try to meet new people. Minho truly believed that a happy ending wasn’t in his cards. He wasn’t sad or depressed about the idea of staying alone; in fact, he had comfortably accepted it.
He knew he would never find what he was looking for in a partner again, and he didn’t want anything less. It wasn't about settling but honouring the love he had once experienced. To him, being alone was better than being with someone who didn’t measure up to the profound connection he once had.
“If I die,” his partner once told him, “please promise me you will open your heart to the right person again.”
Minho didn’t give those words much thought at the time. They had spent the evening laughing, having deep conversations about life, and sharing random musings. This kind of topic fit right into their chat.
“How would I even know it’s the right person?” Minho laughed, waving off the comment with a smile. It was just a moment in a night filled with many.
“If you promise me to open up your heart, I promise I will make sure to send you someone special,” his partner replied with a smile.
“I promise,” Minho had said, not realising the weight those words would soon carry.
Little did Minho know that his partner would commit suicide the very next day. The memory of their conversation replayed over and over in his mind. His partner's last words became an echo that lingered in his thoughts. So yes, the thoughts of falling in love don’t terrify him. Because Minho made a promise. And maybe, just maybe, he really did send someone special into Minho’s life.
“Hi,” Minho heard a soft voice and lifted his head. Jisung was standing before him, looking slightly nervous but undeniably charming.
“Oh, hi, Jisung!” Minho greeted him enthusiastically, flashing a warm smile. “You’re early!”
“Yeah, the café is near where I live, so I ended up getting here sooner than I expected,” Jisung laughed a little, scratching the back of his head.
“It’s okay,” Minho said, waving off any concern. “Do you want me to get you something while we’re waiting for Changbin?”
“Um, an iced latte is okay,” Jisung replied. Then, as if realising something, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Changbin?”
“Yeah, that’s the friend I want you to meet,” Minho explained, leaning in slightly. “He’s a dialysis unit manager, so you’ll be working closely with him.”
Jisung opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it, seeming to lose words. His eyes darted around, reflecting a mix of excitement and nerves.
“Don’t worry,” Minho reassured him, noticing the anxious expression on Jisung’s face. “He’s a very laid-back guy. You’re gonna like him, I’m sure.”
Jisung nodded, a small smile creeping back onto his face. The tension eased a bit as Minho's confidence seeped into him.
Talking face-to-face was somehow more difficult than chatting on the phone, at least for Jisung. Minho seemed entirely at ease, his smile confident and welcoming, or so Jisung thought. However, inside Minho's head, it was a completely different story. He was freaking out just as much as Jisung, if not more.
Jisung tried to act natural, but his mind kept racing with a hundred thoughts: Does my hair look okay? Am I talking too fast? Is Minho judging my taste in iced coffee? Meanwhile, Minho was silently battling his own storm of insecurities, wondering if Jisung could see through his calm facade.
For Minho, the struggle was real. The pressure to be both cool and collected while simultaneously trying to impress Jisung was more than a little daunting.
Despite their internal chaos, they both managed to maintain a casual conversation, laughing at small jokes and sharing stories about their favourite films. On the surface, it seemed like an effortless conversation, but underneath, both were navigating a sea of self-doubt.
“Minho hyung!” someone yelled from behind, and Minho felt a pair of strong hands wrap around his shoulders.
“Did you adopt another cat and want to celebrate that with me?” asked Changbin, completely oblivious to the person sitting across the table from Minho.
“What? No!” Minho looked slightly panicked, flicking his eyes toward Jisung, hoping Changbin would catch the hint.
“Oh,” Changbin said, blinking in surprise. But that only lasted a millisecond before his face broke into a teasing smirk. “Ah, so it’s the boyfriend then,” he said, nodding at Jisung.
Jisung, mid-sip of his iced latte, choked in surprise, sputtering and coughing. The embarrassment flushed his cheeks a deep shade of pink, and Minho cringed inwardly.
Minho wasn’t lying when he said Changbin was a great guy. It’s just that sometimes his mouth runs faster than his brain, and while this was usually hilarious, right now, Minho wasn’t a huge fan.
Jisung was busy recovering from his cough fit, wiping his mouth with a napkin while trying to regain his composure. Minho shot Changbin his signature death glare, a look he had perfected over many years.
“Bin, I swear to god, just shut up for a second and let me explain why we’re here,” Minho whispered.
“Okay, okay,” Changbin said, raising his hands in surrender, though a slight smirk remained on his face, showing he was thoroughly unbothered by the whole situation.
Jisung finally caught his breath and managed a shy smile, though his eyes were still wide with surprise. “I didn’t know there was a ‘boyfriend’ test,” he said, trying to join the banter despite his nerves.
Minho chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Changbin, this is Jisung. Jisung, meet Changbin—the guy who sometimes speaks before thinking.”
Changbin laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Nice to meet you, Jisung. Sorry about that. I just couldn’t resist.”
“It’s okay,” Jisung replied, his voice steadying as he settled back into his seat. “I’ll just have to be prepared for anything with you around, I guess.”
“Exactly,” Minho sighed, rolling his eyes but smiling despite himself. “Anyway, Changbin is the manager I told you about. You’ll be working closely with him.”
“Ah, I see,” Jisung said, nodding as he processed the introduction. “Well, I’m looking forward to it. I promise I won’t choke on my drink every time you say something unexpected.”
Changbin grinned. “That’s the spirit! And don’t worry, Minho’s always had my back, so you’re in good hands. Although, I’m a little confused. As far as I know, I haven’t seen you at my recent interviews?” Changbin suddenly realised he had no idea how exactly he and Jisung would work closely together.
“That’s because he is a renal jun—” Minho started to explain but was quickly cut off by Changbin.
“The boy’s got a tongue in his mouth. I’m sure he can tell me about it himself,” Changbin laughed, turning his attention to Jisung. “Minho here always speaks on everyone’s behalf,” he added, rolling his eyes, though his tone remained light.
Minho’s usual irritation at Changbin’s teasing didn’t kick in. Instead, his mind wandered off to thoughts he tried to keep at bay: Yes, he does have a tongue in his mouth, and it’s the one I want in mine so badly .
Focus, Minho, focus! he scolded himself, trying to shake off the distraction.
“I’m a new junior doctor,” Jisung said, a smile brightening his face as he spoke.
“Well, that’s great!” Changbin replied, his enthusiasm genuine. “Welcome aboard! I’m sure you’ll fit right in. So, you’ll be part of the renal team, huh?”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” Jisung replied, his voice filled with excitement and a hint of nervousness. “Thank you so much, seonsaengnim. I appreciate your support!”
“Oh, please, call me hyung,” Changbin smiled at him, noticing Jisung’s sudden flustered expression.
Minho, wanting to shift Changbin’s attention from Jisung a little, asked, “How did the interviews go?”
“Really good, to be honest,” said Changbin. He recalled how he’d hired his two new nurses and chuckled to himself. “We hired two staff, one of them a fresh graduate. I can’t wait to work with them,” said Changbin, looking a little too dreamy in Minho’s opinion.
“Damn, Binnie, who are they to make you look all dreamy like that?” Minho threw his head back and laughed.
“Sorry for being excited to work with my new staff!” Changbin protested with a little pout.
“I think it’s great,” Jisung chimed in. “You care a lot about your team. That’s so nice to see.”
Changbin shrugged with a modest grin, “Well, you know, having a good team makes all the difference. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
Minho tried to keep his focus on the conversation and away from Jisung’s smile. The conversation flowed easily, with Minho occasionally chiming in but mostly listening as Jisung and Changbin chatted about the renal department and its quirks. As they talked, he couldn’t help but notice how Jisung’s eyes lit up when he spoke about his passion for medicine, and he found himself drawn in all over again.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“I’ll drive you home?” Minho offered, glancing at Jisung as they walked out of the café.
“Your house is in the opposite direction. It’s okay, I live nearby. I can walk,” Jisung smiled, trying to sound polite.
“It’s okay, I want to,” Minho insisted, hoping he didn’t sound too forceful. He just wanted a few more moments with Jisung, feeling like there was an unspoken connection that shouldn’t end just yet.
Jisung didn’t need much persuading. He looked at Minho with a warm smile and said, “Yeah, okay then.”
They settled comfortably in Minho’s car, the leather seats cool against the warm afternoon. Minho tossed his bag into the backseat and gestured for Jisung to do the same.
“I’m okay, I like keeping my bag in my lap,” Jisung said, holding it close like a safety net.
Minho leaned in to reach for the seatbelt, intending to fasten it for Jisung. The moment caught both of them by surprise. Jisung’s breath hitched, their faces mere inches apart. Again.
The memory of that moment at Minho’s house flashed through Jisung’s mind, his brain screaming, Minho’s lips, lips, lips , as he felt the warmth of Minho’s breath on his skin. Minho’s lips slightly parted as if caught in a pause, and the world seemed to slow down around them.
Although this moment lasted just a few seconds, it felt like an eternity for Jisung. He was stuck in slow motion, with every heartbeat loud and clear in his ears.
Minho blinked, snapping back to reality, and quickly secured the seatbelt with a click. “All set,” he said, his voice just a little too casual, as he settled back into his seat.
Jisung exhaled slowly, trying to calm the flutter in his chest. “Thanks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as they both pretended nothing had happened.
As Minho started the car, the radio playing softly in the background, an easy silence settled between them. It was filled with unspoken thoughts, charged energy lingering in the air.
They soon arrived at Jisung’s house, and Minho hated the thought of parting with him. As the car idled by the curb, Minho stole a glance at Jisung, wishing the ride had been just a little bit longer.
“Thanks so much for today,” Jisung began, his voice warm and genuine. “I appreciate you introducing me to Changbin. He’s really cool,” he said, flashing a wide smile.
A warmth spread through Minho’s chest. He was thrilled that his instincts had been right about them getting along.
“Thank you for coming,” Minho replied, feeling a flutter of nerves. “I really enjoyed your company,” he added before panicking slightly. “I mean, I’m glad you and Changbin got along well, and it was nice to hang out with both of you and—”
He stopped when he noticed Jisung wasn’t really listening. Instead, Jisung was staring out of the window, lost in thought.
“Jisung, is everything okay?” Minho asked, his voice filled with concern.
“Oh, sorry, I spaced out a little,” Jisung replied with a sheepish smile. Minho opened his mouth to say something, but Jisung beat him to it.
“I was just thinking,” Jisung said carefully, his words tentative. “You know how Changbin hyung calls you hyung?” He paused, seeming unsure. “It’s stupid really, but—”
“Do you want to call me hyung?” Minho interjected, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he noticed how easily Jisung got flustered.
“That would be nice,” Jisung responded in a tiny voice that Minho found adorable.
“Then do,” Minho said, looking Jisung straight in the eyes. They sat there, gazing at each other, an electrifying energy crackling between them.
“Minho-hyung,” Jisung breathed out, his eyes flicking down to Minho’s pink lips. “I think I’m going to do something stupid.”
“Yeah?” Minho murmured, instinctively leaning closer to Jisung, his hand comfortably resting on the back of the passenger seat headrest.
Jisung let out the tiniest little moan, lifting himself slightly, closing his eyes as he moved closer to Minho’s soft lips, carefully brushing them with his own. Minho’s lips parted immediately, inviting Jisung in.
Their kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration, but the moment Jisung felt the warmth of Minho’s breath on his skin, a surge of confidence washed over him. He deepened the kiss, his hands instinctively finding their way to Minho’s hair, pulling him closer.
Minho responded in kind, his hand slipping to the nape of Jisung’s neck, pulling him in as if they were the only two people in the world. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless and slightly dazed. Jisung’s cheeks were flushed, and Minho couldn’t help but grin, his heart racing.
“Wow,” Jisung said, his voice barely a whisper. “That was...”
“Yeah,” Minho agreed, unable to find the right words, his mind still reeling from the kiss.
“I guess it wasn’t that stupid after all,” Jisung chuckled softly, looking down shyly before meeting Minho’s eyes again.
Minho laughed, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Definitely not stupid. Brave, maybe,” he teased gently, reaching out to brush a stray hair from Jisung’s forehead.
“I kinda wanna be brave again...” Jisung said quietly, scanning Minho’s face for his reaction. His eyes were full of hope and vulnerability as if he were taking a leap of faith.
This boy is gonna be the death of me, Minho thought, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness. Before he could second-guess himself, he replied with a soft smile, “You can be as brave as you want.”
And then they were kissing again. This time, the kiss was more passionate, filled with a fiery intensity that took them both by surprise. Minho gently entered Jisung’s mouth with his tongue, exploring the unfamiliar territory. He brushed the roof of Jisung’s mouth, eliciting a deep moan that sent a jolt straight into Minho’s lower stomach, setting off a cascade of tingling sensations.
Their kiss was messy and somewhat filthy, with their tongues battling for domination, though Jisung let Minho easily win. There was an urgency to their movements, a need to get closer, to feel more.
Minho’s hands began to wander, tracing a path across Jisung’s body. He started at his neck, fingers brushing against the soft skin there, then moved lower, feeling the warmth of Jisung’s chest through his shirt. His hand travelled down to Jisung’s stomach, lingering there for a moment before finally settling on his thigh. He squeezed lightly, feeling the firm muscle beneath, and smiled inwardly as Jisung shivered in response.
Jisung was grateful he kept his damn bag in his lap, providing a bit of cover for the growing bulge in his jeans. This is embarrassing; how old am I? he thought, feeling his cheeks flush a deep crimson. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Minho, right here, right now.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The desire pulsing through him was almost overwhelming. He wanted nothing more than to push Minho back against the driver's seat, to climb into his lap and lose himself, grinding against Minho like a fucking teenager. He imagined the feeling of settling against him, the friction, the intensity of it all. He craved the sensation of Minho’s hands gripping and squeezing his ass, pulling him closer. Jisung allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy, imagining Minho’s hands exploring every inch of his body, their shared breaths mingling in the small space of the car. It was intoxicating; he wanted to kiss Minho harder, faster, deeper, but he was out of the fucking breath.
He pulled back slightly, breathless, his eyes wide with excitement. “You’re really good at this,” he admitted with a shy grin, feeling the heat of the moment still flowing through his veins.
Minho chuckled, his hand still resting on Jisung’s thigh. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, feeling a rush of pride at Jisung’s words.
They sat there for a moment, catching their breath, the air between them hot.
“So,” Minho said, breaking the comfortable silence, “Do you think you’ll be brave enough for a second date?”
Jisung laughed softly, nodding. “I think I can manage that,” he said, his eyes sparkling with joy.
As they talked, a sudden loud knock on the window startled them. Jisung’s heart leapt into his throat when he turned to see Felix standing outside.
“Felix!” Jisung exclaimed, fumbling to roll down the window, his cheeks a vivid pink.
Felix grinned, looking completely oblivious to what was happening just moments ago. “Sungie!” he replied with his usual cheerful demeanour, then peered past Jisung into the car.
“Um, he was just driving me home,” Jisung said shyly, glancing at Minho for support.
Felix looked between the two, taking in Minho’s tousled hair, Jisung’s flushed cheeks, and both of their slightly swollen lips. He was putting two and two together now, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“Caught you red-handed, huh?” Felix teased, leaning against the car door with a smirk that made Jisung wish he could sink into his seat and disappear. His eyes sparkled, clearly enjoying the situation more than he probably should.
Minho cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, though the flush on his face betrayed his cool demeanour. “Hey, Felix,” he said, sounding casual despite the obvious awkwardness. He offered a timid grin that seemed to say, Yep, you caught us.
“What’s up, Minho?” Felix greeted, raising an eyebrow, his tone teasing. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything...interesting.” His voice was playful, but his eyes showed genuine warmth as if he was truly happy for them.
Jisung let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “We were just...uh...” he trailed off, searching for words that seemed to have escaped him.
“Just hanging out,” Minho finished for him, though the smile tugging at his lips suggested there was much more to it than that. The way he looked at Jisung, the fondness in his eyes, said it all.
Felix chuckled, clearly enjoying the sight of Jisung and Minho awkwardly trying to play it cool. “Right, ‘hanging out.’ Is that what they call it these days?” he teased with a cheeky wink, causing Jisung to burst into laughter despite his best efforts to keep a straight face.
“Anyway,” Felix continued, his tone casual as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world, “I’m inviting Chan over to our place to watch old Pokémon episodes. Feel free to join us if you’re interested.”
“Chan?!” Jisung and Minho exclaimed in unison, their eyes wide with surprise.
“Yeah, Chan,” Felix replied with a soft smile, his expression warm and inviting.
Felix began to walk back towards Chan, who was standing near his car, fiddling with his keys and looking a bit unsure.
“Felix, are you sure you want me over?” Chan asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
“Yeah, why not? We listened to your Nirvana vinyl; it’s only fair you get to relive some Pokémon nostalgia,” Felix said with a grin. “Besides, you were excited about finding this VHS, remember?” He chuckled, glancing at the vintage cassette that Chan held like a prized possession.
“Okay,” Chan replied, trying to play it cool, though his face betrayed a hint of excitement.
Minho and Jisung were now walking towards them, too, whispering to each other, or at least they thought they were whispering.
“How did those two even meet again?” Minho asked, glancing at Felix and Chan with a raised eyebrow.
“Who knows?” Jisung shrugged, trying to keep his voice low but failing miserably. “The last time I saw Felix, he said he was heading to the flea market.”
“Oh my god,” Minho said suddenly, stopping in his tracks.
“What?” Jisung asked, curiosity piqued.
“That’s where Chan went this morning!” Minho exclaimed, eyes wide with realisation.
They both burst into loud laughter, unable to contain themselves as they imagined the scene. Now, it all made sense: Felix and Chan bonding over dusty vinyl records and vintage Pokémon tapes.
“What’s so funny?” Felix asked, even though he’d heard every word of their conversation and could barely hide his grin.
“Yeah, share with the class,” Chan added, chuckling as he watched Minho and Jisung struggling to keep straight faces.
Minho shot him a glare that clearly said, “You have a lot of explaining to do later.” Chan shivered under the intensity of Minho’s look, knowing he wouldn’t escape the interrogation.
“All right, alphas, stop your silent conversation and let’s get inside. I’m starving,” Jisung announced, grabbing Minho’s hand and dragging him toward the house.
Alphas. Minho and Chan exchanged a quick look, silently agreeing that this was not good for their health.
Felix watched them go, amused. “They’re literally holding hands, but we’re the ones being questioned here,” he chuckled, shaking his head.
“Right?” Chan replied, raising his eyebrows in mock disbelief.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
They settled comfortably in the living room, ready to watch. Chan and Felix had picked up an assortment of store-bought snacks on their way over, so they quickly spread them out on the coffee table.
Chan and Felix took their places on the sofa while Minho and Jisung made themselves comfortable on the floor in front of them. Jisung preferred to watch movies from the floor, where he could create a cosy little nest of plush pillows and soft blankets. He carefully arranged his pillows in a semicircle and tossed a fluffy blanket over his lap, patting the spot next to him for Minho to join.
Naturally, Minho settled down beside him, eager to share the cosy setup and be close to Jisung. The two of them leaned back against the sofa, content in their makeshift fort of comfort.
Meanwhile, Chan and Felix had draped a few blankets over themselves on the sofa. They nestled into the cushions, ready for a relaxing evening. The room was filled with a comfortable warmth as the familiar Pokémon theme song began to play, setting the tone for a nostalgic night.
Felix glanced down at Minho and Jisung, chuckling at how they seemed to have perfected the art of cosy movie-watching.
“Looks like you two have the best seats in the house,” Felix teased, throwing a handful of popcorn in their direction.
Jisung grinned, reaching for the popcorn that had landed on his blanket. “Always,” he replied with a playful wink. “You guys should try it sometime.”
“Right now, I’m all about this sofa comfort,” said Chan, sinking deeper into the cushions.
Felix found himself slightly panicking about how close he was allowed to sit to Chan. Normally, Felix was all about the cuddles during movie nights. When he watched movies with Jisung, it was second nature to snuggle up together, but he wasn’t sure if he could do the same with Chan, given their history. As the movie began, Felix unconsciously pouted, feeling that movie night just wasn’t complete without cuddles.
“What’s wrong?” Chan whispered as he noticed the change in Felix’s expression.
“Ugh, it’s nothing,” Felix replied, now hyper-aware of his pouty face and desperately trying to smooth it out. He kept his eyes on the screen, hoping Chan wouldn’t press further.
“You sure?” Chan asked, clearly unconvinced. He studied Felix’s face with a curious tilt of his head.
Felix hesitated for a moment, his internal struggle waging on, and then blurted out in a barely audible whisper, “I just like to cuddle during movies.”
A warm smile spread across Chan’s face, relief washing over him that it was nothing serious. He had been worried that something was genuinely bothering Felix.
“Come here,” Chan said, spreading his arm invitingly.
“Chan, I—” Felix started, unsure if this was crossing a line he had drawn in his mind. What were they? The whole point of hanging out was to be more relaxed around each other at work. That was all there was to it. Or was it?
“Felix, we’re friends now, right?” Chan asked, his voice gentle and reassuring. Felix nodded slowly, meeting Chan’s eyes. “Friends cuddle. It’s no big deal,” Chan added, sounding completely unbothered by the idea.
Felix let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and allowed himself to relax. He finally nuzzled into Chan’s side, feeling Chan’s arm wrapped securely around him. It was comforting.
Chan gave him a gentle squeeze, and Felix couldn’t help but feel a flutter of warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe this was crossing a line, but in that moment, with Chan’s warmth surrounding him and the soft glow of the movie playing in front of them, Felix didn’t care.
As the movie continued, Felix felt his earlier panic melting away, replaced by a sense of ease he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“See? Isn’t this nice?” Chan murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that Felix could feel through his chest.
Felix nodded against him, smiling. “Yeah, it really is,” he admitted.
Jisung was now fully sprawled out in Minho’s lap, looking perfectly content as Minho gently ran his fingers through his hair. Their easy closeness made it hard for Felix to believe that they had known each other for just a few weeks.
“Wow, you two look like you’ve known each other for ages,” Felix commented, glancing over at them.
Jisung grinned lazily, eyes half-closed as he enjoyed the soothing sensation of Minho’s fingers in his hair.
Minho chuckled, a fond smile on his lips. “Yeah, I guess we just clicked,” he said, looking down at Jisung with a warm expression.
Felix glanced over at Chan and realised that he had fallen asleep. As he studied Chan’s relaxed face, Felix noticed something new, Chan’s perfectly straightened hair was starting to curl slightly at the ends. It was a charming detail he hadn’t noticed before, and the discovery made Felix feel unexpectedly warm inside.
Felix felt a gentle flutter in his chest. Chan scrunched his nose slightly in his sleep, letting out a soft, contented noise. Felix found himself wondering what dreams might be playing out in Chan’s mind. The rhythmic rise and fall of Chan’s chest, the soft, steady breath against Felix’s side—it all felt so effortless and comforting. The way Chan made him feel so at ease and relaxed.
Lost in these thoughts, Felix hadn’t noticed when he himself had dozed off, his mind happily settling on the comforting presence of Chan. Before long, Jisung and Minho had also succumbed to sleep. Jisung remained snuggled in Minho’s lap, while Minho had slumped back onto the sofa cushion near Felix’s feet.
The room was quiet and serene, with each of them lost in their own dreamland. It was the perfect end to the night—or at least it would be if tomorrow wasn’t Monday. Uh-oh.
Chapter 7: glass shards
Notes:
Hi Hi :) I'm so happy to be back with chapter seven and introducing our last main character - Hyunjin :)
A little side note: The character's ages were slightly altered to fit the story properly.
Chapter Text
“No, please, just hold on a little longer, we’re almost there...baby, please!” Hyunjin pleaded, his voice a desperate whisper that barely rose above the hum of the car engine. He cradled a small body in the backseat, his arms wrapped protectively around them as if he could shield them from everything bad. Panic clawed at his chest, tightening its grip with every second that ticked by, and he felt like he could barely breathe.
Suddenly, the person in his arms began to shake uncontrollably, their body wracked by violent tremors as if caught in the agony of a seizure. Hyunjin's heart shattered at the sight, tears streaming down his cheeks as he slurred frantic pleas to the driver, urging them to go faster. The pain in his chest was almost unbearable, an aching weight that pressed down on him, making it hard to move or think.
As the trembling subsided, Hyunjin leaned down, his heart pounding in his ears, desperate to feel the faintest breath on his skin. But there was nothing. The world seemed to stop around him, and the silence was deafening.
Then, suddenly, he jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat, a silent scream frozen in his throat. His heart was racing, and he blinked rapidly, disoriented and trembling as he pinched himself to dispel the lingering shadows of the nightmare. It was just a dream, he told himself, trying to steady his ragged breaths. Yet the fear lingered, a chilling presence at the base of his spine, refusing to let go. He reached out instinctively to the other side of the bed, his hand searching for comfort, only to find it empty.
Seungmin wasn't here. Since Hyunjin had moved in, he hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep without his lover by his side. Seungmin always knew how to calm him down, how to soothe the storm inside, wrapping Hyunjin in his arms until he drifted off peacefully, the nightmares kept at bay.
But tonight, the weight of sadness settled over him once more, the one that was once so familiar to him. He quickly shook it off, reminding himself that Seungmin would be here in just two days.
He reached for his phone, torn between the urge to hear Seungmin's comforting voice and the guilt of potentially waking him. It was a quarter to three in the morning, and Seungmin had an early shift today. The last thing Hyunjin wanted to do was disturb his sleep at this ungodly hour, knowing it might leave him exhausted for work.
With a sigh, Hyunjin decided against calling. Instead, he murmured, “Alexa, lights on,” his voice quiet. “Okay,” the Echo Dot responded, filling the room with a soft, reassuring glow.
Thank god for technology , Hyunjin thought to himself. The idea of getting out of bed and walking across the room to turn on the lights felt like a dreadful task when he was still shivering with remnants of fear. He wasn't exactly afraid of the dark, but he didn't like it either—especially after a nightmare left his body tense and his mind racing.
Journaling had always been Hyunjin’s way of untangling the mess of thoughts and emotions that overwhelmed him. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could spill everything out onto paper. He reached for the drawer of his bedside table, pulled it open, and retrieved his well-worn journal. Quickly, he settled on the bed, legs crossed, and grabbed his favourite pen, ready to pour out his thoughts. But as he bent over to start writing, his hair kept falling into his eyes, the strands becoming an irritating distraction.
Glancing at his wrist, he realised his hairband was missing. Frustration bubbled up as he began searching for it, feeling blindly under his pillows with one hand while keeping the journal steady with the other. “Where the heck is it?” he mumbled to himself, irritation creeping into his voice. Finally, he gave up, shifting his position to search more thoroughly. In his haste, the journal slipped from his lap and landed on the floor with a dull thud.
“There it is,” he muttered, finally spotting the elusive hairband. He quickly tied his hair into a half ponytail, relieved to have it out of his way. But when he leaned down to pick up his journal, he realised it had vanished from where it had fallen. Annoyance prickled at him as he got off the bed, kneeling on the floor to look under the bed. “Ah, there you are,” he hissed, wincing as his knee pressed against an uneven part of the floor.
He reached out and pulled the notebook toward him, only to realise it wasn’t the one he had just dropped. This was an older journal, its cover adorned with faded stickers and a small Polaroid picture stuck right in the centre. The photo was of two boys, captured in a candid moment. The boy with black hair had his arm draped around the shoulder of the brown-haired boy, holding up a phone in one hand and flashing a peace sign. Both were beaming, their smiles so bright that it felt like the happiness in that moment had been sealed inside the photograph.
Hyunjin could almost feel himself being pulled back to that day. He could smell the flowers that had just been out of the frame, their sweet scent mingling with the faint, comforting aroma of the other boy’s perfume. Without even thinking, Hyunjin turned and sat down on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, his eyes glued to the picture. His fingertips hovered over the polaroid, barely grazing its surface as he hesitated.
This wasn’t just any notebook—it was a Pandora’s box of memories, each page a portal to a past that still lingered in the corners of Hyunjin’s heart. He knew that opening it would unleash a flood of emotions, a torrent he wasn’t sure he needed now. It had been six years since he’d last closed its worn cover, vowing never to open it again. Seungmin had often urged him to get rid of it—not out of jealousy, but out of concern, knowing how much those memories still pained Hyunjin despite never knowing what was inside those journals. Seungmin respected his privacy.
But Hyunjin could never bring himself to let it go. No matter how much it hurt, those memories were a part of him, etched into his soul. He treasured them in his own way, even the painful ones, because so many of them were good. To him, it seemed foolish to discard an entire chapter of his life just because it had a sad ending. The joy, the love, the laughter—all of it still mattered, and he preferred to keep those good memories close, even if they were tinged with sorrow.
With a deep breath, Hyunjin let his feelings take the lead. The pull of the past was too strong to resist. Slowly, he opened the journal to a random page, his heart bracing itself for whatever memories would come rushing back.
This is gonna sound silly, but I met a boy. God, this is so sappy!
Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh as he started to read the page, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. The words felt like a time capsule, preserving a moment of innocence and hope.
He is so kind and so ethereally beautiful. I think we are friends now, but I can’t help but wonder—could we be more than that? This is the first time I’ve mentioned him in my writing because I was afraid to jinx our friendship. But he’s all I think about right now. I feel like a silly teenager.
“You were a silly teenager,” Hyunjin muttered to himself, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as small tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He looked up, blinking rapidly to push them back, determined not to let them fall. He thought about how, at 19, he had believed he was an adult, sure he had life all figured out. But now, as a real adult, he realised how little he actually knew.
I think he likes me too. I’m going to ask him to be my boyfriend next week. Even if he rejects me, at least I’ll know I tried my best. I hate regrets more than anything.
Hyunjin nodded as if his younger self could somehow see him now, sharing that sentiment even years later. He flipped through the journal, turning a few pages forward.
He said yes. We’re officially boyfriends now. I’m so happy.
A soft smile crossed Hyunjin's face as he flipped ahead again, skipping through the memories until a few polaroids slipped out and fluttered to the floor. He gathered them onto his lap, arranging them side by side. The same young boys were captured in each frame, their smiles wide, their eyes bright. Some of the photos were silly—in one, Hyunjin was trying to kiss the other boy, but he had turned his head away at the last second, laughter frozen on his face as Hyunjin's kiss landed on his cheek instead.
One photo caught Hyunjin's eye, and he picked it up, holding it gently between his palms. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as if trying to inhale the past.
This one didn’t look particularly special at first glance—just two boys taking a selfie in a classroom, nothing extraordinary. But Hyunjin knew better. This was the last photo they took together before everything fell apart, before the world they had built together crumbled into pieces. It was a simple snapshot, yet it carried the weight of all that had been and all that was lost.
Hyunjin continued flipping through the pages, noticing how they gradually shifted from written words to a collage of memories—silly pictures, stickers, and whimsical prints filled the pages. The journal had transformed into a scrapbook, telling their story through clipped cinema tickets, café receipts, and lists of places to visit, each with a little tick box beside it. Every page was a small testament to their shared life, capturing their moments together.
As Hyunjin turned another page, his breath caught in his throat. He was met with a sketch rendered in watercolours. The painting was instantly familiar, its messy, hurried strokes only adding to its charm. The boy in the sketch was fast asleep, his blond hair splayed haphazardly across the pillow, strands spilling over as they grew longer. He was wearing a pyjama set adorned with little Jigglypuffs—a gift from Hyunjin because of how much he adored the way the boy imitated Pokémon with his deep voice.
Underneath the sketch, written in careful, almost calligraphy-like cursive, were the words: “My Yongbok.”
“My Yongbok,” Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling as the words escaped his lips. He repeated it softly, like a mantra, as tears began streaming down his cheeks. The memories surged back, overwhelming him with the tenderness he had once felt and the love that had been so pure and unguarded.
The sketch was more than just a picture—it was a fragment of his heart, a piece of the past that still held power over him. Each brushstroke, each detail, brought Felix to life in his mind, making him feel as if he could reach out and touch that moment again.
And just like that, Hyunjin was swept away down memory lane, each turn of the page pulling him deeper into the past. His cries ebbed and flowed, sometimes calming into quiet sobs, only to intensify again as another memory struck him with the force of a tidal wave. He relived every page of that journal like it was the first time, each word, each image, opening wounds he thought had long since healed.
He kept flipping, unable to stop himself, until he reached the final page. The sight of it hit him like a punch to the gut. His handwriting, usually so neat and precise, was now a chaotic scrawl, barely legible, the letters trailing off into nothingness as if his hand had been too unsteady to finish the thoughts he’d tried to capture. The words were interrupted by messy strokes, sentences were incomplete and abandoned.
Faint bloodstains smeared the paper, ghostly fingerprints marking where his hand had pressed down after being cut on the rough shards of yet another cheap bottle of alcohol. The memory of that night surged up, harsh and vivid, the pain of it raw even after all these years.
I know I’m weak. I’m sorry, Felix, I can’t be what you need right now. Forgive me. I lo...
The words trailed off into nothing, the final sentence left unfinished, torn away by a jagged rip that cut the page in half. The missing piece was gone, lost somewhere, leaving only the remnants of his desperate plea. Hyunjin stared at the tear, his heart aching as if it had been ripped in half along with the page.
The finality of that last entry, the desperation captured in those smudged, incomplete lines, made it hard to breathe. It was as if all the love, all the regret, and all the pain had been poured into that single page, only to be violently cut short, leaving him with nothing but the echoes of what could never be repaired.
Hyunjin didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on the floor in the same position, his back against the bed, journal clutched in his hands. Time had blurred, the lines between reality and memory fading until they were indistinguishable. He couldn’t tell if he had fallen asleep or had simply dissociated, lost in the storm of emotions that had overwhelmed him.
The sudden buzzing of his phone broke through the fog in his mind, jolting him back to the present. He quickly reached for it, his hands trembling slightly as he pressed the green button, bringing the phone to his ear.
“Minnie,” Hyunjin breathed out, the name slipping from his lips like a lifeline.
“Baby, are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice came through the line, soft but laced with concern.
“I don’t know,” Hyunjin replied honestly, his voice small and uncertain, as if he were trying to feel out the truth in his own words.
“Are you safe?” Seungmin asked, his tone shifting, more focused now, as though he needed to be sure.
“What? Yes, I’m safe,” Hyunjin answered quickly, the thought of worrying Seungmin tightening around his chest like a vice. “You don’t need to worry,” he added, sounding more reassuring than he felt.
“It’s 5 in the morning, and you sound like you haven’t slept at all. I will worry, you know that,” Seungmin said, his voice gentle but firm, the concern evident in every word.
“I’m sorry, Min. I just couldn’t sleep,” Hyunjin admitted. It was the truth, though he left out the part about why sleep had eluded him.
“Is it the nightmare again?” Seungmin asked carefully, as if tiptoeing around fragile glass. He knew that pushing too hard might make Hyunjin retreat and cause him to hang up. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“How did you know I was awake?” Hyunjin asked, avoiding the question.
“Your light is set to a soft orange glow,” Seungmin said. “You only set it to that when something’s keeping you awake.”
Right. Seungmin could see his lamp settings in the app. Hyunjin had almost forgotten about that. Seungmin knew him too well, even though they’d only been together for a couple of years and had lived together for even less. But somehow, Seungmin had always had this uncanny ability to just know things about him. He was observant, yes, but it was more than that. It was like he could sense what Hyunjin was feeling, what he needed, even before Hyunjin himself fully understood it.
Hyunjin felt a wave of emotion wash over him, a mix of gratitude and guilt. Seungmin was always there, ready to support him, even when Hyunjin wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” Hyunjin lied, and the words tasted bitter as they left his mouth. He hated lying, especially to Seungmin—the one person who had always been honest with him. A flash of self-loathing crossed his mind, a dark whisper: maybe he wasn’t so different from his family after all.
“If you need anything, call me, okay?” Seungmin’s voice was soft. He could sense Hyunjin was lying, but he knew better than to push—not now.
“I will. Thank you, Minnie,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice carrying gratitude that he struggled to express fully.
“I love you,” Seungmin said, his words steady and sincere, reassuring in the chaos of Hyunjin’s thoughts.
“Love you too,” Hyunjin replied automatically. It was their thing—a routine they had fallen into. But Hyunjin never said it first. He always waited for Seungmin to speak those words, and then he would echo them back. The truth was, Hyunjin was never sure if what he felt was truly love. He wanted it to be, tried to convince himself that it was, but there was always that lingering doubt, that nagging uncertainty. And with that doubt came guilt, a deep, gnawing guilt that he carried with him like a shadow.
It wasn’t that Hyunjin didn’t care—he cared so much it hurt. But that was the problem. He felt everything with this overwhelming intensity, whether it was love, sadness, or even happiness. Every emotion hit him like a ton of bricks, and every time he let himself feel too much, it ended up tearing him apart. He has learned his lesson; feeling too deeply meant giving someone—or something—the power to break him. And he was determined not to let anything have that kind of control over him again.
Hyunjin turned off his lamp to make it seem like he’d gone to sleep. The early morning light was already creeping in, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and open the curtains. Instead, he just sat in the dim room, lost in his thoughts, feeling he didn’t deserve someone like Seungmin.
He couldn’t understand what Seungmin saw in him or why he would care so much. But Hyunjin let himself be selfish, clinging to it for as long as he could, knowing deep down that it probably wouldn’t last. He was convinced it wouldn’t be long before Seungmin realised he wasn’t worth it. And when that happened, Hyunjin would be left alone again, just as he expected.
A little over two years ago...
“Hello, my name is Kim Seungmin, and I’ll be taking care of you today.” Hyunjin had heard this line so many times by now, and the only thing that had ever changed was the name. He hated how cheerful most of the nurses sounded when they entered his room each morning as if their bright demeanour could somehow fix everything. But something about this Kim Seungmin felt different—he didn’t have that grating, over-the-top cheerfulness that made Hyunjin want to curl up and disappear.
Hyunjin slowly turned his head towards the door, grimacing as his shoulder flared with pain, a constant reminder of how badly he’d injured it. He forced himself to look at the face of the person who would be ‘taking care’ of him today.
“Can you please confirm your full name and date of birth for me?” the nurse asked.
“Hwang Hyunjin, March 20th, 1998,” Hyunjin replied flatly.
“Excellent,” Seungmin said with a nod. “Have you had your breakfast?”
Hyunjin let out a heavy sigh, already irritated by the question. He hated this routine, hated being asked things he didn’t care to answer. All he wanted was to be left alone to wallow in his misery, to rot in his hospital bed, drowning in his own self-pity.
“I wasn’t hungry,” Hyunjin muttered.
“I understand,” Seungmin replied calmly.
Hyunjin blinked, taken aback. That was strange. Usually, the nurses would scold him, going on about how he needed to eat before taking his strong medication and rattling off a list of reasons why. But Seungmin was different—he didn’t push, didn’t lecture.
“You’re not going to try to persuade me to eat so you can give me my medicine?” Hyunjin asked, genuinely surprised.
“No,” Seungmin answered, casually popping a few pills from blister packs into a tiny paper cup and handing it to Hyunjin. “Eating is important, so you should try not to skip meals, but I’m not here to scold you or force food down your throat. I’m not going to tell you things you already know. The medicine you’re taking isn’t great for your stomach, and it would be better if you had something to eat beforehand. But honestly, we give patients pills to protect their stomachs, so it’s not as dramatic as it sometimes sounds.”
Hyunjin stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out why Seungmin’s approach felt so different. Maybe it was the lack of judgment, the calm understanding, or just the fact that, for once, someone wasn’t treating him like a stubborn child. Whatever it was, it caught Hyunjin off guard in a way he hadn’t expected.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” Hyunjin remarked.
“I mostly work nights,” Seungmin replied.
“Right, that makes sense,” Hyunjin nodded. He had requested that staff avoid entering his room after dinner unless it was absolutely necessary. Evenings were when Hyunjin truly fell apart, bit by bit, in the quiet isolation of his hospital room.
On the outside, Hyunjin appeared strong—stoic, even. But inside, he was fragile, crumbling under the weight of everything he kept hidden. No one knew this side of him. He often wondered if he was just that good at concealing his true self or if no one ever cared enough to look past the facade. Growing up in his family, where everyone was taught to look out for themselves, left him feeling like an actor in a never-ending stage play.
From the outside, his family seemed perfect—successful, wealthy, always smiling and pretending to care about one another. His father, a well-known businessman with multiple companies, had trained Hyunjin and his siblings from an early age on how to behave and what to say. But behind closed doors, they lived like strangers sharing a house. They might as well have been roommates, barely acknowledging each other's existence.
Hyunjin’s parents ensured he and his siblings had everything they needed—money, clothes, the best schools—but they never really cared how they spent their time, as long as they behaved and didn’t cause any scandals that could tarnish the family’s image. So, they each lived separate lives, drifting through the same house without ever genuinely connecting.
His parents, caught up in their own affairs, saw other people on the side. His older sister dated a shady guy who ran a half-legal nightclub, and his younger brother spent most of his days getting high with friends. They all became experts at lying to one another because, in their house, lies were easier. No one needed the truth or wanted it. Even the idea of family itself was a lie—his siblings weren’t even blood-related. His parents had adopted them to boost their image because that was the trend at the time.
Their whole life was a big, fat lie, and Hyunjin had grown up knowing nothing else.
Accepting that sleep was out of the question, Hyunjin decided to tackle the rest of the unpacking. He wanted their home to be nice and cosy when Seungmin arrived, but now he was painfully behind schedule. Boxes were still strewn everywhere, half-emptied, with belongings scattered across the apartment. That’s probably how that old journal had ended up under the bed in the first place.
With a sigh, Hyunjin rolled up his sleeves and started organising, determined to make some progress. The sight of the clutter around him was overwhelming, but he pushed through, knowing it would be worth it in the end. Every item he placed in its spot felt like a small step toward creating the warm, inviting space he envisioned for them both. Seungmin deserved at least this much.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin was due to arrive at the airport any minute, but Hyunjin was stuck in traffic, frustration rising as he glanced at the clock. He’d forgotten just how brutal big city traffic could be. Today was supposed to be perfect—he wanted to make Seungmin feel at ease right from the start, so he’d planned to surprise him at the airport.
Moving to Seoul had been Hyunjin’s idea. He’d always loved the city; leaving it a few years ago had been tough. He’d told himself that he’d be ready to return one day, and now, finally, it seemed like the right time. Seungmin, on the other hand, was a small-town guy through and through. He loved Yangsan, the quiet city near Busan where he’d grown up. Hyunjin knew it hadn’t been easy for him to leave, but he hoped the change would benefit both of them. They needed a fresh start, even if for different reasons.
As Hyunjin’s phone buzzed with a text—just one word, “Landed” —he was almost at the airport. He parked quickly and rushed inside, knowing Seungmin was probably still waiting for his luggage. That gave Hyunjin just enough time to grab them both coffees, iced for him and hot for Seungmin, just the way they liked it.
“Jinnie, what are you doing here?” Seungmin’s surprised voice pulled Hyunjin from his thoughts. He spotted him standing comfortably with two coffees and a big grin.
“Did you really think I’d let my boyfriend navigate a new city alone on his first day?” Hyunjin smirked.
“I mean, that was the plan,” Seungmin chuckled, shaking his head.
“Nah, that was never my plan,” Hyunjin replied, his smirk softening into a warm smile as he handed him the coffee cup.
“You’re impossible,” Seungmin sighed, but he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. Seeing Hyunjin there, waiting for him, made all the stress of the move feel a little lighter. “This coffee, though—my feelings about Seoul might depend on it,” he joked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, trust me, I knew that when I ordered it,” Hyunjin grinned, feeling a warmth spread through him. This moment, with Seungmin by his side, felt like home.
As they walked to the car, Seungmin started sharing the story of his flight, and Hyunjin found himself laughing harder than he had in weeks. Seungmin had a way of making even the weirdest situations sound hilarious, and Hyunjin couldn’t get enough of it.
“He did what?” Hyunjin was almost doubled over with laughter when Seungmin told him about the man who sat next to him on a flight. The man suddenly slapped himself across the face and then turned to Seungmin with a guilty expression, apologising as if he had slapped him.
“I know, right? It was so random!” Seungmin chuckled, clearly pleased to see Hyunjin so relaxed.
Hyunjin felt the tension that had been building up for days start to melt away. Seungmin’s presence was like a balm, soothing all doubts and worries. He hadn’t realised just how much he needed this—needed Seungmin’s lightheartedness, his stories, and his ability to make everything feel okay even when it wasn’t.
As they got into the car, Hyunjin glanced at Seungmin, who was still talking animatedly about the flight. There was something so reassuring about having him there, someone who genuinely cared, who could make him laugh even when the world felt heavy.
For the first time in a while, Hyunjin felt like maybe—just maybe— things would be alright. He wasn’t sure if it was love, but he knew he didn’t want to lose this feeling. Seungmin had a way of making him feel grounded, like he wasn’t so alone in his thoughts. And that was more than enough for now.
“Where did you get a car from?” Seungmin asked, remembering how Hyunjin had sworn he wouldn’t get one, citing Seoul’s excellent public transportation.
“My dad,” Hyunjin replied, lips tightening into a thin line.
“Have you seen your parents?” Seungmin asked, surprised.
“Yeah, they wanted to congratulate me on getting into the nursing program. The car was a gift,” Hyunjin explained, his voice flat.
“I see,” Seungmin said softly, unsure what else to add. He knew the relationship between Hyunjin and his parents was a minefield. If Hyunjin wanted to talk more about it, he would. Until then, Seungmin respected his space.
The rest of the car ride mainly passed in silence, the soft hum of the radio filling the quiet. Seungmin leaned back, exhausted from the flight, while Hyunjin stayed lost in his thoughts, his grip on the steering wheel a bit too tight. Seungmin sensed something was off, but he didn’t want to push. He hoped it was just nerves—starting new studies and a new job in a big city was a lot to handle. Maybe it would all settle once they found their rhythm.
But deep down, Seungmin worried. He could feel the distance between them, the way Hyunjin was retreating into his own head. It was like he was building walls around himself, and Seungmin wasn’t sure how to break through. He wanted to help, to be there for him, but he also knew that Hyunjin needed to come to him when he was ready.
Seungmin reached over and squeezed Hyunjin’s hand as they pulled up to their apartment. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, trying to offer some comfort.
Hyunjin gave him a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, we will.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin woke up in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed empty. Half-asleep, he wandered into the kitchen and saw Hyunjin sitting at the counter, head in his hands. Was he…crying?
“Jinnie,” Seungmin called softly.
Hyunjin turned quickly at the sound, hurriedly sniffing and wiping away his tears. “Min,” he said, trying to compose himself. “Why are you awake?”
“Why are you ?” Seungmin countered, sidestepping the question.
“I was hungry.” Another lie. He really was turning into his mother.
“We both know that’s not true,” Seungmin replied, his frustration slipping into his voice despite his best efforts to stay gentle.
Hyunjin met his gaze, something dark and unreadable flickering in his eyes. “I never said what exactly I was hungry for,” he said, his voice dropping lower, almost daring Seungmin to respond.
“Hyunjin…” Seungmin sighed, recognising the pattern. He knew precisely what Hyunjin was trying to do. It was the same every time—Hyunjin deflecting, avoiding the real conversation. And every time, Seungmin let it slide, giving in to the distraction.
“You don’t want me?” Hyunjin pouted, playing up the act.
“It’s not that, Jinnie. You know I always want you,” Seungmin said, feeling a mix of exasperation and affection. He reached out to touch Hyunjin’s arm, hoping to ground him.
Hyunjin leaned into the touch, the tension in his body easing slightly. But Seungmin could see the turmoil behind those eyes, the pain that Hyunjin was so desperately trying to bury. He wanted to break through, to hold Hyunjin close and assure him that he didn’t have to face it alone.
Instead, Seungmin leaned in, gently pulling Hyunjin into a hug, feeling him relax bit by bit. “You don’t have to do this,” Seungmin whispered into his ear. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
Hyunjin leaned into the hug for a moment before pulling back slightly, his thumb brushing softly across Seungmin’s lips. The touch was fleeting, quickly replaced by Hyunjin's lips, kissing him slowly and giving Seungmin time to respond.
Seungmin hesitated, just for a second, but the way Hyunjin looked at him—with those pretty eyes and sweet, inviting lips—made it impossible to resist. He kissed him back, losing himself in the moment.
“So pretty,” Seungmin murmured when he pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his voice filled with warmth.
But Hyunjin wasn’t done. In one swift movement, he pulled Seungmin closer, wrapping his arm around Seungmin’s back until his head rested comfortably on Hyunjin’s shoulder.
“Fuck me,” Hyunjin whispered into Seungmin’s ear, his lips brushing against his earlobe, sending a shiver down Seungmin’s spine.
Seungmin’s breath hitched, torn between the desire Hyunjin was stirring in him and the worry gnawing at his mind. He knew what Hyunjin was doing, using sex to drown out whatever was tormenting him. But the need in Hyunjin’s voice, the way he held him so close, made it hard to think straight.
Seungmin lifted Hyunjin with ease, gripping the back of his thighs and setting him on the kitchen counter. Their lips crashed together again, but this time, the kiss was fast and hard, fueled by urgency. Hyunjin's hands roamed over Seungmin, his touch teasing as he palmed him through his boxers.
“Fuck, Jinnie,” Seungmin gasped, his breath ragged. “The things you do to me.”
Hyunjin just smiled back at him, that wild, almost mischievous grin that Seungmin had dubbed his ‘psycho smile.’ It was the kind of smile that drove Seungmin crazy, both for how much it turned him on and how much it made him worry. It was a smile that hid so much more than it revealed.
Seungmin leaned in, his lips brushing over Hyunjin's scent glands with soft, featherlight kisses. Even though Seungmin was a beta and couldn't feel the pheromones that would typically drive an alpha or omega wild, he knew how much Hyunjin loved this. The way his body shivered slightly under his touch, his long legs effortlessly spread to make room for Seungmin between them. He could feel Hyunjin's body responding to his touch, growing harder against him. With both hands under Hyunjin's shirt, Seungmin traced his fingers delicately over the smooth skin of his chest. He found Hyunjin's nipples and began to tease and pinch them, earning a low moan that escaped from Hyunjin's lips, a mix of pleasure and protest.
“What is it, baby?” Seungmin teased, looking up at Hyunjin with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You can tell me.” He knew exactly what Hyunjin needed. He could feel it in the way his mind was slowly slipping into subspace. It both excited and worried Seungmin, knowing that Hyunjin only reached this state when he was overwhelmed with intense emotions.
But for now, Seungmin pushed those thoughts away and focused on giving Hyunjin what he desired. And if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed this side of his boyfriend – the vulnerable, submissive side that only came out in moments like these.
Hyunjin grabbed one of Seungmins hands and placed it on his own throat, letting out another deep moan. Seungmin's eyes widened at the bold move, his fingers instinctively curling around Hyunjin's slender neck. He could feel Hyunjin's pulse racing beneath his palm, matching the frantic beating of his own heart. The room suddenly felt too warm, too small.
“Is this okay?” Hyunjin whispered, his voice husky and breathless.
Seungmin hesitated momentarily, unsure if he should give in to the temptation before him. But as Hyunjin arched his back slightly, pressing himself closer, Seungmin's resolve crumbled. He tightened his grip ever so slightly, eliciting another breathy moan from Hyunjin.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, unable to resist the pull any longer.
“Yes, please”, Hyunjin's voice trembled as he pleaded, his eyes shining with anticipation. Seungmin’s hand slid up his thigh, firm and possessive, and Hyunjin couldn't help but let out a small gasp at the sensation.
“So needy”, Seungmin whispered teasingly, his hand squeezing Hyunjin's thigh while his other hand stayed wrapped around his throat.
“Yes, I am needy for you. Please, take me,” Hyunjin pleaded, his voice a mix of urgency and submission.
“How do you want me?” Seungmin asked, “Tell me in detail.”
“I want you to use me,” Hyunjin breathed out, his finger tracing the outline of Seungmin's hard cock through his boxers. “I want you to tie me up. I want you to stretch me open with your skilled fingers while I take pleasure in myself on top of them. Then, I want you to replace them with your thick cock and fuck me until my vision blurs.”
Seungmin's eyes darkened with desire at Hyunjin's words. He tightened his grip on Hyunjin's throat, eliciting a soft moan from the other man.
“Such a dirty mouth,” Seungmin growled. “I think I need to put it to better use. Get on the sofa, now.”
Hyunjin quickly jumped off the kitchen counter and settled onto the sofa in their living room. Seungmin joined him within seconds, and in one fluid motion, he pushed Hyunjin onto his back and straddled his chest. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down to reveal his erect cock.
Hyunjin's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes fixed hungrily on Seungmin's length.
“Open wide,” Seungmin commanded, his voice husky with arousal.
Eagerly, Hyunjin parted his lips, allowing Seungmin to slide his cock into the warm, welcoming heat of his mouth. Seungmin let out a low groan as Hyunjin's tongue swirled around his length, teasing and pleasuring him with practised skill.
“That's it, baby,” Seungmin purred, his fingers tangling in Hyunjin's hair. “Show me how much you want it.”
Hyunjin hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder as Seungmin began to rock his hips, fucking into his mouth with increasing intensity. Tears pricked at the corners of Hyunjin's eyes as he took Seungmin deeper, revelling in the weight of him on his tongue.
After a few minutes, Seungmin pulled back, his cock slipping from Hyunjin's lips with a wet pop. He gazed down at Hyunjin's flushed face, admiring how debauched he looked already.
“Been a good boy for Minnie?” Hyunjin asked dumbly, wiping his lips with his thumb.
“Fuck, baby, so good,” Seungmin replied, his voice heavy with desire.
“Want you now, please,” Hyunjin pleaded.
“Don't worry, I'll take care of you,” Seungmin promised. “Let me grab the essentials.” He quickly disappeared into the bedroom.
When Seungmin returned, he held a bottle of lube in one hand and a beautiful emerald-green silk scarf in the other. Hyunjin sat on top of the coffee table, lifting his knees and placing his feet on the surface. His legs spread open, offering himself up completely to Seungmin's hungry gaze.
The sight of Hyunjin's pretty pink hole and his swollen cock coated in pre-cum drove Seungmin wild with desire. “You're so fucking gorgeous,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “I'm going to ruin you.”
Hyunjin licked his lips and toyed with his nipples as Seungmin settled onto the sofa in front of him.
“Stay there,” Seungmin commanded, quickly grabbing the lube and coating his fingers with a generous amount. He slicked them over Hyunjin's entrance before settling back comfortably to watch the show. “Touch yourself for me,” he instructed.
Hyunjin was already dripping and could have easily slipped his fingers in without lube, but Seungmin always insisted on using it ‘just in case’. It was sweet how concerned he was about hurting Hyunjin. Almost too sweet, Hyunjin thought to himself.
He started to touch himself tenderly, fingers teasing at the entrance, gently inserting them just a little and then tracing circles around his rim.
Soon enough, Hyunjin pleasured himself with three fingers, and he couldn't help but steal glances at Seungmin's throbbing cock. Suddenly, he pulled out his fingers with a pout.
“What's wrong, baby?” Seungmin asked, concern etched on his face.
“I want your fingers,” Hyunjin declared.
“But I thought you wanted my cock,” Seungmin teased, relieved that Hyunjin wasn't actually upset.
“Mmm, I do,” Hyunjin grinned. “But first, I want your fingers.”
Seungmin gestured to his lap, and Hyunjin eagerly straddled him. “Turn around,” Seungmin commanded, and Hyunjin obediently sat in his lap with his back to him. He wriggled against Seungmin's arousal, teasing him as he awaited further instructions.
“Be a good boy and stay still,” Seungmin murmured. Hyunjin immediately froze, patiently waiting for what was to come next. “Hands behind your back,” Seungmin instructed, and Hyunjin complied without hesitation. As Seungmin tied his wrists with a silk scarf in a pretty bowtie, he whispered for Hyunjin to let him know if it became too tight.
“It's perfect,” Hyunjin breathed, feeling the thrill of being bound and helpless in Seungmin's lap.
“You look so pretty like this,” Seungmin murmured, admiring the sight before him. “Your slutty hole is dripping just thinking about my cock inside you.”
Hyunjin's desperate moans echoed through the room as Seungmin plunged two fingers deep inside him, his body arching and trembling with pleasure. Seungmin pressed Hyunjin closer to his chest; their bodies almost fused together, each thrust of Seungmin's fingers making Hyunjin crave more.
“Sweetheart, you're going to exhaust yourself,” Seungmin whispered breathlessly, teasing as he pushed his fingers as deep as they could go. “You won’t get my fingers deeper than they already are.”
“Then hurry up and fuck me,” Hyunjin demanded, frustration clear in his voice.
Seungmin chuckled, leaning in to whisper in Hyunjin's ear, “Impatient today, aren't we?” But he couldn't deny the throbbing ache in his own cock, desperate for release. With a swift move, he removed his fingers, lifted Hyunjin, and aligned his cock with Hyunjin's waiting entrance before plunging inside with a force that made them both gasp.
“Shit, fuck, oh my god,” Hyunjin cried out as Seungmin filled him completely, the intense stretch making him see stars.
Seungmin couldn't resist teasing him, “Is this what you wanted? To be fucked hard like this?”
“Yes, just like this!” Hyunjin moaned, his voice trembling as he tried to keep up with Seungmin's relentless pace. His legs were giving out, barely able to hold him up as Seungmin took full control, his body submitting completely to the pleasure overwhelming him.
Seungmin gripped Hyunjin's hips tighter, using the leverage to drive even deeper. With each powerful thrust, he could feel Hyunjin's body quivering and hear his breath catching.
“You're taking me so well,” Seungmin praised, his voice rough with desire. “Such a good boy for me.”
Hyunjin whimpered at the words, clenching around Seungmin's length. The praise sent shivers down his spine, intensifying every sensation.
“Please,” Hyunjin begged, though he wasn't sure what he was asking for. More? Harder? Release?
Seungmin seemed to understand, adjusting his angle to hit that spot inside Hyunjin, which made him cry out ecstatically.
“There it is,” Seungmin growled. “Let me hear you, baby.”
Hyunjin's cries grew louder, more desperate with each precise thrust. His body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. He could feel himself getting close, the pressure building low in his abdomen.
“Seungmin, I can't— I'm going to—” Hyunjin gasped, his words cut off by another moan as Seungmin hit his prostate again.
“Not yet," Seungmin commanded, his voice firm despite his own mounting pleasure. “Hold on for me, sweetheart. Just a little longer.”
“Please, please, I can't—” Hyunjin sobbed, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.
“I know you can, baby,” Seungmin whispered, leaning close to Hyunjin with his hot breath against his ear. He ran his hand through Hyunjin's hair and gently pulled him back.
Hyunjin cried out in frustration as he reached his climax, spilling over his stomach and onto the softening length of his cock. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” he whimpered, guilt flooding through him.
“Fuck, Jinnie,” Seungmin hissed, unable to hold back any longer as he released himself inside of Hyunjin. The intensity of his orgasm was overwhelming, but it wasn't until he noticed Hyunjin's tears that he realised something was wrong.
“Baby? Baby, turn to me,” Seungmin said gently, pulling out and turning Hyunjin to face him. The tears streamed down Hyunjin's cheeks now as he sobbed uncontrollably.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he kept repeating, unable to stop the overwhelming feelings of failure and disappointment. “I ruined everything, didn't I?”
“What? Baby, no,” Seungmin reassured him, confused by why Hyunjin would feel this way. “You were perfect.”
“But you told me to hold on, and I couldn't,” Hyunjin continued to sob. Shit, Seungmin realised, Hyunjin was deeper in his subspace than he had thought.
“Baby, you were amazing,” Seungmin murmured as he wrapped his arms around Hyunjin, pulling him close against his chest. The warmth of their bodies intertwined, and Seungmin whispered soothing words into Hyunjin’s ear, his voice soft and comforting.
“Minnie, I always ruin everything,” Hyunjin sobbed, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his cheeks.
“You’re not ruining anything, Jinnie,” Seungmin reassured him, rubbing slow, soothing circles on Hyunjin’s back. “It’s okay to feel this way. Just let it all out. You’re safe with me.”
As Seungmin continued to hold him, Hyunjin’s sobs gradually lessened, his breath becoming more steady. Seungmin gently cupped Hyunjin’s tear-streaked face, his thumb tenderly brushing away the remaining droplets before he leaned in to kiss them away. His lips were soft and warm.
“Let me take care of you,” Seungmin whispered, his voice laced with concern. “Do you want to take a bath, or would you rather I clean you up here with a wet cloth? We can put on some music and cuddle afterwards, okay?”
Hyunjin hesitated, his eyes darting away from Seungmin’s gaze. “Can you clean me up in our bedroom, please?” he asked, his voice small and vulnerable.
“Of course, baby,” Seungmin replied softly. He gently lifted Hyunjin, carrying him with ease to their bedroom. He laid him down on the bed with a tenderness that made Hyunjin feel cherished, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before promising to return in a few minutes.
Inside the bathroom, Seungmin took a moment to collect his thoughts. He leaned against the sink, staring at its spotless surface. The gleam was almost too perfect, a reflection of Hyunjin’s inner turmoil. Seungmin knew this habit well—when Hyunjin was stressed, he’d hyperfocus on cleaning, scrubbing away at one particular spot as if it could somehow clear his mind. Seungmin sighed. Something was deeply troubling Hyunjin, something serious. He felt guilty for getting lost in their passion instead of talking to Hyunjin, but he also knew that talking to him at that moment would not be helpful. He lifted his head and gazed at himself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. Instead, he focused on what he could do—care for him.
Seungmin splashed some water onto a washcloth, feeling the coolness seep through his fingers as he wrung it out. With the cloth in hand, he returned to the bedroom, where Hyunjin was already asleep. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was even, though the remnants of tension still lingered in his expression.
Seungmin approached quietly, pressing the damp cloth to Hyunjin’s skin, gently wiping him down with care. A soft moan escaped Hyunjin’s lips as he shifted slightly on the bed. “Yongbok,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice barely audible, as if speaking in a dream. “ My Yongbok,” he repeated, a little louder this time, his eyes still closed.
Seungmin’s hands froze for a moment, confusion washing over him. The name “Yongbok” echoed in his mind. It wasn't a name he'd ever heard Hyunjin mention before, and the way it slipped from Hyunjin's lips so naturally, even in sleep, made Seungmin's chest tighten. He quickly finished cleaning Hyunjin and carefully tucked him under the cosy duvet.
Seungmin sighed, running a hand through his hair as he returned to the bathroom to put away the washcloth. His thoughts raced, questions piling up in his mind. Was this someone from Hyunjin’s past? A friend? A lover? Or was it just a name that held some other significance? He tried to push the thoughts away, reminding himself that Hyunjin needed him to be calm and supportive, not paranoid and jealous.
Chapter 8: beginning of the end
Chapter Text
“I can’t believe you’re leaving, Seungmin! I’m going to miss you so much”, exclaimed one of the nurses.
“And me!” said another one.
“We all will,” added Jongho. “But Min has to do what's best for him.”
“I’ll miss you guys too,” Seungmin said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You've become like family to me.”
“Come on, it's not like you're dying,” Jongho tried to cheer him up. “Maybe we'll come visit you in Seoul someday.”
It was Seungmin's last day at the small hospital in Yangsan. It was where he had started working after graduation and leaving felt like leaving a part of himself behind. He had made such great friends here who had supported him through the toughest times in his life. Jongho was his closest friend, and saying goodbye to him was especially difficult.
As the days flew by, he couldn't believe that in just a couple of days, he would be moving to live in Seoul. It was something he never could have imagined for himself, being someone who never saw himself as a big city person. If someone had told him in the past that he would end up living in bustling Seoul, he would've scoffed at the thought.
But life has a funny way of throwing unexpected curveballs. And it all started when he met Hyunjin. He was someone Seungmin wasn't sure how to feel about at first, but he quickly became a significant presence in his life.
A little over two years ago...
“Seungmin, darling, you should take a night off,” his mother said softly.
“I can't, and you know that,” Seungmin responded with a weary eye roll. This was becoming a familiar conversation — his mother's gentle concern clashing with his stubborn determination.
“Why won't you just talk to your father…” his mother trailed off pleadingly.
“Mum, please, can we not do this again?” Seungmin interrupted with frustration, which was evident in his tone.
“You're going to overwork yourself again,” she continued, ignoring his plea. “I don't want that.”
“And I don't want to talk to that piece of shit,” Seungmin hissed, his anger rising at the mere mention of his father's name.
His mother fell silent, knowing that this argument would lead nowhere again. But she couldn't help but worry for her son's well-being as he continued to push himself beyond his limits.
“I'm heading out,” Seungmin announced, fastening his work lanyard around his neck. “Remember to take your pills before bed and call me if you feel unwell, alright?”
“I'll be fine, don't worry,” the woman reassured him. “I know how to take care of myself.”
“Jia will be back tomorrow. She might stop by early in the morning to check on you,” Seungmin added.
Jia was his mother's caretaker, and he had hired her to stay with her at night while he worked. Unfortunately, Jia had to leave for a few days due to a family emergency, and Seungmin couldn't find anyone else on such short notice. He couldn't afford to take time off work, especially with the high cost of his mother's treatment.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
With a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of paperwork in the other, Seungmin entered the ward. Night shifts were usually quiet for patient care, which meant all the paperwork fell on the shoulders of the night staff. Seungmin didn't mind, but sometimes, staying awake while filling out tedious risk assessments was a struggle.
“Seungminnie!” Jongho greeted him as he walked in. “You came just in time for the handover.”
“Where do you need me tonight?” Seungmin asked.
“You'll be on the other end of the ward,” answered Jongho.
“That's fine with me,” Seungmin replied.
“Just be careful not to disturb room 33,” warned Jongho. “Ellie went in last night to check on the patient and ended up crying.”
“Jongho, Ellie cries every shift,” Seungmin chuckled. “It doesn't mean anything.”
“You're so mean,” Jongho said with a laugh, joining Seungmin's amusement. “But seriously, try not to go into that room unless the patient calls for help or it's an emergency.”
“Got it,” Seungmin nodded in understanding.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
The clock read almost 2 a.m., and Seungmin was just about finished with his paperwork. It was time for his break, a quick nap in the small staff room on a small seater they took turns using. He stood up from his chair, feeling the strain of the night shift on his lower back from sitting for too long. As he began to walk away, he heard one of the patients buzzing for assistance. He checked the screen panel above the desk and saw that it was room 33. He turned and slowly made his way towards the ‘cursed’ room. The ward was always dark and quiet at this time of night, giving off an eerie vibe.
As he opened the doors and entered, he noticed no light except for the faint glow from the window from some streetlights.
“Is everything alright?” Seungmin asked, trying to see if Hyunjin was looking at him.
“It's Seungmin, right?” Hyunjin replied.
“Yes, it's me,” Seungmin confirmed.
“Could you sit with me for a while?” asked Hyunjin. “I know it's not your job, I just—”
“It's okay,” Seungmin interrupted. “I've finished my paperwork. I can stay here with you for a bit, Hyunjin.”
“You remember my name?” Hyunjin questioned.
“I have to know the names of my patients,” Seungmin chuckled. But yes, he did remember Hyunjin's name.
“Right, sorry,” Hyunjin said sheepishly. “That was a stupid question.”
“There are no stupid questions, Hyunjin,” Seungmin reassured him.
“Why are you different from all the other nurses here?” asked Hyunjin as he gazed out the window.
“Am I?” Seungmin responded curiously.
“Yes, you didn't try to force me to eat,” Hyunjin explained.
“Is that what it takes to become your favourite nurse?” Seugmin teased, unsure why he was talking to his patient like this. It wasn't professional.
“It takes much more than that to become my favourite anything,” Hyunjin quipped with a laugh. “But you, Kim Seungmin, are on the right path.”
Their conversations became a late-night ritual. Hyunjin always seemed to come alive around 2 a.m., the days Seungmin was on shift. It felt natural, effortless even, how they could share pieces of themselves with each other. Hyunjin, who usually kept everything bottled up inside—the dreams, the disappointments, the emotions he couldn’t let go—found an unexpected ease in talking to Seungmin. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because, to him, Hyunjin was just another patient, another name he’d forget after he was discharged. There was no risk of Seungmin knowing too much.
“You know, I really thought I could make it big,” Hyunjin confessed one night, his voice quieter than usual. “All I ever wanted was to dance, and now it’s been taken away from me.” His lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of that truth settling between them.
Seungmin met his gaze with a quiet understanding. “That must be incredibly hard,” he said softly. “I can’t even imagine what it feels like. I’m sorry, Hyunjin.”
“Thank you for not saying it'll be okay,” Hyunjin replied, his eyes searching Seungmin’s face.
Seungmin nodded. “If something happened and I couldn’t be a nurse anymore, I’d hate it if someone told me everything would be fine. Especially when it clearly isn’t.”
Hyunjin’s expression shifted, a small smile breaking through. “See? That’s why I like you.”
“I like you too, Hyunjin,” Seungmin smiled back. It was easy to say. He liked him as a person. He enjoyed their conversations. This wasn’t strange, was it?
But just as quickly, Hyunjin's face fell, looking even sadder than when he had spoken about his injury.
“What’s wrong?” Seungmin asked, sensing the change.
“I think I’m going to miss you when I’m discharged,” Hyunjin admitted, though his voice carried the uncertainty of a question as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to feel that way.
Seungmin smiled again, but this time, it was softer, more careful. “I’ll be happy when you’re discharged.”
Oh. Of course, he would be. Hyunjin's stomach sank. Maybe he was just a nuisance, and Seungmin was too kind to say so. Perhaps he only indulged these late-night talks out of pity. But Seungmin never made him feel pitied. Why would he do that now?
A thousand anxious thoughts raced through Hyunjin’s mind, but before he could spiral any further, Seungmin spoke again.
“But only because that would mean you’re well enough to go home,” he said gently, brushing Hyunjin’s hand. “I’ll miss talking to you too.”
Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat. “Maybe we don’t have to stop seeing each other,” he suggested.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. “I mean, that’s a stupid idea. I don’t know why I said that,” he quickly added, stumbling over his apology.
“Hyunjin, I—” Seungmin began, but before he could finish, the shrill sound of an alarm cut through the quiet, signalling an emergency. In an instant, Seungmin was on his feet, rushing out of the room as the doors closed with a little too much force.
Hyunjin stared after him, the echo of the door slamming reverberating in his mind. Did I upset him? he wondered. Logic told him that the alarm was why Seungmin had left so abruptly—it was his job to care for the patients, not to linger here talking to him like they were friends. But that nagging voice in the back of his head whispered otherwise. It suggested Seungmin had been waiting for a convenient escape, avoiding the uncomfortable conversation Hyunjin had pushed them into.
Hours passed before Seungmin returned, right at the end of his shift. Though the emergency had occurred elsewhere, Hyunjin had heard murmurs outside his room. Still, he couldn’t shake the shame that clung to him. How pathetic am I? he thought. Here he was, worrying about Seungmin’s reaction to his stupid question while someone in the hospital could be fighting for their life. He hated how selfish he felt, as selfish as his mother.
When a different nurse entered the room early in the morning, Hyunjin nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Good morning, Mr. Hwang,” she said warmly. “My name is—”
“What happened a couple of hours ago? I heard the emergency alarm,” Hyunjin interrupted, impatiently shifting in his bed.
“Everything’s fine. No need to worry,” the nurse replied with a reassuring smile. “Our medical team took care of it.”
Hyunjin nodded, though unsatisfied. He knew she couldn’t disclose more, not with patient confidentiality. Still, it was strange that Seungmin hadn’t come by to say goodbye at the end of his shift like he always did. It must be because of what he had said earlier. But a small part of him worried—was Seungmin okay?
“Is Kim Seungmin okay?” he blurted out, feeling his face flush with heat.
The nurse looked slightly puzzled but replied, “Yes, Seungmin is fine. He had to leave early this morning.”
“Do you know why?” Hyunjin pressed, his heart picking up pace.
“I’m sorry, I can’t share that,” she said gently.
Hyunjin’s chest tightened. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, suddenly wanting to be alone. “Can I be by myself, please?”
“You need to take your medication, Mr. Hwang,” she reminded him.
“I don’t want it right now,” he muttered, his voice tense. “Please, could you leave?”
The nurse’s expression softened. “I also wanted to let you know that you’ll be discharged sometime today. The doctors will speak to you before that happens, so if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.” She smiled again before quickly exiting the room, leaving him with his swirling thoughts.
Discharged? Today? The news hit him like a freight train, and without warning, tears welled up in his eyes. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying—maybe it was the unresolved conversation with Seungmin, maybe it was because Seungmin left early without saying goodbye, or perhaps the thought that he might never see him again. The idea crushed him in a way he couldn’t fully understand. His throat tightened, on the verge of a breakdown.
You scared him away. Just like everyone else. What did you expect? The ugly, familiar voice inside his head whispered venomously.
“Shut up,” Hyunjin snarled under his breath, burying his face into the pillows. He didn’t want to feel like this. He reached for his earbuds, blasting music to drown out the relentless flood of emotions. Exhaustion eventually took over, and he drifted off to sleep despite everything.
He woke to the gentle sensation of someone brushing his cheek. Groggily, he opened his eyes, his vision blurred. A figure stood above him, touching his face. His heart jumped in his chest. What the hell?
He bolted upright, yanking out his earbuds, a throbbing headache suddenly pulsing behind his eyes.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry, Hyunjin,” the figure said softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I shouldn’t have touched you without your permission.”
Hyunjin blinked, rubbing his eyes until his vision cleared. Standing before him wasn’t a nurse, but Seungmin, dressed in regular clothes. Not his uniform.
“Minnie?” Hyunjin asked hesitantly, half convinced he was still dreaming.
Seungmin smiled. “I love the nickname.”
“Oh, uh, sorry, I don’t know why I called you that,” Hyunjin stammered, his cheeks flushing pink.
Seungmin’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Maybe because you call me that in your head?”
Hyunjin blinked in confusion, unsure how to respond. “Why… what are you doing here? You’re not in your uniform.”
“I came to see you,” Seungmin said simply, pulling a chair closer to Hyunjin’s bed. “I didn’t like how our conversation was cut off yesterday, and then I had to leave because…” He paused, looking away for a moment. “...something came up.”
“Oh,” was all Hyunjin could manage, his heart racing for reasons he couldn’t quite pin down.
Seungmin’s eyes softened. “Anyway, I came as soon as I found out you were being discharged today. And I wanted to tell you that you were right. We don’t have to stop seeing each other. I like you, Hyunjin. Maybe it’s not very professional, but I don’t care. I’d love for us to stay in touch if you want that too.”
He rushed through the last part as if afraid the words would escape him before he could get them all out.
Without hesitation, Hyunjin reached for Seungmin’s phone, a wide grin creeping across his face. “Let me see your phone,” he said, his excitement barely contained.
Quickly, he entered his number, adding his name before handing it back.
“Jinnie?” Seungmin read the name aloud, pausing. “Cute.”
“Minnie?” Hyunjin said softly, barely louder than a whisper. “I like you too.”
After Hyunjin’s discharge, they stayed in constant contact. Only a few days later, Hyunjin confessed how much he hated living alone. His old flat felt suffocating, a reminder of all his perceived failures. He couldn’t stand Busan anymore either—it only brought back memories of a career lost.
One evening, feeling incredibly isolated, Hyunjin called Seungmin and poured his heart out. Seungmin listened in silence, his heart aching with every word. He didn’t want Hyunjin to feel this way—helpless, lonely. That’s when he realised something: he was probably falling in love with him. He wanted to do something, anything, to ease Hyunjin’s pain. He blurted out an offer without thinking it through: “Why don’t you move in with me?”
It was a spontaneous decision he hadn’t even discussed with his mother. But Seungmin had told her so much about Hyunjin practically all the time that he was sure she wouldn’t mind. The only problem? Hyunjin didn’t know the whole truth about Seungmin’s life. He knew Seungmin lived with his mother and wasn’t in contact with his father, but he didn’t know she was terminally ill and relied on Seungmin for care.
The house was big, a relic of Seungmin’s father’s wealth—one of the few things he’d left behind when he abandoned them. But Seungmin still wasn’t sure if Hyunjin would be comfortable living there, knowing the whole situation.
Hyunjin, however, clung to the idea of moving in almost immediately. He was desperate to escape his loneliness, and being with Seungmin felt like the only thing that could make him feel less lost. Besides, he really liked Seungmin. He hadn't fully figured out whether it was romantic or not, and it didn’t matter right now.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin and Hyunjin slowly started to find their rhythm in this new life together in Seoul. Hyunjin had started his studies and landed a job as a nursing assistant at Lonely St. Hospital. Seungmin could see the change in him—he was calmer, and his mood lighter most days. It was a far cry from the fragile state Hyunjin had been in, but some things remained unspoken. The night Hyunjin broke down was never mentioned, just like the “Yongbok” incident—something Seungmin couldn’t bring himself to mention. Hyunjin had enough on his plate.
But while Hyunjin seemed to be flourishing, Seungmin struggled. His job search wasn’t going as smoothly as he expected. Despite his qualifications and experience, every interview ended the same way—someone else was always a better fit. The creeping shadow of depression tugged at him, but Seungmin fought to stay optimistic, though some days it felt nearly impossible.
“Minnie, I’m sure you’ll find something soon,” Hyunjin said one evening gently.
“You’re probably right,” Seungmin replied, forcing a smile, though the sadness was still evident in his eyes. “I just… I feel so useless.”
“Do you miss Yangsan?” Hyunjin asked.
Seungmin hesitated before nodding. “I do.” There was no point in hiding it.
Hyunjin stared off into the distance, lost in thought. Was moving here a mistake? Maybe they should’ve stayed in Yangsan. Maybe Hyunjin should’ve pursued his nursing studies there. But no—they needed this. A fresh start, a new place. They both did. Deep down, Hyunjin was sure they made the right choice. It would settle. It had to.
“Min, I talked to Changbin yesterday,” Hyunjin said carefully, his voice slicing through the silence.
Seungmin’s head lifted, curiosity flickering in his eyes. He didn’t know Changbin personally—only what Hyunjin had told him. Changbin was a close colleague of Hyunjin’s, someone he often spoke fondly of, and a dialysis unit manager.
“They’re going to be hiring new staff soon,” Hyunjin continued, a bit more confidently now that he had Seungmin’s attention.
“Oh, really?” Seungmin asked, turning his gaze away, his mind already spiralling.
Hyunjin could sense the tension, knowing exactly what the mention of dialysis stirred within him. “It’s okay if you don’t want to apply,” Hyunjin added softly. “I know it’s hard with your mum… I just thought you might want to consider it.”
The weight of his mother’s memory hung heavy between them. Seungmin hadn’t talked much about her since she passed, but the grief was still raw, still there. Hyunjin understood the sensitivity of it all—he had felt the loss, too, despite knowing her for only a short while. She had treated him like family. The idea of working in a unit that reminded Seungmin of those difficult times with her was more than complicated.
“I’ll think about it,” Seungmin finally said after a pause long enough to fill the room with tension. “I think… maybe it’s time to move on.”
“Grief isn’t linear, Min. It’s okay to take as long as you need,” Hyunjin reassured him, his voice tender.
“Thank you,” Seungmin whispered.
Hyunjin stood up and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Seungmin from behind. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, hoping to ease even a fraction of his partner's weight.
And that’s how Seungmin found himself in the waiting room, surrounded by a few other candidates, anxiously awaiting his interview. His stomach churned—not just because of the string of failed interviews he’d endured, but because this was for a position in the dialysis unit. The weight of that hit him hard. Still, he needed this job, and Lonely St. Hospital had a solid reputation. If Hyunjin’s enthusiasm was anything to go by, it might also be a good place for him. Hyunjin wasn’t one to be easily impressed, so Seungmin tried to trust his judgment, even though a knot of worry still twisted inside him.
Seungmin noticed a young man stealing glances at him, quickly averting his gaze whenever their eyes met. It reminded him of his own early days—nervous, uncertain, trying to fit in. This was probably the kid’s first job after graduation. Though Seungmin wasn’t much older, he knew how even a few years of experience could change everything, making you feel more grounded and more at ease. Soon, only the two of them remained in the waiting room. They exchanged a few brief words, and Seungmin learned that his guess had been right—this was Jeongin’s first job. Jeongin, as the young man introduced himself, was fresh out of school and full of the same nervous energy Seungmin once had. The nurse in charge stepped out, calling the young man in, leaving Seungmin to wait, the last candidate.
He tried to steady himself, gripping his phone, more to keep his hands busy than to check anything. His palms were damp with nerves. It wasn’t long before the doors opened again, and out stepped Changbin. Seungmin recognised him instantly—Hyunjin had described him perfectly. Now he understood what Hyunjin had meant when he said, “You’ll know it’s him when you see him.” Changbin’s presence was unmistakable.
“Seungmin?” Changbin called his name, gesturing for him to follow. Seungmin stood up and entered the nurse’s office, confused but quick to react. To his surprise, the young man from earlier was still sitting there, looking just as bewildered as he felt.
When Changbin hired him and Jeongin on the spot, Seungmin was stunned. Shock didn’t even begin to cover it. But he wasn’t about to question his luck. Before the news could fully sink in for either of them, Seungmin grabbed Jeongin by the arm, thanked Changbin profusely, and they exited the office in a daze.
Jeongin, still reeling, kept asking, “Did that really just happen? Is this real?”
For the first time in what felt like forever, Seungmin was beaming, his smile wide as he reassured Jeongin. “Yes, Innie, it’s real! We did it!”
“We should celebrate!” Seungmin declared excitedly.
Jeongin, now grinning himself, nodded. “Right, okay.” He was thrilled not only to land the job on his first try but also to feel like he’d found a friend in the process.
As they walked out, Seungmin realised with a slight chuckle that he didn’t know Seoul that well yet. “So... where do you usually hang out with your friends? I just moved here, so I’m not sure what’s good.”
“Um… I don’t have many friends,” Jeongin admitted, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “But Hellevator is my usual go-to place,” he added quickly.
“Hellevator? I like the wordplay,” Seungmin chuckled, pulling out his phone to look it up. “Oh, wait... it’s a gay bar?” His tone was surprised but not uncomfortable.
Jeongin’s face flushed. “No! Well, sort of... Oh my god, sorry! I didn’t think when I suggested it,” he stammered, his ears turning crimson. “It’s more like a queer space—kind of a café vibe, too.”
“Innie, it’s totally fine,” Seungmin reassured him with a smile. “I was just a little surprised, that’s all. I mean, I told you I have a boyfriend, so it makes sense. I just... didn’t know…”
“That I was queer?” Jeongin offered.
Seungmin laughed, nodding. “Yeah, exactly.”
“Well, now you know,” Jeongin chuckled, his embarrassment fading.
“In that case, let’s go and celebrate!” Seungmin declared, his energy lifting the moment.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“Innie, earlier, you said you don’t have many friends. How’s that possible? You’re such a bubbly person,” Seungmin asked, finishing his second bottle of soju. They were sitting in Hellevator, and the vibe was still mellow as it was only early afternoon. The place had a cosy feel, with soft music playing in the background and a sleek interior—mostly black and silver with splashes of colour here and there.
Jeongin smiled sheepishly, swirling his drink. “I guess I’m more bubbly with people I’m comfortable around,” he admitted. “It’s hard to find that with everyone.”
Seungmin nodded, taking in the relaxed atmosphere. “Well, I’m glad you’re comfortable with me,” he said, raising his glass with a grin.
They drank, nibbled on snacks, and drank some more as Seungmin talked about his time working at his previous hospital. Jeongin listened intently, hanging on to every word. Though Seungmin was only three years older, Jeongin couldn’t help but feel a deep admiration for him—his calm confidence, the way he spoke with such passion about being a nurse. Seungmin seemed to truly love what he did, and that was something Jeongin longed for but hadn’t yet found within himself.
As Seungmin talked about the patients he had cared for, the challenges he had overcome, and the small moments that made it all worth it, Jeongin felt warmth. For the first time in a while, his anxiety about the future began to fade. He saw a glimmer of hope—maybe he could find that same joy in nursing one day.
At that moment, the weight of uncertainty loosened on Jeongin, and he wanted to savour the connection they were building.
“I’m happy I met you,” Jeongin said quietly, his voice a little thick from both emotion and the soju.
Seungmin glanced at Jeongin and noticed a flicker of sadness behind his eyes. It was subtle, but it lingered there, a shadow of something heavy that Jeongin carried with him. Seungmin’s natural instinct was to reach out, to ask what was wrong and offer help—he always wanted to make things better for the people around him. But he knew that he couldn’t just push, not yet. Maybe if he opened up first, Jeongin would feel safe enough to do the same.
“You know,” Seungmin started, his voice softer now, “I wasn’t even going to apply for this job.”
Jeongin’s eyes widened in surprise, confusion clouding his face. “You weren’t?”
Seungmin hesitated for a moment, then continued, “Dialysis... it reminds me too much of what I went through with my mum. She passed away a few months ago from kidney failure, among other things.”
Jeongin was caught off guard by the rawness of Seungmin’s words. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine empathy. “That must’ve been incredibly hard. But, you know... now you’re in a position to make a difference for people going through something similar. I didn’t know your mum, but I’m sure she’d be proud of you for that.”
Seungmin stared into the distance for a moment, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s a good way of looking at it,” he said softly. “She fought until the very end but accepted her fate with such strength. She didn’t want anyone around her to suffer because of it. She made me promise to move on, to start fresh once she was gone... so that’s what I did.”
Jeongin’s expression softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. “She sounds like she was an incredible woman,” he said. “I know your time with her was short, but I’m glad you had someone like that in your life.”
Seungmin’s heart felt a little lighter hearing Jeongin’s words. He could feel the sincerity behind them, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like someone truly understood. The heaviness of grief didn’t fade, but it felt a little more bearable.
“My boyfriend, Hyunjin, helped me a lot last year,” Seungmin shared, his voice soft but steady. “Both physically, to care for my mum, and emotionally too. It quickly became too much to bear.”
Jeongin, without thinking, asked, “What about your father?” But as soon as the words left his mouth, he realised his mistake. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” he added in one breath, his face flushed with embarrassment.
Seungmin gave a small, understanding smile. “No, it’s okay. My father left the moment my mum was diagnosed with kidney failure and started dialysis. But honestly, he wasn’t present much before that, either.” He paused, letting those words hang between them before continuing. “When my mum was stable enough for a transplant, he turned out to be the only suitable donor. But he refused. I was furious with him, couldn’t understand why my mum wasn’t. He never really gave us anything, even when I was a kid. This was his chance to finally do something good, to save her life. But he just... didn’t. In the end, my mum received a kidney from an anonymous donor, but that was the beginning of the end.”
As Seungmin finished, tears began to fall quietly down his cheeks. It was still so raw, as if every word peeled back the scab of his grief. Yet, with each sentence, it also felt like he was healing slowly, piece by piece.
Jeongin’s face reflected shock and sympathy. “Even though my family has its issues, I think we’d all do something like that in a heartbeat—especially to save someone’s life. I’m sorry your father was so selfish.” His voice was thick with anger and sadness.
Seungmin wiped his tears. “I don’t speak to him anymore.”
Jeongin hesitated before asking, “Why did you say the transplant was the beginning of the end?”
Seungmin exhaled deeply. “It turns out the kidney my mum received had cancer cells that weren’t detected when it was tested. It spread quickly—first to her bladder, then to her lungs. There was nothing they could do. Every chemo she tried was unsuccessful, and eventually, she had to accept that she was dying.”
Jeongin’s heart sank at the weight of Seungmin’s story. “Are you sure you’ll be okay working in dialysis?” Jeongin asked, his concern genuine. “That sounds like a lot to carry.”
Seungmin gave a small, tired smile. “I have to be. I’ve failed every other interview so far.”
“I know it can be tough, especially since you’re the older one,” Jeongin said softly. “But if you ever need someone to talk to—or even just to listen—you can always come to me. I mean it.”
Seungmin smiled at the younger man’s sincerity. “Thank you, Innie. I really appreciate that.”
They quickly shifted the conversation, no longer wanting to dwell in sadness. The mood lightened; soon enough, they were both well into their drinks, celebrating their new jobs. As the evening wore on, the alcohol flowed freely, and they were a bit too drunk to get home safely on their own. Seungmin considered calling Hyunjin but didn’t want to disturb him, knowing he was likely buried in his studies. But Seungmin felt responsible, especially for Jeongin, and needed to figure out how to get him home safely. Then, he remembered that Jeongin still lived with his parents. They probably wouldn’t be thrilled to see their son stumble through the door in his current state.
“Innie,” Seungmin said, leaning over slightly, “Can you let your parents know you’ll be staying over at a friend’s place?”
“I don’t have friends I can stay with,” Jeongin mumbled.
Seungmin chuckled softly. “You’ll be staying over at mine, you silly.”
“Oh.” Jeongin blinked in surprise. He hadn’t considered that, especially since Seungmin lived with his boyfriend. Would Hyunjin be okay with it? What if it caused tension between them? Jeongin would hate to be the reason for any conflict.
As if reading his thoughts, Seungmin added, “Don’t worry about Hyunjin. He’s very understanding. He’d probably scold me if I let you get this drunk and then sent you home alone.”
Jeongin nodded, a bit relieved. “Okay, I’ll text my parents.” He agreed to stay with Seungmin not only to avoid his parent’s disapproving stares but also because, at this point, he was too tired to think of another plan. All he wanted was a flat surface—preferably a bed—to collapse onto and sleep.
Seungmin managed to flag down a taxi, and they clumsily climbed in, the streetlights blurring into streaks of gold as they made their way to his house. By the time they stumbled through the door, the house was shrouded in darkness, the quiet almost comforting in contrast to the dizziness swirling in their heads. Hyunjin was still at the library, which wasn’t surprising—after all, it wasn’t even that late, barely past 8 p.m. It just felt late, given how early they’d started drinking.
Seungmin flicked on the lights, illuminating the cosy but quiet space, and gestured toward the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, slurring slightly but still coherent enough to feel responsible. “I’ll go set up the guest room for you.”
Jeongin nodded weakly, grateful to sink into the soft cushions. His vision wavered as he leaned back, and a dull throbbing began to settle behind his eyes. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten drunk, but somehow, it felt worse tonight—heavier, messier. Maybe it was the mix of emotions still swirling beneath the surface or the unfamiliar environment, but his head felt like it weighed a ton, and the room seemed to spin whenever he closed his eyes.
Seungmin disappeared down the hall, the sound of drawers opening and bed sheets rustling as he tried to prepare the room. Even in his inebriated state, Seungmin was determined to take care of Jeongin, the caretaker in him refusing to let the younger man feel uncomfortable in his home.
By the time Seungmin finished preparing the guest room and returned to get Jeongin, he found the younger man already fast asleep, nestled into the cushions, clutching one like a teddy bear. Soft snores escaped him, and Seungmin stood momentarily, debating whether to wake him or let him sleep on the sofa. But Jeongin's awkward, twisted position looked far from comfortable, and Seungmin knew he’d regret it in the morning if he left him like that.
With a quiet sigh, Seungmin crouched down and, with surprising ease, lifted Jeongin into his arms, bridal style. Jeongin didn’t stir as Seungmin carefully carried him down the hall, his head resting against Seungmin’s chest, breathing steady and soft. Seungmin was surprised the motion didn’t wake him, but he was glad. It made it easier to settle him onto the freshly made bed.
Just as Seungmin gently tried to pull away to tuck Jeongin under the duvet, he felt a tug. Jeongin, still asleep, clung to his arm, mumbling something incoherent and making faint, protesting sounds. Seungmin froze for a second, his heart softening at the sight of Jeongin's sleepy vulnerability. It was clear that Jeongin wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing, his grip tight but childlike, as if seeking comfort in his sleep.
Seungmin smiled softly, deciding not to fight it. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, fully intending to stay only for a moment until Jeongin relaxed his grip. “Just a few minutes,” Seungmin thought to himself. He leaned back slightly, his exhaustion catching up with him. The soft rhythm of Jeongin's breathing was oddly calming, and Seungmin's eyes began to droop.
Before he knew it, Seungmin found himself lying down next to Jeongin. He only meant to rest for a moment, to make sure Jeongin felt secure, but the warmth of the room, the quiet, and the heaviness in his own body began to lull him. Without realising it, Seungmin drifted off, his arm still loosely wrapped around Jeongin as they both settled into a deep, peaceful sleep.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Hyunjin was on his way home, mentally drained from a long day of lectures and hours spent buried in medical textbooks at the library. His body ached for rest, but his mind raced with thoughts of Seungmin. His phone had died earlier, and he couldn’t shake the worry that Seungmin might be anxious, wondering where he was. More than that, he was eager to find out how Seungmin's interview had gone. It was a big day, and the weight of it only hit Hyunjin now as he hurried through the city streets, pushing just a little over the speed limit to get home faster.
Finally, he pulled into the driveway, his heart racing from more than just the drive. He fumbled through his crossbody bag, finding the house key and quickly letting himself in. The house was quiet, but the lights were on. As he stepped inside, an unexpected scent hit him—pungent and citrusy, tangerine-like, the unmistakable presence of an alpha. It wasn’t Seungmin’s scent, and alarm bells went off in Hyunjin's head.
His breath quickened as he closed the door quietly behind him, instinctively cautious. “Seungmin?” he called out, his voice echoing softly in the house's stillness. No answer. The citrus scent grew stronger as he moved deeper inside, stirring unease in his chest.
He checked their bedroom first, but it was dark and empty. His brow furrowed, and he followed the scent trail down the hall, eventually reaching the guest room. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Seungmin was lying on the guest bed; his arm draped protectively around someone—an unfamiliar alpha. The same citrus scent flooded Hyunjin’s senses, making his head spin. For a moment, everything felt surreal, the soft rise and fall of Seungmin’s breath entirely at odds with the storm of emotions swelling inside Hyunjin. His legs felt weak, and as he leaned against a nearby chair for support, it toppled over with a loud crash, sending him to the floor.
The sound shattered the silence, and Hyunjin found himself staring up from the ground. His heart pounded as he tried to piece together what he saw. The room spun around him, and his thoughts were clouded with confusion.
The loud crash startled both Seungmin and Jeongin awake. Groggy and disoriented, they blinked, looking around the room in confusion. It took them a moment to register what had just happened, their sleepy haze slowly lifting as they glanced toward the source of the noise.
Hyunjin was sprawled on the floor, his expression frozen in a mix of confusion and something neither of them could quite read. His eyes were wide, darting between Seungmin and Jeongin, as if he were trying to make sense of the scene in front of him but unable to fully comprehend it. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his body seemingly paralysed as he just stared back at them from the ground.
Jeongin, now fully awake, shot up, his eyes widening in shock and panic. “Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath, instinctively pulling away from Seungmin, who was still half-sitting on the bed, looking between Jeongin and Hyunjin, his mind racing.
“Hyunjin…” Seungmin said softly, rubbing his eyes as he tried to process what was happening. He could see the confusion and hurt written all over Hyunjin’s face, and guilt immediately surged through him. He realised how the scene must have looked. “It's not... I can explain.”
Hyunjin didn't respond right away. He stayed on the floor, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, his gaze lingering on the space between Seungmin and Jeongin. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just looked at Seungmin, searching his eyes, waiting for some kind of explanation.
Jeongin shifted awkwardly on the bed, looking like he wanted to disappear. “I—I’m sorry... I didn’t mean—”
But Seungmin quickly cut in, his voice gentle but urgent. “Hyunjin, it's not what you think. Jeongin had too much to drink, and I was just making sure he was comfortable. That’s all. I fell asleep here by accident.”
Hyunjin blinked, his thoughts still swirling. The citrus scent of Jeongin filled his senses again, clouding his judgment. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or more confused. “I... I just came home and...” He swallowed, his voice shaky. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Seungmin quickly stood up from the bed, moving toward Hyunjin, his hands reaching out to help him up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I should’ve called or texted, but your phone was off, and then things just—”
Hyunjin slowly accepted Seungmin's hand, letting him pull him to his feet. He still felt dazed, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked between them. Jeongin, still sitting awkwardly on the bed, was blushing furiously, clearly mortified by the situation.
“I really didn’t mean to intrude,” Jeongin stammered, standing up now, unsure of what to do with himself.
Hyunjin finally sighed, rubbing his forehead as the tension in his body began to ease, though the confusion still lingered. “It’s okay,” he said, though his voice was still uncertain. “It’s just... a lot to walk into.”
Seungmin placed a hand on Hyunjin’s arm, his voice soft and filled with reassurance. “I promise, it’s not what it looks like. I was just trying to help a friend.”
Hyunjin nodded slowly, his body relaxing slightly at Seungmin’s touch, though the tension in the room was still present. He glanced at Jeongin, who looked like he was about to shrink into the floor, then back at Seungmin, the confusion in his eyes beginning to soften.
“Alright,” Hyunjin finally said, his voice calmer. “I believe you.” But before he could finish his sentence, Jeongin suddenly collapsed to the floor, folding himself in two as a sharp scream of pain tore from his throat. The citrusy scent intensified in the room, overwhelming Hyunjin's senses as he began to cough and choke on it.
“Jeongin!” Seungmin called, panic rising in his chest as he felt torn between rushing to Jeongin’s side and staying with Hyunjin, who was struggling to breathe properly.
“Fuck,” Hyunjin gasped between coughs, his eyes wide with realisation. “He’s in rut!”
Chapter 9: remember your scent
Chapter Text
It was supposed to be his day off, but Changbin found himself waking up early, as usual. He always claimed it was because of the morning sun and the crisp, fresh air that filled his lungs like a tonic. But deep down, he knew better. The truth was, those early morning hours were the only moments he truly had to himself, a quiet sanctuary before the world began to demand his attention again.
To an outsider, it might seem like Changbin had all the time in the world—single, just entering his thirties, with no one relying on him. But that couldn't have been further from the truth. His family clung to him like a lifeline, incapable of making even the smallest decisions without involving him. They depended on him for everything, and he, without fail, took on the burden.
With a groggy sigh, he rolled over in bed and reached for his phone, thumbing off sleep mode. Instantly, the screen flooded with notifications. Too many, as always. There had been a time when he left them on, convinced that something terrible might happen if he didn’t stay accessible 24/7. But Yoongi had set him straight one day, telling him it was perfectly fine if people couldn’t reach him for eight hours of his day. “It’s okay if you don’t answer at three in the morning,” Yoongi had said, “because if no one’s dying, it’s not an emergency. And if someone is dying, they shouldn’t be calling you; they should be calling an ambulance.”
That advice had struck a chord with Changbin. He had reluctantly started silencing his phone at night, but old habits died hard. He still allowed a select few contacts to bypass the mute setting, though Yoongi said that was fine, as long as it was for calls only—not texts. It had been a small, hesitant step toward reclaiming a piece of himself.
Changbin-ssi, there is no senior nurse in today, should me or Soohyeon lead?
Lonely St. Hospital, missed calls (2)
Mum: Changbinnie, don’t forget you’re helping your dad today.
Yoongi: Don’t stress, but remember what I said about boundaries. Take a breather, man.
Aunt Jin: Your cousin’s graduation is this weekend. You’re still coming, right?
Bank Notification: Your payment for the utility bill is overdue.
Lonely St. Pharmacy: Your prescription is ready for pickup.
Uncle Min: Can you look over this document before I send it out? I’m not good at this stuff.
Dad: Can you get the car checked today? Something feels off with the brakes.
Dialysis staff: Changbin-ssi, we’re out of supplies in Room 4. Should I put in a request?
Hwang Hyunjin, missed calls (1)
Hyung, I’m sorry to bother you but please could you call back when you can?
Changbin rubbed his eyes, still hazy from sleep, and sat up. Hwang Hyunjin? His brow furrowed. Sure, they chatted during breaks and crossed paths in the hospital corridors when their schedules aligned, but they weren’t exactly close. They didn’t even work in the same department, so the fact that Hyunjin had called and texted him so early in the morning was odd.
He glanced back at the message. 12:21 a.m.. So, not early morning, but late last night. Still, it didn’t make much difference.
It wasn’t that Changbin disliked Hyunjin—quite the opposite, actually. There was something about Hyunjin that intrigued him, a magnetic energy that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Too magnetic, maybe. Changbin often felt his own reserved nature paled in comparison to the vibrant, enigmatic presence of Hyunjin. And that, if anything, was the problem.
With a sigh, he tapped Hyunjin’s name and held the phone to his ear. It only rang a couple of times before the familiar voice answered, breathless and slightly rushed.
“Hyung, hi!” Hyunjin’s voice was bright, but there was an undercurrent of unease that Changbin didn’t miss.
“Hey,” Changbin replied, trying to sound casual, though curiosity laced his tone. “You wanted to talk to me?”
There was a pause, and Changbin could almost hear the hesitation on the other end of the line before Hyunjin spoke again. “Um, yeah... I’m sorry to bother you,” Hyunjin started, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “But... I need help.”
Help? Changbin blinked, caught off guard. He couldn’t imagine what kind of help Hyunjin would need from him, of all people. They chatted often at work, but beyond those casual conversations, they didn’t know much about each other’s lives. What could he possibly do?
Still, he nodded to himself and replied, “Sure,” despite the confusion swirling in his mind.
There was a brief silence before Hyunjin spoke again, his words spilling out in a breathy confession. “You’re basically the closest I have to a friend here.”
“What do you need me to do, Hyunjin?” Changbin asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.
There was a slight rustle on the other end, and then Hyunjin spoke, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “Could you... could you please come by? I don’t think I can explain it over the phone.”
Changbin felt a tension he hadn't expected, like Hyunjin was holding his breath, waiting for his response with almost palpable anticipation. Why is he asking me of all people? The thought flickered through his mind, but he didn’t dwell on it. Something in Hyunjin’s voice made it clear this wasn’t just a casual request.
“Right,” Changbin finally said after a brief pause. “Okay.” He glanced around his cluttered room, already mentally preparing to leave. “Text me the address.”
There was an audible exhale on the other end, a mixture of relief and gratitude. “Thank you so much, hyung,” Hyunjin breathed.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“Fuck!” Hyunjin gasped between coughs, his eyes wide with sudden realisation. “He’s in a rut!”
“What?!” Seungmin’s voice shot up in shock. “Isn’t that something only alphas experience?” His question was laced with disbelief.
“He is an alpha!” Hyunjin shouted back, his voice frantic. “His scent—it’s so strong right now, it’s overwhelming!”
On the floor, Jeongin writhed, his body tense and visibly in pain, but his earlier groans were quieter now, replaced by heavy, laboured breathing. Seungmin, still reeling from Hyunjin’s words, glanced over to make sure Hyunjin was okay. The omega nodded, though his face was tight with concern, and gestured toward Jeongin. Without hesitation, Seungmin rushed to Jeongin’s side, kneeling beside him and carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Jeongin, can you hear me?” Seungmin’s voice was steady, though uncertainty gnawed at him. He’d never seen an alpha in a rut before and had no idea how to handle it.
Jeongin’s response was faint, his voice shaky. “Y-yes… but it hurts, hyung. I don’t know what’s happening.” Fear clung to every word.
Seungmin swallowed hard before answering, “You’re in a rut.” His voice was calm, but his heart was racing.
“Rut?” Jeongin’s eyes blinked in confusion, the realisation dawning on him painfully slow. Then he groaned in frustration, the truth sinking in.
“Have you never gone through this before?” Hyunjin asked, glancing between Jeongin and Seungmin with a mix of confusion and worry.
Jeongin shook his head weakly. “No.”
“How?” Hyunjin muttered to himself but then waved it off. “Actually, it doesn’t matter right now. We need to get you home.”
“No! Please!” Jeongin’s eyes widened in panic, and he struggled to sit up. His fear was raw, his voice desperate. “I… I can’t go home right now.”
Seungmin frowned, confused by the outburst. “Why not? I mean, your home is probably the best place to—”
“No!” Jeongin interrupted, his voice breaking. “My parents… they don’t know I’m an alpha.” He covered his face with his hands, his shame painfully obvious.
Seungmin stared at him, stunned into silence, his brain working to process what Jeongin had just confessed. He had no idea what to say, but thankfully, Hyunjin stepped in.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Hyunjin said softly, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. “But you can’t stay here for long.”
Seungmin gave him a puzzled look. “Why not?”
“Because,” Hyunjin explained, his voice tight with urgency, “you can’t keep an alpha in a rut near an omega for too long. It’ll make things worse for him, and… for me.”
Seungmin’s eyes widened in realisation. He nodded, understanding now. “Right.”
Together, they helped Jeongin onto the bed, making sure he was at least somewhat comfortable. His breathing was still heavy, but the immediate pain seemed to have dulled, for now. Seungmin watched as Jeongin’s eyes fluttered, exhaustion taking over.
“What do we do?” Seungmin asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the alpha who had drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, clearly thinking hard. “I’m going to call someone,” he said after a moment, his eyes narrowing with determination. “Someone who can help.”
Seungmin frowned. “You know someone who can help with this?”
“He’s the closest thing I have to a friend here,” Hyunjin said simply, already pulling out his phone. Seungmin watched, eyes narrowing as Hyunjin scrolled through his contacts. His finger stopped at the name ‘Seo Changbin.’
“Changbin?!” Seungmin yelped, quickly covering his mouth when he realised how loud he’d been. Glancing nervously at Jeongin, who was still sleeping, he leaned in closer to Hyunjin. “Jinnie, you can’t call Changbin.” His voice was a hushed whisper, urgent.
Hyunjin shot him a look, unbothered by Seungmin’s protests. “He’ll help.”
“Maybe,” Seungmin admitted, “but Changbin just hired both me and Jeongin. Do you realise how inappropriate this is? How out of line? You two aren’t even that close!”
“Minnie,” Hyunjin sighed, his voice soft but firm. “I hate to break it to you, but this is happening. Jeongin’s well-being is at stake—maybe his life. We need all the help we can get. Do you know how to handle an alpha’s rut?”
Seungmin hesitated, then reluctantly shook his head. “No, but we can figure it out.”
“No, we can’t.” Hyunjin’s voice dropped lower, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. “I can’t be near him without making it worse, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re dealing with this alone.”
Seungmin’s eyes narrowed in frustration. “So it’s better if I handle this with my future boss?”
“Don’t think of him as your boss,” Hyunjin countered. “Think of him as the friend who’s coming to help.” Without waiting for more protests, he started heading toward the door.
Seungmin, still fuming, followed him. “You stay with Jeongin, just in case,” Hyunjin said quietly, pausing just before he opened the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
Seungmin sighed as he grabbed the chair that Hyunjin had knocked over earlier, setting it up beside the bed before sinking into it heavily. His eyes drifted toward Jeongin, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He seemed peaceful now, asleep at last, though Seungmin knew that peace was fragile. For now.
His gaze softened, taking in Jeongin's face—strained even in sleep, his brow slightly furrowed as though remnants of the pain still lingered. Seungmin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and whispered to himself, “Oh, Innie… what is going on in your life?”
He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. Why didn’t his parents know he was an alpha? The thought gnawed at him. Why was it such a big deal to hide? He couldn’t understand it. His own experience with his sub gender had been straightforward, and uncomplicated compared to whatever Jeongin was going through. He felt a pang of sympathy, a heaviness settling in his chest as the questions swirled without answers.
And then, another thought struck him. What if Jeongin had been home when his rut started? The realisation sent a chill down his spine. There would have been no hiding it—not from his parents, not from anyone. The scent, the pain, everything would have come crashing down around him. How terrifying would that have been for him? Seungmin’s grip tightened on the edge of his seat, relief washing over him as he realised just how lucky it was that Jeongin had come to him that day.
He leaned back in the chair, glancing at the door Hyunjin had disappeared through. Was Changbin actually coming? Just as that thought crossed his mind, the door creaked open, and Hyunjin quietly slipped back into the room. He glanced at Jeongin, still asleep.
“Changbin is probably asleep, but he’ll call back,” Hyunjin said, his voice surprisingly calm.
Seungmin shifted from the chair to the floor, sitting beside Hyunjin and wrapping his arms around him in a comforting gesture. The tension in the room was thick, but they found a sense of calm being close to each other. Hyunjin leaned into him slightly, his own nerves still present but hidden beneath his calm exterior.
“The rut’s going to get worse when he wakes up,” Hyunjin whispered, his voice low.
Seungmin hugged Hyunjin a little tighter. “I don’t know how you can be so calm about this,” he said quietly.
Hyunjin gave a small, almost weary smile. “Someone’s gotta be, Min,” he replied softly.
They sat there together in silence. Seungmin’s mind raced with thoughts about what might happen when Jeongin woke up, how they would manage, and whether Changbin would actually come to help. Hyunjin had already mentioned he couldn’t stay much longer; his omega instincts would only make things more complicated.
“Min,” Hyunjin started, breaking the silence, “you do know we can’t just dump this on Changbin, right?”
Seungmin frowned, confused. “What are you trying to say?”
“We’re going to wait and see what Changbin says,” Hyunjin explained, “but you’ll need to help him with whatever he might need.”
Seungmin blinked, taken aback. “Jinnie, are you—”
“I’m just saying, you need to stay with them,” Hyunjin cut him off. “I can’t be here once things get worse. But you can.”
Seungmin hesitated, the weight of what Hyunjin was saying settling on him. “Okay,” he finally agreed, his voice quiet but determined. He didn’t fully understand what helping Changbin might involve, but he would do it.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin had drifted off to sleep in Hyunjin’s lap, his breathing slow and steady, though it was clear from the way his body twitched every so often that it was far from a restful sleep. Hyunjin glanced down at him, feeling a pang of relief that at least Seungmin was getting some rest. Even if it was disturbed and uncomfortable, it was better than nothing.
Hyunjin leaned back against the bed where Jeongin slept, careful not to disturb either of them. He had managed to tuck a small pillow behind his back to prevent it from going completely numb, though the discomfort was still there. In an attempt to distract himself, he scrolled through a book on his phone, though his mind wasn’t really absorbing the words. He found himself zoning out often, reading and rereading the same page over and over again, unable to focus.
The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of breathing, and time seemed to stretch on in a haze of exhaustion. Around half-past five in the morning, Hyunjin’s phone vibrated in his hand, the sudden sensation snapping him back to reality. He blinked, realising that tiredness had been pressing down on him more than he thought.
Carefully, he removed the pillow from behind his back and gently shifted Seungmin’s head onto it, trying not to wake him. Once he was sure Seungmin was comfortable, Hyunjin quietly slipped out from under him, his movements slow and deliberate. He glanced over at Jeongin, still fast asleep, before stepping out of the room to take the call.
When Hyunjin came back into the room, he was surprised to find Jeongin awake, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his face. The alpha looked at him, his face a mix of confusion and disorientation. Seungmin was still asleep on the floor by the bed, his soft breaths the only sound in the room.
“Jeongin,” Hyunjin spoke gently as he moved closer to him, his voice calm and steady. “How are you feeling?”
Jeongin glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on Seungmin before returning to Hyunjin, his confusion only deepening. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet and unsure.
“It’s okay,” Hyunjin reassured him, offering a small, comforting smile. “My friend is coming over soon, and we’ll figure out how to help you, alright?”
Jeongin nodded slowly, though his expression was still full of uncertainty. “Okay. Thank you,” he said, his gratitude evident in the soft tone of his voice.
“It’s alright,” Hyunjin replied, sitting beside him on the bed. “But you probably need to tell your parents that you’ll be away for a few days.”
“Shit,” Jeongin muttered, immediately looking around for his phone.
“It’s here,” Hyunjin said, pointing to the phone that had been tucked into the blankets beside him.
“Thanks,” Jeongin said, grabbing it, though he hesitated before using it, unsure of what exactly to say to his parents.
Hyunjin paused for a moment, then carefully began, “So… I don’t know how much you know about ruts, but what you’ve been feeling so far is called ‘pre-rut.’ It’s kind of a warning that it’s coming. From here, it usually takes around 24 hours before it hits full force.”
Jeongin swallowed hard, the anxiety clearly building inside him. He’d read about ruts online, of course—what alpha hadn’t? But knowing about it and experiencing it were two completely different things. “I’ve read some stuff,” he admitted, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. “But going through it… that’s a whole other thing.”
Hyunjin placed a reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder, offering him a warm smile. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “My friend is an alpha, so he’ll be able to explain everything better than I can. You’re not alone in this.”
Jeongin peeked out from behind his hands, his anxiety still present but softened by Hyunjin’s calm presence. “I really appreciate it. I didn’t expect this at all, I’m so sorry to cause all this trouble.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Hyunjin reassured him softly, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Don’t think about it now, okay? Just focus on feeling better.”
Jeongin nodded, though there was still a shadow of unease in his eyes. He glanced at Seungmin, still asleep on the floor, then back at Hyunjin, as if trying to grasp the gravity of the situation he found himself in.
Hyunjin had deliberately avoided telling Jeongin who exactly his friend was. He knew that if he mentioned Changbin by name, the younger man would likely freak out, maybe even try to leave before he got there. The weight of embarrassment and fear of judgement was something Jeongin didn’t need on top of his already overwhelming situation. But Hyunjin also knew there was a risk—seeing Changbin walk through that door could be just as shocking. Still, once Changbin was there, Hyunjin trusted him to handle the situation with care, to know exactly what to do.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“Fuck, Hyunjin, I feel like I need a cigarette,” Changbin groaned, leaning back on the sofa in the living room. He’d arrived quickly after Hyunjin's call, and they wasted no time diving into the situation. Hyunjin explained everything—Jeongin’s rut, his fear of going home, and the need to find a safe place for him to ride it out.
“You don’t smoke, hyung,” Hyunjin pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“Exactly!” Changbin exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. The situation was clearly getting to him, and Hyunjin could see the stress etched on his face.
“Changbin, I want you to know you can say no,” Hyunjin added, feeling the need to emphasise this. He wasn’t sure if he’d made it clear enough before, and he didn’t want his friend to feel pressured.
“No, it’s not that,” Changbin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m more than happy to provide Jeongin with a place to stay, and I’ve got everything at home to help him through this. But… do you think he’ll feel comfortable with me?”
Hyunjin hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think he’s got much of a choice right now.”
“And why is that?” Changbin asked, his curiosity piqued.
“He said he can’t go home because his parents don’t know he’s an alpha,” Hyunjin explained. “I don’t know why it’s such a big deal, though.”
Changbin’s face shifted into understanding. “It’s probably because his family are all betas. You know how betas can be sometimes,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly.
“Not all betas are the same,” came a voice from behind them. Both Changbin and Hyunjin turned to see Seungmin approaching, his expression a little annoyed.
“Of course they aren’t,” Hyunjin quickly agreed, giving Seungmin a warm smile. He could tell his boyfriend was sensitive to the topic, especially considering his own family dynamic.
“Hi, Seungmin,” Changbin greeted, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Long time no see.”
Seungmin’s cheeks flushed pink as he tried, somewhat awkwardly, to avoid meeting Changbin’s gaze. “Ahhh! I don’t know how we ended up in this situation,” he mumbled, darting his eyes away and groaning in frustration.
“Relax, Min,” Hyunjin said, laughing softly. “Changbin’s a friend first, before anything else. Right, hyung?”
“Of course,” Changbin confirmed with a nod. He looked at Seungmin, his expression kind and reassuring. “I’m here as a friend, Min. No need to worry.”
A tense silence fell over the room as Seungmin paced a little awkwardly. Hyunjin, sensing the unease, decided to take control of the situation one last time.
“Min is going to go with you,” he said firmly, his tone leaving little room for debate.
“What?” Changbin blinked in surprise.
“Just in case help is needed,” Hyunjin explained, his voice calm but resolute.
“Hyunjin, I’m not sure if you know, but—” Changbin started, but Hyunjin quickly cut him off.
“Changbin, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve been around alphas before, I know,” Hyunjin said. “That’s the whole point. You can be affected by an alpha’s pheromones, too. Not as much as omegas, but it’s still a risk. Min’s a beta, so he’s safe. He’s coming with you.”
Changbin hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Fine.”
Seungmin, who had been quietly listening to the exchange, stopped pacing and looked at both of them. The decision seemed to sink in, and though his nerves were still evident, he appeared more grounded now.
“Can I see Jeongin now?” Changbin asked, glancing toward the stairs.
Seungmin nodded, gesturing towards the guest room. “Right, of course.”
The three of them quietly made their way upstairs, Seungmin entering the room first, with Hyunjin and Changbin close behind. Jeongin was sitting up in the bed, his face pale and his eyes swollen from crying. He looked fragile, and though Seungmin didn’t want to treat him like he was, seeing Jeongin so vulnerable made him instinctively want to protect him.
“Hey, Innie,” Seungmin greeted softly, his voice warm and gentle.
Jeongin looked at Seungmin briefly before his gaze shifted to Hyunjin and then, finally, to Changbin. The instant recognition sparked panic in his eyes. His breath hitched as he stared at Changbin, completely overwhelmed.
“Jeongin, this is the friend I talked about,” Hyunjin said gently. “And before you say anything, he’s here as a friend—not as your future manager.”
Jeongin opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He tried several times, his lips parting and closing, unsure of how to react to the situation.
“Hi, Jeongin,” Changbin said softly as he moved closer. “I know this is all a lot, and you’re probably scared, but I’m here to help, okay?” His voice was calm, but firm, hoping to reassure the distressed alpha.
Jeongin’s eyes flickered with a mix of anxiety and confusion. Changbin glanced at Hyunjin and Seungmin, silently signalling with his eyes that they should leave the room.
‘Are you sure?’ Hyunjin mouthed silently, his brow furrowed with concern. Changbin nodded, his resolve clear. Without hesitation, Hyunjin gently grabbed Seungmin’s arm, and the two quietly slipped out, closing the door behind them.
“Are you a friend of Hyunjin’s?” Jeonging finally managed to speak.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that”, Changbin replied with a smile. “Here’s the plan”, he began to explain, “You’re gonna stay at mine until your rut is over. I got plenty of space so that’s not a problem before you ask. I have all the stuff that you might need to safely ride out your rut. And please don’t feel bad, this is a part of you now and I promise you will learn to live with it”
Jeongin shifted uneasily on the bed, his mind racing as a flood of thoughts overwhelmed him. Everything he'd read online about ruts—articles, forums, guides—seemed to dissolve in the face of the reality he was now living. He hadn’t anticipated feeling so unprepared, so vulnerable, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it all made his head spin.
His gaze darted to Changbin, who was watching him with a calm, steady expression. The air between them felt thick with uncertainty, and the tension in Jeongin’s chest only grew. He couldn’t comprehend why these people—practically strangers—were going out of their way to help him.
A sharp spike of anxiety shot through him, cutting through his confusion. What if this was a trap? His heart skipped a beat, the thought gnawing at his mind. Why would they care so much? He wasn’t special, and this situation—having to rely on people he barely knew felt dangerous, exposing parts of him he didn’t want anyone to see. Could he trust them? Could he trust Changbin?
“Jeongin?” Changbin’s voice was gentle, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts. “I can’t imagine what’s going through your head right now, but you’re safe. No one’s forcing you into anything.”
Jeongin blinked, trying to steady his breathing. He wanted to believe him, but the paranoia lingered, like a shadow in the corner of his mind.
“I know, thank you,” Jeongin murmured.
“Alright then, we should get going,” said Changbin, standing up with purpose. “I’ll let Seungmin know it’s time to get ready.”
“Seungmin’s coming with us?” Jeongin asked, surprise flickering in his voice. The thought caught him off guard.
Changbin nodded. “Yes. Does having him there make you feel safer?” Though it could’ve been taken as a blunt question, there was nothing harsh in Changbin’s expression, only quiet understanding. His eyes softened, reassuring Jeongin without needing to say more.
“I... I don’t know,” Jeongin admitted, struggling to grasp how he truly felt. He had been thrown into such an unexpected situation, it was difficult to know anything for sure.
Changbin’s voice remained calm. “Just tell us if anything doesn’t feel right, okay?” Jeongin nodded, appreciating the kindness behind those words, even though the anxiety inside him didn’t fully fade.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Meanwhile, downstairs, Hyunjin and Seungmin were chatting, trying to create some sense of normalcy in the house. Hyunjin busied himself by packing snacks from the fridge into Seungmin’s bag as if preparing for a long trip. The rustling of plastic bags echoed through the kitchen, betraying the nervous energy bubbling beneath his calm exterior. Seungmin leaned over the counter, placing his hand gently over Hyunjin’s.
“Jinnie,” he said softly, trying to get him to stop.
“You’ll need this,” Hyunjin muttered, focused on the task.
“Hyunjin, you know I have food at home, right?” came Changbin’s voice as he stepped into the kitchen, catching their attention.
Hyunjin paused and sighed, “I know… it’s just…” He trailed off, unable to fully explain the anxious energy pushing him to prepare, even if it wasn’t necessary. “How’s Jeongin?”
“He’s shaken up—confused, mostly. But he’s managing, for now,” Changbin replied, though the worry in his eyes betrayed his calm tone. “Seungmin, grab your stuff. We should go.”
Seungmin nodded quickly, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he stood straighter. “I’m good to go,” he said, but the slight tremble in his voice gave away his nerves too.
Hyunjin’s eyes lingered on them, his trust clear in the way his gaze softened. “Take care of him,” he added gently, though there was no doubt that he believed they would.
Changbin gave Hyunjin a brief nod. “We’ll keep you posted,” he assured.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Changbin’s house was big. No, it was huge, Jeongin thought, eyes widening as they pulled into the driveway. Did Changbin live here alone? He must have—why else would he bring Jeongin here? He glanced at Seungmin, who looked just as surprised by the sheer size of the place. Jeongin wanted to ask Changbin about it, but the pain in his body was growing too intense for small talk.
The car ride had been a blur of discomfort. Jeongin had spent most of it clinging to Seungmin in the backseat, finding a small bit of relief as he inhaled Changbin’s calming pheromones. He was sure that’s what had kept the pain somewhat manageable, but even that relief was fading fast now.
“Go upstairs and take a left,” said Changbin, holding the door open. “I'll be right behind you—just need to grab a few things.”
“Sure,” Seungmin replied, steadying Jeongin, who was barely able to stand on his own by now.
They quickly made their way upstairs, and Seungmin found the room Changbin had mentioned. It was simple but spacious, with a large king-sized bed at its centre and a small wardrobe against the wall. The sage-green walls gave the room a calming atmosphere. What caught Seungmin's attention, though, was the white curtain hanging from the ceiling, dividing the room in half. He wondered what might be behind it, but this wasn’t the time to explore or invade Changbin’s privacy. Instead, he focused on helping Jeongin onto the bed, carefully lowering him as Jeongin let out a low moan of discomfort.
“Hang in there,” Seungmin whispered as he brushed Jeongin's hair out of his face. Jeongin felt himself starting to slip, his pain worsening, his vision blurring, and his lower stomach tightening with pressure. There was no doubt about it being visible through his jeans, but he wasn't in the position to dwell on it as he suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of primal, physical, and emotional sensations. It started with a slow build, accompanied by a rising sense of heat and discomfort deep within his body, like a fever that intensifies with each passing moment. His skin felt overly sensitive, every touch almost too much to bear, and his muscles ached with tension, craving release.
Seungmin stood there, unsure of what to do or how to help Jeongin. He could see how uncomfortable the younger alpha was, the way he kept tugging at his clothes and mumbling, “Please, off.” Seungmin hesitated, his mind racing—should he help Jeongin undress, or would that be crossing the line? The thought of “crossing the line” made him chuckle awkwardly, realising that in the last 24 hours, they'd probably crossed more than a few lines already.
Before he could spiral further into indecision, the door opened, and Changbin walked in, holding a fresh set of clothes and a few worn-looking items draped over his arm. “You okay?” Changbin asked, his eyes locking on Seungmin.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s not me who’s in a rut,” Seungmin replied, chuckling nervously. But Changbin didn’t laugh.
“I know,” Changbin said seriously, “but this can be overwhelming.”
Trying to dodge the discomfort of the conversation, Seungmin gestured toward the white curtain hanging in the room. “What’s behind that?” he asked, partly out of curiosity, partly to change the subject.
Changbin’s expression softened as he walked over to the curtain and pulled it back. Behind it was a large screen, almost like a home theatre setup, complete with a surround sound system. There were several brightly coloured boxes stacked nearby, their contents hidden. “This is the room I usually spend my ruts in,” Changbin explained, chuckling as he glanced at Seungmin’s wide-eyed reaction. “Sometimes I just watch movies here.”
“Really?”Seungmin asked, raising an eyebrow. “How does that help with...you know, ruts? Are you watching, uh…” His voice trailed off, and the realisation of what he was insinuating made his face flush.
“No!” Changbin burst out laughing, clearly amused by Seungmin’s mortified expression. “I pick calming themes, like space or the ocean, something soothing. I put on videos with soft music, and it helps distract me from the discomfort. It’s like a little escape.”
Seungmin nodded, still feeling a bit awkward. “That makes sense. Sorry, I just... assumed…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Changbin smiled warmly. “I get why you’d think that, considering it’s a 'rut room’.”
Seungmin’s curiosity got the better of him again as he pointed to the boxes. “And what’s in all those?”
Changbin grinned as he began opening a few of the boxes. “Some are filled with pillows and comfort blankets,” he said, pulling out different-shaped pillows and soft blankets. Some of the smaller items looked eerily similar to what Seungmin had seen Hyunjin use to build his nest, and Changbin quickly tossed those back into the box with a sheepish chuckle. “The other boxes,” he added with a wink, “have, let’s say, more specific items to help with ruts. You know what I mean.”
Seungmin’s ears burned red, and his face quickly followed suit. He wasn’t exactly innocent—ask Hyunjin!—but the thought of discussing something so personal with his future boss made his skin prickle with embarrassment. He could never have imagined having a conversation like this with someone he barely knew, let alone someone he’d be working under.
“Seungmin-ah,” Changbin teased, his grin widening, “I know you’re not that innocent. So, why are you blushing so much?” His tone was light, but his words made Seungmin freeze.
“I’m not—wait, what?” Seungmin stammered, looking at Changbin, his mind racing to process what he’d just heard.
“Yeah, Hyunjin isn’t the best at keeping things to himself,” Changbin laughed, stepping closer to pat Seungmin on the shoulder. “But let’s focus on helping Jeongin out of those clothes first, alright?”
Changbin turned his attention to Jeongin, who was fidgeting in discomfort, his movements jerky and desperate as he muttered, “Off, quickly, please, off.” Changbin moved carefully, but with purpose, starting to undress the younger alpha, trying to be as gentle as possible while Jeongin urged him on.
Seungmin, still a bit flustered, blurted out, “What are the other clothes for?” He felt foolish for asking yet another question, but he couldn’t help it. Everything was so unfamiliar—he had never been around an alpha in a rut before, and he felt utterly clueless.
Changbin didn’t seem to mind though. “They’re mine,” he explained, his tone patient. “I’ve worn them recently to scent them. I figured it might help since he seemed calmer with my pheromones around.” He glanced back at Seungmin, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s all about making him feel comfortable, and scenting helps.”
Once they managed to help Jeongin into a fresh, looser set of clothes—thanks mostly to Changbin—he started arranging comfort items around the bed, trying to make the younger alpha feel as at ease as possible. Jeongin, though in discomfort, was quick to assist, adjusting things here and there so he could settle into the perfect position, surrounded by pillows and blankets. As soon as he was comfortable, he grabbed onto Changbin’s freshly scented clothes, burying his face in them with a small, contented murmur, “Smells good.”
“Alright, Jeongin, we’re going to leave you to rest now,” Changbin said softly, smoothing the corner of the bed. “If you need anything, just shout. But for the most part, I’m sure you’ll figure things out.”
Suddenly, Jeongin sat up, gripping Changbin’s arm with surprising strength for someone so exhausted. “No, please,” he begged, his voice trembling. “Hyung, please, don’t leave.”
Hearing Jeongin call him “hyung” in his dazed state was unexpectedly endearing, tugging at something deep within Changbin that he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. But beyond that small rush of warmth, it also made him hesitate. The vulnerability in Jeongin's voice, the way he clung to him—it stirred something more protective, more primal.
“You stay,” Seungmin interjected, stepping in smoothly. “I’ll go grab us some food for later,” he added, taking the opportunity to not only give them space but also to get some fresh air.
Changbin glanced between them, the question in his eyes unclear—was he asking Jeongin if he truly wanted him to stay? Or was he checking to see if Seungmin was okay with this arrangement? “Are you sure?” he asked, though it seemed to be directed at both of them.
“Please,” Jeongin repeated, his grip tightening slightly.
“Yeah, I’ll be back soon,” Seungmin responded, offering Changbin a brief nod before quietly exiting the room.
“Minnie... I want Minnie here too,” Jeongin mumbled, but Seungmin had already gone, too far to hear.
“He’ll be back soon,” Changbin reassured him, his voice soft. “Do you want me to lay here with you or...?” he asked, a little unsure.
“Please,” Jeongin replied almost immediately, shuffling over on the bed to make room for him.
Changbin hesitated for a split second before lying down beside him, unsure what to do with his hands. This wasn’t exactly how he had envisioned helping Jeongin through his rut—being so close, sharing the same bed. He’d prepared himself to offer support, but this? This was different. His thoughts were interrupted when Jeongin grabbed his arm and draped it over his body, pulling Changbin in. Well, alright then. If this was what Jeongin needed to feel better, Changbin wasn’t about to deny him.
As Jeongin clung to him, something stirred inside Changbin, a quiet curiosity about how far this would go. Not in a worried way, just a thoughtful wonder. Jeongin’s need for physical closeness was surprising—most alphas in rut became demanding or even aggressive, their instincts driving them to take rather than ask. But Jeongin? He just wanted comfort, someone to hold onto, and Changbin found himself oddly okay with that. Changbin was the same after all.
He chuckled quietly to himself, the sound barely audible. If he and Jeongin ever ended up living together and their ruts somehow aligned, it would be a chaotic mess. Two needy, clingy alphas? That sounded like a disaster waiting to happen, especially since neither of them would have anyone else to rely on during that time. Though, the thought amused him more than anything. Besides, what were the odds of that ever happening? It was almost impossible for two alphas to align their ruts.
The moment felt oddly intimate, the kind of closeness that made Changbin’s mind wander. Not in any uncomfortable way but he couldn’t help but wonder, where was this going? How much did Jeongin need from him? And how far was Changbin willing to go to make sure he got through this rut feeling safe? The weight of Jeongin’s body against him, the warmth of his breath so close—it was all so unexpectedly personal.
“Why am I even thinking about this?” Changbin muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly.
Jeongin squirmed in Changbin’s arms, his body twitching and shivering as if trying to find some kind of relief. His frustration bubbled over in the form of a low, guttural moan, his legs restless and his breathing laboured. Every movement was an attempt to settle, but nothing seemed to work.
“Come here,” Changbin murmured, gently guiding Jeongin to roll over and face him. The younger alpha instantly obeyed, turning toward him with wide, pleading eyes. The desperation in his gaze was noticeable, like he was silently begging for something, anything to ease the discomfort that gripped him. Changbin could feel it, the raw need emanating from Jeongin. He knew this feeling all too well—he’d been there himself. But no matter how clear it was what Jeongin needed, Changbin wasn’t about to take advantage of him in such a vulnerable state. Not now. Not ever.
“Hyuuuung…” Jeongin whined, his voice a mix of need and frustration as he buried his face into Changbin's neck, desperately seeking out his scent glands. His breath was hot against Changbin’s skin, the younger alpha inhaling deeply, trying to surround himself in the comfort of Changbin’s scent.
“What is it?” Changbin asked, his voice gentle as he stroked Jeongin’s hair soothingly. “You want hyung to scent you?”
“Please,” Jeongin muttered, inhaling sharply, as though Changbin’s scent was the only thing grounding him. “S'good…”
Changbin sighed softly. He couldn’t deny him this. It wasn’t crossing any lines, not really. It was just scenting. He rubbed his wrists against Jeongin’s scent glands, following with a gentle swipe of his hand along Jeongin’s neck, instinctively soothing the younger alpha the way one would with a distressed sibling. But that wasn’t enough for Jeongin.
“Not enough,” Jeongin protested, his voice whiny and unsatisfied. “This isn’t how you do it.”
Changbin knew exactly what he was asking for. The way he scented Jeongin now was comforting, but it wasn’t the deep, intimate scenting that alphas typically exchanged with their partners. That much was true. But it wasn’t wrong either—it was the kind of scenting you’d offer a sibling, a child, someone you cared for without the complexity of romantic or intimate ties.
“No?” Changbin asked, his voice teasing but laced with understanding. He wasn’t about to cross that line, but he knew Jeongin’s frustration stemmed from the intensity of his rut. “This is how you do it for family. But I know what you’re asking for, Innie…”
Jeongin groaned, clinging to Changbin tighter, the warmth of his body almost feverish. The tension in the room was thick, but Changbin kept his calm, soothing the younger alpha with soft touches, keeping things just on the edge of what was acceptable. He wasn’t going to let Jeongin suffer, but he also wasn’t about to give in to everything the younger alpha wanted—not like this.
Their bodies were pressed together so tightly that it was as if Jeongin was trying to fuse into Changbin. Changbin could feel every inch of him—the younger alpha’s heart pounding in sync with his own, and beneath it all, the unmistakable pressure of Jeongin's hardness against his thigh. The subtle grinding of Jeongin’s hips didn’t seem intentional, more of a subconscious act born from sheer desperation.
Changbin's breath hitched slightly, his mind racing even as he maintained a calm exterior. He knew the state Jeongin was in—overwhelmed, uncomfortable, teetering on the edge of unbearable tension. If Jeongin didn’t find relief soon, it would only intensify, his body betraying him further, pushing him deeper into frustration.
Changbin swallowed hard, trying to focus. This wasn’t new to him; he understood the storm Jeongin was caught in. But the weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders. Jeongin needed help, but there was a line Changbin wasn’t willing to cross, no matter how much his instincts screamed at him to ease the younger alpha’s suffering.
“Innie,” Changbin whispered softly, voice gentle but firm. He placed a hand on Jeongin's back, rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to calm him down. But even then, the younger alpha only pressed closer, his breath hot and laboured, his need palpable. “I’m going to get you something you can use to help, okay?" Changbin continued, but Jeongin’s grip tightened, his voice breaking with desperation.
“No… please, I need you to stay,” Jeongin’s voice cracked, thick with emotion. “I need to feel you close, it helps…”
Tears threatened to spill from Jeongin's eyes, and the sound of his voice, so vulnerable, made something twist painfully in Changbin’s chest. His heart raced at Jeongin's request, though he kept his expression calm and steady. The desperation in Jeongin's voice tugged at something deep within him. He could hear the tremble, the edge of tears ready to spill over, and that vulnerability made him want to comfort the younger alpha in any way he could. But it also stirred the complexity of the situation—how far was too far?
“Shh, it’s okay,” Changbin whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Jeongin's back. “I’m staying right here. We’ll figure it out, alright? We’ll ask Seungmin to help when he gets back.”
The thought of asking Seungmin to rummage through his rut supplies was awkward enough to make Changbin's chest tighten. He could only imagine how that conversation might go. But for now, that was a problem for later. Jeongin needed him here, and that was the priority.
“Hyung… can you… can you take my shirt off?” Jeongin's voice was barely a whisper, full of hesitancy, as if even asking was a stretch beyond his limits.
Changbin blinked at the request, momentarily caught off guard. “Are you hot?” The question slipped out before he could stop it, and he mentally facepalmed himself. Of course, Jeongin was hot—he was deep in his rut, after all. It was a standard part of the experience.
“Yes... no... I mean, yes,” Jeongin stammered, his voice tight. “But I... I want to feel your skin. Please, can you take yours off too?”
The vulnerability in his voice was almost too much. Changbin hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Alright, Innie. I’ve got you.”
He gently pulled back just enough to lift Jeongin’s shirt over his head, the fabric brushing against flushed skin. His hands lingered for a moment, fingertips grazing along the younger alpha’s collarbone before pulling off his own shirt. The cool air kissed his skin, but it didn’t last long before Jeongin was pressing against him again, seeking that closeness. Their bodies met, skin against skin, and Jeongin sighed—a deep, relieved sound as he settled into the contact.
“Better?” Changbin whispered, his voice low, almost intimate in the quiet space between them.
Jeongin didn’t answer with words, but his arms wrapped tighter around Changbin, pulling him impossibly closer, as though he could find solace just by being near him. The soft, subtle grind of Jeongin’s hips against his thigh wasn’t lost on Changbin, but he kept his touch gentle, smoothing his hand over the younger alpha’s back, calming him as best he could.
The door to the room wasn’t fully closed, left ajar just enough to let a faint stream of light filter in from the hallway. Changbin had asked Seungmin to leave it that way, not out of distrust, but because he needed to keep tabs on everything. It wasn’t like there was anyone around to be concerned about or that Seungmin would do something he shouldn’t. But for Changbin, having control was like breathing. The subtle creak of the door gave him a sense of connection to the outside world, a reminder that he could still manage the situation if anything unexpected happened. His mind was wired for vigilance; if he wasn’t in control of everything, it felt like he’d lose a part of himself. It was instinctual, a habit that came with years of being the steady anchor in any situation.
A soft knock broke the silence in the room. Seungmin peered through the barely open door, holding two plastic bags. His eyes darted to Changbin, who gave a silent nod, signalling him to come in. Seungmin stepped inside, placing the bags carefully on the small desk near the entrance, but his gaze quickly shifted to the bed. Jeongin was clinging to Changbin, grinding against him with a desperation that was impossible to miss. Seungmin’s eyes widened slightly, but he tried to keep his composure, taking in the situation as best as he could.
“I brought some food and water,” Seungmin said softly, unsure of what else to do. He stood frozen for a moment, trying to assess the room, a skill he usually excelled at. But today, nothing seemed clear. This wasn't the kind of situation he could easily navigate. “Unless... it's better for me to wait outside?” he added hesitantly.
Before he could finish, Jeongin’s voice broke through the awkwardness. “Minnie, you won’t leave again, right? Will you stay here, please?” His face remained pressed into Changbin’s neck, but Seungmin could hear the plea in his voice.
Seungmin and Changbin exchanged a look, neither entirely sure how to proceed. The room felt charged, heavy with the understanding that this was more intense than they had anticipated. In that shared glance, they realised that getting Jeongin through this wasn’t going to be as simple as they’d initially thought. They might need to do more, be more present, than either of them had imagined.
“I’m here,” Seungmin repeated softly, his voice steady despite the flicker of hesitation he felt deep down. He stepped closer, his mind recalling Hyunjin’s words—the warning about not letting Changbin shoulder this alone.
Jeongin's voice broke through Seungmin’s thoughts, “Close. I want you close. Same as Changbin.”
Jeongin finally turned his head, eyes half-lidded, his lips curling into a weak but genuine smile. He looked almost scent-drunk, his pupils blown, his breathing shallow but steady. Seungmin could see the relief etched in Jeongin’s expression, the way his tense body relaxed slightly from the overwhelming comfort of Changbin’s presence.
Seungmin hesitated no more. If this was what Jeongin needed, he would do it. He moved closer to the bed, seating himself beside Jeongin, his hand gently brushing against the younger alpha’s shoulder. “You’re okay, Innie,” Seungmin whispered, trying to keep his voice as comforting as possible, glancing at Changbin for reassurance. “We’re both here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Changbin gave a small nod, the tension between his brows softening as Seungmin reached out, becoming part of the moment. Jeongin’s body shifted, as if seeking them both. Seungmin could feel Jeongin’s trust, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, he couldn’t deny how important it was.
Seungmin felt Jeongin’s body shift again, trembling slightly as the intensity built within him. He was still rutting against Changbin, driven by instinct and need. It was desperation, the need for comfort, the urge to relieve the overwhelming pressure that tore through his body.
Seungmin found himself instinctively leaning in closer, his head gently resting on Jeongin’s shoulder. “We’re here,” Seungmin repeated, feeling the heat radiating from Jeongin. “Just let it out. We’ll help you through this.”
The sudden shift in Jeongin’s energy was tactile, as if the air in the room thickened with his raw, overwhelming need. His voice, usually so controlled, cracked with desperation.
“Fuck it. If I don’t come in the next few minutes, I think I’ll combust,” he groaned, his hands fumbling with the waistband of his clothes. “Off. I need all of this off.” Without waiting for a response, Jeongin peeled the sweatpants and boxers from his body, the fabric sliding off as he discarded them to the side. His movements were rushed, frantic, driven by a primal instinct he couldn’t hold back any longer.
The tension in the room skyrocketed. It was suddenly too hot, too heavy, the air thick with the intensity of Jeongin’s pheromones. Changbin could feel it—how hard it was to breathe, how much effort it took to keep focused as the younger alpha's scent became intoxicating. It flooded the room, overwhelming his senses. He clenched his fists, his body on edge, trying to maintain control as his own alpha instincts screamed at him to respond. Jeongin’s pheromones were powerful and it took everything in Changbin not to give in, not to just reach out and touch him. His jaw tightened, his breaths shallow as he tried to steady himself.
Seungmin, too, felt the pull—the sheer force of the situation driving him mad. Jeongin’s need was a tangible living thing, an energy that filled the space and pushed against them. For a moment, Seungmin’s eyes met Changbin’s, both of them silently acknowledging the challenge in front of them.
Jeongin whined in frustration, his body taut, muscles flexing as he shifted restlessly. “It’s too much. I—” His voice faltered, his breath shaky as he desperately searched for release. “Hyung… I need it. I need to feel something. Anything.” His head lolled back against the pillow, skin flushed, pupils blown wide as his need consumed him.
Seungmin's mind raced, desperately searching for a solution. He glanced at Changbin, an idea forming in his mind. “Hyung,” Seungmin whispered, his voice barely audible over Jeongin's laboured breathing. “Do you have... a knotting toy? Something that might help him?”
Changbin's eyes widened slightly, considering the suggestion. He nodded slowly, “I do, but…” He paused, looking at Jeongin's flushed face and trembling body. “It's his first rut. He probably doesn't need something that intense yet.”
Seungmin nodded, understanding the concern. His gaze swept the room, landing on a plush pillow near the headboard. Without hesitation, he reached for it, his fingers sinking into the soft fabric.
“Okay,” Seungmin said, his voice low and determined. “We'll try this instead.”
With gentle but purposeful movements, Seungmin positioned the pillow in front of Jeongin's hips. He carefully pressed the pillow against Jeongin's hard cock, creating a soft, inviting friction.
“There you go, Innie,” Seungmin murmured, his voice soothing despite the charged atmosphere. “You can use this. It's okay.”
Jeongin didn't need further encouragement. With a strangled moan, he thrust his hips forward, grinding against the pillow Seungmin held in place. The relief was immediate and intense. Jeongin's eyes fluttered shut, his mouth falling open as he finally found the friction he so desperately craved.
“That's it,” Changbin whispered, his hand coming to rest on Jeongin's lower back, helping him find a rhythm. “Let it out, Innie. We've got you.”
Seungmin kept the pillow steady, his own breathing quickening as he watched Jeongin chase his release. The younger alpha's movements were frantic, almost violent in their desperation. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his chest heaving with each thrust. Seungmin’s eyes flickered downward, catching sight of Jeongin's body pressing against him, the friction creating heat in his own body. His arousal was creeping up on him, uninvited but undeniable. Every time Jeongin’s hips bucked, his ass brushed against Seungmin, sending a spark of something dangerous down his spine. He swallowed hard, mentally reprimanding himself. Focus , he told himself. This wasn’t about him. It was about helping Jeongin, and nothing more. But despite his efforts to control it, that flicker of temptation simmered in the back of his mind. His thoughts raced back to Hyunjin, and a wave of guilt rushed over him. He knew they’d talked about this before—how it was okay to feel attraction toward others—but this situation was entirely different. Acting on it? They had never crossed that bridge.
Seungmin shot a quick glance at Changbin, wondering if he felt the same pull, the same heat. Did he feel it too? Or was Seungmin the only one grappling with these intrusive thoughts? It made him feel like a creep, even though he hadn’t acted on anything. Just the mere existence of the temptation was enough to make him question himself.
But Changbin, as always, seemed composed, though there was a slight tension in his jaw, a sign that maybe he wasn’t entirely unaffected either. His gaze remained fixed on Jeongin, his hands firmly planted on the younger alpha's lower back. In truth, Changbin was a mess inside. His own cock was so uncomfortably hard now and he struggled to keep from rubbing against the pillow that not only covered Jeongin’s cock but his as well. Changbin’s eyes flicked to the side, and that’s when he noticed it—Seungmin had unconsciously started to push himself into Jeongin’s side, his body moving in a subtle, instinctive rhythm. Changbin pondered if it was acceptable for a grown man to come in his pants.
“Hyung…” Jeongin's voice broke through their thoughts, his breathy whine pulling them back to the present. “Please… don’t stop.” He couldn't bear the overwhelming need any longer, and his words were directed at both Seungmin and Changbin, who had brought him to this edge of ecstasy. “I’m gonna come, fuck!” Jeongin cried out, his hips bucking uncontrollably as he reached the edge of bliss, his body arching off the bed. “Someone kiss me, I’m gonna come!” he begged, his voice breaking with the intensity of his arousal.
At that moment, all reason fled from Seungmin and Changbin's minds. With a primal growl, Changbin claimed Jeongin's lips, his hands gripping the younger alpha's chin possessively as he devoured him with intense hunger. Jeongin moaned into the kiss, feeling every inch of his body on fire as Changbin's tongue explored his mouth.
Meanwhile, Seungmin leaned in close, his hot breath tickling Jeongin's ear as he whispered in a low voice. “Let go, Innie. You can come now,” he coaxed, his words pushing Jeongin closer to the edge. “Do it for your hyungs,” he added teasingly, sending shivers down Jeongin's spine as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him.
The three of them moved together in perfect harmony, lost in a frenzy of desire as they reached their peak together. As they finally let go, the room was filled with euphoric moans that echoed off the walls. Jeongin's voice rose above the others, loud and uninhibited as he reached a level of pleasure he had never experienced before. Changbin and Seungmin, their minds in perfect synchrony, let out low, muffled moans as they both bit into Jeongin's shoulder — one on each side. Not enough to leave a deep mark but just enough to muffle their voice.
Jeongin's body trembled with the aftermath of the release, his breathing gradually slowing as he muttered a soft, barely audible “thank you.” Seungmin and Changbin, still pressed against him on either side, could feel the tension slowly draining from his body, the intense pressure of the rut finally easing.
Neither Changbin nor Seungmin made any sudden moves. Their heads remained buried against Jeongin’s shoulders, both of them hesitant to meet each other’s gaze. There was something unspoken between them—an acknowledgement of the intensity that had just unfolded—but neither dared to break the fragile silence. The air still buzzed with the lingering heat of the moment.
Their breathing was heavy, in sync with Jeongin's as the weight of what had just happened hung in the air. The bed beneath them felt like a tangle of limbs, the sheets crumpled and disarrayed from how much they'd moved without realising it. Sweat clung to all their skin, and Seungmin could feel the way his shirt stuck to his back, but he didn’t move to fix anything.
For a moment, they were just three bodies, entangled in a mess of exhaustion and care, not sure where one ended and the other began. Changbin’s arm remained draped over Jeongin’s middle, the closeness they shared still lingering like a safety net, a reminder that he was there, that they were all there, and that Jeongin wasn’t alone.
Changbin sighed softly, his breath warm against Jeongin’s skin, and Seungmin could hear the slight tremor in it. Despite the calm, there was still a quiet hum of uncertainty lingering beneath the surface. No one knew what to say, or if there was even anything that needed to be said.
Eventually, Seungmin shifted slightly, lifting his head just enough to peer at Jeongin, who had already drifted into a light doze. He smiled. “He’s out,” he whispered to Changbin, as if speaking too loudly might disrupt the fragile peace that had settled over them.
Changbin lifted his head as well, glancing down at Jeongin’s relaxed face. “Good,” he murmured back, a soft smile touching his lips. “He needed that.”
Seungmin nodded, the whole situation finally hitting him. He and Changbin had given Jeongin the comfort and relief he so desperately needed. But now, as the intensity of the moment faded, there was still an unspoken question hanging between them—what exactly happened?
Neither of them moved to get up just yet, both silently agreeing to stay a little longer, even if it meant confronting whatever awkwardness might come later.
“Hyung,” Jeongin spoke softly, his eyes closed. “Can you scent me properly now?” he asked Changbin.
Chapter 10: don't let it fall apart
Notes:
Hello, hello! :) I apologise for not having a chapter ready last week; things have been extremely busy! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you so much for sticking around and reading along! :) This fic is my little baby, and I truly appreciate each and every one of you for taking the time to read it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it! :)
Chapter Text
Minho was the first to wake, wincing as a dull ache throbbed at the base of his neck. He rolled his head slowly, trying to coax life back into his stiff muscles, but the discomfort lingered. Worse yet, his legs were completely numb. He glanced down and froze, his breath catching at the sight before him. Jisung lay curled up in his lap, fast asleep, lips parted in a soft “o.” His cheek was squished against Minho’s thigh, a mess of unruly curls framing his peaceful face. A warm, affectionate smile tugged at Minho’s lips as he gently threaded his fingers through the tangled strands of Jisung’s hair.
For a moment, everything felt right—until a groan sounded from behind him, shattering the tranquillity.
Minho blinked, a sudden wave of clarity hitting him. Shit , they had all just fallen asleep here. He twisted around carefully, and his eyes met Felix’s. The younger boy blinked at him, wide-eyed and utterly confused, as if trying to piece together how they'd ended up in this tangled mess. Felix was nestled snugly against Chan, his arm draped casually over the older man’s chest.
They stared at each other in awkward silence, neither sure what to do next, until Felix abruptly jolted upright, scrambling to peel himself off Chan as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. The sudden movement startled Chan awake, who jerked up violently, eyes wide and panicked, momentarily lost in the chaos of the situation.
Minho barely had time to react before Felix’s sudden movement sent Chan into a startled burst. Chan blinked furiously, looking around in a daze, breathing heavily like he’d just been pulled from some dream or nightmare. His gaze flicked from Felix to Minho, then to Jisung, who was still fast asleep on Minho's lap, blissfully unaware of the situation.
Chan groaned, rubbing his face as he muttered, “What the hell…?”
Minho chuckled quietly, his hand still buried in Jisung’s hair. “We all passed out here like idiots.”
Now standing awkwardly a few steps away, Felix rubbed the back of his neck, his face tinged pink with embarrassment. “I don’t even remember falling asleep,” he mumbled.
The room fell into a momentary silence, broken only by the distant hum of traffic outside. It was calm, too calm, as if they’d somehow escaped from reality for a while. But then the worst realisation hit.
“Wait…” Felix said suddenly, his eyes widening again as the colour drained from his face. “What day is it?”
Minho’s stomach dropped. He stared at Felix, trying to work out the answer in his still-half-asleep brain, but Felix didn’t wait. He was already scrambling for his phone, and as soon as the screen lit up, the look on his face told Minho everything.
“It’s Monday.” Felix’s voice was a whisper, but the panic was clear.
“ Monday ?” Chan’s voice rose sharply as he practically shot off the couch, fully awake now. “It’s Monday? Oh shit—my shift starts in half an hour!”
Minho muttered a swear quietly, feeling the gravity of the situation finally hit him. Monday. The first day of the hospital placement for both Felix and Jisung. They must’ve forgotten . He glanced down at Jisung, who was still blissfully unconscious and felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Jisung was so anxious about this, his first real day in a hospital. And now they’d overslept.
Minho’s hand gently shook Jisung’s shoulder. “Hey, Sungie, wake up. It’s Monday. We’ve got to get moving.”
Jisung stirred slightly, his nose scrunching as he buried his face deeper into Minho’s thigh. A soft whine escaped his lips as he murmured, “Five more minutes…”
Minho sighed, torn between wanting to let him sleep and knowing that Jisung would miss his first shift if he did. “Felix, you’re with him, right?” Minho asked, glancing over at the younger boy frantically gathering his things.
Felix looked at Jisung and nodded. “Yeah, we both have induction today. We’re screwed if we don’t hurry.”
Chan was already halfway out the door, pulling on his jacket while trying to stuff his feet into his shoes. “I’ll see you guys later. I’m sorry about this,” he said, giving Felix an apologetic look, disappearing in a rush.
Felix let out a strangled laugh, clearly overwhelmed, and turned back to Minho. “Can you make sure Sung wakes up and gets moving?”
“Sure”, Minho answered.
With a quick nod, Felix bolted toward his room, leaving Minho alone with Jisung, still deep in his sleep. Minho gently shook his shoulder again, this time with more urgency. “Jisung, come on, it’s your first day. You don’t want to screw this up.”
Jisung groaned and finally blinked his eyes open, his expression a mix of confusion and exhaustion. “First day…?” he mumbled, and then, as realisation hit, he shot upright, eyes wide in panic. “ It’s Monday? Oh god, what time is it?”
“Time for you to hurry,” Minho teased, ruffling his hair. “Felix is almost ready. If you don’t get moving, he will start without you.”
Jisung scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself as he gathered his things. “Shit, shit, shit—I can’t be late on the first day,” he muttered, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to focus on what to do first.
Minho stood, stretching his sore muscles as he watched Jisung frantically get ready. “Relax, you’ll be fine”, he smiled at him.
“And what about you?” Jisung asked, pausing for a second to look at Minho. “Don’t you have a shift, too?”
Minho grinned, though there was a trace of tiredness in his eyes. “Night shift. I will drive you both to the hospital. Then I’ve got all day to sleep this off.”
Jisung smiled half-heartedly, his nerves getting the best of him. “Thank you, hyung.”
Minho was relieved to see they still had an hour before Felix and Jisung needed to be at the hospital for their induction. He knew Jisung liked to be early for everything, but he was confident they had enough time. This meant Jisung could relax a little before the inevitable nerves kicked in.
While the two of them hurried around the apartment, getting ready, Minho quietly set about tidying up. He gathered the blankets and pillows, folded them neatly and placed them in the corner of the sofa. Then, he cleared away the snack trays, carefully stacking what remained on one and tossing the empties. It was a small gesture, but he figured they’d appreciate coming back to a semi-clean living room after what was sure to be a nerve-wracking first day.
Twenty minutes later, they were all piled into Minho’s car, ready to head to the hospital. But as they cruised along the familiar route, Minho suddenly veered left, taking an unexpected turn off the main road. Jisung, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at him in confusion.
“Hyung, where are we going?” Jisung asked, his tone a little worried.
Minho didn’t meet his gaze, his eyes fixed on the road. “You both need to eat something before you go,” he replied calmly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Jisung groaned, his anxiety flaring up. “We don’t have time for that, hyung. Seriously.”
Minho just smirked, unbothered by Jisung’s panic. “Yes, you do. We’ll grab something at the drive-through, and you can eat in the car before we even get there.”
From the backseat, Felix chuckled, clearly entertained by Minho’s persistence. He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on the back of Jisung’s seat. “You’re really not letting this go, are you?”
Minho’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching Felix’s reflection. “And when was the last time you ate?” His tone was firm but teasing. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipped eating last night.”
Felix laughed, his voice playful and defiant. “What are you, my mother?”
“No, but you’ll be wishing I was if Chan-hyung finds out you didn’t eat. Trust me, you don’t want him on your back, mothering you all day,” Minho shot back, smirking.
Felix rolled his eyes, but his mind wandered for a moment, thinking about Chan and whether he would really fuss over whether Felix was taking care of himself. The thought warmed him, and before he realised it, a small smile crept onto his face. Then, noticing the smile, he quickly wiped it away, straightening up in his seat, not wanting anyone to catch on to his fleeting softness. What a stupid thought, he told himself.
Minho pulled up to the curb by the Research building of Lonely St. Hospital, parking the car smoothly. He turned to Jisung with a soft smile, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “You’ve got this,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth and reassurance. Jisung gave him a small, nervous smile in return, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little at Minho’s words.
Felix watched the scene from the other side of the car, trying his best not to stare. But the moment stuck with him longer than it should have. His mind, traitorous as ever, wandered to thoughts he had no business entertaining. Would Chan kiss him like that? Offer him a soft peck on the lips, tell him everything will be okay?
He quickly shoved the thought away, mentally scolding himself. No. Of course not. He and Chan are just friends. He shouldn’t even think about it. Felix rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit ridiculous. But he could almost picture it—Chan leaning in, offering quiet encouragement with a soft kiss. Felix shook his head, nearly angry with himself. What a nonsense. He didn’t feel that way about Chan, did he? He didn’t want anything more. He didn’t like Chan that way, not romantically. He couldn’t. And yet, the thought refused to leave him completely.
“Are you okay, Lix?” Jisung’s voice broke through Felix’s fog, and suddenly, Felix felt Jisung’s hand wrap around his, gently pulling him to slow down. Felix blinked, realising he had been walking ahead without even noticing, lost in his own head.
“Yeah,” Felix said quickly, trying to sound casual. “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”
Jisung smiled at him, bright and reassuring, his energy bubbling up despite his nerves. “It’s gonna be alright. We’ll be great, you’ll see!”
Felix chuckled, but there was a forced edge to it. “Your boyfriend’s words rubbing off on you, huh?”
The second the words left his mouth, Jisung’s smile faltered. Shit. He hadn’t meant it like that. The bitterness in his voice was unintentional, but it was there, clear as day. He wasn’t jealous of Jisung, not even a little. He was genuinely happy for him and Minho, whatever they had between them. They made sense. They were good together.
But Felix wasn’t angry at them. He was angry at himself. Angry for letting his mind wander to ridiculous places. Thinking about Chan. Stupid. About the way Chan’s smile made those stupid dimples appear. Foolish. How Chan’s arms had felt the last time they hugged—strong and comforting. Nonsense. How Chan’s eyes always seemed to radiate warmth when they landed on Felix like he was safe just being near him. Preposterous.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Jisung said softly, his brow furrowing. “I understand if me and Minho are a lot to take in. Maybe it’s—”
“No, Sung,” Felix cut him off quickly, his heart squeezing at the thought of Jisung blaming himself. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” He took a deep breath, making sure his words came out right. “I’m really happy for you and Minho. It’s not a lot to take in, I promise. It’s… it’s nice. I’m happy for you, truly.”
Felix flashed Jisung a warm smile, hoping it conveyed the sincerity he felt. The last thing he wanted was for Jisung to think he wasn’t okay with it—or worse, that he was jealous. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Jisung was his best friend, the most important person in the world to him, and Felix would never want him to doubt that. He couldn’t bear the thought of Jisung thinking Felix wasn’t fully on his side.
Jisung’s face softened as Felix spoke, the tension melting away. Felix breathed a little easier, praying he’d made it clear—because it wasn’t Jisung or Minho that had him tangled in knots. It was himself , fighting thoughts he didn’t want to think.
“Oh my god!”
Felix’s heart skipped a beat at Jisung’s sudden gasp. He quickly scanned their surroundings, half-expecting some imminent danger. “What—what is it?” he asked, his voice a little shaky.
But Jisung didn’t seem fazed by Felix’s confusion. “I should’ve known,” Jisung muttered, more to himself than to Felix, as if he’d just cracked some great mystery.
Felix’s brows furrowed. “Should’ve known what ? You scared the shit out of me!”
Jisung turned to him, eyes glinting with mischief. “That you like Chan.”
Felix scoffed so loudly it almost felt forced. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Come on, Lix!” Jisung snorted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m basically like your other half. I can’t believe I haven’t seen this coming.”
Felix shook his head, trying to brush it off, but his expression betrayed him. “Jisung, seriously, you’re not making any sense.” He tried to sound annoyed, but the heat rising to his cheeks said otherwise.
Jisung’s teasing smile widened, his voice turning into a playful sing-song. “Lixieee, it’s okay to admit it. But if you want to ignore it and stay in your bubble for a little longer... I guess that’s okay, too. For now.”
Felix rolled his eyes, the nervous energy bubbling up inside him. But he didn’t say anything in response, too busy pretending Jisung’s words hadn’t just hit a little too close to home.
Felix and Jisung made their way through the hospital’s front doors, the buzz of their induction day building inside them. After signing in at the reception desk, they found themselves waiting in a queue to have their photos taken for ID cards. The line moved slowly, and when it was finally their turn, Jisung stepped forward first.
The guy taking the photos was a security officer, but something about him rubbed Felix the wrong way. He had this unsettling look in his eyes, a kind of sleazy demeanour Felix couldn’t shake. After snapping Jisung’s photo, the man showed it to him with a bored expression, asking if he liked it. When Felix’s turn came, it was the same routine—snapping the picture, showing it without any real care, and moving on.
They then joined the next queue for their uniforms, but Felix’s attention remained glued to the security guy. Something about him just didn’t sit right. A young woman was next in line, clearly nervous. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, her discomfort evident. Felix could relate—he’d been there before, feeling insecure, wondering if people were judging. The girl didn’t fit the narrow, rigid beauty standards often praised, and Felix could tell she wasn’t Korean either, which only added to her unease.
The man took her photo but didn’t bother asking if she liked it; he just waved her off with a dismissive “Next, please.” Felix’s heart sank as he watched the girl’s face turn red, humiliation plain as she hurried away. The security guy scoffed to himself, seemingly enjoying her discomfort.
Felix’s blood boiled. Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice firm enough to catch the man’s attention.
The security guy turned to him, raising a brow. “Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you ask her if she liked the picture? You asked us.”
The man chuckled, completely unbothered. “It doesn’t get better than that, don’t you think?” His disgusting grin made Felix’s stomach turn.
Felix’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The man leaned in, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you think she’s pretty.”
Felix’s temper flared. “I think you’re full of shit,” he said sharply, stepping closer, voice brimming with anger.
Jisung, who had been standing quietly, palms sweaty with anxiety, watched the confrontation unfold. He knew Felix was in the right—that what the security guy had said was awful—but his heart raced with the fear of causing a scene, especially on their first day. Still, as much as he wanted to avoid conflict, he couldn’t stay silent. Felix stood up for someone who deserved respect, and Jisung wouldn’t let him face this alone.
“People like you are the problem,” Jisung said, his usually light voice now laced with tension as he stepped beside Felix.
The security guy’s grin twisted even more as he leaned in closer to Jisung, his voice dropping to a vile whisper. “You little omegas, what do you know about being real men?” His breath brushed too close to Jisung’s ear, sending an unwelcome shiver down his spine. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he sneered, his words dripping with something rotten.
Jisung recoiled, his whole body shuddering with disgust. Felix, seeing red, raised his voice, stepping forward to intervene. “Take a few steps back, immediately. ” His fists clenched at his sides, resisting the urge to shove the man away himself. His eyes, usually bright with warmth, were now blazing with fury.
The man shifted his attention to Felix, straightening up but still hovering too close for comfort. “Oh, I’m so scared,” he mocked. His eyes darted over Felix, his grin widening. “You’re unmated, I see. Looking for an alpha, huh? With that attitude, good luck finding one.” The sleazy grin was back, more disgusting than ever.
Jisung acted before he could think, his hand pushing the man’s chest, shoving him back with more force than he realised he had. The security guy’s face twisted into a snarl, anger flaring in his eyes as he prepared to retaliate. He stepped toward Jisung, hand raised, ready to push him back.
But then, a sharp voice cut through the tension. “Mr. Kim?!”
The man froze mid-motion, his hand dropping to his side as he turned to see who had spoken. A middle-aged woman stood there, her arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face. The security guy’s bravado instantly faded.
“Oh,” he muttered, the grin wiped clean off his face as he straightened his posture, clearly caught off guard.
🩺 ♥️🩺
The rest of the induction day passed with a heavy air hanging over Felix and Jisung. Despite the calm that followed the earlier confrontation, Felix could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on them. Whispers echoed through the halls as people exchanged glances, having witnessed the scene with the security guy. It was impossible to ignore.
At one point, the girl they had stood up for approached them, apologising profusely. Felix and Jisung were quick to reassure her, explaining that she had absolutely nothing to apologise for. If anything, she had been the victim in the situation. Her relief was evident, but Felix couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration that such an apology had even crossed her mind.
Thankfully, they hadn’t seen the security guy for the rest of the day. It was like he’d disappeared from the building, and no one seemed eager to bring him up either. By the time the clock hit a little past 4pm, they were released, given instructions to meet their mentors and start getting familiar with their departments.
Jisung’s uniform had come in three sizes too big, drowning him in fabric, and he had to make a detour to the linen department to get a replacement. “I’ll be fine,” Jisung assured Felix with a grin, despite how ridiculous he looked in the oversized uniform. “Good luck, I’ll see you later.”
Felix nodded, though he felt a little uneasy about splitting up. Still, he headed off on his own, making his way toward the ED.
Jisung headed off toward the linen department; the hospital was massive, and navigating the long corridors felt like wandering through a maze. He thought he’d found the right place more than once, only to realise he’d somehow ended up in the mortuary instead. “Too soon, Han Jisung, too soon”, he muttered with a laugh to himself. After a couple of frustrating attempts, though, he finally reached the linen department, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw the sign.
“Finally,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at how ridiculous it had been to get here. Let’s hope the Renal Department is easier to find.
“Sungie,” a familiar voice called out, breaking through Jisung’s thoughts. Only a couple of people called him that—Felix, and… Oh.
“Minho?” Jisung turned around, met with a warm smile.
“What are you doing here?” Jisung asked, his surprise turned into a soft grin.
“I’m picking up my uniform,” Minho replied, his eyes flicking down to Jisung’s baggy outfit. He couldn’t suppress a laugh, but it wasn’t mocking—just teasing, the kind Jisung had grown to love. “What size did they give you?” Minho chuckled, raising an eyebrow.
“Hyung, don’t laugh!” Jisung pouted, looking up at him with an adorable frown. “Your shift doesn’t start until half past seven. Why are you here so early?”
“Linen closes at five,” Minho answered smoothly, the perfect excuse. “I need to pick up my uniform”
Jisung’s eyes narrowed playfully. “So it wasn’t because you wanted to see me?”
“Of course not,” Minho smirked, leaning in just enough to make Jisung blush. “I could see you anytime I want.”
“You’re so smug,” Jisung said, trying to maintain his composure.
“Just how you like me,” Minho responded, that signature smirk back in place.
Jisung bit back a smile, feeling his heart race. God help him , indeed.
“How’s your first day going so far?” Minho asked again, his tone light. “I heard some newbies got the security guy fired. God, everyone hated him.” He chuckled.
“Fired?” Jisung’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Yeah, I was going to ask if you saw what happened.”
Jisung hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before he spoke again. “It was Felix. Well… it was both of us, really.”
“What?” Minho looked slightly confused, trying to piece together what Jisung was saying. “You and Felix? What do you mean—”
“It was us who got him fired. I didn’t know he was fired, though.”
Minho blinked, and then a burst of laughter escaped him. “Holy shit!” He reached out, ruffling Jisung’s hair as tears of laughter formed in the corners of his eyes. “First day, and you’ve already got someone fired!”
“We didn’t mean to!” Jisung exclaimed, his pout returning. “He was just being nasty to someone, and Felix confronted him. Then he started saying more horrible stuff to us, and I… I…”
Minho’s laughter faded as his brows furrowed. “Wait. He said nasty things to you? What did he say?”
“It’s not important.”
“Jisung.” Minho’s voice held a firm edge.
With a reluctant sigh, Jisung finally spilt, “He said we omegas aren’t real men and that we don’t understand anything. And… that if we’re looking for alphas, we won’t find them with attitudes like ours.”
“That asshole,” Minho hissed, his hand twitching as though he wanted to punch something.
“But he’s fired, so it’s fine now,” Jisung said quickly, trying to soothe the tension. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What is it, baby?” Minho’s expression softened with concern. “Did something else happen?”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Jisung began, taking a deep breath. “It’s about Felix… and Chan.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Oh. What about them? They seem to get along pretty well these days.”
“Yeah, they do,” Jisung agreed, though his voice carried a note of uncertainty. “But Felix said something this morning, and I think… I think he’s bottling some stuff up. I’m just worried about him.”
Minho’s expression grew more serious. “What do you think he’s bottling up?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think it might have to do with Chan. Felix doesn’t talk about it much, but I can tell something’s bothering him.”
Jisung glanced at his watch and let out a heavy sigh. “I want to talk more about it with you, but I have to go. We were told to meet our superiors and get to know the team.”
“Of course,” Minho smiled warmly. “Let’s get your uniform sorted, and then I’ll walk you to the renal department. I want to see Binnie anyway.”
“Sure,” Jisung nodded, his worry momentarily replaced by a wide grin at the thought of Changbin.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Felix walked into the Emergency Department, his eyes instinctively scanning the room for a familiar face. Not because he wanted to see him, of course not. No, it would just be easier if someone he knew was there. That’s all. It wasn’t about Chan. Felix smiled to himself, feeling proud for managing his thoughts better. Good progress.
Then why the hell, as his gaze swept the room and came up empty of Chan’s presence, something unpleasant settled in his chest? Disappointment? No, no way. He wasn’t disappointed that Chan wasn’t here. Felix was just nervous—it was his first day, after all.
“The bloody label printer isn’t working again. Can you please sign off on this script?” someone muttered, approaching Felix while staring down at a clipboard.
Felix blinked, wide-eyed, not sure how to respond. Surely, they’d mistaken him for someone else.
“I know it’s—” the person finally lifted their head and looked at Felix, confusion flickering across her face. “Oh god, who are you?” she asked, annoyance creeping into her voice. She wasn’t in uniform, so Felix guessed she was part of the admin team.
“I’m a junior doctor. It’s my first day,” Felix answered, offering her a polite smile.
“You look a bit young to be a junior doctor, don’t you think?” she narrowed her eyes at him, clearly unimpressed.
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment,” Felix shot back with a grin, though internally, the interaction grated on him.
“Can I see your badge?” she asked, holding out her hand expectantly.
“I haven’t got one yet,” Felix replied calmly, despite how much the woman was starting to get under his skin.
The woman raised a sceptical brow at Felix. “No badge? Well, that’s reassuring,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms. “How do I know you’re not just some random kid sneaking into ED for fun?”
Felix bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something snarky. First day. Stay professional. “I’m sure the hospital staff wouldn’t just let anyone waltz in and grab a uniform,” he replied, forcing a tight smile.
The woman scoffed. “Right. Well, until you have an ID, don’t expect anyone to take you seriously.” She gave Felix a once-over, clearly unimpressed.
Just as Felix was about to lose his cool, a new voice chimed in, cutting through the tension. “Seriously, Nari? Are you giving the poor guy a hard time already?” A nurse appeared at Felix’s side, hands on her hips, and gave the woman—Nari—a pointed look.
Nari’s face flushed as she quickly lost the bravado. “I wasn’t—”
“You were. Now run along and sort out that printer issue you’re always whining about,” the nurse said, her smile deceptively sweet. “I’m sure you’ll manage without harassing our new junior doctors.”
Nari mumbled something incoherent before stalking off, leaving Felix standing there, equal parts grateful and stunned.
The nurse turned to Felix with an amused grin. “Welcome to ED, where the printers hate you, and half the staff are caffeine-deprived monsters. I’m Nayeon, by the way.”
“Felix,” he replied, finally feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. “Thanks for saving me back there.”
“Don’t mention it. Nari’s harmless, just a bit… much. You get used to her or learn to avoid her, which is my strategy.” Nayeon motioned for Felix to follow her down the hall. “Come on, I’ll show you around and introduce you to some real human beings.”
They walked together through the bustling department, Nayeon waving to passing nurses and giving Felix the rundown. “You’ll be working under Dr. Lee and Dr. Bang for most of your rotations, and don’t worry—they’re both great. Dr. Bang is a bit of a workaholic, but you’ll appreciate him soon enough. Oh, and don’t forget to charm the nurses—we run this place.”
Felix chuckled. “Noted”
“Dr. Bang… is that Chan, right?” Felix asked, hoping it didn’t sound too obvious that he knew Chan a bit more than the average new hire.
“Bingo! Chan’s kind of a legend around here,” Nayeon said with a grin. “He’s the guy you want on your side when things hit the fan. Patients love him, staff respect him, and honestly, it’s annoying how good he is at everything.” She winked at Felix. “But he’s a good one to learn from.”
Felix felt a small, almost prideful smile tugging at his lips at the mention of Chan being respected by everyone. Of course he was. Chan was… well, Chan.
Nayeon noticed the smile and gave Felix a sideways glance. “You met him already?”
“Yeah, we’ve crossed paths before,” Felix replied, trying to keep it casual.
“Lucky you,” Nayeon said. “Chan’s a bit of a celebrity around here. Don’t be surprised if you end up with a dozen stories about how he single-handedly saved the day during some crazy shift. Just keep up, and you’ll be fine.”
Felix laughed softly, feeling more at ease. “I’ll try not to embarrass myself too much.”
“Trust me, you’ll be fine,” Nayeon said, opening the door to the staff office. “But if anything happens, just come find me. I’ve got your back.”
They entered the office, and Nayeon motioned for Felix to sit. “So, let’s get your paperwork sorted, and we’ll get you a badge so Nari doesn’t think you’re a rogue teenager infiltrating the hospital.”
Felix laughed, feeling more at ease now. “Thanks, Nayeon.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Chan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He tried to focus on work and get through the day like normal, but his mind kept drifting back to Felix. He hated how he’d left things this morning, rushing out without really talking to him.
Walking towards the dialysis unit, he kept thinking about what Felix might feel. Did Felix feel as weird about this morning as he did? Maybe it was nothing—Felix was probably just fine. They hadn’t done anything unusual. Everyone passed out in the living room, not just Chan. It probably wasn't a big deal. He pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand. Maybe he could talk to Changbin about it; he always seemed to have good advice.
“Have you seen Changbin?” he asked one of the nurses at the desk.
The nurse smiled, recognising him instantly. “He’s in the office, buried under paperwork. Poor guy’s been off sick, so now he’s paying the price.”
“Thanks,” Chan said, giving her a small nod before heading toward the office.
As he approached, he could see the familiar figure of Changbin sitting at his desk, head bent over a stack of papers, looking as if he hadn’t moved in hours. Chan knocked gently on the doorframe before stepping inside.
“Hey, Binnie.”
Changbin looked up, his face lighting up at the sight of his friend. “Oh, thank god, a reason to stop this torture,” he groaned, pushing the paperwork aside. “I’ve barely been back for a day and already drowning in this stuff.”
“Why were you off sick? You’re never sick,” Chan questioned.
“I, uh, have been going through some stuff,” Changbin replied, scratching the back of his head nervously.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chan asked, wanting to check in but not wanting to push too hard. He and Changbin were close friends, along with Minho, though he and Minho had a different bond due to going to med school together and ending up as roommates. Naturally, they spent more time together.
“Yeah, yeah,” Changbin reassured him. “What brings you here in the middle of your shift?” He already had a feeling he knew the answer. Chan was likely there to ask him to take yet another patient who needed dialysis because the acute team was understaffed. Ha. As if they aren’t.
“I have this patient,” Chan began, “he needs dialysis, but acute is slammed. You know him well; he’s skipped a few sessions, so he’s severely unwell now. Can you help out?” Chan leaned against the doorframe, his eyes pleading.
Changbin glanced up and nodded. “Give me the details.”
Chan quickly briefed Changbin about the patient—an older man whom Changbin knew very well, along with his history of non-compliance. He kept the medical facts straightforward, but his mind kept drifting to Felix.
“Alright, book the porters to bring the patient here,” Changbin replied, tapping his pen against the desk. “Is there anything else?” He looked at Chan, clearly noticing how restless he was and that he seemed eager to talk.
Chan sighed and finally gave in. “Hypothetically speaking… if you left someone in a rush without really talking to them, and you felt like there was something important you didn’t say—what would you do?”
Changbin looked up from his paperwork, raising an eyebrow. “Depends. Is this hypothetical someone a friend? Or… something more?”
Chan hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “A friend. Definitely a friend.”
Changbin’s smirk suggested he wasn’t convinced. “Then just talk to them, man. If it’s bothering you, chances are it’s bothering them too. You can’t just keep stuff bottled up.”
“Yeah, but… what if they’re not thinking about it at all? What if I’m overthinking?” Chan asked, trying to downplay his concerns.
“Hm. That’s a tough one,” said Changbin. “I wish I knew the correct answer to that. It would make my life easier.” He spaced out for a moment, looking past Chan.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chan asked, raising an eyebrow at Changbin’s cryptic comment. He could tell there was something more behind his friend’s words, but before Changbin could respond, someone shoved past Chan, yelling with dramatic flair.
“Binieee! Man, you’re still alive?”
It was Minho, full of energy, with Jisung trailing right behind him, though Jisung seemed content to hover quietly rather than push through like Minho had.
“Minho, what the hell,” Chan sighed, stepping aside to let him through.
Minho grinned widely, clearly pleased with his sudden interruption. “What? I’m just here to see my favourite dialysis king! Didn’t know I’d find the ED royalty lounging around too.”
Changbin winced, rubbing his temples. “Yah! Why are there so many doctors crammed into my office? People will die if you don’t get out of here and actually work!”
Minho threw himself into one of the chairs, utterly unconcerned. “Relax, Bin. People are fine.”
Jisung, who had been watching the whole exchange with a quiet smile, finally spoke up. “You’re popular, hyung. You should feel honoured.”
Minho suddenly pulled Jisung closer and sat him on his lap. “Ow,” Jisung winced and playfully punched Minho’s thigh.
“Yeah, honoured by my impending stress-induced breakdown,” Changbin groaned, throwing his hands up in mock defeat.
Minho glanced at Chan with a sly smile. “Speaking of stress… You look a little frazzled, mate. What’s up with you?”
Chan glared at him. “I’m not frazzled.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” Minho shot back, clearly amused. “You wouldn’t happen to be worried about a certain someone in ED, would you?”
Chan’s face heated up, but he quickly deflected. “Can we not right now?”
Changbin raised his hands. “Okay, seriously, all of you, out. I’ve got work to do. Minho, Jisung, go flirt somewhere else. And Chan, get your patient here before I change my mind.”
Minho laughed, jumping up from his chair. “Flirt? Please. This one,” he gestured to Jisung, “is the one chasing after me.”
Jisung rolled his eyes but smiled. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, hyung.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Chan couldn’t help but smile to himself as he replayed the scene between Minho and Jisung in his mind. It had been classic Minho, pressing a quick kiss to Jisung’s lips just before sending him off to meet the doctors in his department. And, of course, Jisung had scolded him, telling Minho off for kissing him in public. What if someone saw them?
But Minho had just shrugged, completely unbothered. “I don’t care,” he had said, and Chan knew he meant it. That carefree confidence was something Chan admired in Minho, but it also made him feel a bit more on edge about his own thoughts, his own feelings.
He had watched as Minho reluctantly let Jisung go, and now Jisung was off, promising to come back to the ED later to see Minho. Their light-hearted interaction only highlighted the contrast with the turmoil Chan felt inside. Minho had it all figured out. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing himself when it came to Jisung. Minho knew exactly what he wanted, and he acted on it.
But Chan? He couldn’t stop thinking about Felix. He had to sort out the dialysis patient first, but his mind kept circling back to Felix, and the morning they hadn’t really spoken. He wished they had. Maybe then his mind wouldn’t be spiralling the way it was now, wondering if Felix even cared.
The patient was done, but Chan’s head was still far from clear. He had to meet the new junior doctors, Felix among them, which made him even more anxious. He had secretly hoped Felix would be assigned to shadow him, but at the same time, that idea made him nervous. What if it was better if Felix worked with someone else? What if his own overthinking would make things awkward?
Felix, Felix, Felix. His name echoed in Chan’s thoughts. It was like a constant background noise he couldn’t shut off. Chan was used to overthinking, but this felt different—more intense. He wondered if it was possible to go completely insane while aware of it because that’s how he felt right now.
Chan’s heart felt heavy as he walked toward the office to meet the new junior doctors. His head was still buzzing with thoughts of Felix, and he wondered how he was doing and what he was thinking. Get it together, Chan , he scolded himself, forcing a neutral expression onto his face before stepping into the room.
Inside, a handful of fresh faces greeted him. Felix was there, standing off to the side, and when their eyes met, Chan quickly shifted his gaze to the rest of the group, trying to act like it was no big deal. He greeted them all with a welcoming smile despite his insides being twisted.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Bang, but everyone just calls me Dr. Chan. I’ll be showing some of you how we run things here in the ED,” Chan began. I know it’s a lot to take in on the first day, but don’t worry—we’ll go step by step.”
As he started explaining the basics of emergency department flow, triage procedures, and how they handle high-priority cases, Chan became hyperaware of Felix's presence. Felix stood just a little to the left, hands in his uniform pockets, nodding along attentively. Every time Chan glanced over, Felix’s brow was slightly furrowed in concentration, and Chan couldn’t help but admire the way Felix seemed so serious yet calm.
Beside Felix was another junior doctor, a taller guy named Chenle. Chenle seemed a bit more nervous, fiddling with his lanyard as Chan spoke. They both ended up assigned to Chan, so he gave them a quick rundown of the layout, pointing out the different areas—resus, minors, majors, and the staff room.
“Alright, let’s jump in,” Chan said, motioning for them to follow him as he led them onto the floor. “We’ve got a few cases coming through that’ll give you an idea of how fast things can move around here.”
As they moved through the bustling department, Chan kept explaining what to expect: quick decision-making, constant reassessments, and the importance of teamwork to keep everything running smoothly.
When the first patient came in—an elderly man with chest pain—Chan took the lead. He explained the protocol as the nurses hooked the man up to a monitor.
“Okay, this one’s a suspected heart attack,” Chan said, keeping his tone calm as he ran through the assessment. “Check vitals, order an ECG, get bloods done ASAP.” He turned to Felix and Chenle. “You two—stay close. Watch how we do this.”
Felix stood by Chan’s side, listening carefully as Chan instructed the nurses. Chenle hovered a little behind, but Felix was right there, observing Chan's every move. Felix seemed so focused and intent on learning, and Chan found himself stealing glances when he wasn’t looking. There was something reassuring about Felix’s presence, even though it also made Chan’s heart race.
At one point, as they stood waiting for the results to come back, Felix caught Chan’s eye unexpectedly. It was only for a split second, but something flickered between them—something unspoken that neither of them could quite name. Felix quickly looked away, as did Chan, but the air between them felt charged.
When the results came back, confirming the heart attack, Chan quickly explained the following steps, walking Felix and Chenle through the process of stabilising the patient. As they worked, Felix asked a few questions, his voice steady and clear despite the fast-paced environment. Chan answered, trying to focus on the task, but every time Felix’s voice reached his ears, it sent a small jolt through him.
As the day wore on, Chan found himself watching Felix more than he meant to. When Felix wasn’t paying attention, Chan would glance over, studying the way he moved, how his brows knitted together in concentration, how he leaned forward to get a better view of the monitors. And when Felix would turn his head, Chan would quickly look away, pretending to be busy with something else.
The second patient was a younger woman who had fainted at work. Chan led them through the assessment, running tests to rule out anything serious. He gave Chenle the opportunity to take the lead on this one, but Felix stuck close to Chan’s side, listening and watching. Every so often, their eyes would meet—brief, almost accidental—and every time, Chan’s heart skipped a beat.
By the time the end of the shift rolled around, Chan was exhausted from more than just the fast pace of the ED. His mind was working overtime, caught between doing his job and keeping his thoughts about Felix in check. And Felix wasn’t making it easy, with those subtle glances and the way he seemed to fit so naturally by Chan’s side.
As they wrapped up the final case for the day, Chan couldn’t help but wonder if Felix had noticed the same tension between them. That pull. But he pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the fact that Felix had done well today. He had shown initiative, asked the right questions, and didn’t seem fazed by the chaotic environment of the ED.
“Good work today, both of you,” Chan said. “Tomorrow will be a bit more intense, so get some rest.” He smiled, looking between Felix and Chenle, but when his eyes landed on Felix, the smile lingered just a little longer.
Felix gave a small nod, and for a moment, Chan thought he saw something in Felix’s eyes—something that mirrored his own confusion. But before he could dwell on it, Felix looked away, his usual calm demeanour slipping back into place.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Chan,” Chenle said, bowing slightly before he turned to Felix. “You coming?”
“I need to talk to Dr. Chan about something. You go ahead,” Felix replied, giving him a small nod. Chenle smiled and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Felix standing there with Chan. They had only met today, but he and Chenle had hit it off surprisingly well, sharing a few laughs as they worked their way through the hectic ED. Chan had been relieved, actually—Felix making friends so easily wasn’t a surprise, but it still reassured him. He couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to be friends with Felix.
Then Felix turned to him. “Do you want to grab dinner?” he asked, catching Chan off guard.
Chan blinked, slightly startled by the question, though he supposed it was perfectly normal. They were friends, right? Before he could answer, though, a familiar figure suddenly appeared between them—Minho, grinning like he was up to no good.
“Minho,” Chan sighed inwardly, knowing that look all too well. Felix, of course, had no idea about Minho’s scheming nature, but Chan could tell from that mischievous grin that Minho was already planning something. Nothing good could come from this.
“My fellow doctors!” Minho declared with a dramatic flair. “How was the shift? Bet it was exhausting like always.”
“Pretty much,” Chan replied, trying to keep things neutral but already bracing himself for whatever was coming next.
“I cooked pork ribs stew earlier and made too much. Thought you and Felix could have some after work,” Minho said, holding up a bag full of containers.
Felix’s face lit up, his smile beaming. “That’s so sweet of you, Minho.”
Chan, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you cook before a night shift?”
“Since today. Stop questioning everything. Just take Felix home and enjoy the meal. Jesus Christ,” Minho winked at Chan, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing.
Not sure what else to do, Chan took the bag from Minho and mumbled a quiet thank you. But Minho wasn’t done yet. Leaning in close to Chan’s ear, he whispered, “Don’t forget protection this time.”
Chan’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. Of course, Minho couldn’t resist slipping in something suggestive.
Felix, completely unaware of the innuendo, smiled innocently and thanked Minho again before he finally sauntered off, satisfied with the chaos he’d sown. Chan stood there, trying to keep his composure. Felix, blissfully ignorant, was still waiting for an answer.
“So... dinner?” Felix asked again, his tone casual.
Chan laughed softly, shaking off the awkwardness. “Yeah, I guess Minho decided that for us, huh?”
Felix chuckled. “Looks like it. I’m always down for free food.”
They made their way out of the hospital together, the cool evening air offering a welcome relief after the long day. For the first time all day, Chan felt like he could breathe. The tension that had been gnawing at him since the morning seemed to ease just a bit.
“Should we go to your place?” Chan asked, thinking Felix would be more comfortable staying at home rather than at his.
“Yeah, sure,” Felix replied, unlocking his phone to check the notification that had just come through. He groaned softly. “Actually,” he hesitated, “do you think we could go to yours instead?”
Chan’s brow furrowed slightly in concern. “Of course. Is everything okay?”
Felix chuckled, shaking his head. “Jisung just texted me. He’s rewatching Until We Meet Again and is a total mess right now. The guy’s a masochist.”
Chan laughed, somewhat relieved. “I don’t blame him. That one’s pretty intense.”
“Wait—you’ve seen UWMA ?” Felix’s eyes widened in surprise. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a BL drama fan!”
“I’m not, really,” Chan admitted with a laugh. “My ex made me watch it. But then she got bored, so I finished it alone.”
Ex? Of course Chan had partners. Why did it matter? He pushed the thought away quickly, forcing a smile. “You’re full of surprises, hyung.”
On the way to Chan's house in the car, they talked about the day and how they each felt about the cases they’d seen. Felix was upbeat as always, but there was something underneath the surface. Chan could sense it—something Felix wasn’t saying. But then again, Chan wasn’t exactly spilling his guts either. He had spent most of the day overthinking everything , every interaction, every look, and it was starting to wear him down. He wanted to just relax, to stop overanalysing.
When they arrived at Chan’s place, they settled into the cosy kitchen. Chan quickly set the table while Felix unpacked the containers, and the warm, savoury scent of the stew filled the space.
“Minho really outdid himself. I no longer need to worry about Jisung eating crap,” Felix commented as he sat down. “The guy can cook, huh?”
“Yeah, when he’s not busy being a menace,” Chan joked, handing Felix a bowl.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the clinking of spoons against bowls. The food was good, and it brought a sense of calm that both of them needed.
But even as they ate, there was that undercurrent, something between them that felt unresolved. Chan caught himself watching Felix a few times, wondering if Felix had noticed how off-kilter he’d been around him. Felix, for his part, seemed completely at ease, and Chan couldn’t tell if Felix was just that good at pretending or if Chan was indeed the only one overthinking everything. Something about the way Felix moved and the way he smiled made Chan’s chest tighten in a way that both confused and scared him.
Is Felix thinking about this, too? Does he feel this strange...whatever this is between us?
When they finished eating, Felix leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “I’ve gotta say, Minho knows his stuff. You’ll have to thank him for me tomorrow.”
Chan nodded. “Yeah, I’ll tell him. Though he’ll probably take full credit and act like the best chef in the world.”
Felix laughed, standing up to clear the table. “It’s been a good day, huh?” he said as he moved around the kitchen. “Busy, but I feel like it’s going to be a good run in ED.”
“Yeah,” Chan agreed, watching Felix’s back as he washed the dishes. “You’re gonna fit in just fine.”
They finished cleaning up, and as the evening came to a close, Chan felt that familiar knot of uncertainty tighten in his chest again. He had to figure this out—he had to figure out what exactly was going on between him and Felix and, more importantly, how Felix felt. Because whatever this was, it wasn’t just friendship. At least, not for Chan. He felt like he needed to say something, anything. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he said something else instead.
Chan felt a knot form in his stomach the moment the words left his mouth. “Do you wanna stay the night?” The second he said it, he started to panic. Did that sound suggestive ? He quickly scrambled to clarify. “I mean, we both start at the same time tomorrow, and I could drive us to work... you know, just to make things easier.”
Felix blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Oh, uh, I wouldn’t mind, but…” He trailed off, glancing at his phone as it buzzed again. It was Jisung—another unread message. Felix opened it, reading the text with a small chuckle.
I’m fine, don’t worry. Stay the night. I’ll see you tomorrow. Followed by a kissy face emoji.
Felix shook his head in disbelief. How does Jisung always know? The guy was practically a mind reader. What the actual fuck?
“Never mind, he’s okay,” Felix said, laughing softly. “I’ll stay.”
Chan’s chest felt lighter at Felix’s smile, a warmth spreading through him that he couldn't quite explain. “Cool,” he replied, trying to sound casual even though his heart was doing flips. “I’ll, uh, get the couch ready for you.”
“Couch?” Felix’s brow furrowed as he looked at Chan in confusion. “Hyung, I really don’t want to sleep on the couch again. My body’s still sore from last night,” he complained, rubbing his neck as if to emphasise the lingering ache.
“Ah, shit—right, sorry,” Chan stammered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just that the guest room, uh, I was planning to redecorate it, so there’s no bed in there right now. But it’s fine, I’ll take the couch. You can have my bed,” he offered, trying to sound nonchalant.
Felix tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting from confusion to curiosity. “Is your bed small or something?” he asked, his tone casual as if discussing the weather.
“Uh... no, not really. It’s a king-size,” Chan answered absentmindedly, not realising where this conversation was headed.
Felix’s lips curled into a smile. “Well then, it can fit both of us.”
Chan’s throat went dry. Perfect. That’s what Felix thought. Sharing a bed was perfect . Meanwhile, Chan could barely keep his heartbeat under control. The mere thought of Felix being so close, in his bed, just the two of them in the quiet of night… sent his thoughts spiralling. “I just... didn’t want you to feel—”
“I don’t feel anything, Chan,” Felix cut in, his tone light but firm. “It’s fine. We’re friends. Friends can share a bed,” he added with a knowing smile, quoting Chan’s words from the night before when he'd said friends could cuddle. “You don’t mind, right?”
Right. Of course Felix doesn’t feel anything. That familiar ache in Chan’s chest intensified, panic creeping through his veins, tightening its grip. It was only him, only Chan, feeling everything and anything in this moment. Friends. They’re just friends.
“N-no, not at all,” Chan stammered, mentally kicking himself for sounding so flustered. He needed to get a grip.
“Cool,” Felix said, already making himself comfortable, walking towards Chan’s room with that easygoing smile still on his face. “It’s been a long day, and I could use some proper rest.”
Chan followed him, trying to steady his breath. The casual way Felix said it, like it was no big deal, only made the situation more overwhelming. Chan was already feeling everything Felix wasn’t. His own emotions had become a minefield—every glance, every smile, every word from Felix seemed to set something off inside him.
Chan hurriedly gathered an extra duvet, a towel, and a spare toothbrush, trying to keep his thoughts in check as he handed them over to Felix. “Here, you can use these. The bathroom’s just over there,” he said, gesturing toward the door.
“Cool, thanks,” Felix replied, taking the towel and toothbrush from Chan’s hands. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at Chan with an unusual awkwardness. “Um, could I also borrow some clothes?” he asked, his voice a little quieter than usual. For a split second, he looked... shy? Chan blinked. Felix never looked shy. It was strange, unexpected, even.
“Right, yes, of course!” Chan stammered, rushing to cover his oversight. “Sorry, I should’ve thought of that,”, he rambled, words spilling out before he could stop them. This was the same nervous habit that surfaced whenever he felt out of his depth.
Felix’s smile returned, softer this time, the momentary shyness slipping away. “It’s okay,” he said, his usual easygoing charm reasserting itself.
The moment Felix shut the bathroom door behind him, his easygoing facade crumbled, replaced by a heavy thud in his chest. Fuck. What had he just done? He was in Chan’s house. About to sleep in the same bed as him. What was he thinking? He leaned back against the door, gripping his hair in frustration.
Why had he even suggested that? It was like his brain had short-circuited, as if none of his actions made sense anymore. His judgment wasn’t clouded in the usual way, like when you’re drunk or high, where everything blurs into a haze of impulse and confusion. No, this was different. This was a quiet, almost comforting fog like he was being gently nudged in a certain direction. Guided by spirit guides or something.
Right. Because that doesn’t sound high at all.
Felix sighed and pulled out his phone, opening his chat with Jisung.
Lixie
:
Sung. Sungie. My dear friend. I think I’ve lost my mind.
A response came almost immediately.
Sungie
:
You didn’t. Or maybe you did, but not in the way you think
😉
Felix groaned, half-expecting that reply.
Lixie
:
I can’t shake the feeling you’re behind this.
Sungie
:
I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Now, go cuddle Chan-hyung.
*Sleep.
I meant to sleep.
😜
It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s not that bad. Felix repeated this mantra in his head, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. He began mentally replaying everything that had happened between him and Chan, as if doing so would somehow make sense of it all.
We had sex in the ED the first time we saw each other... Felix winced at the memory. No, that’s not how it happened, not really. Chan had saved his life. Because Felix had asked him to, they’d talked afterwards. Right—they talked everything through, and it was fine. Felix had even promised not to contact Chan unless it was necessary.
Shit.
But now they worked together! What was he supposed to do, ignore him? No, this wasn’t his fault. They’d bumped into each other at the flea market, and Chan had invited him to the vinyl cafe to listen to a Nirvana LP. It was about the music. Just the music. That’s all it was. Nothing else.
And then, of course, Felix had invited Chan to watch Pokémon . He had been way too excited about it; how could he not invite him? Anyone would. Then they fell asleep on the sofa... cuddling. With Felix’s head on Chan’s chest.
Okay, that one wasn’t my fault either, Felix reasoned. Chan’s chest had just been too comfortable, and Felix was naturally smaller, so they just... fit. It wasn’t planned. Things like that just happen. Like how Felix didn’t mean to stare at Chan’s sleeping face. At the way, his curls began to form as his hair-straightening spray gave up. At his plush lips—lips Felix had wanted to reach out and touch, first with his fingertips... and then maybe with his own lips.
He could still remember how Chan’s lips felt on his.
Felix exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of realisation sink in.
Yeah, no. This is bad. Really bad.
Chapter 11: cross the line just a little
Notes:
Sorry to leave you hanging like that last time, I hope this makes up for it? ;) Let me know!
Chapter Text
Quokka
:
Hyung, do you think this is actually going to work?
Leebit
:
Trust me, Jisungie. They just need a little nudge from the universe.
Quokka
:
Right, the universe 😂
Leebit
:
Well, the universe needs tools, too, you know. And that’s where we come in 😉
♥️ 🩺 ♥️
When Felix stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from his shower and wrapped in the warmth of Chan’s borrowed clothes, he spotted Chan already lying back in bed, completely at ease as he tapped away on his phone. There was something oddly domestic about the whole scene, something that made Felix pause, holding his used clothes a bit tighter. Does he just slide in beside him like it is no big deal?
“You okay?” Chan’s voice broke Felix’s spiralling thoughts. He looked up to find Chan’s eyes on him, warm and questioning.
“Yeah, yeah. Just…putting my stuff away,” Felix chuckled softly, a little awkward.
“Come here then” Chan smiled and patted the space next to him, his invitation casual but somehow comforting. As Felix moved to the bed, he couldn’t help wondering—did Chan do this with all his friends? Was it just that easy for him to feel this natural?
“What are you playing?” Felix asked, hoping the question would dissolve awkwardness a little. Though, to be fair, it didn’t look like Chan felt awkward in the slightest.
“Genshin,” Chan replied with a small grin, his eyes flicking back to the screen. “I’m not huge on games, but this one’s got me hooked.”
“Oh my god! You play Genshin?” Felix’s face lit up, and in a second, all his earlier hesitation vanished as he quickly settled in next to Chan, leaning close to watch the screen.
Chan laughed softly. “I know, right? It’s pretty addicting.”
“Tell me about it! Which characters do you have?” Felix’s excitement bubbled over, and Chan could feel the warmth radiating off him as he leaned in. They were close, close enough for Felix to catch little details, like how Chan’s lashes looked even longer at this angle and how he smiled without realising it.
As Chan showed Felix his lineup, explaining his characters in way more detail than he usually would, he couldn’t stop glancing over. Felix’s attention was all in, his eyes bright and his expression animated. Just two friends, right? So why did Chan feel like he was hyper-aware of everything, right down to the way their shoulders brushed now and then?
They’d blame it on the game later.
Felix watched Chan play with rapt attention, following every swipe and tap on the screen. Chan’s character, gliding across a moonlit beach, began casting spells to defeat a group of enemies. Each hit sent ripples across the screen, reflecting the ocean’s glow, and Felix was honestly impressed at how well Chan handled it. The silence between them felt comfortable, yet somehow charged, a low hum of awareness Felix couldn’t quite shake.
He instinctively reached for his phone, wanting to show off his characters, only to find the screen dark. He pressed the power button once and again, realising with a small groan that it was dead.
“Do you have a spare charger?” Felix asked, glancing up at Chan. “I don’t have mine with me.”
Chan smiled, amused. “There should be one in the drawer next to the bed. But fair warning—it’s a little tricky to open.”
Felix turned to pull open the drawer, but it barely budged. He pulled a little harder, frustration growing. “This drawer does not want to cooperate.”
Chan chuckled and, without a second thought, leaned across to help. His hand brushed Felix’s as they both gripped the handle, and Felix felt his pulse quicken. Chan was close, so close he could feel Chan’s steady breath against his neck as he wrestled with the drawer. The subtle warmth from Chan’s body pressing against his side made Felix hyper-aware of every tiny movement.
“It’s just old. Gotta give it a little force,” Chan murmured, his voice low and close, the vibrations somehow heightening the tension.
Felix swallowed, holding still as Chan gave the drawer a sharp tug, finally freeing it open. They both laughed softly at the minor victory, but Chan hadn’t quite shifted back yet, and Felix was caught between feeling rooted in place and wanting to turn to face him. It was just a simple thing, really, sharing a bed and fighting with an old drawer for a charger. But with Chan this close, the air between them seemed to thrum with something Felix was finding hard to ignore.
After a beat, Chan seemed to realise he was still leaning over him. “Got it,” he said, a tad breathless, as he handed Felix the charger, his gaze lingering just a moment too long before he pulled back.
“Thanks,” Felix murmured, plugging his phone in and glancing at Chan with a half-smile. His pulse hadn’t slowed down, and he had a feeling Chan might’ve sensed it, too. Chan lay back against the pillows, still holding his phone, but he seemed…distracted, his gaze flicking between Felix and the game screen.
Felix’s eyes were drawn to the way Chan’s hand rested by his side, fingers tapping idly against the bed in a soft rhythm. “I was gonna show you some of my characters if my phone had enough charge,” Felix said, glancing down at the dim screen.
“It's okay. You can show it to me tomorrow,” Chan replied with a soft smile. “We have an early start, so we should probably get some sleep.”
Felix couldn’t shake the strange feeling twisting in his chest. Chan’s you can show me tomorrow sounded so casual, like it was a normal thing, like they’d be spending every night together from now on. But they weren’t living together, and who knew when they’d get a moment like this again? And something about it was seriously pissing him off, though he couldn’t figure out exactly why.
He tried to shrug it off, nodding casually as he rolled over on his side, facing away from Chan. “Good night,” he muttered, hoping his tone sounded even.
“Good night, Lix,” Chan replied. There was a warmth in his voice that only added to Felix’s confusion. That gentle, familiar way Chan said his name made him feel something strange, something that felt frustratingly like a mix of anticipation and…disappointment.
Felix closed his eyes, willing himself to let it go. But instead, his thoughts drifted further, imagining that ‘tomorrow’—Chan sitting beside him again, maybe laughing at some dumb thing he said or showing off a new character in his game. It made sense to just be friends. It was simple. Straightforward. But it wasn’t enough, and Felix couldn’t bullshit himself anymore.
“Chan?” Felix asked softly, unsure if Chan was still awake or already dozing off.
“Mmm? What’s up?” Chan murmured, his voice a little drowsy.
“Why are you single?” Felix blurted out, realising only a second later how strange the question sounded. His thoughts had tangled into a mess, and that’s what had come spilling out.
Chan chuckled. “What kind of question is that? Why are you single?”
“Because I hate alphas,” Felix answered honestly. “I’ve only been in one relationship, and that was with an omega.”
“You don’t hate me, though,” Chan pointed out.
Felix clenched his jaw. “Yeah. And it pisses me off,” he admitted, finally feeling close to the conversation he needed to have.
“It pisses you off that you don’t hate me?” Chan asked, shifting slightly until his face was turned toward Felix’s back.
“Yes. All alphas are the same… so why aren’t you?”
Chan sighed. “I know there are a lot of assholes out there, but we’re not all like that. Look at Minho, too.”
“He’s so good to Jisung,” Felix murmured, and after a moment, he turned to face Chan as well.
“My last ex was an omega,” Chan began, finally answering Felix’s original question. “I don’t know if it was love, but I thought we were happy together. Then, one day, she told me she couldn’t do it anymore.” Chan’s smile was tight, barely visible in the dark.
“Why?” Felix asked, confused.
“She said she couldn’t stand my pheromones. She told me they were too strong and made her sick whenever we got close.”
“What?!” Felix sat up on his elbow, completely shocked. “Your scent is… amazing,” he blurted without thinking.
“You like the way I smell?” Chan asked, and though Felix couldn’t see it in the dark, he could hear the smirk in Chan’s tone.
“I meant like…” Felix trailed off, suddenly unsure of what to say, but finally gave up. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted.
Chan’s pheromones spiked, flooding the room and getting into Felix’s head faster than he could process. The scent was a mix of herbs and flowers—passionflower, bergamot, and cedarwood, to be exact. Felix recognised it immediately; it was the same smell as the pillow he’d clung to as a child for comfort, a scent he’d thought he’d never experience again. It still seemed crazy to him.
Chan was watching him intently. His breathing was heavy; each inhale through his nose was slow and deliberate. Felix could feel the tension, the weight of Chan’s gaze holding him in place.
His pulse hammered as Chan’s scent lingered thick in the air, pulling at memories he’d thought were buried. It was grounding and overwhelming all at once, each breath thick with that blend of herbs and cedarwood that felt like safety yet made his heart race. Chan was so close now, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dimness, and Felix felt himself drawn in. Every instinct told him to move closer, even as his mind screamed at him to stop.
He could feel Chan’s breath, warm and steady against his skin, and the silence between them grew heavier with every second. Felix’s heart pounded louder, tension building up, stretching tight as he struggled with the thoughts running wild in his head. Chan’s gaze held him captive, like he was searching for something, waiting for Felix to say… or do… anything.
Felix swallowed, his mouth dry. He suddenly realised how close their faces had become and how their breaths mingled in the small space between them. It was as if they were caught in some invisible pull, both unsure who would break the silence first or make the next move.
Felix’s voice came out faint, more a question than a statement. “Chan… do you… want to kiss me?”
In that charged moment, the time seemed to hold still, waiting for Chan’s response.
For a moment, Chan didn’t move. His eyes searched Felix’s face, flickering between his eyes and lips, a glimmer of something intense and unguarded breaking through his usual calm. Felix felt exposed under that gaze, like every stray thought and hidden feeling was on display, making his pulse jump.
Chan’s breath hitched, a barely audible sound that Felix still somehow heard over the pounding in his ears. Then, slowly, he brought a hand up, fingertips grazing the side of Felix’s face, tracing a line from his cheek to his jaw. The touch was gentle, hesitant as if he were giving Felix a chance to pull back. But Felix didn’t move; he was rooted in place, too caught up in the heat between them to even consider pulling away.
“Do you want me to?” Chan’s voice was low, a little unsteady, and Felix could feel the warmth of his words brushing against his lips, sparking something more powerful than his sanity.
Felix took a shaky breath, his throat dry. The truth was, he hadn’t just wanted this moment—he’d needed it, craved it in ways he hadn’t been willing to admit, not even to himself. His hand reached up to rest against Chan’s, his fingers pressing into the warmth of his skin.
“Yes,” he breathed out, almost in disbelief that he was finally admitting it. “I do.”
The last of Chan’s hesitation melted away as he leaned in, closing the gap between them. The kiss was soft at first, timid, their lips just barely brushing. But as Felix’s hand slid to the back of Chan’s neck, fingers threading through his hair, something broke open between them. Chan’s mouth pressed against his with a newfound need, deepening the kiss, and Felix felt a rush that made every nerve in his body feel alive. It was like letting go, finally surrendering to a feeling that had been building up, waiting for a moment like this to come crashing down.
Every touch, every breath, seemed to say everything they hadn’t been able to put into words.
Felix's world narrowed to the sensation of Chan's lips against his, the warmth of his body pressed close. Time seemed to slow, stretching out this perfect moment as they explored each other. Chan's hand moved to cup the back of Felix's head, fingers tangling in his hair, while his other arm wrapped around Felix's waist, pulling him even closer.
Felix felt a surge of emotions he'd been holding back for so long. Relief, desire, and a profound sense of rightness washed over him. He poured everything he felt into the kiss, trying to convey without words how much this meant to him, how long he'd wanted this.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Felix kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, savouring the lingering taste of Chan on his lips. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, as if he'd been holding his breath for years and was only now learning how to breathe again.
Chan’s hand was still at his waist, fingers pressing just enough to keep Felix close. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this,” he whispered, his voice raspy, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Fuck, Chan,” Felix breathed, his voice catching as he felt Chan’s thumb trace a slow, teasing line over his hip. The words barely left him before Chan’s lips were back on his, more intense this time, like he wanted to make up for every second they’d held back. Felix’s fingers curled into the fabric of Chan’s shirt, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body against his own.
He let out a shaky breath, tilting his head back as Chan’s mouth left a trail down his jaw, finding that perfect spot on his neck that made Felix’s knees feel weak. His breath hitched, and his fingers pushed into Chan’s shoulders, urging him closer, hungry for the touch, for the feeling of Chan pressed against him.
“You’re driving me crazy,” Felix murmured, a grin slipping onto his lips even as his pulse raced. Chan’s mouth curved against his skin, and Felix felt that rush of heat again, letting himself sink into the moment. His body was on fire, but it wasn’t like before; he wasn’t in heat or desperate. This was different. This was all Felix . And it was his own desire, his own need, blazing hotter than anything he’d felt before.
He wanted this.
He wanted Chan, wanted the weight of his hands, the roughness of his touch, the way his breath felt warm and teasing against his skin. Felix’s fingers tightened on Chan’s shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer, feeling the solid strength of him pressed against every inch. Each brush of Chan’s lips, each subtle, lingering touch, sent a shiver through him, lighting him up from the inside out.
Chan’s mouth hovered close to his ear, his breath a soft murmur. “Tell me, Felix. Tell me what you want.”
The words sent a thrill down Felix’s spine, and he could barely keep his voice steady. “I want you ,” he whispered, breathless, feeling the truth of it in every beat of his heart, in every inch of skin that burned for more. He leaned in, his lips brushing Chan’s, this time with none of the restraint, none of the holding back—just raw, unfiltered want, pulling them closer and closer until nothing else mattered.
The words sliced through Chan's mind like a blade, setting fire to his senses and igniting a deep desire within him. He could feel the heat rising in his groin, a familiar tingling sensation that spread throughout his body. He couldn’t stop himself from getting hard, as he kissed Felix harder and bit down on his lower lip with a little too much force. But Felix didn't seem to mind, judging by the moan that escaped his lips. Sensing Felix's willingness, Chan broke the kiss, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him. With one hand gripping the headboard and the other clutching the sheets, Chan hovered just above Felix's body, nudging his legs apart with his knee to apply pressure against his growing bulge.
It was all too much for Felix to handle, and unable to control himself any longer, Felix ripped apart Chan's sleeping shirt with a primal growl, buttons flying in every direction as he revealed Chan's toned body beneath.
Chan's eyes widened at Felix's sudden boldness, a mix of surprise and hunger flashing across his face. The torn fabric of his shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, exposing the planes of his chest and abs. Felix's hands roamed over the newly revealed skin, tracing every curve and dip of muscle. He couldn't help but grind against Chan's thigh as his hips bucked up in pleasure.
Chan playfully scolded him and quickly pinned both of Felix's arms above his head. “That was my favourite one, you know,” Chan smirked. “You'll have to make it up to me.”
Felix let out a playful laugh and tilted his head back, teasingly running his tongue across his lips. ”Just because you're the one fucking me, doesn't mean you're in charge,” he retorted with a sly smile. “You have me pinned down because I want you to.”
As soon as Felix finished his sentence, he bent one leg at the knee and pressed his foot against Chan's stiff cock through the fabric. The sudden pressure sent a jolt of pleasure through Chan's body, causing him to gasp and grip onto Felix's shoulders for support. Felix's foot continued to tease and rub against Chan's arousal, building it to unbearable levels. It was a playful yet intense game of seduction that left them both wanting more. Chan couldn't help but wonder what other surprises Felix had in store for him tonight. His eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at Felix, drinking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and parted lips. He leaned in close, his breath hot against Felix's ear.
“You want to be in control, baby?” he purred, his voice low and husky. “Let's see how long that lasts.”
With a swift motion, Chan's hands slid under Felix's shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose his toned stomach. His fingers danced across Felix's skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Felix shivered at the touch, his breath catching in his throat as Chan's hands travelled higher, thumbs brushed over his nipples, circling the sensitive buds with teasing pressure.
“Tell me, Felix,” Chan murmured, his breath hot against Felix's stomach this time. “Do you want me to stop?”
Felix could barely form words, his body trembling under Chan's touch. “Don't you dare,” he managed to gasp out.
Chan's lips curved into a satisfied smile as he trailed his tongue over the ridges of Felix's belly button, creating a swirling sensation that sent a chill through him. His hands crept onto Felix's hips, gently pushing aside the fabric of his sweats to reveal a chiselled ‘V’ line. With firm thumbs, Chan pressed into the defined muscles, eliciting a low moan from Felix's throat. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Felix's sweats, slowly dragging them down, eyes locked with Felix's, dark with desire. “I'm going to make you feel so good, baby,” he purred. “I'll have you begging for more.”
Felix gasped as the cool air hit his exposed skin. “Big words,” he challenged breathlessly. “Let's see if you can back them up.”
“Your dripping hole is the conclusive proof,” Chan taunted, his fingers greedily circling Felix's rim, relishing in the sticky slick gushing out of him.
Felix's hips involuntarily thrust into Chan's touch, his body betraying him with waves of pleasure. “F-fuck,” he gasped, his mind clouded with desire.
“You can’t blame it on your heat this time”, Chan mutters, dragging his slick-coated fingers along Felix's inner thigh.
“Shut up, Chan. Your filthy mouth and perfectly...ahh!” Felix's words dissolve into a moan as Chan pushes a finger inside him.
“My perfectly what?” Chan teased seductively. He curled his finger inside the omega, eliciting another desperate moan. Felix's back arched off the bed, his body craving more of Chan's touch.
“Your perfectly... everything,” Felix gasped out, his pride momentarily forgotten in the face of overwhelming pleasure. “God, Chan, I need more…”
Chan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He leaned down, his lips brushing against Felix's throat, pressing a light kiss at his Adam's apple as he whispered, “Say please?”
Felix whimpered, torn between his desire and his stubborn need to maintain some semblance of control. But as Chan's finger continued its torturous exploration, joined now by a second, Felix found himself unravelling.
“Please, I need more,” he begged, his voice hoarse with want. “I need you inside me.”
“It didn’t take long for you to beg,” Chan remarked.
“I’m not…ahhh…begg…fuck!” Felix cried out as Chan’s fingers grazed his prostate. His words were cut off by a wave of mind-numbing sensation. “Unfair,” he gasped out, trying to regain control of his body.
But Chan just chuckled, slowly pulling his fingers out of Felix and bringing them to his mouth. He licked one of them slowly, savouring the taste. “Unfair is you teasing me like this,” he purred. “Unfair is how irresistible you are, baby,” he added before taking hold of Felix’s arms and pulling him closer. He leaned back, prompting Felix to mirror his position on his knees in front of him. Gently, he guided Felix’s hand inside his shorts and pressed it against his hard cock. Felix's hand instinctively wrapped around it, giving him small strokes, restricted by the material.
“See how much you turn me on?” Chan whispered in his ear, his hands cupping Felix’s ass. “Even if you beg, you’ve already won.”
Felix entwined his free hand in Chan's hair, and with a fierce grip, he yanked him back, exposing his vulnerable throat. It caused Chan to gasp at yet another unexpected move. Felix gently grazed his teeth against Chan's neck, still holding onto his hair as he applied just enough pressure to create a pleasurable pain.
“Just so we're clear,” Felix said, licking the spot on Chan's neck that he had nibbled on, “it's not begging; it's taking what I want.” And without warning, he released Chan's hair and crushed their lips together in a rough, hungry kiss.
They kissed deeply and passionately, both moaning into the kiss as Chan squeezed Felix's ass cheeks a few times, unable to resist the urge to touch and explore every inch of him. He used his hands to firmly spread his cheeks, exposing his slick hole. “Let me give you what you want then,” he growled against Felix’s lips.
Felix pulled back from the heated kiss, his lips wet and swollen, eyes dark with desire. “I want you naked. Now,” he commanded breathlessly.
Chan smirked at Felix taking charge but was more than happy to oblige. He made quick work of shedding his shorts, freeing his aching erection. Felix drank in the sight hungrily, his own cock throbbing in anticipation.
“Like what you see, baby?” Chan purred, slowly stroking himself.
“You have no idea,” Felix growled. He swatted Chan's hand away and replaced it with his own, gripping Chan's thick length. Chan let out a hiss of pleasure at the contact. Felix pumped him slowly, teasingly, as he leaned in to capture Chan's lips in another searing kiss. Chan moaned into it, hips thrusting into Felix's fist. The slide of Felix's tongue against his own made Chan's head spin with lust.
Breaking the kiss, Felix released Chan's cock, eliciting a whine of protest. But it quickly turned into a gasp as Felix turned around on his hands and knees, presenting his pretty pink hole to Chan.
“Fuck me,” the omega demanded, looking back over his shoulder with hooded eyes. “I've been craving your thick cock inside me this whole time. It pisses me off so much, but I can't resist you; I want you so bad, alpha.”
Chan’s world tilted, a rush of heat and hunger overwhelming him as he realised: Felix had been thinking about him, wanting him, needing him just as much. The revelation was electric, lighting up every corner of his mind with a possessive thrill he could barely contain. They were fighting for dominance but also admitting how much they wanted each other in the push and pull. And when Felix spread himself open, offering all of himself to Chan and no one else, everything inside Chan screamed “My omega”.
He grabbed Felix's hips hard enough to bruise as he lined himself up, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He could feel the heat radiating off Felix's body, the slickness coating his hole, inviting him in. But Chan held back, teasing Felix with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along his rim without pushing inside.
“No need to be desperate; we’re just getting started”, Chan purred, circling Felix's rim with agonising slowness. “Maybe I should make you wait even longer, until you're sobbing and shaking, until you can't take it anymore.”
Felix groaned in frustration, fists clenching the sheets as he pushed his hips back, trying to impale himself on Chan's thick length. “Do you enjoy making me wait?” Felix playfully teased, wiggling his ass and feeling his own slickness dripping down his legs. “I doubt you can hold back from slamming into my tight little hole much longer.”
“You're a demon,” Chan gasped, giving Felix's ass cheek a sharp smack that echoed through the room. The sensation made Felix moan, arching his back and burying his face into the mattress.
Chan leaned over Felix, reaching for a condom from his bedside drawer and tearing it open with impatience as he rolled it onto his cock. Felix eagerly spread his legs, ready to be filled. His mind was blank, and his reality narrowed to one thing: Chan. But the urge to provoke and push Chan's buttons was stronger than him.
“So you kept condoms by your bed, did you plan on fucking me?” Felix goaded.
“I like to be prepared,” Chan replied calmly.
“What if we did it somewhere else?” Felix continued to provoke.
“I'll scatter condoms all around the house so I can take you against every surface,” Chan retorted with a playful bite in his tone.
Felix let out a low, guttural moan at Chan's filthy words, the thought of being taken all over the house sending a shiver down his spine straight to his aching cock. “Fuck, Chan,” he gasped, pushing his hips back impatiently. “Just fuck me already.”
Chan gripped Felix's hips tighter, the blunt head of his cock nudging insistently at Felix's entrance. “Since you asked so nicely,” he said, voice dripping with dark promise. And with one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside Felix's tight heat. They both cried out at the intensity, Felix's back arching as he was stretched and filled so completely. Chan stilled for a moment, overwhelmed by the slick, velvety walls clenching around him so perfectly.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Chan growled, slowly pulling out before slamming back in, setting a hard and fast pace. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with their moans and pants, filling the room with the filthy symphony of their connection.
Felix met each powerful thrust, rocking back to take Chan as deep as possible. The drag of Chan's cock against his sensitive walls had him seeing stars, pleasure coiling tighter in his core with each snap of Chan's hips. “Harder,” Felix demanded breathlessly, “Fuck me like you mean it.”
Chan snarled at the challenge, leaning over to cover Felix's body with his own as he pistoned his hips with punishing force. He licked and bit at Felix's neck, pulling the oversized t-shirt down to expose his shoulder to leave blooming marks there, too. With one hand gripping Felix's t-shirt tightly at his lower back, he guided him onto his cock deeper while the other hand slid around to omega’s throat, gripping it firmly as he pounded into him.
“Is this hard enough for you, baby?” Chan growled into Felix's ear. “You take my cock so well, like you were made for it.”
“Yes, fuck, just like that,” Felix whimpered, the words broken and desperate. His own hand came up to cover Chan's at his throat, urging him to apply more pressure. The lightheaded feeling only heightened every sensation, pushing him closer to the edge.
With each deep thrust, Chan felt his knot start to swell. The urge to claim and fill Felix was nearly overwhelming, but he was grateful for the condom that prevented him from knotting him this time. Gritting his teeth, he tried to maintain control as Felix's muscles tightened around him, and their hips lost their rhythm. Felix was close, which was good because Chan wasn't sure how much longer he could last. With one final forceful thrust, he pulled out and ordered Felix onto his back. Without hesitation, Felix obeyed, his mind clouded with the need to climax. He threw himself onto the pillows and looked up at Chan with pleading eyes.
Chan let out a low growl as he snapped the condom off. “Let's come together, baby. I want to see you.”
Felix locked eyes with Chan and let out a loud, pornographic moan as he began to stroke himself relentlessly, lifting his shirt to expose his pink nipples. It didn't take long for him to cum, shouting out Chan's name as his body shook and white cum spilt onto his chest. He kept milking every drop out of his cock until it was spent.
“Fuck, fuck!” Chan couldn't resist such a sight and soon found himself coming with a choked moan, their cum mixing on Felix's chest.
“I love you.”
The high-pitched thought rang in Chan’s ears as he lowered himself, gripping Felix’s hips to keep from collapsing onto him. He could only hope he hadn’t said it out loud as he watched Felix lying there, eyes closed in bliss, still exposing his chest, holding onto Chan’s now-stained Chrome Hearts t-shirt.
♥️ 🩺 ♥️
“Yah! Who the hell—!” Jisung yelped, feeling a sudden breath on his neck just as he was about to close the door to his house.
“Hi, baby,” Minho greeted, his smile innocent and almost too perfect.
“Hyung! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Jisung’s face softened, still a little startled. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to drive you to work,” Minho replied casually, leaning against the doorframe with that same playful grin.
“You should be home, sleeping,” Jisung said, raising an eyebrow.
“But I wanted to see you,” Minho’s smile remained warm and genuine. “Let me drive you?”
Jisung hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “Okay, but if you’re gonna kill us both because you’re too tired to drive, I’m not forgiving you,” he said, lightly punching Minho’s chest.
Minho dramatically placed a hand over his heart, feigning a look of dreamy innocence. “And they died on the same day…”
Jisung rolled his eyes. “Your sense of humour is seriously concerning, hyung,” he muttered but couldn’t help the small smile forming on his lips.
They walked down the street towards Minho’s car because Minho didn’t want Jisung to see him and wanted to surprise him, hence he parked a little further. Part of Jisung still couldn’t believe this was real. He wouldn’t say it to Minho—not yet, at least—but he found the gesture deeply charming. The way Minho thought of him, even after what must have been a gruelling night shift, touched him in a way Jisung hadn’t expected. It reminded him of all those late nights working shifts at the supermarket when he’d have to call an Uber because the last bus was gone and no one was there to pick him up. He used to watch his colleagues walk out to people waiting to take them home, and he couldn’t help feeling a little ache, wishing that, just once, someone would be waiting for him.
Now, with Minho, it seemed like that wish had finally come true. Jisung knew he should keep his expectations in check—he’d been here before, thinking he’d found something lasting, only to watch it fall apart. But Minho felt different. He’d been like this from the very beginning: thoughtful, perceptive, always knowing what Jisung needed without him having to explain or even ask. It was a quiet understanding, something that felt almost too good to hope for.
And maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but Jisung couldn’t help but want Minho to feel the same. Because the truth was, he wanted nothing more than to make Minho as happy as Minho made him.
Soon, Minho was opening the car door for Jisung and reaching over to buckle him in.
“I can do it myself, you know. I’m not a kid,” Jisung pouted. Like a child would.
Minho chuckled, fingers brushing over Jisung’s shoulder as he pulled the seatbelt across him. “Oh, I know. It’s just an excuse to do this,” he replied, leaning in to steal a quick peck on Jisung’s lips.
Jisung’s cheeks turned pink as he sank back into the seat, trying to keep a straight face. “You know, this is highly inappropriate behaviour for a driver,” he mumbled, crossing his arms with faux indignation, though a grin was starting to tug at his lips.
“Well, then it’s a good thing this driver only has one very important passenger to worry about,” Minho replied, smirking as he shut Jisung’s door and moved around to the driver’s side.
Jisung watched him with a warm feeling in his chest. Being with Minho felt so natural as if this was exactly where he was supposed to be. Yet, beneath the comforting glow, an unsettling doubt began to nag him, forming at the edges of his thoughts. They hadn’t really talked about what they were or defined if they were actually together . They’d just slipped into this closeness, and while Minho’s actions seemed to speak volumes, Jisung’s mind couldn’t help but wander into doubt.
Was he assuming too much? What if he was just reading into things that Minho hadn’t meant? Jisung glanced at him, hoping they’d talk about it soon, that Minho might give him a hint that this was as real to him as it was to Jisung. Because the truth was, he needed that reassurance—something solid to stand on, something to let him know he wasn’t misinterpreting it all.
Minho shot him a warm smile as if sensing his unease. “Ready?”
Jisung blinked. He wanted to answer with something witty or brush off the sudden softness in his chest, but instead, he just nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
They drove in silence for a while, with only the sound of the road and occasional chuckles from Minho breaking the quiet. Jisung glanced over, curious, but didn’t say anything until Minho’s chuckling became more frequent and a little harder to ignore.
“What’s so funny, hyung?” he finally asked.
Minho stifled a laugh, then grinned. “I was just thinking... I wonder if Chan and Felix have fucked” he said, giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Minho!” Jisung exclaimed, more shocked by his tone than the actual question.
“What? You’re curious too, admit it,” Minho replied, giving him a knowing look.
Jisung shook his head, trying to feign disinterest. “You shouldn’t be so invested in someone else’s sex life,” he said, attempting to sound disapproving. But Minho wasn’t wrong; Jisung was just as curious.
Minho shrugged, still smirking. “You’re right. Guess I should be focusing on my own sex life instead,” he replied casually, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he shot Jisung a quick look.
The heat rushed to Jisung's cheeks; why did he automatically assume that Minho was talking about him? Maybe it wasn't about him, but the mere thought sent his mind into a frenzy. His thoughts were already darting back to the last time they’d kissed and how he wanted nothing more than to feel Minho's touch all over his body. The way Minho’s lips had trailed over his neck, the way his touch felt so good. He desperately hoped that Minho felt the same way, that he didn't just go around fucking random people because it should be Jisung. It should be him that Minho fucks. Damn, one sentence from Minho and Jisung's thoughts were all over the place. He needed to get a grip on himself.
They pulled into the parking lot and spotted Chan and Felix already heading toward the lifts. Felix was holding a plastic cup with a bright green straw, his drink looking impossibly sweet for anyone to handle so early in the morning. The iced concoction was topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a rainbow of sprinkles. It vaguely resembled coffee, but with Felix, the only coffee in that drink was probably the smell.
As they watched, Felix took an enthusiastic sip, grinning through the whipped cream as he and Chan walked shoulder to shoulder, laughing over something. They looked like they were in their own little world, Chan’s shoulders shaking as Felix said something, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Minho and Jisung exchanged a look, both reading the situation instantly. “Yeah, they definitely did,” they said in perfect unison, smiling knowingly.
As Jisung stepped out of the car, still holding the door open, he called out with a playful grin, “Hey, Lix! It’s me, your forgotten best friend!”
Felix turned around, his expression shifting from surprise to a smug grin as he spotted Jisung. “Oh, my forgotten friend—and Minho, of course,” he teased, eyes twinkling. “Look at you two, attached at the hip as usual.”
Jisung laughed, giving Minho an exaggerated look. “Can you believe him? Acting like we’re just an accessory.”
Minho raised an eyebrow, playing along. “If that’s the case, we’re a very fashionable accessory.”
“Minho, you know you can’t be here for both your and Jisung’s shifts. You need sleep too, sometimes,” Chan said, eyeing him with a disapproving look.
Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Piss off, Chan. Like you’re one to talk about getting sleep.”
Jisung laughed and joined in, giving Minho a wink. “Gotta agree with him this time, hyung.”
Minho sighed, but his gaze softened as he looked at Jisung. “Alright, alright. Have a great shift, baby,” he said, clearly wanting to lean in for a kiss. But with Jisung standing outside the car, there was too much distance between them.
Seeing the look in Minho’s eyes, Jisung grinned and leaned down, sliding halfway into the car through the open door, tilting his cheek toward Minho. But before he could react, Minho leaned in and planted a quick, playful kiss on Jisung’s neck instead, his lips brushing over the sensitive spot.
Jisung let out a surprised laugh, straightening up and giving Minho an affectionate glare. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, his cheeks flushed but his eyes warm.
Minho grinned, looking perfectly innocent. “Go on, get to work. Try not to miss me too much.”
Jisung rolled his eyes, stepping back from the car, but couldn’t help the smile that lingered on his face as Minho drove off, leaving him with a flutter he’d be carrying for the rest of his shift.
The three of them stepped into the lift from the parking garage, and as soon as the doors closed, Jisung looped his arm through Felix’s, pulling him to the back of the lift.
“You gotta tell me everything !” he whispered excitedly, though his hushed tone wasn’t enough to keep Chan, standing just a few steps ahead, from hearing. Chan chuckled quietly, shaking his head at Jisung’s eagerness.
Felix rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “Patience, Sung. Maybe we can catch up over lunch?” he suggested.
Jisung nodded quickly. “Sounds good! I’m shadowing someone in clinic today, so I’ll message you.”
“Deal,” Felix replied, securing his hair into a quick ponytail.
As the lift doors slid open, Jisung let go of Felix’s arm, giving him a quick, teasing wink. “Remember, lunchtime—no holding back!” he whispered.
Felix chuckled and gave him a playful salute while Chan shook his head with an amused smile. “See you later,” Chan said, guiding Felix toward the ED just a few steps away.
“Good luck with the chaos!” Jisung called after them as the lift doors closed.
The first half of Jisung’s day flew by, and he was beginning to feel like he was getting the hang of things. His morning had been spent shadowing Dr. Barnes in the clinic, mostly observing her interact with patients and outline treatment plans. It was eye-opening—especially when he watched her gently break difficult news. He realised how much skill it took to deliver that kind of information with compassion, which he hoped he could also develop.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jisung breathed a sigh of relief as he finished his last morning appointment. The thought of observing work in the dialysis unit for the rest of the day felt like a welcome respite. His mind was buzzing, overloaded with information and patient interactions. He needed a break.
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Jisung's fingers flew over the keys as he messaged Felix: “Free for lunch whenever you are.”
The response came quickly:
Lixie: Should be free in about 20min, meet me in the rose garden? Chan says no one comes there this time of year. Food is on you today 😜
A smile formed on Jisung's lips. The warmth of the autumn day beckoned him outside, a rare treat for this time of year. He made a quick detour to a nearby café, picking up lunch for both of them and, of course, the sugary drink Felix always craved.
The rose garden was a peaceful oasis amidst the bustling hospital grounds. Jisung settled onto a bench, surrounded by flowers past their prime but still clinging to life. The sweet, fading scent of roses mingled with the earthy smell of decaying leaves.
Felix arrived, his freckled face lighting up at the sight of food. “You're the best, Sungie,” he said, plopping down next to Jisung and immediately reaching for his drink.
As Felix bit into his chicken wrap, Jisung couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. “So,” he started, trying to sound casual, “Chan said no one comes here this time of year?”
Felix nodded, swallowing before he spoke. “Yeah, even though it's still pretty nice outside.”
Jisung's eyebrows waggled suggestively. “And did Chan say that before or after you fucked?”
Felix's eyes widened briefly before he hummed thoughtfully. “In between rounds, actually.”
Jisung's jaw dropped, and Felix burst into laughter, nearly choking on his food. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding! You should've seen your face!”
“Yah!” Jisung swatted at Felix's arm. “Seriously though, what's going on with you two?”
Felix shrugged, suddenly very interested in his wrap. “I guess we're hooking up?”
“You what?” Jisung spluttered.
“Hooking up. You know, it's when people—”
“I know what hooking up means!” Jisung cut him off, exasperated. “But I thought there was more to it? You don't just hook up with people, Lix.”
Felix's casual tone didn't waver. “I can make an exception for Chan.”
Jisung frowned, unsatisfied. This didn't align with what he'd observed and what he and Minho had talked about. Something felt off. “Did you guys talk about it at all?”
“What's there to talk about?” Felix chuckled, but it sounded forced to Jisung's ears. “It's pretty straightforward.”
“Are you sure you're not in denial here again?” Jisung pressed, concern creeping into his voice.
Felix's eyes flashed with something—anger? Hurt? It was gone before Jisung could place it. “Oh my god, Sungie,” Felix said, his voice taking on an edge Jisung had rarely heard. “I love his cock inside of me, that's it. We fit together like that.”
Jisung recoiled slightly, shocked by Felix's rough words. This wasn't like him at all. He opened his mouth to press further, but the set of Felix's jaw told him it would be pointless. Instead, he filed away a mental note to ask Minho if he knew anything from Chan's side.
An unusual silence settled between them, broken only by the rustle of wrappers and the distant chatter of people passing by. Jisung's mind raced, trying to reconcile the Felix he knew with this new, defensive version sitting beside him. Something was definitely off, but what?
Jisung finished his food, crumpling the wrapper and wiping his hands on a napkin. He glanced at Felix, noticing a small frown creasing his forehead as he stared at his phone. When Felix caught Jisung's gaze, his bright smile returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Jisung's brow furrowed slightly, concern bubbling up inside him.
“I'm gonna head back,” Jisung said, his voice soft. “I'll see you later today at home?”
“Definitely,” Felix replied, his smile still in place. “I'll stay for a bit longer.”
Jisung collected their rubbish, standing up from the bench. He couldn't shake the nagging worry about Felix as he walked away. The cheerful mood from this morning had evaporated, leaving behind a sour scent that Jisung's sensitive nose picked up easily. He tried to push the thoughts aside, reminding himself that if Chan and Felix were happy with their arrangement, it wasn't his place to tell them otherwise. Still, the image of Felix's forced smile lingered in his mind as he made his way back to work.
Felix watched Jisung's retreating figure until he disappeared from view. With a heavy sigh, he slumped back against the bench, his thoughts pressing down on him. The lies he'd told Jisung sat uncomfortably in his chest, a bitter taste in his mouth. He desperately wanted to confide in his best friend, to pour out the turmoil of emotions swirling inside him.
Closing his eyes, Felix let his mind wander back to the previous night. The memory of Chan's warm body pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around him, sent a shiver down his spine. It had been so long since he'd felt that kind of comfort, that sense of belonging. Not since...
Felix's heart clenched as unwanted memories surfaced. His first boyfriend, the one he thought would be his last—the one who had left him, severing all ties as if their relationship had meant nothing. Felix understood why this happened, but he was still allowed to feel hurt. He had sworn then that no one would ever compare, that no one could love him the way his ex had. Despite leaving, his ex still loved him deeply, and Felix recognised this truth.
But now, there was Chan. Chan, with his gentle touch and infectious laugh. Chan, who made Felix feel safe and wanted. Chan, who was an alpha.
The conflict raged inside Felix's mind. He could accept that he didn't hate Chan and that being in his arms felt nice. But the idea of falling for him? That was terrifying. It went against everything he'd promised himself – and his mother.
Felix's mother's words echoed in his mind, as clear as the day she'd spoken them. “Yongbok, sweetheart, please promise you will never be with an alpha. I can't tell you everything right now, but it's really important, so I need you to promise me this, okay?”
He remembered nodding, too young to question why. It was the last time he'd seen her.
Felix's chest tightened, torn between his growing feelings for Chan and the promise he'd made. He couldn't allow himself to have what his heart truly desired, even if he admitted it to himself. But the thought of letting Chan go completely, felt like trying to live without air — impossible.
So he'd settled for this. A physical relationship, nothing more. He'd told Chan as much the morning after, searching the alpha's face for any reaction. Chan had remained unreadable for a moment before pulling Felix close and whispering, “Anything you wish, I'm okay with that.”
Now, sitting alone in the garden, Felix wondered if he'd made the right choice. The warmth of Chan's kiss on his temple still lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what he was denying himself. The scent of dying roses filled his nostrils, a fitting backdrop to the turbulence in his heart.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jisung stepped into the dialysis unit, his eyes sweeping across the room. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled his nostrils, mingling with the low hum of machines. He searched for a familiar face among the busy staff, his gaze landing on empty chairs and occupied beds. He thought Changbin must be in his office, pivoting on his heel to seek out his friend for guidance.
Suddenly, a warm hand clasped his shoulder, startling him. Before he could react, a booming voice assaulted his ear, making him wince.
“Jisungie!” Changbin's enthusiastic yell echoed through the unit, drawing curious glances from the staff nurses. Their eyes lingered, probably wondering about the casual way Changbin addressed a doctor.
Jisung's ear rang slightly as he turned to face his friend. “Hi, hyung,” he said, rubbing his ear discreetly. “I was just looking for you.”
Changbin's eyes sparkled with amusement. “Are you here for the afternoon?” he asked, his voice mercifully lowered to a normal volume.
“Yeah,” Jisung nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness flutter in his stomach. “I'm here to observe, but I can help out too. Just let me know what you need.”
Changbin's lips curved into a wide grin. “Then I'll leave you to my staff,” he said, gesturing towards the nurses at their station. “They'll tell you all you need to know.”
As Changbin walked away, Jisung took a deep breath, steeling himself. He approached the nurse's desk, acutely aware of the eyes following his movement. His palms felt slightly clammy as he reached the desk.
“Hi, I'm Han Jisung, a new junior doctor,” he introduced himself, trying to keep his voice steady despite the nerves threatening to make it waver.
A nurse with kind eyes and laugh lines around her mouth looked up at him. “Welcome to renal,” she said, her voice warm but tinged with dry humour. “It's like a mental health ward but worse.”
“And minus the pay enhancement,” another nurse, Min Yoongi, added, his deadpan delivery making Jisung's lips twitch.
A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. The nurses' frank comments and welcoming smiles helped settle the butterflies in his stomach.
“So, where do you want me to start?” Jisung asked, eager to dive in and prove himself useful. He glanced around the unit, taking in the rows of dialysis machines and the frequent beeping.
The first nurse who had spoken — her name tag read 'Nurse Kang' — stood up, gesturing for Jisung to follow her. “Let's start with a tour, shall we? I'll introduce you to our patients and show you the ropes.”
As the afternoon wore on, Jisung found himself increasingly comfortable in the unit. He assisted the nurses where he could, fetching supplies and offering words of encouragement to the patients.
“Dr. Han, could you please assist the patient in number 6? They're finished with the commode,” Yoongi called out, his voice carrying over the ambient noise.
“Of course,” Jisung replied, smiling.
As he approached the room, he pushed the door open, the hinges creaking slightly, and was immediately assaulted by an angry shout.
“Bloody hell! I've been buzzing for ages!”
The patient's voice, rough with irritation, made Jisung flinch. He knew for a fact that the call bell had been pressed less than two minutes ago, but he swallowed his protest. “I'm sorry,” he said instead, his voice calm and placating. “I'm here now. Let's clean you up and get you back to bed.”
Jisung moved towards the patient, the smell of disinfectant mingling with less pleasant odours. He'd done this hundreds of times during his placements when he was a mere student, and it was all they would allow them to do on the wards. His hands moved with practised efficiency, cleaning the patient with gentle, sure movements.
Suddenly, the patient let out another yell, making Jisung's heart jump. “Oh my god! And you're supposed to be a doctor?!”
Jisung froze, his eyes widening. He frantically searched his mind to figure out what he'd done wrong. The patient's face was contorted with anger; his cheeks flushed red.
“Didn't they teach you in school you're supposed to wipe from front to back?!” the patient continued to berate him, his voice rising with each word. “Go back to school!”
Jisung felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He was caught in a storm of confusion and shame, unable to defend himself or explain.
Just as the silence stretched to an unbearable point, another voice cut through the tension. “Mr. Baek, but you don't have a vagina. You have nothing to worry about, so stop harassing the staff again.”
As Jisung stood frozen in embarrassment, trying to recover from the awkward interaction with the patient, the nurse leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Well, Dr. Han, looks like you have a new lesson in your medical education curriculum — 'The Art of Wiping: A Comprehensive Guide for All Genders'.”
Jisung couldn't help but chuckle under his breath at the comment, grateful for the lighthearted moment amidst the tension. He glanced at the name badge that read ‘Nurse Kim Seungmin.’
“I will finish here,” Seungmin said, his eyes meeting Jisung's with amusement and sympathy. “You can go join the handover.”
Jisung mumbled a quiet “Thank you” and slipped out of the room, his cheeks still burning. The cool air outside of the room was a welcome relief as he made his way back to the nurse's station, his mind replaying the awkward encounter on a loop.
As Jisung approached the group of nurses huddled together, their voices formed a low murmur. He tried to focus on their conversation when he noticed Seungmin joining by his side. Leaning in, Seungmin spoke in a low and reassuring tone.
“Don't worry about Mr. Baek,” he said, letting out a small laugh, the sound oddly comforting. “It's just a normal Tuesday around here.”
Jisung opened his mouth to respond, but Changbin's voice cut through the air, sharp and teasing.
“Kim Seungmin, you sure are a fast learner,” Changbin said, his gaze fixed on the nurse. There was something in his tone, a layer of meaning that Jisung couldn't quite grasp. He glanced between Changbin and Seungmin, noting the slight smirk on Changbin's face and the way Seungmin's eyes seemed to sparkle in response.
Confusion furrowed Jisung's brow. He turned to Changbin, a silent question in his eyes.
Changbin caught his look and quickly explained, “Seungmin here is new. He only started a few weeks ago.”
“Well, I have a good teacher,” Seungmin replied, his smile directed at Changbin. The air between them seemed to crackle with something.
“Alright,” Changbin spoke again, drawing everyone's attention. “Breaks. Who wants to stay, who wants to go?”
A hum of voices filled the air as the staff discussed among themselves. Jisung watched as most nurses filtered out, leaving only him, Seungmin, and another nurse behind. He turned his focus to the paperwork in front of him, the rustle of pages a comforting sound in the sudden quiet of the unit.
The soft pad of footsteps approached, but Jisung kept his head down, engrossed in his task. A figure brushed past him without a word, heading towards the nurse working at the computer behind him. Jisung's brow furrowed slightly at the lack of acknowledgement. Rude, he thought, a slight frown tugging at his lips.
He tried to tune out their chatter, focusing on the forms before him, but a familiar name caught his attention like a hook, yanking him out of his concentration.
“No way, you're going on a date with Minho?!” one of the nurses gasped, her voice high-pitched with excitement.
Jisung's hand froze mid-motion, his pen hovering over the page. His heart seemed to stutter in his chest, a cold feeling spreading through his veins.
“Indeed, I am,” the other nurse replied, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
Jisung's throat constricted, his lungs suddenly struggling to draw in air. Surely, there are multiple Minhos around here, he told himself desperately. It's a popular name. It could be anyone. But even as the thought formed, a sinking feeling in his gut told him otherwise.
Before he could stop himself, Jisung whirled around in his chair, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. “Who's Minho?” His voice sounded strained even to his ears, higher than usual and tinged with an urgency he couldn't disguise.
The nurses turned to look at him, surprise evident on their faces at his sudden interjection.
“Oh, you know, the one and only Lee Minho from ED?”
Jisung suddenly felt like he was going to be sick right there on the floor between them.
Chapter 12: say you're still mine
Notes:
Hello again :) This is an emotional chapter, ...so tissues on me? This one will reveal a lot, so...buckle up. But because I love you all so much, I tried my best to make up for it a little, too;)
Hope you enjoy, let's go!
TW - mention of drugs and drug addiction
TW - mention of past abuse
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jisung wasn’t sure how he managed to get through the rest of his shift. He stumbled out of the dialysis unit, his vision blurred by unshed tears. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before him, each step a monumental effort. His chest felt tight and constricted as if an invisible hand squeezed his heart. He fumbled with his jacket, nearly dropping it as he shrugged it on with trembling hands.
The stairs loomed ahead, a daunting obstacle. Jisung gripped the railing, his knuckles white as he forced himself down each step. The words he'd overheard echoed relentlessly in his mind, each repetition a fresh stab of pain.
“...going on a date with Minho…”
A choked sob escaped his lips as he reached the ground floor. He pushed through the exit doors, the cool autumn air hitting his face like a slap. The tears he'd been desperately holding back finally spilt over, hot trails down his cheeks that he furiously wiped away.
Jisung's legs carried him to the bus stop on autopilot. He kept his head down, praying he wouldn't encounter anyone he knew. The last thing he needed was to explain why he looked like a mess.
The bus arrived, a momentary distraction from the turmoil in his mind. Jisung climbed aboard, making a beeline for the back. He sank into the seat, his body suddenly feeling impossibly heavy. With shaking hands, he pulled out his phone and headphones, desperate for anything to drown out his thoughts.
As the song's first notes filled his ears, Jisung felt a fresh wave of pain. The lyrics seemed to mock him, each word twisting the knife in his heart.
Funny what you're thinking, where are you?
Who's in your head right now, someone other than me
Looking for somebody
Jisung closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. The pain was excruciating, but he couldn't bring himself to change the song. It felt fitting, somehow, to wallow in this agony.
His mind raced, replaying every interaction he'd had with Minho. The lingering touches, the meaningful glances, the way Minho's eyes sparkled when they were together. Had it all been a lie? A game?
Jisung's throat tightened as he remembered the kiss they'd shared. It had felt so real, so passionate. How could Minho go from that to dating someone else? The thought of Minho's lips on another person, his hands caressing someone else's skin, made Jisung's stomach churn.
Baby, don't go away, love me like you loved me
Say you're still mine
I'd rather wish it was all a dream, I don't feel alright
He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the bus window, watching the city blur past. He had driven these streets with Minho, laughing and talking, his heart full of hope. A fresh sob bubbled up in his throat, and Jisung struggled to swallow it down. He felt like a fool, a naive child who had mistaken friendly flirtation for something more. Of course, Minho wouldn't want him. Why would he, when he could have anyone he wanted?
The bus jolted to a stop, jarring Jisung from his spiralling thoughts. He looked up, realising that he'd missed his stop. With a muttered curse, he stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping in his haste to get off.
As he stepped onto the sidewalk, the cool air hit him again, but it didn't bring relief this time. Instead, it emphasises how alone he felt, how exposed and vulnerable he was. Jisung wrapped his arms around himself as if he could physically hold the pieces of his breaking heart together.
He started walking with no real destination in mind. Each step felt like a battle, his body weighed down by the crushing realisation that Minho had never seen him as anything more than a passing amusement. The city around him faded into a grey blur, meaningless and empty, without the promise of Minho's smile to brighten it.
Jisung wandered aimlessly, his feet carrying him through the bustling city streets. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and pinks, but the beauty was lost on him. His heart ached with every step, the weight of Minho's betrayal crushing his chest.
He turned down unfamiliar side streets, barely registering the change in scenery. The towering skyscrapers gave way to quaint brick buildings, their facades worn with age. Jisung's eyes, blurred with tears, barely took in the details—the intricate ironwork balconies, the colourful flower boxes spilling over with late autumn blooms.
The air grew cooler as late evening approached, and Jisung pulled his jacket tighter around himself. He shivered, but whether from the chill or the emptiness inside him, he couldn't tell. His breath came out in small puffs, dissipating into the darkening sky.
Jisung's steps slowed as he reached a small, secluded park between two old buildings. The wrought iron gate creaked as he pushed it open, echoing in the quiet space. Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he descended the winding path, past overgrown rose bushes and gnarled oak trees.
In the park's centre stood a weathered stone fountain, its once grand tiers now covered in moss and lichen.
Jisung sank onto the fountain's edge, the cold stone seeping through his clothes. The perfect scenery for his shattered heart. His chest heaved as the first sob tore from his throat, raw and primal. The floodgates opened, and he wept without restraint, each cry echoing off the park's stone walls.
The pain was a physical entity, clawing at his insides, threatening to rip him apart. It constricted his chest, making each breath a struggle. Jisung gasped, his vision blurring as tears streamed down his face. The world narrowed to this moment, this agony.
A dark thought slithered into his mind — what if he simply ceased to exist? The idea was terrifyingly tempting, offering an escape from this torment. Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, his nails digging into his palms. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, a voice scolded him. He'd been doing so well and had been okay for so long. How could he have let his guard down so easily?
A bitter laugh escaped his lips, more a strangled sob than anything resembling joy. The irony was cruel — it wasn't even Minho's fault. Jisung desperately wanted to hate and blame him for toying with his emotions. But the truth was inescapable — Jisung had done this to himself.
“Stupid,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “So fucking stupid.”
He'd foolishly believed it was finally his turn for happiness, that the universe had decided to grant him a reprieve from loneliness. Sitting alone in this forgotten park, Jisung wondered if he was destined for solitude. The thought didn't bother him as much as it should have. What truly tore at him was the cyclical nature of this pain, the way the universe seemed determined to break him over and over again.
“Please, baby, just one more chance! Don’t leave me—please!”
“Jisung, you’re seriously fucked up. I can’t do this anymore! Look at yourself—you’re a fucking mess. You need to check yourself into a psych ward or something.”
“I swear I’ll change! I promise I won’t be like this anymore—just stay!”
“I’m done, Jisung. How many fucking times are you going to wake me up in the middle of the night with your stupid panic attacks? I’m exhausted—exhausted with you. Grow up already, like the rest of us!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But don’t leave!” Jisung’s voice cracked as he stumbled forward, trying to stop the man from leaving. He reached out desperately, his arms flailing, wanting to hold him back physically as if that could keep him from walking out the door.
The man shouted something else—angry, sharp words that Jisung’s panicked mind refused to process. Somewhere in the background, Jisung heard the faint growl of a dog — Bbama, scared by all the yelling, just like Jisung was. But he couldn’t stop; he kept running, legs tangling beneath him until he tripped and went sprawling to the ground. Pain shot up his back as he landed on a tennis ball.
The man turned, disgust etched into his features. He looked from Jisung to the tiny white fluffball now at his side. Bbama whimpered, nudging Jisung’s arm as if to comfort him.
“Would you look at that, Bbama,” the man sneered. “He destroyed your favourite toy. What a bad daddy he is to you.”
And then he was gone. Those were the last words Jisung heard from his first boyfriend.
Memories flooded Jisung, one bleeding into the next, each one surfacing before he could push the last back down.
“Is it far?” Jisung asked hesitantly, his voice shaky. He could sense what was coming, even if he couldn’t understand why.
“It’s just around the corner. Don’t worry—I wouldn’t make you walk halfway across the city.”
They stopped in front of a small bar called The Lamb. The warm glow of lights spilt through the windows, and tiny flags of different countries hung from the ceiling, decorating the space for the World Cup. It should’ve felt cheerful, but it didn’t. Jisung’s lips twitched into a sad smile—he and his boyfriend had planned to watch the game together later that evening. He wasn’t much into sports but loved watching it with him, teasing him, and laughing together.
They found a table near the window. Jisung’s hands trembled as he stared at the drink menu, unable to focus. He wanted this to be over, and yet, at the same time, he dreaded the moment it would be. He could feel the end creeping closer, and he knew he wouldn’t leave this bar the same person he was when he walked in.
“I’m sorry, Jisung,” Eunwoo said, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, careful—like he didn’t want to make it worse. “It’s not you, okay? Please don’t ever think it’s you.”
“Not me?” Jisung’s voice wavered, disbelieving. “Then what? How does this just happen?”
Eunwoo sighed, his gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But I can’t lie to you. The feelings just...aren’t there anymore. I respect you too much to string you along.”
“Overnight?” Jisung asked, a faint quiver in his tone. His chest tightened, his voice rising despite himself. “You lost your feelings for me overnight?”
“Well...” Eunwoo hesitated, avoiding his eyes. “It wasn’t overnight. It was more like...over the week.”
Jisung lifted his head, suddenly aware of how dark it had become. A single streetlight flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the park. The night air had grown colder, biting at his tear-stained cheeks. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.
“Why?” he whispered to the empty park, his voice cracking. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”
The silence that answered was deafening. Jisung's shoulders slumped, his sorrow threatening to crush him. He stared at his hands, pale and trembling in the dim light. How many times had he imagined those hands intertwined with someone’s? How many dreams had he built around a future that would never come?
A fresh wave of tears blurred his vision. Jisung didn't bother wiping them away. What was the point? No one was here to see his weakness or to judge his broken heart. In this forgotten corner of the city, he could let the pain consume him, if only for a little while.
The sound of distant laughter carried on the night air, a cruel reminder of the world beyond his misery. Jisung flinched, curling in on himself. How could anyone be happy when his world was crumbling around him? The unfairness of it all burned in his chest, a smouldering ember of resentment.
Jisung took a stumbling step forward, then another. He had no plan beyond putting one foot in front of the other. The gravel crunched beneath his feet, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet park. As he neared the gate, a chill ran down his spine. The world beyond seemed vast and uncaring, ready to swallow him whole.
He paused at the threshold, his hand resting on the cold iron. The choice loomed before him—step out into the night and face reality or retreat back into the sanctuary of shadows and sorrow. Jisung's breath caught in his throat, indecision paralysing him. The streetlight flickered once more, urging him to make a choice.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Chan was handing over information to Minho for the night shift when he spotted Felix approaching. His face was etched with unmistakable panic, and Chan's stomach clenched with worry.
“Chan,” Felix started, his voice tight. Then he noticed Minho and visibly struggled to compose himself. “Oh, it's nothing. Just work-related. I'll ask you on the way home?”
Chan frowned, unconvinced. “Sure,” he replied, sensing more to it than Felix was letting on.
Minho's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing as he looked directly at Felix. “What's wrong?” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Felix squirmed under Minho's intense stare. “Um, Minho, seriously, it's all good,” he attempted a smile, but it came out more like a grimace.
“Felix,” Minho's voice dropped lower, an edge of steel in his words. “I'm asking you for the last time. What's wrong?”
Felix's shoulders slumped in defeat. “It's Sung,” he admitted. “I don't know. I'm probably overreacting, but I can't reach him.”
“Maybe he's just asleep?” Chan suggested, trying to inject some rationality into the situation.
Felix shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. “That's what I thought, too, but I checked our door's camera. He hasn't come home yet.”
“His shift finished hours ago,” Minho said, his brow furrowing with concern.
Felix closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself. “Jisung, he's got a bit of a history…”
“What kind of history?” Minho's voice rose sharply, tension radiating from every line of his body.
“In the past, he was really depressed and—”
Minho's world narrowed to a pinpoint, the words 'history' and 'depressed' echoing in his mind like a siren. His heart began to race, panic clawing at his chest. “I need to go,” he blurted out, his eyes darting wildly. “I need to find him.”
“Minho, please, just calm down,” Chan pleaded, recognising the signs of Minho's impending meltdown.
“Calm down?!” Minho's shout reverberated through the hallway, drawing startled glances from nearby staff. “You're telling me to calm down?! Not you, Chan. You know what happened last time!”
Chan winced, the memory of that 'last time' hitting him like a physical blow. “Shit, Minho, I'm sorry, but you're no good panicked!”
But Minho was beyond reason, already striding towards the exit. “I'm going to look for him. I don't care,” he called over his shoulder.
A confused staff member approached, eyeing Minho's retreating form. “Dr. Lee, are you leaving? But your shift…”
Chan jumped in, his mind racing to find a solution. “It's okay, I'll ask the on-call team to send someone to cover the night shift. I'll cover in the meantime.” He turned to Felix, his expression a mix of worry and frustration. “Felix, please, don't let him out of your sight. Shit, I wish I could do more, but someone has to stay. I'm sorry.”
Felix nodded, his own fear momentarily overshadowed by concern for Minho. “We're gonna go look for him,” he assured Chan. “And I promise I'll keep an eye on Minho too.”
“I'm sorry, Lix.” Chan's voice was heavy with regret. He reached out, gently squeezing Felix's shoulder. “I hope you find him. Please keep me updated.”
Chan watched them leave before dialling the number of one person who could hopefully provide him with at least some more information — Changbin.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho and Felix had driven to every spot they could think of—places Jisung might have mentioned or spots he’d taken comfort in before. But so far, there was no sign of him. Each dead end only tightened the coil of anxiety in Minho’s chest. Felix could feel it, too, as the worry for Jisung overwhelmed him.
“We’re missing something,” Minho muttered, pulling the car over to the side of the road. He leaned forward, his head resting against the wheel. “Where would he go if he thought… if he thought no one cared?”
Felix hesitated, trying to piece together everything Jisung had said recently, every throwaway comment that might now hold more profound meaning. “An abandoned place,” he said finally. “He told me once abandoned places felt like… I don’t know, a reflection of how he feels sometimes.”
Minho didn’t wait any longer as he shifted the car into gear and sped towards the park.
They were nearly there when Felix spotted a familiar silhouette under a dim streetlamp. “There!” he shouted, his voice cracking.
Minho slammed on the brakes, and they both jumped out of the car. Jisung was wandering along the sidewalk, his shoulders slumped, his arms wrapped around himself as though trying to hold himself together.
“Jisung!” Minho’s voice was a mixture of relief and frustration. He jogged toward him, Felix right on his heels.
Jisung froze at the sound of his name and turned slowly, his eyes glassy and red-rimmed. He looked utterly lost, like a child who’d wandered too far from home.
Minho didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between them and pulled Jisung into a tight embrace, one hand cradling the back of his head. “What the hell were you thinking?” Minho’s voice cracked, and tears spilt freely down his face.
Felix reached them and placed a reassuring hand on Jisung’s back, his own tears threatening to fall. “Sungie, we were so worried about you,” he said softly.
Jisung flinched away from Minho’s arms. “Let me go,” he shouted, his voice trembling.
Minho’s eyes widened, but he immediately released him, his hands falling to his sides. Jisung stepped back, tears streaming down his face, his anger palpable.
“Why are you here? And why are you crying?” Jisung demanded, his voice breaking. His tone of mixed anger and hurt hit Minho like a blow.
“Sungie, we were looking for you,” Felix said softly, stepping forward. “We were desperate. Minho and I were losing our minds.”
“I’m sorry, Lixie,” Jisung turned to Felix with an apologetic look, his anger momentarily softening. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I didn’t know where to go. Then, when I decided to head home, I realised I’d left my bag. When I went back, it was gone.” His voice wavered as he avoided looking at Minho altogether.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Felix said, tears glistening as he gently reached out to place a reassuring hand on Jisung’s arm.
“You come to us, Jisung. You come to me. Always,” Minho said firmly, taking a step forward.
“To you?” Jisung turned on him, anger flaring again. “And why would you care?” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, a shield against the vulnerability threatening to overtake him.
“What do you mean? Where is this coming from, Sungie?” Minho’s voice was a mix of confusion and hurt.
“I know you’re seeing someone, Minho. Stop playing with me,” Jisung spat, his voice icy, though his tears betrayed him.
Felix gasped audibly, the accusation catching him off guard.
“What?” Minho’s expression twisted in shock. “Jisung, I don’t know where this is coming from. I’m not—I don’t… Jisung, I want to be with you,” he blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. It wasn’t how he’d planned to tell Jisung, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.
Jisung froze, his wide eyes locking onto Minho. “But the nurse… She said she’s going on a date with you,” he said helplessly, his voice a fragile whisper.
“What nurse?” Minho asked, his voice sharpening, a hint of anger slipping through.
“I… I don’t know her name, but—”
Felix’s phone suddenly rang, cutting through the tension. He fumbled to pull it from his pocket, quickly answering. “Yes, we found him. Everything’s okay, but…” Felix stopped abruptly, his brows furrowing as he listened. After a moment, he nodded. “Sure, thank you, Chan.”
He ended the call and turned to both of them. “That was Chan,” Felix said, his voice severe but steady. “Sungie, the nurse you’re talking about is Jangmi. And according to Chan—quote—‘she’s batshit crazy.’”
Minho groaned, running a hand down his face. “Oh my god, not Jangmi again.”
“Who is she?” Jisung asked, his confusion and hurt plain as he turned to Felix for an explanation.
“She’s… complicated,” Felix began. “Chan said she used to be obsessed with Minho. It was a whole thing a while back. She even told people they were dating and planning to get married.”
Jisung’s jaw dropped as Felix continued.
Minho sighed heavily. “I didn’t know what she was like at first,” he said, his tone apologetic as he stepped closer to Jisung. “She asked for help with an app we use at the hospital, so I helped her after work once—on hospital premises, nothing else. After that, she started following me around and freaking out at every female staff member I worked with. It was… intense. She got a disciplinary warning for it, and things settled down. Or at least I thought they did.”
Jisung blinked, processing everything, but his emotions were still raw. “So… you’re not seeing her?”
Minho’s expression softened, his voice breaking with sincerity. “No, Jisung. There’s no one else. There’s only you.”
Jisung’s sobs grew louder, his body shaking with each breath, and Minho didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him again. Jisung clung to him this time, his fingers clutching desperately at Minho’s jacket as though letting go wasn’t an option.
Minho tightened his embrace, whispering soft, soothing words into Jisung’s ear. “It’s okay, Sungie. I’ve got you. I’m here. Always.” He pressed a tender kiss to the top of Jisung’s head, his own tears mixing with the strands of Jisung’s hair.
Felix stood a few steps away, his chest heavy with a tangle of emotions he wasn’t sure how to untangle. Relief swirled through him like a wave—relief that Jisung was safe, that the air between him and Minho was clearing. But beneath that relief was something sharper, something harder to ignore.
It didn’t have to come to this. This entire ordeal could’ve been avoided if Jisung had just picked up the phone and asked Minho outright instead of jumping to conclusions. If they’d both just taken the time to talk and define their relationship, no one would have had to second-guess or feel this pain.
It all boiled down to one thing: honesty.
He thought about Chan. About the things he’d kept bottled up, the words left unsaid because it felt easier, safer. But watching Minho and Jisung now, Felix could see the cracks, silence left behind. He didn’t want that—not for them and not for himself.
He owed Chan the truth.
Because if there was one thing Felix was learning tonight, it was that holding back could cost you more than taking the risk ever would.
“Felix?” Jisung's voice pulled Felix from his thoughts. “Are you okay?”
Felix blinked, focusing on his friends. Jisung and Minho had pulled apart slightly, though their hands remained intertwined. Both were looking at him with concern.
“I…” Felix started, his voice catching. He swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “I think I need to talk to Chan.”
“I’ll take you to him,” Minho said. “Jisung will stay with me tonight,” he added simply.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
The headlights of Minho's car swept across Chan's driveway, illuminating the figure seated on the porch steps. Felix's heart skipped a beat as he recognised Chan's silhouette, his broad shoulders hunched against the night chill. As the car rolled to a stop, Felix felt a sudden urge to sink into the backseat and disappear.
Chan stood as they exited the vehicle, his eyes darting between them with relief and concern. “Jisung, Minho!” he called out, his voice hinting exhaustion.
Jisung shuffled forward, his posture reminiscent of a scolded child. “Hi, Chan,” he mumbled, barely audible over the whisper of wind through nearby trees.
Without warning, Chan enveloped Jisung in a bear hug. “Jisung, you had us all so worried,” Chan murmured, his words muffled against Jisung's hair.
Jisung's voice cracked as he responded, “I know, I'm sorry.”
Minho stepped forward, his hand coming to rest on the small of Jisung's back. “He's staying with me tonight,” he announced, his pose protective. Then, turning to Chan, his expression softened. “Thank you for sorting everything at work. I owe you one.”
To everyone’s surprise, Minho initiated a brief hug with Chan. The gesture spoke volumes about the night's emotional toll, even on the typically reserved Minho.
Chan's gaze finally landed on Felix, who felt pinned in place by those dark eyes. “Felix,” Chan said softly, his voice carrying a weight Felix couldn't quite decipher.
“Hi,” Felix managed, mustering a weak smile.
Minho cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Right, folks, we're gonna leave you to it,” he announced, gently guiding Jisung towards the car.
As they passed, Jisung leaned in close to Felix. “Be honest with each other, okay?” he whispered, giving Felix's arm a reassuring squeeze.
Felix nodded, his throat too tight to form words. He watched Minho and Jisung climb into the car, the engine's purr fading into the night as they drove away.
Suddenly, Felix was acutely aware of Chan's presence beside him. The chill of the night air seemed to intensify, seeping through Felix's jacket and raising goosebumps on his skin.
“Uh, it's cold,” Chan said, breaking the silence. His voice was gentle, tentative. “Do you want to come in?”
Felix's heart raced. Part of him wanted to run to avoid the conversation he knew was coming. But Jisung's words echoed in his mind, urging honesty. With a deep breath, Felix steeled himself and met Chan's gaze.
“Please,” he said.
As Chan led the way to the front door, Felix felt like he was stepping into uncharted territory. The soft click of the lock behind them seemed to seal their fate, leaving Felix with the overwhelming sense that nothing would be the same after tonight.
Chan handed Felix a steaming mug of hot chocolate before sinking onto the couch beside him. His own mug held a concoction that could barely be called sweet—raw cacao with only the faintest hint of sugar. Felix took one sip and made a face that said it all.
“I’m convinced this is the devil’s brew,” Felix grimaced, handing the mug back to Chan.
Chan chuckled, taking a long, satisfied sip of his drink. “It’s an acquired taste,” he said lightly as if that explained why anyone would willingly drink something so bitter.
They settled into the quiet, the room bathed in the warm glow of a lamp. Felix’s hands tightened around his mug as he stared down at it. He knew he needed to speak first, and Chan wasn’t rushing him. He was giving him space, letting the silence stretch in a way that felt safe rather than pressuring. Felix appreciated that, even if it didn’t make starting any easier.
“Chan,” Felix began softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m listening, Lix,” Chan said gently, his expression open and reassuring. “Whatever’s on your mind, it’s okay. If you’ve changed your mind about… us, our arrangement, that’s fine too. Really, I—”
“It’s not that,” Felix cut him off quickly. “I mean, it is about us, but it’s not that I want to stop seeing you.” His words tumbled out in a rush, and he shifted nervously, fingers fiddling with the handle of his mug.
Chan nodded, his calm encouraging Felix to keep going. “Okay,” he said simply, his tone steady.
Felix drew a deep breath as if trying to summon the courage to step onto shaky ground. “I’ve got history, Chan. Heavy history,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “And I know it’s a lot—probably more than you signed up for. I don’t expect to explain everything in one night, and I’m not even sure where to start.”
He glanced up briefly, meeting Chan’s gaze. “But there’s something I need to tell you. Something I need to be honest about.”
Chan leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. His voice was low but steady as he said, “Take your time, Felix. I’m here. Whatever it is, I want to hear it.”
Felix's throat tightened at Chan's words, a mix of fear and hope swirling in his chest. He took another deep breath, steeling himself.
“I was born into a cult of alphas,” he said, the words tumbling out faster now. “They... they saw omegas as nothing more than breeding stock and housekeepers. We weren't people to them, just... things to be used.”
Chan's eyes widened, but he remained silent, allowing Felix to continue.
“My father,” Felix's voice cracked, and he paused, swallowing hard. “He hated me from the moment I was born. An omega son was a disappointment, a failure. He wouldn't even look at me most days.”
Felix’s voice trembled as he recounted how his father had blamed his mother for giving birth to an omega and then refusing to see him as a son. He wasn’t allowed to play with the alpha children in the house, and though his mother mentioned other omega children were there, they weren’t permitted to interact. His world was small, lonely, and cold.
His hands shook, and he set the mug on the coffee table before he could spill it. Chan reached out, gently taking Felix's hands in his own. The warmth of his touch grounded Felix, giving him the strength to continue.
“My mother, she... she tried to protect me as much as she could. But there was only so much she could do.” Felix's eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them back. “She begged my father to let me go to school, to have some semblance of a normal life. I don't know what she had to do to convince him, but... he finally agreed.”
Felix's voice dropped even lower, and Chan had to lean in to hear him. “The day I started school was the last time I saw her. They told me she'd left, that she was never coming back. But I knew... I knew they'd done something to her.”
A sob escaped Felix's throat, and Chan pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him. Felix buried his face in Chan's chest, tears soaking into the alpha's shirt.
“Shh, it's okay,” Chan murmured, running his hand soothingly up and down Felix's back. “You're safe now. I've got you.”
Felix clung to Chan, drawing strength from his embrace. After a few moments, he pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes.
“Before she disappeared,” Felix continued, his voice hoarse, “she made me promise something. She made me swear I'd never be with an alpha. I think... I think she was trying to protect me, to keep me safe from ending up like her.”
Chan's heart ached at the pain in Felix's voice. He cupped Felix's face gently, thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to his lashes.
“Baby, I’m so, so sorry you went through all of that.” He held him tighter as if trying to shield him from the shadows of his past. “Thank you for trusting me with this. And I swear to you, Felix, I will never hurt you. Not like them. Not ever.”
Felix leaned into Chan's touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, a fierce determination burned in their depths.
“But I'm breaking the promise, Chan,” Felix said, his voice more robust now. “I'm breaking it because I can't deny how I feel about you anymore. This morning, when I said I just wanted a physical arrangement... I panicked. The thought of losing you was unbearable, and I thought that would be enough, but…”
Felix trailed off, his gaze dropping to where his hands were now intertwined with Chan's.
“But it's not,” Chan finished for him, a note of hope in his voice.
Felix shook his head. “No, it's not. I want more, Chan. I want... I want everything. With you.”
Chan's heart soared at Felix's words. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Felix's.
“I would've been okay with whatever you wanted, Felix,” Chan said. “But I'm so glad you feel this way because, honest to God, I've never wanted anything more than to be with you.”
Felix's breath hitched, and he tilted his head up, his lips mere inches from Chan's. “Chan,” Felix whispered. “I'm scared. What if—”
Chan silenced Felix's fears with a gentle kiss, his lips soft and reassuring against Felix's. His eyes were filled with fierce protectiveness and unwavering love when he pulled back.
“I know you're scared, Lix. And that's okay. We'll take this one step at a time, at your pace. I'm not going anywhere,” Chan promised, his thumb caressing Felix's cheek. “You're so brave for sharing this with me. Your past, your fears... they don't change how I feel about you. If anything, they make me admire your strength even more.”
Felix leaned into Chan's touch, a shaky breath escaping his lips. “You really mean that?” he asked, his voice small and vulnerable.
“With all my heart,” Chan replied without hesitation. “I want to be there for you, Felix. In whatever way you need me. As a friend, as a lover, as a partner... I'm yours, completely.”
A soft sob caught in Felix's throat, but this time, it was born from overwhelming relief and gratitude rather than pain. He surged forward, capturing Chan's lips in a searing kiss that poured every ounce of his love, hope, and trust into the connection. Chan met him with equal fervour, arms wrapping around Felix's waist and pulling him closer.
As much as Felix wanted to stay wrapped in this moment with Chan, he knew there was something else he needed to say. He knew it might be too much for one night, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. If he was going to do this—truly be with Chan—he needed to do it right this time. No secrets, no half-truths. He refused to let their relationship end up in flames like his first one had.
He met Chan's gaze, those kind eyes that had already accepted so much of his past. Would they still look at him the same way after what he was about to reveal?
“There’s something else,” he began, his voice laced with hesitation. “I’m sorry to pile all this on you, but I must tell you now. I can’t repeat my past mistakes.”
“Don’t apologise,” Chan said softly. “I’ll always listen.”
“You know, last time I told you about the omega I was dating,” Felix began, his voice shaky. “He was my first boyfriend.”
Chan nodded, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of Felix's hand.
“I loved him so much. And he loved me too,” Felix continued, his chest tightening at the memory. “But there was this dam between us— the dam I created by lying to him.”
Chan’s gaze remained warm, patient, and understanding. Felix wondered how long that kindness would last once he said the words.
“I was addicted to drugs,” Felix blurted out, the words sharp and raw.
Chan's eyes widened, but the affection in them didn't waver. Instead, worry creased his brow, and he leaned in closer as if trying to shield Felix from his own painful memories.
“It's kind of another long story for another time,” Felix rushed on, “but when I visited a relative in Australia, I stayed there for a few months. I made some friends, and they introduced me to…things. At first, I thought I could handle it. But it spiralled out of control faster than I ever expected.”
“How old were you?” Chan asked, his tone gentle but curious.
“Eighteen,” Felix answered. “When I came back to Korea to live and study with Jisung in Seoul, I lied to him about it. But he figured it out pretty quickly.” Felix paused, his throat tightening as old memories clawed to the surface.
“We fought. A lot,” he continued, the words heavy with guilt. “Around that time, I met my first boyfriend. We fell for each other hard and started dating.”
Felix's voice cracked, and he felt Chan's grip on his hand tighten. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, he felt hollow, like he was reliving the pain all over again.
“I promised Jisung I would get clean, and he promised he wouldn't tell my boyfriend about it. I was scared, Chan,” Felix admitted, a few tears finally escaping and rolling down his cheeks. “I was so scared he was going to leave.”
Felix looked up at Chan, searching his face for any sign of disgust or disappointment. But all he saw was compassion and a deep, unwavering care that made his heart ache.
“I understand,” Chan murmured, gently wiping Felix's tears with his thumb.
“For a while, I was clean,” Felix went on. “But then I relapsed. My boyfriend found out. And we didn’t even fight, Chan. He just…looked at me and said he couldn’t do it. I begged him to stay. I promised I’d get clean for real this time, but…”
Felix’s voice broke as tears slipped down his cheeks. “He said he believed I could do it but couldn’t watch me struggle. He told me he loved me, apologised, and left without a trace. Just like that.”
Felix wiped at his face, trying to hold himself together, but the pain of that memory still cut deep.
As the last words left his lips, Felix felt a weight lift from his shoulders, even as a new fear settled in his stomach. He'd laid himself bare, revealed the darkest parts of his past. Now, all he could do was wait for Chan's reaction, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Chan must be able to hear it.
Chan was silent momentarily, his gaze never leaving Felix's face. Felix held his breath, bracing himself for the inevitable rejection, the exact words he'd heard from his ex echoing in his mind.
Instead, Chan pulled him into a tight embrace, his strong arms wrapping around Felix like a protective shield. Felix froze for a second, surprised, before melting into the warmth of Chan's body, burying his face in the crook of his neck.
“I'm so proud of you, Felix,” Chan whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For getting clean, for being brave enough to share this with me. I’m repeating this: it doesn't change how I feel about you, not one bit.”
“You don't think I'm broken? Damaged goods?” he asked, his voice shaky.
Chan pulled back slightly, cupping Felix's face in his hands. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, but his gaze was steady and full of conviction. “Never,” he said firmly. “You're not broken, Felix. You're a survivor. You've been through so much, yet here you are, still standing and fighting. That takes incredible strength.”
“Thank you,” Felix whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “Thank you for seeing me, accepting me,… everything.”
Chan’s smile was soft as he rested his hand lightly on Felix’s knee. “You don’t have to thank me, Lix. I’m here because I want to be. Because you’re worth it.”
Felix leaned in and kissed him again, this time with a quiet certainty that melted away his fears. For the first time in ages, he felt a sense of peace settling over him.
“Stay with me tonight?” Chan asked gently, his hand squeezing Felix’s knee.
Felix nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’d like that,” he said softly.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jisung's body trembled, his teeth chattering as the cold seeped into his bones. Minho's heart clenched at the sight, worry and protectiveness surging through him. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, his fingers gently working to unzip Jisung's jacket.
“Let's get you warmed up,” Minho said. He carefully peeled the damp fabric from Jisung's shoulders, replacing it with a thick, fluffy blanket. The sudden warmth made Jisung shiver even more, his body adjusting to the temperature change.
Minho guided Jisung towards the bedroom, his hand on the small of Jisung's back. “Wait here,” he said, his eyes scanning Jisung's face with concern. “I'm gonna get a bathtub ready for you.”
As Minho turned to leave, a small whimper escaped Jisung's lips. The sound stopped Minho in his tracks, and he spun back around, his brow furrowed. “Don't you want a warm bath?”
Jisung's eyes were heavy-lidded, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. “I'm tired,” he mumbled. “I would prefer a quick shower instead.”
“Okay, yeah, sure,” Minho nodded, trying to hide the nervousness that suddenly gripped him. He paced the room, his mind racing. “I'll get you a towel and a fresh change of clothes. You can go take a shower now.”
As Minho turned to fetch the items, Jisung's voice, small and hesitant, stopped him. “Hyung?”
Minho looked back, his heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in Jisung's eyes. “Can you help me?” Jisung asked, his gaze pleading.
Minho's breath caught in his throat. “Help you take a shower?” he asked, sure he must have misunderstood.
“Y-yes,” Jisung confirmed, his cheeks flushing slightly. “It's just... things like that are sometimes hard for me, so…”
Minho froze, his mind suddenly blank. How exactly did Jisung imagine him helping? Should he get in the shower with him? Did he need to undress or keep his clothes on? Minho felt lost, caught off guard by something as simple as a shower. He, who prided himself on always knowing what to do, was suddenly at a loss.
“Sure,” he managed to say, hoping he'd figure things out as they went along. His heart raced as he approached Jisung, unsure of what to do next but determined to be there for him in whatever way he needed.
Jisung stood up slowly, the blanket slipping from his shoulders. His eyes met Minho's, and he swallowed hard, realising that this moment was about so much more than just a shower. It was about trust, vulnerability, and the growing connection between them.
“Let's start by getting you to the bathroom, okay?” Minho said softly, offering his hand to Jisung. As Jisung's cold fingers intertwined with his, Minho felt that surge of protectiveness again. He just wanted to make Jisung feel safe and cared for.
Minho led Jisung into the bathroom, their fingers still intertwined. He turned on the water, and the sound of it running echoed off the tiled walls. Minho turned to face Jisung, and with trembling hands, he reached out and began unbuttoning Jisung's shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly with each button. Jisung stood still, his breath hitching as Minho's knuckles brushed against his bare skin.
As the fabric slipped from Jisung's shoulders, Minho's eyes couldn't help but roam over the exposed expanse of smooth, honey skin. Jisung shivered, though whether from the chill air or Minho's intense gaze, neither could be sure. Minho swallowed hard, his hands moving to the waistband of Jisung's jeans. He paused, suddenly unsure.
“Is this okay?” Minho asked, his voice low and rough.
Jisung nodded, his eyes wide and trusting. “Yes,” he breathed, barely audible over the rush of water.
With a deep breath, Minho popped the button and slowly unzipped Jisung's jeans. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops, carefully tugging them down over Jisung's hips and thighs. Jisung stepped out of them, now clad only in his boxer briefs. Minho's heart raced, a blush creeping up his neck as he tried not to stare.
“Um, do you want me to...?” Minho gestured vaguely at Jisung's underwear, his face burning.
Jisung blinked, seeming to snap out of a daze. “Oh, uh, no, that's okay. I can do that part,” he mumbled, his own cheeks flushing pink.
Minho nodded, relieved and disappointed all at once. He quickly stripped off his own shirt, tossing it aside. Jisung's eyes widened, roaming over Minho's toned chest and abs. Under Jisung's scrutiny, Minho felt exposed and vulnerable. He fought the urge to cover himself; instead, he turned to adjust the temperature until steam began to fill the room.
He stepped under the warm spray, still in his underwear, and held out a hand to Jisung. “Come on,” he murmured, “let's get you warmed up.” Minho tried his best not to look at Jisung’s naked body. He held his head straight as if lowering it even the slightest bit to see Jisung exposed would make him burn on the spot.
Jisung took his hand, allowing Minho to guide him into the shower. The warm water cascaded over them, plastering Minho's hair to his forehead and running in rivulets down his back. Jisung tilted his face up into the spray, his eyes fluttering closed. Minho's breath caught at the sight, his heart swelling with a sudden rush of affection.
He reached for the shampoo, squeezing a dollop into his palm. Gently, he began massaging it into Jisung's hair, his fingers threading through the soft strands. Jisung hummed, leaning into Minho's touch.
As Minho worked the shampoo into a lather, his fingers gently scraped against Jisung's scalp, eliciting a soft moan from the younger man. The sound sent a shiver down Minho's spine, his heart rate picking up.
Jisung tilted his head back, exposing the long column of his throat. Water trickled down his neck, over his collarbones, and down his chest. Minho's eyes followed the droplet’s path, transfixed by how they glistened on Jisung's honey skin. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.
“Hyung,” Jisung murmured, his voice low and breathy. “Can you wash my back too?”
Minho's hands stilled in Jisung's hair. “Y-your back?” he stammered, his face heating up.
Jisung turned slightly, peeking at Minho over his shoulder. His eyes were wide and innocent, but something was in their depths. “Please?” he asked, batting his long lashes.
Minho's heart skipped a beat. He nodded mutely, not trusting his voice. With shaking hands, he reached for the body wash, squeezing a generous amount onto a washcloth. Jisung turned away from him, presenting his back.
Minho took a deep breath, steeling himself. He brought the washcloth to Jisung's skin, starting at his shoulders and working his way down. The smooth expanse of Jisung's back was mesmerising, the muscles rippling beneath Minho's touch. He traced the bumps of Jisung's spine, marvelling at the softness of his skin.
As Minho reached the small of Jisung's back, he let out a breathy sigh. The sound shot straight to Minho's core, heat pooling low in his belly. His hand faltered, the washcloth slipping from his grasp and landing on the shower floor with a wet plop.
“Oops,” Jisung giggled, glancing over his shoulder at Minho.
Minho flushed, scrambling to retrieve the washcloth. As he straightened up, he found himself face to face with Jisung, mere inches separating them. Water droplets clung to Jisung's long lashes, and his plump lips parted slightly. Minho's gaze was drawn to a single drop that trickled from Jisung's mouth, down his chin, and along his neck.
“Hyung,” Jisung whispered, his breath ghosting over Minho's face. “You missed a spot.”
Minho swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears, the falling water fading into the background. Slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, Minho leaned in, his nose brushing against Jisung's.
“Where did I miss?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
Jisung's hand came up, his fingers grazing Minho's jaw. “Right here,” he breathed, his thumb swiping over Minho's bottom lip.
Minho's eyes fluttered shut, a shudder running through him at the feather-light touch. His heart pounded in his chest, every nerve ending in his body alight with anticipation. He felt Jisung's breath on his lips, almost tasting his mouth's sweetness.
And then, Jisung's soft and pliant lips were on his. Minho's arms instinctively wrapped around Jisung's waist, pulling him flush against his body. Jisung gasped into the kiss, his fingers tangling in Minho's wet hair. Minho deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping into Jisung's mouth, tasting and exploring.
Jisung melted into him, a soft moan escaping his throat. The sound sent a jolt of desire straight to Minho's core. He walked Jisung backwards until his back hit the tiled wall, never breaking the kiss. His hands roamed over Jisung's slick skin, mapping out the planes and curves of his body.
Jisung's fingers dug into Minho's shoulders, his hips pushing forward, seeking friction. Minho groaned, low and guttural, as he felt Jisung's hardness press against his own. He tore his mouth away from Jisung's, trailing kisses along his jaw, down his neck. Jisung tilted his head back, giving Minho better access.
“Hyung,” Jisung panted, his voice wrecked. “I hated the idea of you touching someone else.”
Minho nipped at the juncture of Jisung's neck and shoulder, soothing the sting with his tongue. “Is that so?” he murmured against Jisung's skin.
Jisung whimpered, his hips bucking. “Touch me,” he pleaded, his eyes dark with want. “I need you.”
Minho's heart swelled at the words, a heady mix of love and lust coursing through his veins. He captured Jisung's lips in another searing kiss, his hand slipping between their bodies.
Jisung cried out, the sound swallowed by Minho's mouth, as Minho's hand wrapped around his aching length. Minho stroked him slowly, his touch light and teasing. Jisung whimpered into the kiss, his hips rocking into Minho's fist, seeking more. Minho swallowed every breathy moan, every needy whine, relishing the way Jisung came undone beneath his touch.
“Hyung, please,” Jisung panted, breaking the kiss. His eyes were glazed with desire, and his cheeks flushed a pretty pink. I need more.”
Minho grinned, teasingly running his fingers down Jisung's chest. “Is that what this was all about?” he asked. “You didn't actually need my help in the shower, you just wanted me to touch you.”
“G-guilty…” Jisung breathed out.
Minho leaned in again, picking up the pace and making Jisung whimper with need. “Next time,” he murmured against Jisung's lips, “just ask.” Then he pressed his lips back onto Jisung's, his tongue slipping inside and teasingly brushing against the roof of his mouth.
Jisung’s grip around Minho's neck tightened, his fingers digging into his skin as he thrust against Minho's hand. Minho matched his rhythm, their bodies moving together in perfect sync despite the water sloshing against them. Jisung's moans grew louder, more desperate, his breathing ragged.
Minho pulled away, breaking the kiss once again. “Baby, I need to see you,” he said roughly. “Wrap your legs around me.”
Jisung did as he was told without hesitation, locking his ankles behind Minho's back. Their cocks rubbed together through the thin barrier of Minho’s soaked boxers, sending electric shocks throughout their bodies.
Minho bit back a groan as he pressed Jisung flush against the cool tiles, the contrast of temperatures sending a shiver down his spine. With one hand still supporting Jisung's weight, he reached out and twisted the shower knob, silencing the cascade of water. The sudden quiet amplified their heavy breathing, the air filled with steam and desire.
“Hold on tight,” Minho murmured, his voice low and husky against Jisung's ear.
Jisung's legs tightened around Minho's waist in response, his arms looping securely around Minho's neck. The feeling of Jisung's bare skin against his own was intoxicating, and Minho had to take a steadying breath before stepping out of the shower.
Their wet bodies left a glistening trail across the bathroom floor and into the bedroom, but Minho couldn't care less. His focus was entirely on the man in his arms, the way Jisung's breath hitched with each step, and the delicious friction between their bodies.
Minho gently lowered Jisung onto the soft sheets as they reached the bed. Jisung's hair splayed out on the pillow, water droplets creating a halo around his head. Minho's breath caught in his throat at the sight—Jisung looked ethereal, his skin flushed and glistening, eyes dark with want.
Without breaking eye contact, Minho hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his soaked boxers. He peeled them off slowly, the wet fabric clinging to his skin. As he stepped out of them, his cock sprang free, hard and flushed, a bead of precum glistening at the tip.
Jisung's eyes roamed over Minho's body, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. His gaze locked on Minho's length, his hand reaching out as if to touch before hesitating. “Can I...?”
Minho's heart raced at the question, desire pooling low in his belly. He stepped closer to the bed, close enough for Jisung to reach out and touch if he wanted. “You can do whatever you want, baby,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving Jisung's face.
Jisung's hand trembled slightly as he reached out, his fingers ghosting along the length of Minho's cock. The feather-light touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through Minho's body, and he couldn't hold back the low moan that escaped his lips.
Encouraged by Minho's reaction, Jisung wrapped his hand around Minho's length, giving it an experimental stroke. Minho's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction.
“Fuck, Jisung,” Minho groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before snapping open again. He didn't want to miss a single second of Jisung touching him, wanting him.
“You're so beautiful, hyung,” Jisung whispered, his eyes roaming over Minho's body again with undisguised hunger. His hand continued its slow, teasing strokes along Minho's length, sending shivers of pleasure up his spine. “So hard... please tell me it's all for me.”
Minho's breath caught in his throat, his hips instinctively pushing forward into Jisung's touch. “Only you, baby,” he breathed out, his voice rough with desire. “I only want you.”
A wicked grin spread across Jisung's face, his eyes sparkling with mischief and lust. “Good,” he purred, licking his lips slowly. Minho watched, transfixed, as Jisung's pink tongue darted out, so close to the tip of his cock that he could almost feel its warmth. “Because you should be fucking me with that cock, not some bitch out there.”
The crude words, so unexpected from Jisung's usually sweet mouth, sent a jolt of arousal straight to Minho's core. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I-I would never,” he managed to stammer, his usual composure crumbling.
“Why would you,” Jisung whispered, his hot breath ghosting over Minho's sensitive skin. Without warning, he leaned forward and licked a long, slow stripe up the underside of Minho's cock. The sudden wet heat made Minho's knees weak, a low moan escaped his lips. “When you can have this.”
Before Minho could recover from the teasing lick, Jisung was moving again. He scooted back on the bed, his movements fluid and graceful despite his obvious arousal. Minho watched, entranced, as Jisung spread his legs wide, his thighs falling open in clear invitation.
The sight of Jisung laid out before him, all golden skin and eager eyes, made Minho's mouth water. He stepped forward, his body aching to be closer to Jisung's. As he positioned himself between Jisung's spread thighs, he couldn't help but run his hands along the smooth skin, marvelling at its softness.
“You have no idea how many times I've thought of you like this, baby,” Minho breathed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Jisung's inner thighs, inching closer to where Jisung wanted him most.
Jisung squirmed under Minho's touch, his breath coming in short pants. “Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes dark with desire. “I thought about you a lot too, hyung.”
Minho's heart raced at Jisung's words. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Jisung's ear. “Tell me everything,” he murmured. “What was in your fantasies?”
Jisung's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, a hint of shyness creeping into his expression. “The first night we talked,” he started, “I had a wet dream about you.”
Minho's breath caught in his throat, arousal coursing through his veins. “Oh?” he prompted, eager to hear more.
Jisung pressed his palms over his face, peeking out between his fingers. “You asked me to be a good boy for you,” he admitted, his voice muffled.
The words made Minho’s head spin. He gently pried Jisung's hands away from his face, wanting to see every flicker of emotion in those beautiful eyes. “Is that what you want, baby?” Minho asked, his voice teasing but tender. “To be a good boy for me?”
As he shifted, Minho felt something wet beneath his knee. Glancing down, he realised Jisung was gushing slick, his body responding eagerly to Minho's words. The sight made Minho's mouth water, his cock twitching with need.
“Would that... would that be okay?” Jisung asked, his voice small and uncertain.
Minho's heart swelled with affection. He leaned down, bracing himself on his forearms, bringing his face mere inches from Jisung's. He could see every detail now — how Jisung's pupils were blown wide with desire, the flush high on his cheekbones, the slight tremble of his plush lower lip.
“Good boys always get what they want,” Minho whispered, his lips barely brushing against Jisung's as he spoke. He felt Jisung's sharp intake of breath and saw the way his eyes fluttered at the proximity.
Slowly, deliberately, Minho closed the minuscule gap between them, capturing Jisung's lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Jisung responded immediately, his mouth opening under Minho's, inviting him in. Minho took the invitation, his tongue sliding against Jisung's in a sensual dance.
Minho's hand trailed down Jisung's body as they kissed, fingertips ghosting over the heated skin. He felt Jisung shiver beneath him, a soft whimper escaping into their kiss. When Minho's fingers finally reached Jisung's entrance, slick and ready, they both moaned at the contact.
“So wet for me already,” Minho breathed against Jisung's lips. “Such a good boy.”
Jisung's hips bucked up at the praise, seeking more of Minho's touch. “Please, hyung,” he whined, his eyes wide and pleading. “I need you.”
Minho's control was hanging by a thread, his muscles taut with the effort of holding back. Every fibre of his being screamed to claim Jisung, to bury himself deep inside that tempting heat. But he resisted, savouring the exquisite torture of anticipation, drinking in every detail of Jisung's flushed face and needy whimpers.
Jisung, however, seemed to have other ideas. His eyes, which moments ago had been clouded with lust, now sparkled with mischief. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, transforming his expression from desperate to downright devilish.
“You're into edging, aren't you, hyung?” Jisung purred. He arched his back, pressing his body against Minho's, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through both of them.
Minho's breath hitched, his composure cracking. “What makes you say that?” he managed to grit out, fighting to keep his hips still.
Jisung's smirk widened, his hands trailing teasingly down Minho's chest. “Oh, I don't know,” he drawled, feigning innocence. “Maybe it's the way you're trembling, trying so hard not to fuck me senseless.”
His fingers danced lower, ghosting over Minho's abs. “Or maybe,” Jisung continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it's because you're rock hard and leaking, but you still won't give me what I want.”
Minho growled, low in his throat. “And what is it you want, baby?” he asked, his voice rough with need.
Jisung's eyes locked with Minho's, challenge blazing in them. “I want you to stop being such a tease and fuck me already,” he demanded, rolling his hips up against Minho's. “Unless you can't handle it”
The taunt hit its mark. Minho's last shred of control snapped. In one fluid motion, he pinned Jisung's hands above his head, pressing their bodies flush together. “You asked for it, you little brat,” he growled, nipping at Jisung's earlobe. “Don't complain when you can't walk tomorrow.”
A gasp of pleasure quickly replaced Jisung's triumphant grin as Minho finally gave him what he'd been begging for.
Minho's hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt in Jisung's tight heat. Jisung cried out, his back arching off the bed as he was stretched and filled so suddenly, so completely. The feeling was overwhelming, exquisite pleasure tinged with just the right amount of pain. He expected Minho to thrust relentlessly, to pound him into the mattress. However, Minho's movements were deliberate and unhurried as he withdrew his cock slowly and took his time sliding it back in.
Jisung whimpered, clenching around Minho's length. “Move,” he panted, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Minho's sweat-slicked back. “Please, hyung, I need you to move.”
Minho chuckled darkly, his breath hot against Jisung's ear. “So impatient,” he murmured, nipping at the sensitive skin of Jisung's neck. “I thought you wanted me to stop teasing.”
Jisung groaned in frustration, his hips bucking up in a desperate attempt to increase the friction. “This is worse,” he whined, his voice high and needy. “You're barely moving at all!”
Minho's lips curved into a wicked smirk. “Oh, but I am moving,” he purred, punctuating his words with a slow, deep thrust that had Jisung seeing stars. “Just not the way you want me to. Not yet.”
He set a torturous pace, each languid roll of his hips designed to drive Jisung to the brink of madness. Jisung writhed beneath him, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Minho revelled in every sound he drew from Jisung's lips, every shudder wrapping his body.
“Hyung, please,” Jisung begged, his voice cracking with need. “I can't take it anymore. I need you to fuck me, really fuck me.”
Minho's control was slipping, his own desire coiling hot and heavy in his gut. The sight of Jisung spread out beneath him, wrecked and pleading, was almost too much to bear. With a low growl, he hiked Jisung's legs higher around his waist, changing the angle of his thrusts.
The first hard, deep stroke had Jisung crying out in ecstasy, his head thrown back against the pillows. Minho set a brutal pace, pounding into Jisung with all the pent-up desire he'd held back. The bed creaked and shook with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall.
Jisung met him thrust for thrust, his hips rolling up to take Minho even deeper. The room felt like it was spinning, the air thick as Jisung struggled to catch his breath. His gaze locked on Minho, utterly captivated by the sounds spilling from his lips. God, Minho was loud—and Jisung found it so unbearably hot. He loved that Minho didn’t hold back, letting go completely with him.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so good,” Minho groaned, his voice tight and strained. “All mine.”
Jisung could only moan in response, any words swallowed by the storm of sensation overtaking him. His hands scrabbled over Minho’s back, nails digging into the warm skin, desperate for something to anchor him as he teetered on the edge.
Minho shifted slightly, leaning onto one forearm while his other hand slid between their bodies. His fingers curled around Jisung’s throbbing length, stroking in rhythm with his movements. The added touch sent a sharp wave of pleasure coursing through Jisung, making him cry out, high and needy.
“Hyung, I’m close,” Jisung gasped, thighs trembling as he fought to hold back his release. “Please… knot me.”
Minho faltered, his pace stuttering. “Sungie, baby… we shouldn’t—”
“Fuck, hyung,” Jisung interrupted, voice shaky but resolute. “I promise we’re safe. Do you trust me?” His eyes searched Minho’s, his chest heaving with every shallow breath.
Minho’s movements stilled for just a heartbeat, his gaze searching Jisung’s face. The vulnerability in Jisung’s expression sent a jolt straight through him. He swallowed hard, his mind battling between reason and instinct.
“I trust you,” Minho finally breathed out. His words sent a wave of relief over Jisung, who nodded frantically, his lips parting as he let out a shaky exhale.
Jisung could feel Minho's knot swelling inside him, the pressure building until he thought he might float away on a wave of pleasure. With loud moans filling the room, he couldn't hold back any longer, so he spilt into Minho's hand while encouraging him to keep going. “Keep going, hyung,” he pleaded, “I want you to finish deep inside me.”
Minho was skilled at holding back his own release, but when it came to Jisung, he was weak. A few deep thrusts were all it took for him to lock them together and climax inside Jisung. He growled in pleasure as he felt Jisung squeeze around him from overstimulation. It was almost too much and not enough all at once.
As Jisung relaxed and took in Minho's knot, his eyes fluttered shut with a blissful smile on his lips. Minho carefully manoeuvred them onto their sides, mindful of where they were still connected. His hand came to rest on Jisung's lower belly, gently caressing the slight swell there.
Jisung's eyes fluttered open at the touch, confusion and wonder crossing his face.
“M-Minho…” he breathed, his gaze dropping to where Minho's hand rested.
“Yes, baby?” Minho smiled softly, knowing that look all too well.
“Is that…” Jisung trailed off, his cheeks flushing.
“Yeah,” Minho confirmed, his voice tender. “That's my knot inside you, baby.”
“Oh my god,” Jisung whispered, his eyes wide with awe. “It's perfect.”
Minho leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Jisung's forehead. “You're perfect,” he hummed against his skin.
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading, as always <3 Please let me know what you think now that some things are out of the bag!
Chapter 13: all of my time is yours
Notes:
Ahh, it's been a while! Sorry it took so long to update - I got sidetracked with Escape MV and decided I wanted to write a short fic...except that it turned out well over 30k. It will be posted very soon :)
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, let's go!
Chapter Text
Jeongin was sorting through his freshly washed laundry when a familiar scent hit him—a mix of cherry and chocolate, rich and sweet like a perfect black forest cake. He picked up the piece of clothing carrying the scent, holding it close to his face with a quiet sigh. The aroma lingered but was fading, stirring a subtle ache in his chest that he couldn’t quite place. With a small huff, he pushed the sorted pile further up the bed and flopped down, the cherry-chocolate-scented fabric still wrapped around his hand.
It had been three days since his rut had subsided, and he was starting to feel human again. He’d spent a whole week at Changbin’s house with Seungmin, though he would occasionally leave to visit Hyunjin. Once his rut was over, even Hyunjin came by to check on him. But Changbin had refused to let him go home immediately, insisting they make sure he was fully recovered and that his rut wouldn’t rebound—a rare but possible occurrence, apparently.
Now, it was his first day back home. He’d told his parents a string of carefully crafted lies about where he’d been, hoping they were gullible enough to believe him. Thankfully, they hadn’t asked many questions, so he figured he was off the hook—for now. Still, the thought of fully presenting as an alpha in a household of strict betas made his stomach twist. He’d asked Seungmin if betas could sense an alpha’s presence, and Seungmin had explained that while they couldn’t in a literal way, they could often tell through experience or behaviour. Jeongin had promised himself he’d sort it all out later.
For now, he closed his eyes, pulling the fabric closer to his face again. Changbin had washed all of his clothes for him during the week, even giving him the ones he’d borrowed while staying there. But somehow, before Changbin could gather the laundry he’d used during his rut, Jeongin had found himself holding onto a dark blue shirt scented with Changbin’s pheromones. He wasn’t even sure when—or why—he’d done it. All he knew was that he’d felt an odd, possessive pull toward anything carrying Changbin’s scent. He blamed it on the aftermath of his rut, brushing it off as nothing. No big deal. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
The memories came rushing back vividly. It felt like a lifetime ago, even though it had only been a few days. He remembered the moment he was pressed between Seungmin and Changbin’s bodies, Seungmin’s voice soft but firm as he urged him to let go. And then Changbin’s kiss—so intense Jeongin swore he forgot his own name. It wasn’t just once, either. It happened again and again.
At first, Jeongin felt embarrassed, heat creeping up his neck every time he thought about it. But the relentless pull of his rut wouldn’t let him hold back. He found himself asking for more, his desperation outweighing his shame. They still refused to touch him the way he wanted, the kind of release his body screamed for, but he clung to whatever comfort they were willing to offer.
When his rut finally passed, the embarrassment came back in full force. Facing Seungmin felt impossible, knowing he had a boyfriend and that the things Jeongin had begged him for had undoubtedly crossed a line. Hell, even the things that had happened were far from innocent. But Seungmin, ever calm and reassuring, told him it was okay—that he didn’t need to worry.
Jeongin wanted to believe him. He needed to believe him. Because if Seungmin was lying, if Jeongin had somehow ruined his relationship, he wasn’t sure he could ever forgive himself. The haze of his first-ever rut wasn’t enough of an excuse to justify something like that.
He couldn’t help but need both of them. It felt like he was caught in a trance, bound by some strange spell that held him together. If even one left, the spell would shatter, leaving Jeongin destroyed beyond repair. Changbin’s soft, careful touches were the perfect counterbalance to Seungmin’s rougher, more grounding ones, and together, they felt like everything he didn’t know he needed.
A soft knock on the door pulled Jeongin out of his thoughts. He quickly sat up, shoving Changbin’s top under his pillow. The door creaked open, and his dad stepped inside.
“Hello, son,” he said.
“Hi,” Jeongin replied, trying to read the strange expression on his father’s face. It was hard to tell if it was good or bad, but something about it made his chest tighten.
“Your mum wants to talk to you,” his dad said, a tight smile tugging at his lips. Yeah, not good. Jeongin decided that look was definitely not good.
“What’s this about?” he asked, hoping for some clue and silently praying it wasn’t about his recent absence from home.
His father sighed, moving closer to sit beside him on the bed. Taking Jeongin’s hand gently, he looked him in the eyes, his expression unreadable. Jeongin’s stomach churned. He didn’t like this one bit.
“You know I love you, right?” his dad began. But before Jeongin could answer, he continued, “And your mum loves you too. Her love… it’s just a little rough around the edges.”
“Dad, you’re kinda scaring me,” Jeongin admitted, his voice barely steady.
“You’re a smart kid,” his dad said softly, patting his head. “I don’t think I need to tell you what this is about, do I?”
Jeongin’s heart lodged in his throat as panic surged through him. His hands turned cold, and a sharp, uncomfortable tingling crept up his spine.
“How... how did you know?” Jeongin managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’ve known for a while,” his dad replied gently. The words made Jeongin’s throat tighten as tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.
Once again, he was reminded of how soft his dad could be when his mum wasn’t around. They were such different people, and Jeongin often struggled to understand how they managed to live together. His mum was rough and unyielding, always needing to have everything under her control. If things didn’t go her way, she’d make life miserable for everyone in the house.
His dad, on the other hand, was patient—too patient. Jeongin thought he must have loved her deeply, or else he couldn’t fathom why his dad always went along with her demands, always doing what she wanted without question.
“I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me,” his dad said softly. Tears rolled down Jeongin’s cheeks now, no longer held back.
“Would you be okay with that?” Jeongin asked, his voice trembling.
“Jeongin, I love you just the way you are,” his dad replied without hesitation.
“But mum won’t.”
His dad fell silent, and the weight of that silence made Jeongin feel like he was going to be sick. He wasn’t ready to face his mother—not yet, maybe not ever.
“She’s expecting you downstairs. Please come soon,” his dad said at last before quietly leaving the room.
Jeongin took a shaky breath, wiping the tears from his face. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to see him cry. No matter what happened, he would stand firm. He wouldn’t break. He looked at his palms, grounding himself by naming five things he could touch. With a deep breath, he got off the bed and headed downstairs, his feet padding softly against each step. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat, making it hard to swallow. But he wouldn’t let his mother see his nerves. Straightening his posture, he tried to appear as relaxed as possible.
In the kitchen, he went straight to the fridge and poured himself a glass of cold water. The chill helped steady him, if only slightly. With a glass in hand, he went to the living room, where both his parents sat waiting.
“Jeongin,” his mother greeted, her tone sharp and assessing.
“Hi,” he replied, forcing a wide smile—too wide. Tone it down, dammit, he scolded himself inwardly.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinised him.
“Not particularly, no,” he said, keeping his voice calm.
“Alright. We’ll do it your way then,” she said, her tone cold. Reaching behind her, she pulled out a small bottle and placed it on the table before him with a deliberate clink.
“What’s this?” Jeongin asked, narrowing his eyes at the bottle.
“Suppressants,” she answered, her expression unreadable.
“What for?”
“Stop it, Jeongin,” she snapped. “I know you’ve presented as an alpha. And I don’t care, as long as no one else finds out.”
“You’re not serious, are you?” he asked, his voice dropping in disbelief.
“What else do you want to do?!” she shot back, suddenly on her feet, her face contorted with anger. “No one in this family will accept you like this! Your life will be ruined! I just want what’s best for you!”
“Best for me?!” Jeongin yelled, rising to his feet as well. “Pretending to be someone else? That’s your idea of a good life?”
Their voices clashed, both of them shouting now. The room vibrated with tension as Jeongin’s dad tried to step in, his voice a plea for calm. But neither of them was listening.
“Do you want to be like them? Those filthy alphas and omegas? Look at their lives—they’re miserable,” his mum said, her tone sharp as if she were reasoning with a child.
“I am one of them,” Jeongin spat back, defiantly cold. “Whether you like it or not. No amount of suppressants is going to change that.”
“But you can control it,” she pressed, her voice lowering but still firm. “Don’t let it take over. You’ll be fine if you keep it in check.”
Jeongin crossed his arms, anger boiling beneath the surface, but curiosity tugged at him. “How did you even know I’ve presented?” he asked, his tone edging with frustration but also genuine interest.
“That bastard who brought you home—you scented each other right in front of our house,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.
“His name is Changbin,” Jeongin replied coldly, tone cutting like steel. The words barely masked the protective fire inside him, daring her to say anything more.
“I don’t care what his name is,” his mother chuckled bitterly, though the sound was less confident now. “Is he your toy? Your little plaything? Fine, keep him—just make sure you keep it under wraps. Nobody needs to know you’ve—”
“Enough.”
The single word silenced her mid-sentence. Jeongin stood taller, his shoulders squared and jaw tight, his dark, piercing eyes locked onto hers. Slowly, he stepped forward, his presence almost suffocating as the tension in the room thickened.
“Do not talk about him like that,” Jeongin said, calm but seething, every word weighted with restrained fury. His stance widened, radiating a quiet but undeniable dominance. His mother’s defiance faltered briefly, her eyes flickering with something akin to fear.
“Stop this, both of you,” Jeongin’s father interjected, his voice soft yet pleading. He stepped forward cautiously, his gaze darting between the two like a man desperate to calm a brewing storm. “There’s no need for this to escalate. Let’s—”
“Stay out of it,” his mother snapped, her tone sharp as a whip. She turned her glare onto her husband, her dominance in their relationship bleeding through with cruel precision. “You’ve done enough by turning a blind eye to this mess.”
Jeongin’s father opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, retreating a step. His shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him as he looked down, defeated.
Jeongin’s fists clenched at his sides. He wasn’t just angry anymore, he was livid. Seeing his father silenced so easily, treated as though his opinion didn’t matter, only made Jeongin’s protective instincts flare brighter.
“You should be ashamed,” Jeongin growled softly, his words directed at her now, his voice low and deadly. “Not because of me. Not because I’m an alpha. But because this is how you treat the people who care about you.”
His mother’s lips tightened, her composure wavering under the sheer force of his gaze. But she didn’t speak, and for the first time, the room was filled with silence she couldn’t control.
The silence didn’t last long, though. His mother straightened herself, her earlier unease replaced with icy resolve. She reached for the bottle of suppressants again, gripping it tightly and waving it before Jeongin’s eyes.
“This is how it’s going to be,” she said, her voice cold and final. “You’ll take the suppressants and we’ll never speak of this again. Or…” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “You’re out of this house and out of our lives.”
Jeongin froze, her ultimatum ringing in his ears. He stared at her, searching her face for any sign that she didn’t mean it, but all he saw was hardened conviction.
“You’re joking,” he said quietly.
“I’m not,” she replied, crossing her arms. “You have until tonight to decide.”
Jeongin’s gaze shifted to his father, silently pleading for him to say something, anything, to intervene. But his father just sat there, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He didn’t meet Jeongin’s eyes, didn’t even attempt to speak. The man who had always been Jeongin’s quiet source of comfort now looked so small, so afraid.
“Seriously, dad?” Jeongin’s voice cracked as he stared at him. “I thought you said you loved me. Thanks for doing nothing.”
His father flinched, but still, he said nothing.
Jeongin let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “Fine, I’ll leave.”
His mother’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise with a curt nod. “That’s your choice.”
Jeongin turned on his heel, heading for the stairs. He didn’t say another word, didn’t look back. As he climbed, his hands trembled—not from fear but from the sheer weight of everything he was about to leave behind.
In his room, he grabbed a bag and began stuffing it with clothes, essentials, anything he could think of. His chest felt tight, his breath shallow, but he refused to let himself cry. Not here. Not now.
As he zipped up his bag, he glanced around his room one last time. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Maybe it never had.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jeongin kept showing up to work tired and distracted, and he knew Changbin was starting to notice. He’d brushed it off, claiming it was just his first week and the workload was a little overwhelming. But Changbin wasn’t buying it, and his attempts to pry only made Jeongin more determined to keep his distance.
Jeongin withdrew all the money from his savings account the day he left home, knowing his mother would try to block his card. It wasn’t much—just enough to cover a couple of weeks in a cheap hostel and maybe some food if he was lucky. He needed his paycheck now more than ever. But that was still two weeks away, and even then, he’d only be paid for the days he’d worked. After that, it would be back to square one, just waiting for payday again.
This constant stress was eating at him, making it harder to focus and giving him sleepless nights. The pressure was building, and it was starting to show at work. He struggled to needle a particularly difficult patient, missing the mark repeatedly as frustration set in.
“Jeongin, take a break,” Seungmin said, walking up to him with a soft smile.
“I’m sorry,” Jeongin mumbled, stepping away from the patient.
Seungmin quickly put on his gloves and stepped in to take over the task. “There are some cakes in the staff room,” he added, his voice gentle.
Jeongin nodded, his stomach grumbling at the thought of food. He wasn’t in the mood for cakes but was hungry, so he figured he’d grab something anyway.
As he left the unit, he heard someone calling his name.
“Jeongin.”
It was Changbin.
Jeongin groaned, knowing Changbin would probably try to get more out of him now that he was messing up at work. He turned on his heels, realising Changbin was standing right before him. He instinctively stepped back, a strange feeling swirling in his chest.
“Hi,” he managed to squeeze out.
“Come with me to my office,” Changbin said gently, his hand lightly gripping Jeongin’s elbow.
Jeongin settled into one of the chairs, and it was quiet between them for a moment.
“Innie, what’s going on?” Changbin asked, worry clouding his expression.
The warmth of the nickname spread through Jeongin’s chest, a pang of something familiar and comforting. The last time Changbin used it, they were in his bed, with significantly fewer clothes.
“Nothing, I’m just a little tired. I’m sorry I promise I’ll get better,” Jeongin forced a wide, fake smile, but Changbin saw right through it.
“Can you promise me one thing?” Changbin asked, his voice soft but serious.
“What is it?”
“Promise me you’ll always tell me if something’s wrong. Don’t ever lie to me.”
“I promise,” Jeongin said quickly, knowing full well he was lying. But what else could he do? He didn’t want to burden Changbin, especially not when he had already done so much for him. Changbin was too kind, and Jeongin wasn’t about to take advantage of that.
“Why don’t you go home early today?” Changbin suggested. “You only have an hour of your shift left.”
Jeongin felt a wave of unease wash over him. The thought of going back to the grimy hostel made his stomach twist. He usually kept himself busy, wandering the streets or window shopping to avoid being there too long.
Changbin noticed the shift in Jeongin’s expression and looked puzzled. “If you want, I can take you home,” he offered gently.
“No, it’s okay!” Jeongin protested quickly, panic flashing in his eyes.
“I’m taking you home,” Changbin said firmly, clearly not buying Jeongin’s resistance.
Changbin left no room for argument, urging Jeongin to quickly gather his things before steering him toward the car park. Jeongin knew he needed to stop Changbin from driving to his parent’s house, but his chest tightened whenever he tried to find the words.
He couldn’t say it as they settled into the car.
He couldn’t say it when Changbin started driving, his anxiety rising with every passing second.
He couldn’t say it when Changbin took the ‘wrong’ turn, his palms growing sweaty against his knees.
But when Changbin was about to take the final turn towards Jeongin’s parent's house, panic erupted out of him like a dam breaking.
“Stop!” Jeongin shouted, his voice sharper than he intended.
“What’s wrong?” Changbin asked, startled, his hands tightening on the wheel as he instinctively slowed the car.
“Please, stop. Don’t…don’t drive there,” Jeongin stammered, shaky and desperate.
Changbin glanced at him, his brows furrowing at the sheer panic on Jeongin’s face. He quickly scanned his surroundings and pulled into a small parking space in front of a convenience store. With the engine off, the silence in the car felt suffocating.
Changbin turned to face Jeongin, concern etched into every line of his face. “What’s going on, Innie? Talk to me.”
Jeongin stared down at his lap, his hands trembling. “I... I can’t go back there. I don’t live there anymore.”
Changbin’s confusion deepened, but he kept his voice calm and steady. “Okay. Then where are you living?”
Jeongin hesitated, biting his lip as his shame clawed at him. “Nowhere, really. Just... a hostel,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Why are you living in a hostel?” Changbin asked, utterly confused. His brows knitted tightly, and then realisation struck him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widened as the pieces clicked together. “Did your parents find out?”
Jeongin nodded silently.
“And they threw you out?! Who does that to their child?” Changbin’s voice was sharp with disbelief and fury.
Jeongin stayed silent, letting Changbin mutter angry curses under his breath, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled as he tried to rein in his temper.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Changbin asked after a moment, his voice softer but a little hurt. “Do you not trust me?”
Jeongin’s chest ached at the pain in Changbin’s eyes, but he looked away, unable to face him directly. “My mum wanted me to take suppressants and pretend everything was fine. I didn’t want that.”
“Who would want that?” Changbin exclaimed, his frustration spilling over again.
Jeongin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “My dad knew for a long time, apparently. But my mum only found out because…” He hesitated, his voice dropping to a bitter murmur. “She saw us scenting each other when you took me home last time.”
Changbin’s eyes widened again, guilt flashing across his face. “Innie… I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful—I should’ve known they could see us.”
“Stop,” Jeongin said firmly, his tone cold and detached. “It’s no one’s fault. If they can’t accept me for who I am, then I don’t need them.”
His words were sharp, but Changbin could hear the faint tremor in his voice, the way he clenched his fists in his lap as if trying to hold himself together.
“You’re staying at my house,” Changbin said firmly. His eyes met Jeongin’s, daring him to even try protesting. “Where is this hostel? We’re picking up your things.”
Jeongin hesitated but eventually nodded as he gave him an address.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“What would you like to have for dinner?” Changbin’s voice was soft as he stepped into the room.
He had left Jeongin alone earlier to settle into the guest room, figuring he might need some space to process everything. Standing at the door, he studied the younger man with quiet concern.
“I don’t mind anything,” Jeongin replied, offering him a small, tired smile.
Changbin lingered for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze softened as he watched Jeongin perched on the edge of the bed, looking far too small for someone carrying such heavy burdens.
“You’re not a picky eater, huh?” Changbin teased gently, trying to lighten the mood, though his heart ached at the sight of Jeongin’s exhaustion.
Jeongin chuckled softly, the sound fleeting but genuine. “Not really.”
“I’m gonna go with pasta then. It’ll be ready soon. You just…rest, alright?”
As Changbin turned to leave, Jeongin’s voice stopped him.
“Hyung?”
“Yeah?”
Jeongin hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Thanks for everything.”
Changbin’s heart clenched, but he only nodded. “Anytime, Innie. Anytime.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin cuddled up with Hyunjin on their cosy sofa, his arm lazily draped over Hyunjin’s waist. The faint glow of the television flickered across their faces as Hyunjin hummed softly in contentment, nuzzling closer.
Then Seungmin’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He furrowed his brows, seeing Changbin’s name on the screen. His first thought was work, and he hoped nothing serious had happened.
“Hey, Bin,” he greeted, his tone cautious as he picked up.
The conversation started, but Seungmin’s expression quickly shifted to one of confusion, his lips slightly parted as he tried to process what he was hearing.
Hyunjin, noticing the change, tilted his head to look up at him. “Is everything okay?” he mouthed silently, his eyes concerned.
Seungmin briefly nodded and touched Hyunjin’s hair, gently rubbing his scalp to reassure him. Hyunjin relaxed momentarily, melting into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed.
But then Seungmin spoke again. “That’s… terrible. But I’m glad he’s staying with you.”
The words were enough to snap Hyunjin out of his daze. No amount of head rubs could distract him now. He needed to know what was going on.
Seungmin ended the call quickly, saying, “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” and placing his phone on the table.
Hyunjin shot up from his position, his patience already worn thin. “What was that about?” he demanded.
Seungmin sighed, his hand falling from Hyunjin’s hair as he braced himself. “That was Changbin. Jeongin’s parents kicked him out.”
Hyunjin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “They what?”
“Yeah,” Seungmin said with frustration. “They found out he’s presented as an alpha. His mum lost it. But he’s staying with Changbin now, so at least he’s safe.”
Hyunjin sat back against the sofa, his expression a mix of shock and anger. “How could they do that to him? What kind of parents—” He cut himself off, his hands balling into fists.
Seungmin placed a calming hand on Hyunjin’s knee. “I know. It’s awful. But we can’t do much except be there for him if he needs us.”
Hyunjin huffed, crossing his arms as he stared at the wall, his jaw clenched. “Still. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“He doesn’t,” Seungmin agreed quietly, squeezing Hyunjin’s knee.
Hyunjin and Seungmin were okay. After Seungmin returned home, having been away for almost a week, things felt normal again. They talked that first evening, sitting close on the sofa without barriers. Seungmin had been completely honest about everything—what happened, how it happened, and how he felt.
Hyunjin hadn’t seemed angry. In fact, he had teased Seungmin, his lips quirking into a familiar smirk as he brought up the frantic call Seungmin made to him right after helping Jeongin out for the first time.
Seungmin had expected Hyunjin to be upset, but instead, Hyunjin had shrugged it off with a playful roll of his eyes, reminding Seungmin he was the one who’d told him to go with them in the first place. “Monogamy sucks anyway,” he’d added casually with a chuckle.
The teasing lilt in his voice made Seungmin laugh, though the comment left him slightly confused. He decided to brush it off, not wanting to ruin the lightheartedness of the moment. Instead, he focused on the relief flooding his chest. Hyunjin didn’t seem upset, and that was enough.
But in the days that followed, Seungmin couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling of guilt that crept in during quiet moments. It wasn’t that Hyunjin had given him any reason to feel that way. If anything, Hyunjin had made it clear he was unbothered. But Seungmin still found himself dwelling on the situation, replaying it in his mind, wondering if there was more they needed to discuss.
He’d sometimes catch himself staring at Hyunjin, trying to gauge if something unsaid lingered between them. But Hyunjin always seemed so relaxed, so himself, that it made Seungmin question if he was overthinking everything.
Still, the unease persisted, and Seungmin couldn’t help but think: Shouldn’t we have talked more about this? The thought lingered like a stubborn cloud, and though he wanted to bring it up again, he had no idea how to start the conversation.
“Minnie, I can hear you thinking too hard,” Hyunjin laughed, his voice light and teasing.
Seungmin looked at him, his expression guarded, but his silence spoke volumes. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind, weighing his words carefully.
“Min,” Hyunjin’s tone shifted, the laughter fading. “Is something bothering you? Are you still worried about—?”
“Yes, Hyunjin, I’m fucking worried!” Seungmin snapped, his frustration bubbling over before he could stop it. The sharpness in his voice immediately made him regret it, guilt settling in as Hyunjin furrowed his brows.
“Why?” Hyunjin finally asked after a long silence, genuine confusion etched on his face.
“Because,” Seungmin muttered, his voice quieter now. “How are you so chill about me fucking other people?”
“You said you didn’t fuck,” Hyunjin replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever.
“What? We didn’t! But that’s not the point. Wait—would that have changed anything?”
Hyunjin shook his head, utterly unbothered. “Nope.”
Seungmin blinked at him, stunned. “How?”
Hyunjin sighed softly, leaning back as though his answer should be obvious. “Minnie, I told you—monogamy is overrated. I meant it. We have so much love to give as people. Why would we limit that to just one person when there are so many we care about?”
“Jinnie, do you really think it’s possible to love more than one person? Like… is this normal?” Seungmin was hesitant, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
Hyunjin tilted his head, a faint smirk curling his lips. “What’s normal?” he quipped lightly. “Normal is just another form of crazy.”
Seungmin hummed softly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, but his brows remained furrowed in thought. Hyunjin’s expression softened, sensing the weight of Seungmin’s unease.
“Do you like Jeongin and Changbin?” Hyunjin asked calmly and his gaze was filled with a quiet reassurance. It was as if he was silently encouraging Seungmin to speak freely, to let go of any shame or hesitation.
“I don’t know,” Seungmin admitted, running a hand through his hair, the motion restless. “I certainly didn’t dislike our time together—not just because of, you know, what happened. It was just… comforting to be around them. To talk and laugh and not feel so heavy, I guess.” He paused, his words stumbling slightly. “But it’s not like I don’t enjoy our time or don’t feel comfort—”
“Minnie, I know,” Hyunjin interrupted gently, his smile warm and knowing. “It’s okay.”
“What does that mean for us?” Seungmin asked hesitantly. He knew it was now or never, if he didn’t voice his thoughts now, they’d eat away at him.
Hyunjin’s gaze was steady, a calm anchor in the chaos of Seungmin’s mind. “Mainly,” he said with a small smile, “a lot of communication.”
Seungmin groaned, leaning back onto the couch as if it might swallow him whole. “It’s all too much,” he muttered.
Hyunjin shifted closer. “Why don’t you give it some time? Let it develop naturally, whatever it is. Get to know them, see how you feel and you’ll learn how they feel too, which is just as important.”
He reached out, gently touching Seungmin’s knee, grounding him. “And I’ll be right here by your side, whatever you decide to do.”
The warmth in Hyunjin’s words settled over Seungmin like a blanket, and though his worries didn’t vanish, they felt just a little lighter.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
It had been a few weeks since Jeongin moved in with Changbin, and they had naturally settled into a rhythm together. Changbin took charge of most of the cooking, while Jeongin kept the house tidy and organised, his attention to detail making everything feel a little more homely. One day, he even suggested sprucing up the balconies with flowers once spring arrived.
“I think petunias and impatiens would look great,” Jeongin said with growing excitement. “Oh, and hyung! Hydrangeas and cosmos would look so cute in the garden!”
Changbin couldn’t stop smiling, a little too fondly, so he quickly forced himself to look more neutral. Jeongin’s excitement hinted that he was thinking ahead—well into spring. It made Changbin feel warm inside, knowing Jeongin saw himself staying for that long. It was only October, after all.
“We can do that if you want,” Changbin said casually. “Though I don’t know a thing about flowers.”
“Me neither,” Jeongin admitted, his enthusiasm dipping slightly as he looked down at his feet. But then, just as quickly, his face lit up again. “But I’ll learn! I promise I’ll figure it out before spring so we can plant the prettiest flowers!”
His bright smile was infectious, and Changbin couldn’t help but smile back. Seeing Jeongin’s excitement and comfort in this shared space was more than Changbin could have hoped for after everything Jeongin had been through.
Still, Changbin didn’t let himself dwell on the fondness bubbling up inside him. He reminded himself of their seven-year age gap and their shared status as alphas. He knew nothing could come of it, even if he felt something more for Jeongin. Jeongin would eventually find someone who fit into his life perfectly—a kind omega his age who could give him the happiness he deserved.
Until then, Changbin decided he would do his part to make sure Jeongin was safe and comfortable, no matter how complicated his own feelings might be.
One chilly evening, as autumn started to deepen, Jeongin came home from a trip to the convenience store with a small bundle of flowers wrapped in brown paper. They weren’t anything special, just a mix of marigolds and chrysanthemums, but Jeongin’s face was glowing as he held them out.
“I thought they’d brighten up the kitchen,” he said, his cheeks pink from the cold.
Changbin took them, his fingers brushing Jeongin’s briefly, and he felt his heart stumble in his chest. “They’re nice,” he said gruffly, placing them in a vase he dug out from the back of a cabinet. He cleared his throat. “Good choice.”
Jeongin beamed at the praise, and they spent the rest of the evening in the cosy warmth of their little home, the new flowers adding a small burst of colour to the kitchen counter.
Despite how settled they seemed, Changbin could sense unvoiced thoughts that seemed to linger just out of reach. Jeongin didn’t talk about his family, and Changbin didn’t push. But sometimes, late at night, when the house was quiet, he’d hear the faint sound of Jeongin shifting in his bed or softly sighing, and he knew the younger man was still carrying that hurt close to his chest.
Changbin found himself wishing he could do more for Jeongin. One evening, an idea struck him—a small gesture that might help Jeongin find some clarity and peace. Next week, Changbin was planning to visit his parents, who lived just outside the city. Their home wasn’t exactly in the countryside, but it had the tranquillity that only came with open skies, fresh air, and the soothing hum of wildlife. The atmosphere was calm, worlds away from the relentless buzz of the city. Changbin thought that taking Jeongin along might give him a chance to breathe and process his feelings in a space untainted by the chaos of their daily lives.
It wasn’t a grand gesture, but that was the point. It felt natural, an excuse to escape the city without making Jeongin feel like he was being coddled. Changbin smiled to himself, already imagining how Jeongin’s face might light up at the sight of the sprawling garden or when he heard the birdsong in the morning. Yes, it was a good plan, a way to show Jeongin he didn’t have to carry everything on his own.
Jeongin's face lit up like an excited child when Changbin mentioned the trip, especially when he added that they could visit the nearby rice fields. He nodded eagerly, his enthusiasm spilling over as he started rattling off questions about the area and what they could do there.
“Hyung, do you think we can take pictures there? Like, good ones? I’ve always wanted to see rice fields up close,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
Changbin chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Of course, we can. I’ll even be a photographer if you want. You’ve got to make the most of it, right?”
Jeongin grinned. “You’re serious? Can we go early in the morning? I bet it looks amazing when the sun rises!”
Changbin raised an eyebrow, amused. “You hate waking up early. What makes you think you’ll survive a sunrise outing?”
Jeongin waved his hand dismissively. “This is different! It’s an adventure. Besides, I can handle it. You’ll see, I’ll be up before you!”
“Sure, we’ll see about that,” Changbin teased. “But yeah, we can plan for the morning. And we can stop by a market on the way back if you want to pick up fresh produce or snacks.”
Jeongin’s excitement took another leap. “Snacks? Hyung, this is shaping up to be the best trip ever.”
Changbin smiled, feeling the warmth spread through him as he watched Jeongin’s animated expressions. He loved seeing him like this, free of the heaviness that often lingered in his gaze. “I’m glad you’re looking forward to it. My parents are going to love you, by the way.”
Jeongin tilted his head curiously. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Changbin said confidently. “They’re always happy to meet good people. And you…” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “You’re someone worth knowing.”
Jeongin blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Changbin’s voice. He looked away for a moment, his cheeks tinting pink. “Thanks, hyung. That means a lot.”
Changbin nodded, brushing it off lightly. “It’s true. Anyway, make sure you pack something comfortable. It’ll be a bit cooler out there, especially in the mornings.”
“Got it!” Jeongin said enthusiastically, already mentally planning what to bring. “Hyung, I’m seriously going to beat you out of bed that morning. Just wait!”
Changbin laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. But don’t blame me if I have to drag you out the door.”
“Never gonna happen,” Jeongin said with a mock-serious tone, his grin betraying him.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
The day before the trip, Jeongin couldn’t hide his excitement, a wide grin plastered on his face all through work. He tried to act casual, but it was impossible.
“You’re in a good mood today, Innie,” Seungmin observed, sitting down next to him. “I haven’t seen you this cheerful in ages.”
Jeongin couldn’t help but beam. “I’m going with Changbin-hyung to visit his parents for the weekend! We’re going to see rice fields and take pictures!” He practically buzzed with excitement, his words tumbling out without waiting for Seungmin to ask. He couldn’t contain his eagerness, and honestly, he was relieved to share this with someone finally. Most of his old friends had distanced themselves, probably thanks to the mess his parents had made of things. It hurt, but he didn’t want to dwell on it right now. He was just grateful to have Seungmin to talk to. He hadn’t seen him for most of the week, and if he was being honest, he missed him.
Seungmin smiled warmly at him, but there was something in his eyes, a flicker of something he quickly masked. “That sounds amazing,” he said, and for a brief moment, something sharp tugged at his chest. He promptly ignored it, pushing it away, not wanting to think about it.
“I wish you could come too,” Jeongin added, noticing the faint sadness that passed over Seungmin’s face, though it disappeared just as quickly.
Seungmin chuckled, a little forced. “Someone’s gotta work,” he joked, though the words didn’t feel light.
Jeongin blinked, still caught up in his own excitement. “Yeah, but maybe one day we can all go together, you know? He said, half-laughing, half-hopeful.
Seungmin nodded, his smile a little too tight. “Yeah, that would be nice.” He paused, looking at Jeongin for a moment, and the silence that followed felt heavier than usual. Something about Jeongin’s excitement seemed to stir up something Seungmin hadn’t expected to feel.
Jeongin, oblivious to the shift, leaned in closer. “I’ll take lots of pictures for you! Maybe bring something back, too.”
Seungmin’s smile softened, though his heart wasn’t in it. “Sounds good. You deserve it, Innie. Go enjoy yourself.”
The rest of the day passed, but that brief moment between them lingered in Seungmin’s mind. As they wrapped up their shifts and headed home, Jeongin remained as excited as ever, unaware of the quiet ache growing in Seungmin’s chest.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Changbin raised an eyebrow as he opened the door to the driver’s seat. “How are you already in the car before the driver?” he said playfully.
Jeongin looked up from the passenger seat, a grin on his face. “The driver was taking his time,” he said with a shrug.
Changbin chuckled, then leaned in and gently wrapped a soft blue scarf around Jeongin’s neck. “You forgot this,” he said, tying the scarf loosely and giving Jeongin a quick wink.
Jeongin smiled, touched by the small gesture. “Thanks,” he replied, relaxing into the seat. “You really do look out for me, don’t you?”
“Someone has to,” Changbin replied with a smirk as he started the car and pulled away.
They drove in silence for a few minutes before Changbin spoke up. “You can connect your phone if you want. Put on some of your music.” He knew how much Jeongin liked listening to tunes when they were driving.
Jeongin nodded, pulling out his phone to connect it and quickly picking a song. “I’ve been listening to this band a lot lately. I’m kind of obsessed with this one song,” he said, tapping his phone screen before the soft melody filled the car.
The lyrics echoed in the space between them:
Oh, I’m falling in love
As time goes by
As my feelings grow
I’m becoming more anxious...
Changbin nervously bit his lip, his gaze flickering to the road, but his mind was on the music.
Jeongin glanced at him before asking, “Hyung, have you ever been in love?”
The next part of the song began:
How deep is your love
I want to ask
Couldn't it be the same if it's not deeper?
Changbin glanced briefly at Jeongin before replying, his voice quiet. “Of course I have.”
“Were you together?”
“We were,” Changbin said with a small, bitter smile. “Five years.”
Jeongin didn’t push further, sensing there was more to the story. “Oh,” he said, but Changbin continued, his voice softer now.
“We thought we were happy,” Changbin muttered, focusing on the road. “But the truth is, we were just kids.”
“Do you still talk?” Jeongin asked carefully.
“No,” Changbin said. “I haven’t seen her since the night we broke up.”
Jeongin hesitated but asked anyway. “What happened?”
Changbin sighed deeply, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “We were arguing like we always did. Over something small. She accused me of never being there for her and threatened to kill herself.”
Jeongin’s eyes widened, his stomach twisting with discomfort.
“Yeah,” Changbin continued, his voice low. “She grabbed a knife and pointed it at her chest, saying she’d stab herself. I had to call an ambulance. She spent some time in the hospital, and I spent some time alone. Eventually, I realised we were no good for each other.”
Jeongin was quiet, trying to process everything. His heart ached for Changbin, but he didn’t know what to say.
Changbin went on, almost as if speaking to himself. “Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t her mental health that pushed me away. It was how she refused to manage it and used it to manipulate me. I tried to help, but she’d always tell me she was fine, and when she’d spiral, reasoning with her was impossible. She’d leave the house, not say where she was going or when she’d be back, and then I’d get messages from her saying she wanted to die. I didn’t know what to do. Over time, I started to see the pattern. I realised that was just how things went…”
Jeongin sat quietly for a long moment, his thoughts racing. “Hyung, this sounds like a lot. Are you okay?”
Changbin glanced at him, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “I am now. Don’t worry. It’s in the past.”
Changbin glanced at Jeongin, and at that moment, something shifted in him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit him all the same. With a quiet shock, he realised that he was falling for this boy—the one who had been so open and caring despite everything.
It was frightening and something he couldn't share with anyone. He had to bury it and keep it hidden deep down where no one could find it. He would have to manage and live with this quietly, pretending nothing had changed.
He glanced back at the road, trying to steady his breath, as the song played softly in the background. The lyrics seemed to cut through him, a feeling he couldn't shake off:
Not mine
My one minute, one second
Take them all
All of my time is yours...
Changbin quickly blinked the thoughts away. This will change nothing.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Just like Changbin had said, his parents ended up loving Jeongin. He was talkative and bubbly, easily fitting in with them. Changbin's heart swelled watching Jeongin feel at ease in his family home. Despite their own issues, Changbin's family had always been close-knit, supporting each other through everything. He wanted Jeongin to experience that kind of warmth and connection, hoping that Jeongin saw him as part of that, too.
Jeongin burst out laughing when Changbin’s dad recounted a story about teaching Changbin to ride a bike. “Changbin just couldn’t get it right,” his dad said, chuckling, “He kept falling over, and once, I caught him talking to the bike, saying, ‘Mr. Bike, please be kind to me. My knees are really hurting, but I want to learn.’”
“This is so adorable,” Jeongin gasped, tears of laughter gathering in the corners of his eyes.
“Yah! That’s on you, dad—you were a shit teacher!” Changbin shot back, pointing at his father with mock indignation.
Jeongin’s body jerked slightly at Changbin's casual swearing, expecting some sort of reprimand. But his parents just laughed along, and Jeongin quickly realised this was normal for them. They spoke freely, like friends, something Jeongin found fascinating and refreshing. If he had sworn at home, it would have caused an uproar. Their families and childhoods were so different, and seeing this open, easy dynamic was like a breath of fresh air for Jeongin. It made him appreciate being there even more.
“Changbinnie, why don’t you show Jeongin our greenhouse?” his mother suggested with a warm smile.
“Oh, right. Innie, you might want to check out the flowers for some inspiration for our garden,” Changbin said as he got up, grabbing Jeongin's hand and gently pulling him towards the door.
“They're planting a garden together?” Changbin’s father murmured to himself.
His mother, still smiling, responded softly, “It seems they are.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
The greenhouse was more miniature than Jeongin thought, especially considering the size of Changbin’s family home. Yet, its modest dimensions made it feel warm and cosy. The space was filled with various plants and flowers, most of which Jeongin couldn’t name, their vibrant colours adding life to the room. A small sofa adorned with a couple of throws and a few pillows sat in one corner, accompanied by a cosy chair, inviting anyone to sit and relax amidst the greenery.
“This was my sister’s greenhouse when they were younger and still living here,” Changbin explained, his voice a little nostalgic. “They never wanted a big one, just a cosy little space like this.”
“Do they still come here?” Jeongin asked.
“Sometimes,” Changbin replied. “These days, my mom takes care of it the most. She didn’t want it at first but ended up loving it, though maybe not as much as my sisters did.” He chuckled softly.
“I like it,” Jeongin said simply, his eyes wandering around the room, taking in the place's charm.
Changbin sat down on the sofa, patting the cushion beside him. “Come sit,” he invited.
Jeongin carefully took the spot beside him, though he kept a small gap between them. The atmosphere was quiet and intimate, and the greenhouse's cozy setting made Jeongin feel like he had stepped into a scene from a romance drama. For a moment, Jeongin let his mind wander. He imagined this greenhouse as his own little haven, a place where he could sit with someone who loved and cared for him deeply. They would share laughter, wrapped in each other's warmth, shutting out the world beyond the glass walls. His gaze shifted to Changbin, the thought forming unbidden—what if it was him?
The sudden idea caught Jeongin off guard but didn’t scare him. Instead, it felt...comforting, like it wasn’t entirely out of reach.
“Hyung?” Jeongin spoke softly. “Do you think I can be a good alpha?”
Changbin blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. He shifted slightly, turning to face Jeongin fully. “What do you mean by a good alpha?” he asked.
Jeongin hesitated, fiddling with his hands. “I mean… you know how some alphas can be... not great people?”
Changbin nodded slowly, understanding the weight behind Jeongin’s words. “Innie, anyone can be a bad person, no matter their subgender. But I get what you’re saying.” He paused. “I think you’re a wonderful person. You’re kind and caring, and you have a soft heart. Anyone would be lucky to have you by their side.”
Jeongin’s eyes softened at the words, but Changbin wasn’t finished. “As for the alpha thing, don’t stress about it too much. It’s a lot, I know, but you’ll get there. You’re doing just fine.”
Jeongin shifted slightly, looking at Changbin with a thoughtful expression. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Of course,” Changbin said, leaning in slightly. “What's on your mind?”
Jeongin hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Could you tell me more about being an alpha? Like... how to be a good one? I feel like there's so much I don't understand, and I don't want to mess up.”
Changbin nodded, his expression softening. “Being an alpha isn't about fitting into a mould or living up to stereotypes. It's about understanding who you are and how you can positively influence those around you.”
Jeongin tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Changbin began, “You need to be able to read people, understand what they're feeling, and respond with empathy. It's not just about leading; it's about connecting.”
Jeongin nodded slowly. “Okay, that makes sense. What else?”
“Being an alpha means people might look up to you, but it's not just about being in charge. It's about making decisions that are best for everyone, not just yourself. Earning trust through your actions is key.”
Jeongin looked thoughtful. “So, it's more about supporting others than just leading?”
“Exactly,” Changbin agreed. “And conflict resolution is important, too. You must handle conflicts calmly and assertively without relying on dominance or aggression. Listening and negotiation are usually more effective.”
Jeongin smiled faintly. “That sounds... hard but important.”
“It is,” Changbin said. “Supporting others means understanding their unique perspectives and needs. Building relationships on mutual respect and care is crucial.”
Jeongin nodded again, absorbing Changbin's words. “I want to be like that. Kind and patient. But sometimes, it feels overwhelming.”
Changbin gave him a reassuring smile. “It can be, but self-care and boundaries are important, too. Being an alpha doesn’t mean you always have to put others first. Taking care of yourself ensures you can be there for others effectively.”
“I guess I’ve been worried about living up to certain expectations.”
Changbin leaned back slightly. “A lot of those expectations are based on myths and stereotypes. You don’t have to conform to them. Being a good alpha is about being a good person first—kind, patient, and humble. The rest follows naturally. You're doing great, and I'm here to help whenever you need.”
“Thank you, hyung”, Jeongin said. He seemed to think about something deeply before he spoke again.
“Can I ask something a little more… intimate?”
“Shoot”, Changbin replied as he got up to grab a can of drink.
Jeongin took a deep breath, his cheeks tinting with a soft blush. “When it comes to... being with someone, as an alpha... are there certain things we're supposed to do? Or... ways we're expected to act?”
“Intimacy as an alpha often comes with certain... expectations. People think we always have to take control and lead everything. But that’s just a stereotype.”
Jeongin’s lips parted, his voice dropping lower. “But isn’t it about... being dominant? Making sure your partner feels... satisfied?”
Changbin’s smile turned a little more knowing, a spark of something deeper in his eyes. “It’s not just about dominance, Innie. It’s about understanding your partner’s needs and desires, creating a space where both of you feel safe and connected. It’s a dance, not a power play.”
“But it can be a power play…sometimes…right?”
Changbin glanced at him, half-smirking, half-awkward. “I mean, sure,” he said, letting out a small chuckle. He scratched the back of his neck before continuing, “Just because you’re an alpha doesn’t mean you don’t... you know... sometimes wish to be pinned against the wall.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Changbin let out a laugh—forced and stilted, the kind that filled the space but didn’t quite land. The sound bounced awkwardly off the walls of the tiny greenhouse, and he cringed inwardly, wishing he could take it back. His eyes darted to Jeongin briefly before dropping to the can of soda in his hand. He popped it open with a sharp hiss of carbonation and quickly took several large gulps, hoping to drown out both his embarrassment and Jeongin’s reaction—or lack thereof.
He heard Jeongin shift on the sofa, the soft creak of worn leather signalling movement. His heart picked up speed as Jeongin stood. The greenhouse was small—cramped, really—so it only took a few strides before Jeongin was directly behind him.
Changbin felt it first, the faint warmth of Jeongin’s presence at his back, followed by the light press of a hand resting just above his waist. It wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to make him freeze. His breath hitched slightly, and before he could turn or say anything, Jeongin moved.
In one swift motion, Jeongin pushed him forward. It wasn’t rough, not enough to hurt, but it was firm enough that Changbin stumbled slightly, his chest meeting the cold surface of the glass wall with a soft thud. The drink in his hand slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor and spilling its contents in a fizzy mess at their feet.
“Pushed like... that?” Jeongin’s voice was low, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it, a challenge wrapped in feigned innocence.
Changbin stared at his reflection in the glass, his breath fogging up the surface in quick bursts as he tried to process what had just happened. His mind raced with conflicting thoughts—he should push Jeongin off him, should say something. After all, he was stronger than Jeongin by a mile; it would take nothing for him to flip this situation on its head.
But he didn’t move.
He didn’t push Jeongin off or tell him off for his behaviour. Instead... he stayed there, pressed against the glass with Jeongin’s hand on his back. And why? The answer was simple: he didn’t want to move.
His heart hammered against his ribcage; each beat louder than the last until it was all he could hear. His breathing quickened just slightly, not enough to be noticeable but enough that he felt it, and each exhale left behind faint traces of steam on the glass in front of him.
“Like that,” he murmured.
Jeongin’s hand on Changbin’s back trembled slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in to whisper, “Is that what you meant?”
Changbin finally turned his head slightly, and his eyes darkened a little. “Yeah... exactly like that,” he breathed out. He leaned his head back, his lips grazing the glass. “It’s about trust, Innie. Trusting your partner enough to let them take the lead... or to let yourself let go.”
Jeongin's fingers tightened at Changbin's back, his heart racing as he took in every word. “And... if I wanted to take the lead?”
Changbin’s lips curled into a small smile, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Then show me.”
Jeongin swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Changbin, the older, more experienced alpha, was here, pressed against the glass wall of the greenhouse, giving him a chance. A choice. His fingers trembled as he debated what to do next, but he knew he only had a split second to make up his mind.
“Show you?” Jeongin asked. He moved his hand from Changbin's back to his shoulder, feeling the tension in the older man’s muscles beneath his palm. There was no mistaking how much control Changbin still held; every inch of him exuded quiet power, but that very restraint made this moment so significant. Changbin was letting him take the lead.
Jeongin turned him gently but firmly until their eyes met. The greenhouse’s soft lighting reflected off Changbin’s dark irises, making them glow. For a fleeting second, Jeongin hesitated again but then something inside him snapped into place. Confidence surged through him like a tidal wave, pushing him forward before doubt could creep back in.
Without breaking their locked gaze, Jeongin pushed Changbin back against the glass with a deliberate press of his body. Changbin’s breath hitching was barely audible over the rustle of leaves and the faint hum of distant insects. Jeongin’s hands found their way to Changbin’s wrists, guiding them upward until they were pinned above his head. His grip wasn’t harsh; it was firm but careful, testing boundaries without crossing them.
Changbin didn’t resist; instead, his lips parted slightly to draw air more easily into lungs that had suddenly forgotten how to function correctly. His pulse quickened beneath Jeongin's touch, and though every fibre of his being screamed at him to maintain composure, there was no hiding the faint flush creeping along his neck or the way his chest rose and fell unevenly.
Jeongin leaned in closer until there wasn’t even an inch of space left between their bodies. The spiked cherry-chocolate scent radiating from Changbin was intoxicating, mingling with the earthy smell of greenery that clung to the humid air around them. When Jeongin spoke again, his lips brushed ever so lightly against the shell of Changbin's ear.
“Like this?” he murmured. The words sent shivers cascading down Changbin’s spine like ripples across a still pond.
Jeongin shifted slightly, applying just enough pressure to press Changbin more firmly against the glass without causing discomfort. “How am I doing?” he added softly.
Changbin's eyelids fluttered closed. A soft exhale escaped from deep within him—a sound that betrayed far more than words ever could. The heat emanating from Jeongin’s body was unreal, and Changbin couldn’t help but notice how Jeongin's citrusy scent had grown stronger, too.
“That's... that's a good start,” he managed to say, his voice slightly strained.
The corners of Jeongin’s mouth twitched upward into a slight smirk, but he didn’t interrupt.
“But,” Changbin managed after another moment's pause, “taking the lead isn’t just about physical control.” His voice grew steadier as he slipped back into the mentor role despite their precarious positions. “It’s about… reading your partner. Anticipating their needs. Knowing when to push and when to…” He trailed off abruptly as Jeongin’s fingers ghosted beneath the hem of his shirt—a featherlight touch that sent a jolt through him like lightning striking dry earth.
“When to what?” Jeongin prompted quietly, tilting his head just enough to let his breath fan hotly against Changbin’s neck.
Changbin shuddered involuntarily at the sensation before forcing himself to answer. “When to pull back,” he whispered finally. Even though he said it, it felt like a distant concept, something easier said than done when Jeongin was so close.
For a moment that stretched impossibly long yet felt far too brief all at once, neither of them moved or spoke further. The only sounds were their breathing and the faint creak of glass under pressure.
Then Jeongin began to withdraw, slowly at first, as though testing whether pulling back would break whatever fragile thread connected them at that moment. He carefully released Changbin’s wrists and started creating space between their bodies.
But before he could fully step away, Changbin acted on pure instinct. His hand shot out and captured Jeongin's wrist in a firm but non-threatening grip, halting him mid-motion.
“I didn’t say you should stop,” Changbin said smoothly.
Jeongin froze for half a heartbeat before raising an eyebrow questioningly. “No?”
Changbin allowed a tiny smirk to curve one corner of his lips as he pulled Jeongin closer again. Not enough for their bodies to touch entirely but enough to convey exactly what he meant.
“I said,” Changbin continued slowly, “a good alpha knows when to pull back.” He paused for effect before adding, “But they also know when their partner wants more.”
Jeongin blinked once in surprise before recovering quickly. A spark igniting in his eyes as realisation dawned on him. He placed both hands flat against Changbin’s chest, not pushing this time but simply resting them there and leaning in just enough for their foreheads to almost touch.
“Fuck, hyung,” Jeongin rumbled, his voice low and rough like gravel scraping against silk. The sound sent a shiver down Changbin’s spine, his breath hitching involuntarily. Jeongin’s tone was laced with desperation and vulnerability, making Changbin’s chest tighten. “Tell me you want it. I need you to tell me you want this, and I’m not imagining it.”
Changbin’s throat felt dry, his pulse pounding in his ears like a war drum. He could see the tension in Jeongin’s shoulders; his jaw clenched as he awaited an answer. At that moment, there was no doubt in Changbin’s mind, no hesitation.
“I want it,” he confirmed. The admission felt like a release, like exhaling after holding his breath for too long.
The second those words left Changbin’s lips, Jeongin moved without hesitation. His hands slid from Changbin’s chest to his neck, fingers curling around the nape with a rough grip. There was no uncertainty now—only purpose. He leaned in closer, pressing their lips together.
It was everything Jeongin remembered and more. Better than that time when he’d been in a rut, and everything had been driven by sheer instinct and need. This was different; he relished how Changbin’s plush lips moved against his own, slow and deliberate, their rhythm unhurried yet thrilling. Jeongin took his time exploring, kissing Changbin’s top lip softly before shifting to the bottom one, sucking on it just enough to draw a quiet gasp from him. That sound made Jeongin feel like he was on fire.
Changbin knew he shouldn’t be doing this. Rationality clawed at the edges of his mind, reminding him of all the reasons why this was wrong, why he should stop before things went too far. His feelings for Jeongin were already tangled in a complicated knot that he couldn’t begin to unravel, and this… this would only make things worse. But even as those thoughts tried to take hold, they were drowned out by something stronger—the warmth of Jeongin’s hands on him, the softness of his lips, the way each kiss seemed to melt away every ounce of resistance.
Deep down, Changbin understood what this meant for Jeongin—a freshly presented alpha still learning to navigate the storm of emotions and instincts that came with it. He remembered what it had been like for him at that age, the overwhelming desire that could drive you mad if you didn’t find an outlet for it. And yet, despite knowing all of this, despite telling himself that this was just exploration for Jeongin, something casual and fleeting… Changbin couldn’t deny how much he wanted this, too.
He wanted to be selfish in this small moment between them, to let himself feel wanted and needed in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before. If not Changbin, Jeongin would eventually find someone else to explore these feelings with, and who knows how they would treat him? The mere idea of someone mistreating Jeongin made anger flare in Changbin’s chest like a wildfire.
No. If this is what Jeongin needed, what would make him happy, then Changbin would give it to him without hesitation. Because at least with him, Jeongin would be safe and cherished even in fleeting moments like these.
Jeongin pulled back slightly, not far enough to break contact entirely but enough to look into Changbin’s eyes again. His thumb brushed against the side of Changbin’s neck absentmindedly as if grounding himself in the reality of what they were doing.
“Is this okay?” Jeongin whispered. Despite his bold actions, there was still a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, a need for reassurance.
Changbin nodded slowly, his hand coming up to cup Jeongin's cheek. “More than okay,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of Jeongin's jaw. “But we should probably move this somewhere more... private.”
Jeongin's eyes darkened at Changbin's words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you here. Now. In this fucking greenhouse.”
He pressed closer, effectively pinning Changbin against the glass wall once more. The condensation from their breath had created a foggy patch on the transparent surface, obscuring the view of the garden beyond. Jeongin's hands slid down Changbin's sides, coming to rest on his hips.
“I don't care if anyone sees us,” Jeongin whispered. “Let them”
Changbin's head fell back against the glass with a soft thud as Jeongin's lips found his neck. The younger alpha's teeth grazed over his pulse point, not quite biting down but threatening to. The greenhouse was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft rustle of leaves in the artificial breeze. Beads of sweat formed on Changbin’s brow, whether from the heat of the greenhouse or the intensity of the moment, he couldn't tell. A nearby orchid seemed to lean towards them, its delicate petals quivering in the humid air.
“Jeongin,” Changbin gasped, his hands fisting in the younger's shirt. “We shouldn't... anyone could walk in…”
But even as he said it, his body betrayed him. His hips pushed forward, seeking friction against Jeongin's thigh. The younger alpha smirked against his neck, clearly pleased with the effect he was having.
“Let them,” Jeongin repeated, his voice low. “I want everyone to know that I can make you feel this way.”
His hands slipped under Changbin's shirt, fingers tracing the defined muscles of his abdomen. Changbin held his breath, his skin burning wherever Jeongin touched. The scent of their mingled pheromones was overwhelming in the enclosed space, making his head spin.
Changbin did understand the appeal of doing it here, he really did. But those were his parents in question. His stomach churned at the thought of them stumbling across this scene—Jeongin’s mischievous grin, his hands tracing paths over Changbin’s abdomen as though no one else in the world existed. He could already picture his mother’s horrified expression, her gasp loud enough to shatter glass, and his father’s awkward cough as he tried to look anywhere but directly at them.
A pot crashed to the ground nearby, startling them both. They froze, listening intently for any sign that someone might be approaching. But the only sounds was the distant hum of insects outside.
“Jeongin—” Changbin started to protest again, but Jeongin cut him off with a quick kiss that stole the words right off his tongue.
One thing was certain, there was absolutely no way to persuade Jeongin. Changbin knew he could simply say, “Stop,” in a firm tone of voice, and Jeongin would listen. But that was the problem. Deep down, Changbin didn’t want him to stop. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something about this moment—this reckless, stupid moment—that felt too perfect to ruin.
“Fine,” Changbin muttered finally. The word slipped out before he could stop it, and even as he said it, he knew he’d already lost whatever imaginary battle they were having. He glanced away from Jeongin’s triumphant smirk, pretending not to notice the way his heart gave an unwelcome little flutter at the sight. “But if we’re staying… we’re at least turning off the lights.” he added.
Jeongin chuckled softly but stepped aside without protest as Changbin moved past him toward the light switch near the door and he could feel Jeongin's eyes burning into his back, tracking his every movement.
The greenhouse was small, but those few steps felt like miles. Changbin's fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the switch, hesitating for just a heartbeat. This was his last chance to put an end to this, to be the responsible one. But Jeongin's touch, the taste of his lips, was too intoxicating to resist.
With a soft click, darkness enveloped them. Moonlight filtered through the glass panels above, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow. The sudden change in lighting made Changbin blink rapidly, his eyes struggling to adjust. He turned back towards Jeongin, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him.
Jeongin stood motionless, a dark silhouette against the faint glow from outside. The moonlight caught in his hair, creating a halo effect that made him look almost ethereal. His eyes, though, were anything but angelic. Without a word, he closed the distance between them in three long strides.
“Much better,” he said,his fingers brushing against Changbin's cheek before sliding down to grip his chin. “Now, where were we?”
“I think we were right about here,” Changbin murmured, reaching out to pull Jeongin closer.
But Jeongin had other ideas. With a low growl, he pushed Changbin back against the nearest surface — a sturdy wooden workbench. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of Changbin's shirt, impatience making him clumsy.
“Too many clothes,” Jeongin muttered in frustration “Need to feel you.”
Changbin gasped as Jeongin's hands slipped beneath his now open shirt, palms sliding over heated skin. The coolness of the wooden surface only heightening the sensations.
“Innie,” Changbin chuckled softly, his head falling back as the younger alpha's lips found his neck once more. “Slow down, we have time—”
But Jeongin wasn't listening. His hands were everywhere at once, pushing Changbin's shirt off his shoulders, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “Can't wait,” he mumbled against Changbin's skin. “Wanted this for so long.”
In a flurry of movement, Jeongin stripped off his own shirt, pressing their bare chests together. The contact sent electricity coursing through both of them, drawing matching groans from their lips.
“Back then,” Jeongin panted, his hips grinding forward instinctively. “During my first rut. All I could think about was you. Your scent, your body. Wanted to touch you so badly.”
“I wanted to feel you,” he continued. “To wrap my hand around your cock and make you moan my name.”
As if to emphasise his point, Jeongin slipped his hand into Changbin's now open jeans, palming him through the thin fabric of his underwear. Changbin's hips bucked involuntarily, a soft gasp escaping his lips.
“Like that,” Jeongin breathed, squeezing gently. “Just like that, fuck”
“Fuck,” Changbin hissed, his nails digging into Jeongin's shoulders.
Jeongin's hand moved with increasing confidence, stroking Changbin through the thin fabric. The older alpha's breath came in short gasps, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. Jeongin leaned in, trailing kisses along Changbin's exposed neck, nipping gently at his collarbone.
“Want you so bad,” he murmured against Changbin's skin. “Need to be inside you.”
Changbin groaned, his hips pushing forward into Jeongin's touch. “Yes,” he breathed. “Please, Innie.”
Jeongin's free hand fumbled with Changbin's zipper, pushing his jeans down over his hips. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, about to pull them down when a sudden realisation hit him.
“Wait,” Jeongin said. “We don't have any lube.”
Changbin blinked, momentarily dazed. “What?”
“Lube,” Jeongin repeated. “We can't... I can’t fuck you without it. It’ll hurt.”
Changbin swallowed hard, his mind racing until an idea formed in his mind. “You wanna fuck my face then?” he asked, licking his lips.
Jeongin's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. “What?”
Changbin smirked, pushing himself off the workbench. He pressed close to Jeongin, his lips brushing against the younger alpha's ear as he spoke. “You heard me. You want to fuck my mouth, Innie? Feel my lips wrapped around your cock?”
A low growl rumbled in Jeongin's chest, his hands gripping Changbin's hips tightly. “Fuck, hyung. Yes.”
Without another word, Changbin sank to his knees, looking up at Jeongin through his lashes. The moonlight caught in his dark eyes, making them glitter with desire. Jeongin gasped as Changbin's fingers traced the outline of his erection through his jeans.
“Let me take care of you,” Changbin murmured, his voice like velvet.
Slowly, teasingly, Changbin undid Jeongin's jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear. Jeongin's cock sprang free, hard and aching. Slowly, he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with Jeongin as he pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.
Jeongin inhaled sharply, his fingers threading through Changbin's hair. “Hyung,” he breathed, sounding strained.
Changbin smirked up at him before parting his lips and taking Jeongin into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the head of Jeongin's cock, savoring the taste and feel of him. He took his time, exploring every inch with his lips and tongue before slowly taking more of Jeongin's length into his mouth, his lips sliding down the velvet-smooth hardness. He flicked his tongue along the veins, eliciting a gasp from the alpha above him.
“Fuck, hyung,” Jeongin moaned. “Your mouth feels so good.”
With a primal growl, Jeongin yanked his cock out of Changbin's mouth and shoved his fingers in its place. “Your fucking lips” he gasped, “so fucking talended”. He couldn't help but moan in appreciation as he explored Changbin's mouth, pressing on his tongue and spreading the mixture of saliva and pre-cum around his lips before plunging his fingers back in.
Changbin eagerly swirled his tongue around the intruding digits, greedily taking them deeper into his hot mouth, his tongue teasing every crevice. It was filthy and depraved, but it drove them both wild.
Jeongin watched, mesmerised, as his fingers disappeared into Changbin's mouth. The sight of his long fingers disappearing between Changbin’s swollen lips was enough to make him lose control. Unable to hold back any longer, Jeongin pulled his fingers out and forcefully pushed Changbin's head back down onto his throbbing cock. “Take me in,” he growled. “All of me.”
Encouraged by Jeongin's words, Changbin hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm. The greenhouse filled with the wet sounds of Changbin's mouth and Jeongin's moans.
Jeongin's hips began to move, thrusts that pushed his cock deeper into Changbin's mouth. Changbin relaxed his throat, taking Jeongin all the way to the base. The younger alpha gasped, his head falling back in pleasure.
“Oh god, hyung,” Jeongin panted. “I'm not gonna last long if you keep that up.”
Changbin pulled off with a wet pop, looking up at Jeongin with dark eyes. “Then don't hold back,” he said, his voice husky. “Fuck my mouth. Use me.”
Another primal growl rumbled in Jeongin's chest at Changbin's words. He gripped his hair tighter, guiding his mouth back to his cock. This time, Jeongin set the pace, thrusting into older alpha’s mouth with increasing speed and force.
Changbin moaned around Jeongin’s length, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through the younger alpha. His own cock strained against his underwear, desperate for attention. As if reading his mind, Jeongin spoke.
“Touch yourself, hyung,” he commanded. “Want you to cum with me.”
Changbin wrapped a hand around himself, stroking in time with Jeongin's thrusts. The dual sensations of Jeongin fucking his mouth and his own hand on his cock had Changbin teetering on the edge of orgasm embarrassingly quickly.
Jeongin's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing labored. “Fuck, I'm close,” he gasped. “Gonna cum down your throat, hyung.”
Changbin moaned in response, sucking harder and speeding up his strokes.
Suddenly, Jeongin tensed, his cock pulsing as he came with a muffled cry. Changbin swallowed around him, working him through his orgasm. The taste of Jeongin on his tongue pushed Changbin over the edge, and he came with a moan, spilling over his hand.
As they caught their breath, a rustling sound from outside made them freeze. Footsteps approached the greenhouse door.
“Shit,” Changbin whispered, scrambling to his feet and hastily adjusting his clothes. Jeongin did the same, both of them moving as quietly as possible.
Just as the door handle began to turn, Changbin grabbed Jeongin's hand and pulled him behind a large fern. They huddled together, hearts pounding, as the greenhouse door creaked open.
“See? I told you they aren't here,” Changbin's father's voice echoed through the humid air.
Changbin felt Jeongin tense beside him, his breath catching in his throat. They pressed closer together, the broad leaves of the fern barely concealing their partially clothed forms. The scent of their recent activities hung heavy in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of potting soil and fragrant flowers.
“Goodness, why is this greenhouse so fogged up?” Changbin's mother's voice rang out. “I told you to check the ventilation system ages ago!”
Changbin's father sighed audibly. “I know, dear. I'll get to it tomorrow, I promise.”
From their hiding spot, Changbin and Jeongin could see the silhouettes of Changbin's parents through the misty glass. His mother was running her finger along a nearby shelf, tutting at the condensation that had collected there.
“It's like a sauna in here,” she complained. “How are the plants supposed to thrive in these conditions?”
As if on cue, a droplet of water fell from a leaf above them, landing squarely on Jeongin's nose. He scrunched up his face, desperately trying to hold back a sneeze. Changbin quickly pressed a finger to Jeongin's lips, silently pleading with him to stay quiet.
“Well, they're clearly not here,” Changbin's father said a little loud, his footsteps echoing as he moved towards the door. “They probably went for a walk or something. You know how Changbin likes to show his friends around the property.”
His mother hummed in agreement. “I suppose you're right. I just worry, you know? Jeongin's such a nice boy, I hope Changbin's being a good host.”
Jeongin's eyes widened at this, and Changbin had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. If only she knew just how ‘hospitable’ he'd been.
“I'm sure he is, dear,” Changbin's father reassured her. “Now, let's head back to the house. It's late, and I'm sure the boys will turn up soon.”
As their voices faded and the door clicked shut behind them, Changbin and Jeongin remained frozen in place for a few more seconds, hardly daring to breathe. Then, as the tension broke, they both dissolved into silent laughter, their bodies shaking with the effort of keeping quiet.
“Oh my god,” Jeongin whispered, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “That was so close.”
Chapter 14: a familiar and unfamiliar river
Notes:
The chapter we were all waiting for...let's go
Chapter Text
Changbin groaned softly as his alarm pierced the quiet at 5 am, reluctantly peeling his eyes open. His hand groped for the snooze button, silencing the persistent beeping. He rolled onto his side, the faint light of dawn just beginning to creep into the room.
“Hey, Innie,” he murmured, his voice gentle as he reached out, brushing his fingers over Jeongin's cheek.
Jeongin stirred, a soft whine escaping his lips, his face scrunching in sleepy protest. Clearly, he had no intention of waking up.
“Do you still want to see the sunrise at the rice fields?” Changbin asked, as softly as before.
The memories of their quiet return to the house after the greenhouse lingered in his mind. They had slipped in like shadows, careful not to make a sound, not wanting to raise any suspicions. Though a room had been prepared for Jeongin, he had refused to sleep alone. Instead, he clung to Changbin, insisting on staying close, craving the warmth of his body.
The intensity of Jeongin's affection had caught Changbin off guard, yet he found himself unable to deny the younger boy. So they had ended up here, tangled in the same bed, Changbin’s arms wrapped around Jeongin as the big spoon, the steady rise and fall of their breaths in sync.
Jeongin had also asked to be scented, and though Changbin had hesitated, unsure for a moment, he had relented once more. Now, the faint trace of his scent lingered, a comforting reminder of their closeness, filling the space between them.
“Mmm… why is it so early?” Jeongin mumbled, slurred with sleep.
Changbin chuckled under his breath. “Because that’s when the sun rises,” he replied patiently, though he didn’t move to pull away. Instead, he stayed close, his hand placed on Jeongin’s cheek before trailing down to rest lightly against his shoulder.
“Can’t we just… I don’t know… see it tomorrow?” He half-heartedly attempted a pout before letting his eyes drift shut again.
Changbin huffed a laugh, shaking his head even though Jeongin couldn’t see it. “You’re the one who wanted to go”, he reminded him gently.
“I know,” Jeongin murmured, finally cracking both eyes open. “But I didn’t expect to be wiped out last night.”
“Wiped out?” Changbin snorted. “Innie, I’m genuinely concerned about your stamina.”
Jeongin huffed, shoving Changbin’s shoulder. “Your toxic alpha is showing, and it’s not pretty,” he shot back, grinning.
“But you are,” Changbin blurted out without thinking. Realising what he’d said, he instinctively pulled away as if retreating from the moment itself.
A flush crept up Jeongin’s cheeks, but instead of shying away, he tugged Changbin close again, their bodies slotting together easily. “I was thinking,” he began, his voice quieter now, “maybe one day we could go see the sunrise at the rice fields with Minnie too.”
“Minnie?” Changbin echoed. His stomach twisted slightly. He still wasn’t sure where any of them stood, but he’d convinced himself they didn’t stand anywhere at all.
Jeongin’s gaze drifted to the wall. “When I mentioned our little trip to him… I think there was sadness in his eyes.”
Changbin wasn’t sure how to respond. He had tried talking to Seungmin several times, but each time, Seungmin brushed it off with an easy assurance that everything was fine, as if the subject wasn’t worth dwelling on. Eventually, Changbin had assumed Seungmin simply wanted to forget whatever he felt, whatever had been left unsaid. And so, he let it go, convincing himself it was for the best.
But now, hearing this from Jeongin, doubt crept in. Had he misread Seungmin entirely?
“We can ask him,” Changbin said simply.
Jeongin smiled before nestling closer with a contented hum. Changbin wrapped his arms around him, holding him securely, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.
He knew this was intimate—maybe more than it should be—but he also knew this moment was a one-off. Maybe, just this once, he could stop overthinking and let himself enjoy it.
Jeongin was probably just riding the high of yesterday’s emotions, seeking warmth and comfort. And that was fine.
Changbin would take it.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin stood in the kitchen, cursing as hot tea dripped from his hand and splattered across the counter. A sharp sting on his skin added to his frustration.
“Minnie, are you okay?” Hyunjin’s voice came from the hallway as he emerged from the bathroom, concern etched across his face.
“I'm fine,” Seungmin snapped, his words clipped with irritation as he grabbed a towel.
Hyunjin hesitated, studying him carefully. Seungmin was rarely quick to anger, and seeing him this irritable was… unusual.
Something was off.
Seungmin hadn’t been himself since that last conversation about Changbin and Jeongin. Hyunjin had assumed he just needed time to sort through his thoughts, to separate his feelings into neat, logical categories. That was how Seungmin operated; he always made sure he understood what he felt and why.
But this time, he was clearly struggling. And because he wouldn’t talk to anyone, the frustration had nowhere to go—until it inevitably spilt over.
Hyunjin exhaled sharply, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “Alright, what the hell is going on with you?”
Seungmin didn’t look up; he just kept scrubbing at the spilt tea like it had personally wronged him. “Nothing.”
Hyunjin scoffed. “Nothing? Minnie, you just burned yourself and looked ready to flip the entire kitchen over a cup of tea.”
Seungmin’s grip on the towel tightened. “Drop it, Hyunjin.”
“No.” Hyunjin stepped closer, voice edged with frustration. “Because you’re not fine, and I’m sick of pretending you are.”
Seungmin let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “Oh, you’re sick of it? That’s rich.” He finally turned to face Hyunjin, eyes flashing. “Maybe I don’t feel like spilling my feelings just because you decided you want to play therapist today.”
Hyunjin’s jaw clenched. “Jesus, Seungmin, do you even hear yourself?”
“I just want to—” Seungmin exhaled sharply, turning away. “Forget it.”
“No, say it,” Hyunjin pushed. His frustration was now reaching a boiling point. “You want to pretend you don’t care? That whatever’s been eating you up inside doesn’t exist? Because, news flash, Seungmin—it does. And it’s written all over your damn face.”
Seungmin turned back, anger crackling in his eyes. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, but you don’t. You don’t know how it feels to not even understand your own fucking emotions, to feel like no matter what you do, you’re—” He cut himself off, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
Hyunjin’s expression hardened. “Then explain it to me!” he shouted. “Because I’m right here, trying, and all you do is shove me away!”
Seungmin’s fists clenched at his sides. “Maybe I don’t need you to try!”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Hyunjin shook his head slowly, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “Right. Because needing people isn’t your thing, is it?” He took a step back, his voice quieter but no less sharp. “You know what, Seungmin? If you want to keep pushing everyone away, go ahead. But don’t act surprised when there’s no one left.”
Silence.
Seungmin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but whatever he wanted to say never left his lips.
Hyunjin held his gaze for a second longer before turning on his heel. “Forget it.” His voice was clipped, exhausted. “I’m done.”
He walked out, leaving Seungmin standing in the middle of the kitchen, fists shaking, heart pounding, and head an absolute fucking mess.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Hyunjin was meeting his parents today. Seungmin had known about it, having seen the message from Hyunjin’s mum pop up on his phone the night before: “We need to discuss important matters.” That never meant anything good. It never had.
And now, instead of being there for him, instead of offering even the slightest bit of support, he’d torn into him like an absolute dick. The regret sat heavy in his stomach, twisting like a knife. Every single word he’d thrown at Hyunjin replayed in his head, and he wanted to claw them all back. But he couldn’t. It was too late.
The worst part? Hyunjin was right.
Seungmin had been pretending—telling himself he was okay, that if he ignored the chaos in his head for long enough, it would disappear. But it wasn’t working. It never worked. And now it wasn’t just eating him alive—it was seeping into everything, dragging down the people around him, hurting the people he cared about.
I don’t need this right now. The thought was bitter, almost laughable. Because when had life ever waited for him to be ready? When had it ever asked him what he needed?
His fingers hovered over his phone, then tightened around it as he made a decision. He needed to mend things with Hyunjin, but more than that, he needed to mend himself. He couldn’t keep spiralling like this, couldn’t keep letting his own mess pull everyone else down with him.
With a deep breath, he scrolled through his contacts and tapped on a name. The phone rang a few times before Jongho finally picked up.
“Seungmin? It’s early. What’s up?”
Seungmin hesitated, gripping the phone tighter. He didn’t even know how to start. “I messed up.”
Jongho sighed, already sounding like he knew where this was going. “What did you do now?”
“I snapped at Hyunjin this morning. Said a bunch of shit I didn’t mean.” Seungmin leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at the mess of spilt tea he still hadn’t cleaned up. “And now I feel like an idiot.”
“Right. And what exactly did you say?”
Seungmin pressed his lips together. “I don’t know. He just kept pushing me to talk about something, and I didn’t want to, so I shut him down. Hard.”
Jongho hummed on the other end, the sound making Seungmin’s stomach turn. He knew that hum. It was the one that meant Jongho was thinking, waiting for Seungmin to be more honest.
“…And?” Jongho prompted.
“And I was an arse about it,” Seungmin admitted, rubbing his temples. “Told him to stop acting like he knows everything, that he doesn’t get to tell me how I feel.”
A pause. Then Jongho let out a low whistle. “Oof. Yeah, okay, that’s rough. Why’d you say that?”
“Because I’m an idiot?” Seungmin groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Jongho exhaled sharply. “No, seriously. Why? You’re not the type to just lash out for no reason.”
Seungmin swallowed, looking down at his feet. “I don’t know. I just—I don’t want to keep talking about it. And he won’t let it go.”
Jongho was quiet for a few seconds. “Whatever ‘it’ is… You know he’s only asking because he cares, right?”
Seungmin’s grip on his phone tightened. “I know that. But I don’t want him to feel like he has to fix me. That’s not his job.”
“And did he say that’s what he’s trying to do?”
Seungmin opened his mouth, then closed it.
Jongho sighed. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, and I won’t push you for it. But if Hyunjin already knows and he’s still here, don’t you think that says something?”
Seungmin stayed quiet.
Jongho continued, his tone softer now. “He’s not asking you to be fine. He just doesn’t want you to shut him out.”
Seungmin exhaled slowly. “I know.”
“So… are you gonna talk to him?”
“I don’t know,” Seungmin admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to. But I don’t even know what to say.”
Jongho let out a short chuckle. “You could start with ‘I was an arsehole, I’m sorry’.”
Seungmin huffed. “Yeah. Probably.”
There was a pause, and then Jongho added, “Look, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on. But you can’t keep doing this, Min. You keep everything to yourself until it explodes. And Hyunjin’s the one left in the fallout.”
Seungmin closed his eyes. “I know.”
“Then fix it. Before you make it worse.”
Seungmin let out a deep breath, nodding to himself. “…Yeah.”
Jongho’s voice softened again. “You got this, alright?”
“…Alright.”
Seungmin felt a little lighter. Just hearing Jongho’s voice had helped, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realised he needed. And he was grateful that Jongho never pushed for details, never made him feel guilty for holding back. Jongho had always been like that, knowing exactly when to give people space without making them feel like they were being abandoned.
He wiped at his eyes, startled to find them damp. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d started crying. With a quiet, frustrated sigh, he ran a hand down his face and forced himself to breathe.
His shift wasn’t until the afternoon, but he wasn’t sure how to focus on work when his mind was still tangled in this mess. And then there was Hyunjin.
Seungmin glanced at the time on his phone. Hyunjin had probably just arrived to meet his parents. The thought made Seungmin’s stomach twist—he knew how these meetings usually went, knew they rarely left Hyunjin feeling anything but exhausted. And now, on top of that, he had to carry the weight of their fight.
Seungmin opened their chat, staring at the last messages. He typed out something quick— I’m sorry —but it didn’t feel like enough. He deleted it.
He tried again. I didn’t mean what I said. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? The words had come from somewhere.
Another sigh, another few seconds of hesitation before he locked his phone and set it aside.
He’d talk to Hyunjin tonight. He had to.
Because the thought of Hyunjin coming home to silence made his chest ache.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Hyunjin arrived at his parent’s house and pressed the doorbell. He waited, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders tense against the morning chill. No one answered.
Frowning, he reached for the handle and found the door unlocked. That wasn’t unusual, but the lack of greeting as he stepped inside felt more unsettling than it should have. The house was silent, too pristine, too staged—like stepping into a place meant to be lived in but never quite touched.
He took off his shoes and moved carefully down the hall; his footsteps muted against the polished floor. Then, finally, he heard his mother’s voice.
“Come through.”
She didn’t even check who it was—just assumed. Of course, it was him.
Hyunjin followed the sound, stepping into the dining room. His mother sat at the head of the table, her back to him. Across from her was his younger brother, head slightly bowed, fingers loosely interlocked in his lap. Beside him, his sister sat stiffly, her posture too formal to be natural.
Someone was holding her hand. A man—one Hyunjin didn’t recognise. His sister’s expression was carefully blank, but her fingers twitched, betraying her discomfort. She wasn’t pulling away, though.
Hyunjin scanned the room, searching for his father.
“He’ll be here soon,” his mother said smoothly as if plucking the thought straight from his mind. “Sit next to me, Hyunjin.”
Not a request. An instruction.
Hyunjin swallowed down the instinct to hesitate and lowered himself into the chair beside her. He kept his gaze on his hands, picking absently at his nails, a nervous habit he thought he’d outgrown. Yet, sitting here, in this house, in this role, he felt small again. Like a boy sitting through another one of their meticulously planned family briefings, where only the most relevant facts were shared, and anything personal was either dismissed or deemed unimportant.
He wondered what it felt like to have the kind of family gatherings he’d only seen in films—the ones where people were actually happy to see each other. Where conversations flowed freely, filled with laughter, teasing, and stories that didn’t serve a calculated purpose. Where siblings confided in one another, parents offered comfort instead of expectations, and someone cared enough to ask about the little things—how work was going, whether he was eating properly, whether he was happy.
Hyunjin exhaled slowly. He’d never know. That wasn’t the kind of family he had.
This was his reality. And their so-called gatherings? Nothing more than carefully curated meetings with unspoken rules he had no choice but to follow.
“How are your studies, Hyunjin? And work?” His mother’s voice broke the silence. There was a slight softness to her tone—not enough to fool him into thinking she truly cared, but just enough to remind him that the Hwang family’s image was what truly mattered.
“It’s going alright,” Hyunjin said, forcing a polite smile. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
“At least you get to enjoy your life,” his sister suddenly spoke. Her voice was calm, devoid of warmth, detached even.
“Yunseo,” their mother warned, eyes cutting across the table.
Yunseo only scoffed, her lips curling into something bitter. “What? Isn’t this why we’re here? To let our dear brother in on the fuckery you’ve arranged for me?”
Hyunjin stiffened. His mind raced to piece things together, but there was nothing to piece—because he knew nothing. He hadn’t been involved in family affairs, hadn’t cared to be. Ever since his injury, he had been an afterthought, an inconvenience. He had taken that as a blessing. But now, sitting here, realising how detached he had become, he wasn’t so sure.
“That’s enough.”
His father’s voice cut through the room. He emerged from the adjacent room, walking towards the table with the kind of authority that had long since stopped surprising Hyunjin. He took his seat opposite their mother, settling in with an air of effortless control, as if this were some kind of royal assembly rather than a family gathering.
And for some reason, Hyunjin found it funny.
It wasn’t new, not in the slightest, but the absurdity of it all—the calculated silence, the way Yunseo looked seconds away from exploding while their parents pretended everything was perfectly in order—sent a quiet laugh bubbling up in his throat. He let it slip out, covering his face with one hand.
“You’re having fun?” His father asked, his eyes boring into him.
Hyunjin exhaled, smoothing out his expression. “Sorry,” he muttered, though he wasn’t.
Across the table, his younger brother sat stiffly, eyes darting between their father and Yunseo, his shoulders slightly hunched like he was bracing for impact. He hadn’t said a word since Hyunjin arrived, and knowing him, he probably wouldn’t. He never got involved unless absolutely necessary, preferring to disappear into the background rather than draw attention.
The man sitting beside Yunseo—the one still holding her hand—suddenly stood, his lips parting to speak.
“I think we sh—”
“—Sit down.”
The words came like a whip crack. The man hesitated for a moment before obeying, sinking back into his chair without another word.
Hyunjin barely suppressed a scoff. His father hadn’t even looked at him when he shut him down, as if his presence barely registered. The same suffocating power play. The same quiet, rigid obedience.
Hyunjin flicked his gaze to Yunseo. Her hands were curled into fists in her lap, her jaw tight, her breathing controlled but just barely. Their little brother was staring at his feet now, avoiding eye contact, clearly willing the moment to pass.
“Since I’m sure we are all busy, should we just skip the small talk and discuss the important matters straight away?” his mother said.
His father leaned back in his chair, resting one arm on the table. “Yunseo will marry Sangwoo”.
Yunseo didn’t flinch, but her entire body tensed. Her lips parted slightly as if she was about to speak, but she decided not to.
Hyunjin frowned. “What?”
His father didn’t even look at him. “The arrangements have been made. It will benefit both families and secure our business interests. You should have known this was coming.”
Hyunjin felt cold, but not because he was shocked—he wasn’t. Of course, he wasn’t. This was how things worked in their family. But hearing it so bluntly, so casually, as if Yunseo’s life wasn’t even hers to control, still sent something dark twisting in his chest. He finally let himself look properly at the man sitting beside Yunseo, the one who had spoken before being instantly silenced.
And then his breath hitched.
Sangwoo.
Not just a name he had heard in passing, not just another suited stranger from his father’s endless circle of business associates—no, Hyunjin knew him. He hadn’t seen Sangwoo since high school. The golden boy. The obedient son. The one his father had spent years comparing him to.
“Why can’t you be more like Sangwoo?”
It had been a constant refrain, a bitter reminder that it would never be enough, no matter what Hyunjin did. But Sangwoo hadn’t come from wealth and power the way Hyunjin had. His family was well-off, but not Hwang well-off. To Sangwoo, everything Hyunjin was born into was a dream—one he couldn’t understand Hyunjin wanting to run from.
They had been friends once. Not close, but enough. Enough that Hyunjin thought Sangwoo might understand. Enough that when he told Sangwoo he wanted to dance, he thought he might get it .
But he hadn’t.
“You’re unbelievable, Hyunjin. You have everything, and you’re throwing it away for—what? Dancing?”
He had thought Hyunjin was just an ungrateful brat, spoiled and reckless. And when the opportunity arose to be better in Mr. Hwang’s eyes, Sangwoo took it. He stood with them, laughed with them, and mocked Hyunjin like the rest of them did.
Hyunjin had ignored him then. But he never forgot.
“And what does Yunseo think?” he asked with a trace of bitterness.
His father exhaled, finally turning his sharp gaze onto him. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks.”
Yunseo let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “See?” she muttered, voice flat. “Isn’t it wonderful to be a Hwang?”
Hyunjin clenched his jaw. His father continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Since the family business will be tied to her, I trust you understand what that means for you.”
Hyunjin turned his head sharply. “What are you talking about?”
“You will not inherit anything. No stake in the company, no position, no legacy.” His father’s expression didn’t change, not even to gauge Hyunjin’s reaction. It was like he was merely relaying a schedule. “It has been decided.”
Hyunjin felt like laughing. “Decided by who?”
“The people who actually matter.”
There was no malice in his father’s tone, no particular cruelty. Just indifference, the same way he might discuss numbers on a page.
“So this is how it goes?”
“Hyunjin,” his mother finally spoke, reaching for her teacup. “You’ll be well taken care of.”
Hyunjin let out a breath of disbelief. “Oh, of course.”
His father gestured to a folder on the table, which Hyunjin hadn’t even noticed before. “A financial settlement has been arranged. You’ll receive a generous sum of money, a few properties under your name, and a guarantee that your future will be comfortable. Considering you’ve had no real involvement in the company, I’d say it’s more than fair.”
Hyunjin scoffed. “Right. Because I should be grateful I’m getting anything at all?”
His father’s expression didn’t change, but something colder entered his gaze. “Would you rather marry Sangwoo instead?” he asked, tone light. “I really don’t mind which child of mine marries into that family as long as the deal is secured.”
Hyunjin felt the air leave his lungs.
Yunseo froze. Even their little brother, who had remained completely still the entire time, lifted his head slightly in alarm.
Hyunjin swallowed the disgust rising in his throat. “Are you serious?”
His father exhaled. “Hyunjin, you are not a child. You should understand by now that this is how things work. The world does not move for your feelings. It moves for power, for security, for those who take control.” He leaned forward slightly, studying him. “You were never going to be that person. You made your choice when you walked away.”
His father’s gaze was unwavering, his voice as calm as ever, as if he wasn’t about to twist the knife in deeper. “You made your choice when you walked away to become a dancer or whatever. I didn’t stop you, did I? But look where it got you—an injury that ended your whole career.”
Hyunjin’s breath caught.
It shouldn’t have hurt. It was nothing he hadn’t told himself a hundred times over, nothing he hadn’t already replayed in his own head on the worst nights. But hearing it from his father—hearing it said so plainly, as if his entire dream had been nothing more than a reckless whim, as if it was his fault his body had betrayed him—made something crack deep inside his chest.
His father didn’t stop. “You spent years chasing something that was never going to last. And now? You’re studying, working, trying to rebuild something from the ground up. I respect the effort, but let’s be honest, Hyunjin. You could’ve had everything, and instead, you have nothing.”
Hyunjin felt his nails dig into his palms, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. “I have more than you think.”
“You always had a taste for disasters, didn’t you?” He ignored Hyunjin’s words. “First, it was the dancing. Then, that pathetic excuse of a relationship. What was his name again? The drug addict?”
Hyunjin’s stomach twisted, his fingers curling into fists.
“Don’t.”
His father only smirked, leaning back in his chair.
“Ah, I see. Still sensitive about that?”
Hyunjin’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
“Don’t ever speak of him.”
His father merely scoffed and gestured to the folder again. “Take the deal. It’s the best you’re going to get.”
Hyunjin realised that no matter what he said or did, it wouldn’t change a thing. Because in his father’s eyes, he had already lost. He pushed his chair back with a sharp, grating screech against the floor. The sound made everyone wince, but he didn’t care. He didn’t speak. He didn’t spare anyone another glance. He just turned on his heel and walked out.
He was furious . So furious that his hands were shaking. His father wanted this. He wanted Hyunjin to snap, to yell, to prove every accusation right—that he was impulsive, unstable, dramatic . That he was nothing but an embarrassment.
Hyunjin wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Because his father wasn’t a man you could fight with emotions. He didn’t feel in the way normal people did. He didn’t understand love, didn’t believe in care beyond what was useful to him. He saw emotions as weaknesses, tools to be exploited and discarded.
And Hyunjin had been played for a fool too many times before. He had barely reached the hallway when he heard someone call his name.
“Hyunjin!”
He froze for a split second. Sangwoo?
Hyunjin kept walking, pretending he didn’t hear, but behind him, he could hear the shuffle of a chair being pushed back.
“I just want to talk to him,” Sangwoo said, voice quieter, almost careful. But he wasn’t speaking to Hyunjin. Hyunjin didn’t have to turn around to know who he was looking at.
There was a pause. Then, after a beat, Mr. Hwang made a simple motion with his head, just a slight tilt toward the door, like he was granting permission for something as insignificant as a servant leaving the room.
“Hyunjin, wait.” Sangwoo’s voice rang out behind him, closer this time.
Hyunjin spun around, his expression sharp. “What do you want?” he hissed, barely restraining his anger.
“Don’t leave like this. Please.”
Hyunjin scoffed, crossing his arms. “And why the fuck do you care? You got everything you ever wanted—our family’s approval, money, power.” His eyes were ice-cold. “So why do you give a shit about me?”
Sangwoo stepped closer, lowering his voice like he didn’t want anyone to hear. “You know why.”
Hyunjin’s stomach twisted at those words, but he refused to show it. Instead, he let out a bitter laugh. “Sangwoo, we were friends once. Good friends.” He exhaled sharply. “But that ended the moment you stood with them, laughed with them. Or did you forget?”
Sangwoo’s jaw tensed. “I was a dick. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Hyunjin shook his head, his voice cutting. “And now you’re marrying my sister to secure a fucking business deal. You still are a dick.”
Sangwoo didn’t deny it. “Hyunjin, you don’t understand—”
“Oh?” Hyunjin cut him off, his voice laced with mockery. “Do I not ? Am I misreading this situation? You’re using her like a bargaining chip, preventing her from being happy with someone who could love her.” His hands clenched at his sides. “And for what? To secure your own status? To play the part of the perfect son-in-law? You and I both know you can’t give her what she needs.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice to a sharp whisper. “Does she even know you’re into men?”
Sangwoo’s face went stiff, eyes flickering with something almost panicked. “Hyunjin, please—can you not shout?” He cast a wary glance toward the dining room.
Hyunjin followed his gaze before turning back with a slow, cruel smile. “Oh, I wonder what father would think of you,” he mused, voice dangerously soft. “Knowing you like to be stuffed full of cock.”
Sangwoo flinched, his lips pressing into a thin line. He said nothing. Coward.
Hyunjin let out a disgusted scoff, shaking his head. “I’m done here.” He turned on his heel and slammed the door shut, leaving Sangwoo standing there, silent.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Hyunjin got into his car, slamming the door harder than necessary. The thought that this car, a sleek, expensive thing he never would have chosen for himself, was a gift from his parents only made his blood boil.
If he were a giant, he would lift the damn thing over his head and hurl it straight into their perfect fucking house, watch the walls crack and crumble beneath the weight of everything they had ever forced onto him.
But he wasn’t a giant. He wasn’t powerful like that. And this car wasn't the real enemy; it was just a soulless mix of metal and plastic.
As much as his anger burned through him, exhaustion weighed just as heavily. Hyunjin lowered his head against the steering wheel, exhaling a long, unsteady breath. His hands clenched and unclenched over the leather, frustration simmering beneath his skin.
He needed a distraction. From this. From everything.
His thoughts strayed back to his fight with Seungmin, and he groaned, tilting his head back against the seat. What a complete and utter shitshow of a day. It felt like every part of his life was working against him again, suffocating him from all sides.
But there was one thing—one place—that could still make sense.
Hyunjin quickly tapped the dance studio’s address into his phone, not hesitating for even a second. His foot pressed the accelerator a little harder than necessary as he sped off, chasing the one thing that still made him feel like himself—dancing.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin walked into the unit as if the weight of the entire world had settled on his shoulders. His steps were heavy, his mind even heavier. He mumbled a half-hearted greeting to a couple of colleagues before trudging to the far corner, where he all but threw his bag near the cupboard. He didn’t even bother with his locker in the staff room—he just couldn’t be arsed.
“Rough day?”
The voice came from somewhere low, which didn’t make sense until a head, followed by the rest of a body, popped up from under the reception desk.
Seungmin blinked. “Jisung… what the hell are you doing down there?”
Jisung groaned, wiggling around before holding up a power cable like it was evidence in a crime scene. “Trying to make this stupid printer work. Turns out it wasn’t plugged in properly. Tragic, really.”
Seungmin let out a short laugh, unexpected but genuine. The tightness in his chest loosened just a little for the first time today. “You’re funny,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“I do try,” he said, flashing a grin, right before attempting to slide out from under the desk. Except, he misjudged the distance and cracked his head with a loud thunk .
“Ah—shit,” Jisung hissed, immediately grabbing the sore spot while shooting a betrayed glare at the desk as if it had personally attacked him.
Seungmin laughed again, the sound surprising even himself.
Jisung perked up at that, straightening up and dusting himself off as if the whole thing had been intentional. “That bad, huh?” he asked, studying Seungmin’s face.
Seungmin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You have no idea.”
Jisung leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his sharp, knowing gaze locked onto Seungmin. “Wanna talk about it? Or should I just keep making an idiot of myself until you feel better?”
Seungmin shook his head, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “The second option sounds good.”
Jisung nodded solemnly. “Alright. Noted. Prepare to witness my most embarrassing moments—free of charge.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
The shift moved along in a sluggish blur, the kind where time felt like it was dragging, yet somehow the work kept piling up.
Seungmin kept himself busy, jumping between tasks—checking on patients, stocking supplies, and answering call bells. He didn’t have the energy to entertain his thoughts, so he ensured they had no space to creep in.
Jisung, as always, was everywhere. Chatting with colleagues, helping where he could, cracking jokes that either made people laugh or roll their eyes. He had the kind of energy Seungmin couldn’t even comprehend.
At one point, Jisung reappeared at the desk, dramatically flopping onto the chair next to Seungmin with an exhausted groan.
“Do you think they’d notice if I took a nap under the desk?” Jisung mumbled, resting his head against the counter.
“Yes,” Seungmin said flatly, not looking up from the notes he was updating.
Jisung huffed. “You didn’t even consider it.”
“I did. It was just a very short consideration.”
“You’re cruel,” Jisung pouted, but he was already grinning again. “Whatever. I don’t need sleep. I run on pure talent.”
Seungmin shook his head. “More like pure caffeine.”
Jisung sat up, looking entirely unbothered. “Same thing.”
As Jisung kept rambling about how he was an unappreciated comedic genius , Seungmin turned his attention to the computer at the desk. He logged in quickly, fingers moving automatically to bring up the schedule. He told himself it was nothing—just curiosity.
His eyes scanned the roster, landing on the names he was looking for. Seo Changbin —next shift: Friday. Yang Jeongin —also Friday.
Friday. That was two days from now.
“Yah! What are you snooping for?”
Seungmin startled slightly, his fingers twitching on the mouse. He turned his head just in time to see Jisung leaning in, eyes narrowing at the screen with exaggerated suspicion.
“You’re acting shady,” Jisung teased. “Looking up secret classified files? Hiding a double life? Trying to swap the shifts so I have to work every weekend?”
Seungmin clicked off the screen swiftly. “Jisung, you’re a doctor; we cannot even swap our shifts.”
“Well, whatever it is,” Jisung said, stretching his arms over his head, “it’s obviously not a good day for you. So, here’s my expert prescription for a shit day: food.”
Seungmin blinked. “Food?”
“Yes, food,” Jisung said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “The universal cure for all misery. We go, we eat, I continue being hilarious, and you feel a little better. I will grab us something from the canteen; join me in the staff room in 10 minutes.”
“Fine”, Seungmin muttered, giving up trying to fight Jisung on this.
As he walked down the corridor later, he saw Jisung engaged in a very serious-looking battle with a vending machine.
“Are you okay?” Seungmin asked, watching him shake the machine lightly.
“No, I’m being scammed,” Jisung huffed, glaring at the slot where his snack was stubbornly stuck. “It took my money and gave me nothing in return. Just like my ex.”
Seungmin snorted. “That’s tragic.”
“Right?” Jisung kicked the machine lightly. “Give me my crisps, you capitalist thief.”
Seungmin sighed, came closer, and smacked the side of the machine in just the right spot. The crisps dropped instantly.
Jisung blinked at him. “How the hell—”
“Experience,” Seungmin said simply, handing him the bag.
Jisung accepted it reverently. “You’re my hero.”
They settled comfortably at the little round table in the staff room. The quiet of the empty room was nice for once. Jisung set down a few paper containers in front of Seungmin, gesturing towards them with a cheerful expression. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I picked a few things,” he said.
Seungmin smiled. “I’m not picky.”
They both began digging into their food, Seungmin moving his around more than actually eating, while Jisung stuffed his cheeks full with an exaggerated enthusiasm.
“You know,” Jisung spoke, “I’m really good at listening. Like, an expert. Top tier. People say, ‘Wow, Jisung, your ears are huge, you must hear everything,’ and I say, ‘Thank you, it’s a blessing and a curse.’”
Seungmin let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “No one has ever said that.”
Jisung grinned. “Maybe not in those exact words. But I do listen, Seungmin.”
Seungmin drummed his fingers against the table, hesitating. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel safe with Jisung—he did. He really grew to like him a lot. But how was he supposed to explain this tangled mess to anyone?
Jisung didn’t push. He just picked up a dumpling, waved it around dramatically, and said, “You have three seconds before I start making up a tragic backstory for you.”
Seungmin raised a brow. “And what would that be?”
Jisung squinted, thinking. “Hmm. Okay, your first love was a rich heir, but you were from rival families and were forced apart. Then, years later, they returned, but they were engaged to someone else.”
Seungmin huffed. “That’s a drama plot, not a backstory.”
Jisung snapped his fingers. “Damn, you’re right. Okay, let me think—”
Seungmin shook his head, rolling his eyes, but there was something comforting about Jisung’s ridiculousness. It created a space where he didn’t feel suffocated by his thoughts.
He sighed, staring at the table before finally saying, “It’s just… complicated.”
Jisung nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Life usually is.”
Seungmin glanced at him. “There are people I care about, and I don’t know what to do with that.”
Jisung tilted his head. “Because it’s scary?”
Seungmin exhaled through his nose. “Because it shouldn’t matter this much.”
“You are the only one who determines what matters and what doesn’t. You care, so it matters a lot,” Jisung said simply.
Seungmin stared at his hands for a moment, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his drink. Then, as if the thought had been clawing its way out of him for too long, he finally asked, “Have you ever loved more than one person at a time? Romantically, I mean.”
Jisung hummed, swirling his drink as he considered the question. His brows furrowed slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching through distant memories. “Maybe?” he finally said, sounding more like a question than an answer. “I mean, I’ve definitely cared about more than one person at a time.”
Seungmin hesitated. “And do you think it’s… okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jisung asked, glancing at him like the answer was obvious. “You know, people forming packs wasn’t uncommon in the past. It became less of a thing over time when all that monogamy nonsense got pushed onto us, but people still do it. Though nowadays, I think it’s called… a polycule?” He tilted his head as if double-checking with himself.
Seungmin blinked, taken aback by how easily Jisung said it, like it was just another casual fact. “A polycule?”
“Yeah, like a relationship network. Everyone involved knows and is okay with it. It’s not really that weird,” Jisung explained, poking at his food with his chopsticks. “I mean, it’s not for everyone, sure. But if it works for the people involved, why should it be a problem?”
Seungmin nodded slowly, the weight of Jisung’s words settling in. He’d spent so much time wrestling with guilt, trying to rationalise his emotions as if they were something inherently wrong. But here Jisung was, saying it so matter-of-factly as if love didn’t have to be something rigidly defined. Maybe, just maybe, it didn’t.
Jisung nudged his knee lightly under the table. “You were thinking of starting your own pack, Seungmin?” he teased, smirking.
Seungmin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Shut up.”
Jisung grinned, wanting to say something even more teasing, but his phone rang.
“Yongbok, I was starting to worry that you were dead!” he answered, laughing loudly.
Seungmin's eyes widened. Yongbok? He desperately wanted to ask Jisung about who he was talking to on the phone, but decided to be polite and wait until Jisung finished his conversation.
Just then, Jisung smiled apologetically at Seungmin and exited the room, likely wanting to discuss something with his friend privately. Seungmin told himself he would ask Jisung later. He hated that their shift suddenly got so busy that he hadn’t had a chance to bring it up. Oh well, he guessed he would have to wait.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin picked up some flowers and Hyunjin’s favourite takeaway on his way home. He was going to apologise and talk to him honestly. Jisung had helped him realise that no matter how deep he buried his feelings, they weren’t going anywhere.
Of course, he still needed to talk to Changbin and Jeongin. Just because he felt this way didn’t mean they felt even slightly the same. But that was okay. He needed to clear his feelings anyway—to stop flinching whenever they were around him. More than anything, he just wanted things between them to feel normal. Romantic feelings or not, he knew one thing for sure: he wanted to be friends with both of them.
Though if he was being honest, it did seem like something was developing between the two of them. That wasn’t any of his business, though. They would tell him if and when they were ready.
Seungmin didn’t like the way that thought made him feel—the slight, burning sensation in his chest. He shoved it down. Right now, he needed to focus on Hyunjin and what he was going to say to him.
Guilt crept in anyway. How could he be thinking about someone else when he should be thinking about his boyfriend ? But feelings weren’t something you could control. Only how you reacted to them. And as long as he kept that in check, he would be fine.
As he approached the front door of his house, Seungmin noticed a figure sitting on the porch, just beside a few flower pots Hyunjin had planted. He squinted, trying to make out the person in the dim light. And then he recognised him—Jeongin.
“Innie?” Seungmin called, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to balance the flowers and takeaway containers in one hand while fishing out his keys with the other.
Jeongin turned towards him immediately, his gaze dropping to Seungmin’s struggles. “Here, let me help,” he said, gently taking the flowers from Seungmin’s grasp.
“Thanks.” Seungmin huffed as he finally got hold of his keys, but he didn’t rush to open the door. Instead, he glanced at Jeongin. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jeongin was quick to reply, too fast, as if he didn’t want to worry him. “I just wanted to talk to you… But I didn’t want to do it over the phone or at work. I’m sorry—I should’ve texted first. This obviously isn’t a great time. I don’t know why I thought showing up this late was a good—”
“Jeongin.” Seungmin reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. This might not be the best time, but I want you to be able to come to me when you need to.”
Jeongin suddenly felt ridiculous. Seungmin was always like this—kind, patient, ready to offer whatever he could. He was probably planning to spend some quiet time with Hyunjin, and here Jeongin was, showing up unannounced with his stupid little thoughts that couldn’t wait. How pathetic.
“It’s not urgent, really,” Jeongin muttered, looking down.
“Maybe not,” Seungmin said, tilting his head, “but you still came all the way here. Something’s bothering you.”
Jeongin hesitated, then exhaled softly. “…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Seungmin blinked, caught off guard. “ Me? ”
“Yeah.” Jeongin shifted his weight. “Last time we spoke… when I told you I was spending the weekend with Changbin, you seemed a little… sad?”
“Why would I be sad?” Seungmin asked, and he hated how defensive he sounded. He quickly decided to shift the conversation. “Did you have a nice time at the rice fields?”
“We didn’t actually go to the rice fields,” Jeongin admitted.
Seungmin frowned. “Huh?”
“Things… strayed from the original plan a little, and… yeah.” Jeongin scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking like he regretted bringing it up. “Anyway…” He took a deep breath.
Had Seungmin imagined it, or did the tips of Jeongin’s ears just turn red?
“We also talked about you,” Jeongin continued, and Seungmin’s stomach flipped. “Changbin-hyung thinks you’ve been acting a little strange, too.”
“You talked about me?” This wasn’t what Seungmin had meant to say, but his stupid heart had beaten his brain to it, reaching his mouth first.
Jeongin grinned, mentally noting something, but he ignored the question. “We’d like you to come to our housewarming party,” he said. “And Hyunjin too, of course,” he added quickly.
“Housewarming party?” Seungmin echoed, his brow furrowing. This was starting to sound a little too coupley. Was this where they finally told him they were dating?
Jeongin, ever perceptive, seemed to catch the shift in Seungmin’s expression. His smile softened. “Don’t think too hard about it. We just want to spend some cosy time together and have fun,” he said quickly to steer Seungmin’s thoughts away from wherever they drifted. “Maybe you could even help me decide what flowers to plant on the balcony,” he chuckled, nodding toward the flower pots beside them.
Seungmin huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m sure Hyunjin would be thrilled to help you with anything decoration-related.”
“Well, I better not keep you from him any longer tonight,” Jeongin said with a playful wink, extending the flowers back toward Seungmin—the flowers he had somehow been holding this whole time, Seungmin realised belatedly.
“Changbin-hyung is going to invite you on Friday,” Jeongin added, stepping back towards the pavement. “Don’t tell him you already know about it.” And with that, he spun on his heel, marching away with quick, light steps.
Seungmin just stood there, watching him disappear down the street, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened.
Did the rice fields mess with their heads? He frowned. But they didn’t even go there.
Shaking his head, he slid the key into the lock and turned it. He had to twist it a couple of times instead of once—nobody was home.
As he stepped inside, a new question burned at the back of his mind.
Where was Hyunjin?
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Hyunjin spun, his body moving with effortless grace, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next. The low hum of music pulsed through the studio, reverberating in his chest, guiding his steps without thought. His limbs stretched, coiling and unfurling like silk in the wind, every movement controlled yet free, a language of its own.
Even if he could never dance professionally, he could never let go of dancing itself. It was a part of him, woven into his bones, stitched into his muscles. No matter where life had taken him or how much had changed, the urge to move—to express everything through motion—never left him.
His shoulder tensed slightly when he lifted his arm too high, a subtle pull reminding him of its limits. He adjusted without thinking, shifting the angle, letting the movement flow around the restraint rather than fight against it. The bitterness was there, a quiet ache he had long since learned to live with, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. Not now. Not ever.
The world outside the studio blurred as he let the rhythm take over. His worries, those gnawing, restless thoughts, faded with each measured step, each roll of his hips, each sharp snap of his wrists. He moved with purpose but without restraint, letting his body express what his mind struggled to contain.
The weight in his chest lifted as he exhaled through the tension, his breath syncing with the tempo. He arched his back, his fingertips brushing the air, as if reaching for something just out of grasp—then let go.
Sweat beaded at his temple, sliding down his neck, but he didn’t stop. The music swelled, and with it, his body responded instinctively, surrendering fully. A turn, a slow undulation of his spine, the press of his heel into the floor—everything in harmony.
By the time the final beat faded, he stood still, chest rising and falling, his mind quiet for the first time in hours. His reflection in the mirror met his gaze, and for once, he didn’t see the weight of his worries staring back at him.
Fuck his father. Fuck Sangwoo. Fuck his whole family. Hyunjin never needed them. And really, he should’ve known this was how it would end.
He never imagined himself inheriting his father’s business—not that he wanted to—but the fact that all the decisions had been made without him, with some stranger instead, made him furious. Then again, he should have expected nothing less.
Sangwoo was the perfect tool for his father to achieve what he had always wanted—to merge the two families' businesses. And Sangwoo, ever the obedient son, would be easy to manipulate. He looked presentable in the eyes of all the so-called important people—the perfect alpha to lead.
Not like Hyunjin. The omega with a ‘silly’ dream. The disappointment. The gay son, who only existed in the shadows of high society, tolerated but never acknowledged. His father didn’t mind his queerness as long as it stayed hidden from the people whose opinions mattered. And since Hyunjin had never been welcome in those circles to begin with, it had been easy for him to ignore.
What his father didn’t know was that Sangwoo was gay, too. Hyunjin remembered the night he told him, how Sangwoo had just kissed him instead of responding, then pulled away with a simple, “Me too.”
Hyunjin had never felt anything romantic for him, but he suspected Sangwoo had. He worried about what that might mean for their friendship, but before it could become complicated, Sangwoo had ruined everything anyway. He had laughed at Hyunjin’s dream of becoming a dancer. Mocked him. Reduced something so deeply important to him to nothing.
Hyunjin felt sorry for his sister, trapped in Sangwoo’s lies, but at the end of the day, gay or not, his relationship with her would have been a lie either way.
And his father was bringing up Felix as if Hyunjin wasn’t still broken over how things had ended. He regretted ever sharing the details with his family, ever letting them in. But that was the past. As much as it hurt, Hyunjin needed to move on. He had a good life now. Good people surround him. That was what mattered.
And right now, he needed to make up with Seungmin. He hated fighting with him, hated how much it weighed him down.
Enough of the past.
The present was what mattered.
But life never agreed with Hyunjin.
He pushed his hair back, out of his face and stepped towards the small camera he’d set up to film himself dancing. He wasn’t a professional anymore, so there was no real need to monitor his every movement, no strict standard to uphold—but old habits died hard. He still wanted to do his best.
The studio had offered him the chance to teach both kids and adults—nothing professional, just casual dancers looking for an outlet. At first, he wasn’t sure if he’d make a good teacher, but he quickly realised he enjoyed it. The sessions were only once a week, but in return, he had unlimited access to one of the practice rooms. It was enough.
He unplugged the camera and sat on the floor, transferring the video onto his iPad so he could watch it more comfortably. He heard distant laughter and footsteps from somewhere in the hallway, faint at first but steadily drawing closer.
Then, suddenly, the door swung open. Two people entered, laughing and entirely absorbed in each other.
“I’ve never danced like that—I’ll suck at it!” one of them said, voice light with amusement.
“No, you won’t. I promise. I’ll teach you.”
The second voice sent a jolt through Hyunjin’s chest. Familiar. Too familiar.
But his mind couldn’t place it right away. Instinctively, he shifted further into the corner, partially obscured behind the speaker. He didn’t even know why he was hiding, only that something inside him screamed that he should.
Then, in his line of sight, a figure stepped forward, dressed simply in black sweats and a white t-shirt. Even in something so plain, the man was effortlessly good-looking. Hyunjin had never seen him before. What was he doing here? This room was supposed to be empty. Hyunjin had checked twice that no one had booked it.
Before he could dwell any further on the man, a second figure stepped into view, grabbing the man's hand and pulling him in for a kiss. It was soft, unhurried, filled with quiet laughter as they giggled against each other’s lips before pulling apart.
And now, nothing stood in the way of Hyunjin getting a proper look at the other man’s face.
No. No, this couldn’t be happening.
His throat tightened instantly, breath stalling in his lungs. He wouldn’t have mistaken those eyes for anything in the world. A sickening wave crashed over him, flipping his stomach inside out. The butterflies there weren’t the kind that fluttered pleasantly; no, they were thrashing, panicked, beating against the walls of his body like they were desperate to escape.
Hyunjin pressed himself further against the speaker, barely daring to breathe. His mind screamed at him— You’re such a coward. Always running. Always hiding. But what else could he do? Face him? No, not like this. Not here.
He stayed still for minutes that felt like hours, heart slamming against his ribs, waiting for a chance to slip out unnoticed. The two men were talking, laughing, and immersed in their own little world. Eventually, one of them moved towards the mirrors, adjusting something on the wall, and the other pulled out his phone, distracted. Now. Go now.
Hyunjin moved. Step by step, he crept towards the door, careful not to make a sound. He could already taste freedom, his hand reaching forward—
“Excuse me!”
Hyunjin flinched.
His fingers curled into fists as he forced himself to keep walking, to pretend he hadn't heard. His bag. Shit. He had been so focused on escaping that he hadn't even thought about it.
“Hey, I think you forgot this!”
Every nerve in Hyunjin’s body burned. The weight of the moment crashed down on him like a tidal wave, yet he kept moving, faster now, desperate to outrun the inevitable.
Then—contact. A hand wrapped around his wrist just outside in the hall, not harsh, not forceful, but enough. Enough to stop him dead in his tracks.
Hyunjin’s breath caught.
He turned.
And the world—every star, every planet, every piece of the cosmos—exploded.
The man before him still had that polite, oblivious smile on his lips, a bag in his hand, as if this was just another casual encounter. But the second their eyes met, the moment he truly saw Hyunjin—
Everything stopped.
The colour drained from his face, his fingers slipping from Hyunjin’s wrist like he had been burned.
Hyunjin stood frozen, staring at him. Because there they were. Those same soft features. Those freckles Hyunjin traced with his fingertips. Those eyes—those beautiful, familiar eyes, suddenly wide with emotion.
And none of it was good.
The bag hit the floor with a dull thud, but neither of them moved to pick it up. Felix stumbled back, hands stretching out before him, staring at his palms as if they held the answer to some cruel trick his mind was playing.
Hyunjin recognised that movement instantly.
“Did you know you can tell whether it’s a dream or reality by looking at your palms? If it’s a dream, your palms will be distorted.” A memory, distant yet crystal clear, rang through Hyunjin’s mind. The words Felix had told him long, long ago, lying beside him on some forgotten evening, speaking softly into the quiet.
Felix was making sure this wasn’t a dream. Or maybe, Hyunjin thought bitterly, a nightmare.
His chest ached, burning with everything he wanted to say, everything that had been buried for years. But what was there to say? What words could fix what had already shattered?
Hyunjin knew what he should do. Stay. Face this. Face him. But he had already established—he was a coward. So he did exactly what a coward would do.
He turned.
And he ran.
Voices blurred behind him, footsteps echoing in the hallway, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His heart pounded so violently it hurt, drowning out everything else.
“Felix!”
The sound of someone else’s voice made Hyunjin’s steps falter for a fraction of a second. But he didn’t look back.
Felix, however, did. Chan had caught up to him, hand firm on his shoulder, eyes flicking toward where Hyunjin had just disappeared. Felix’s lips parted, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Shock. Disbelief.
“Chan,” he whispered, voice unsteady. “I think that was Hyunjin.” He swallowed hard, staring at the space Hyunjin had left behind, as if he could will him back just by looking.
“No,” he said, stronger this time. He dragged in a shaky breath. “I’m sure it was him.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin was starting to worry. It was far too late, and Hyunjin still wasn’t home. His calls kept going to voicemail, each unanswered ring tightening the knot of anxiety in his chest. His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last.
The front door creaked open just as he was about to call someone. Hyunjin stepped inside.
Seungmin rushed forward but stopped short, watching in silence as Hyunjin toed off his shoes with agonising slowness. His movements were sluggish and drained; even the smallest action took effort. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a thin tank top and his dance clothes, his skin lined with goosebumps. But that wasn’t what unsettled Seungmin the most. It was the emptiness in his eyes, the way he stood there like a shadow of himself.
He looked like Hyunjin, but something was missing—something vital.
“Minnie.” Hyunjin’s voice was quiet, barely more than a breath, yet it was heavy enough to tighten Seungmin’s chest.
He didn’t hesitate. He closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around Hyunjin without a second thought. Despite being taller, Hyunjin folded into him, his head dropping onto Seungmin’s shoulder as his whole body sagged. At first, the sobs were quiet, barely there, but then the dam broke. He trembled, his breath hitching, and soon he was clutching at Seungmin’s shirt, shaking so hard it felt like he might collapse.
“I saw him, Minnie,” Hyunjin choked out between ragged sobs.
Seungmin frowned, rubbing soothing circles into Hyunjin’s back. “Saw who?”
Hyunjin didn’t answer right away, struggling to catch his breath. Seungmin’s mind raced, trying to make sense of it. “Is this about your father?” he guessed, thinking back to the meeting Hyunjin had dreaded. Had it gone that badly?
“No,” Hyunjin gasped, forcing air into his lungs. His fingers curled into Seungmin’s shirt, gripping like a lifeline. Then, barely audible, he said, “Yongbok.”
Seungmin stilled.
Yongbok.
The name hit him like a punch to the gut. Again. His grip tightened just slightly as if grounding himself. The Yongbok that Jisung talked to? Could it be the same person? The name was rare, too unique to be a coincidence. The odds of there being another were nearly impossible. He really wished he had asked Jisung about him. Maybe he would at least know what it is he’s facing.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin was still as lost as ever. He had held Hyunjin through tears many times before, but this time it felt different. Whatever had happened tonight was big enough to shatter him all over again. And suddenly, Seungmin was staring at the same broken boy he had met two years ago.
He wanted to hate this person, whoever Yongbok was, but deep down, he knew it probably wasn’t that simple. Things were never black and white. All he could do was hope that today was the day Hyunjin felt safe enough to tell the whole story.
The flowers and the takeaway were still sitting forgotten on the kitchen table. Another thing Seungmin hated in this moment was how they had left things unresolved this morning. He had been determined to talk it through, to apologise properly and hear Hyunjin out. But now? Hyunjin wasn’t in any state to have that conversation. That much was painfully clear.
Every time Hyunjin’s sobs began to quiet, every time it seemed like he might finally stop crying, another wave would hit him even harder. It was as if every memory broke over him anew, each one sharper and crueller than the last.
Seungmin couldn’t bear to see him like this. He hated how little he knew, hated that he was standing here blind and useless. And that helplessness, more than anything, was starting to push him back towards anger. Part of him wanted to grab Hyunjin’s shoulders and shake him— hard —until all the words, all the pain, came spilling out, like the cursed tupperware avalanche from that one kitchen cupboard they could never organise no matter how many times they tried.
But Seungmin knew better. His temper had been getting the better of him too easily lately. If he gave in now, if he lashed out again, he risked losing Hyunjin’s trust for good. Because that was Seungmin's curse: when people he loved got hurt, his first instinct was to get angry. Because it shouldn’t have happened. Because he should have protected them somehow. Even when he knew, logically, that he couldn’t protect everyone, couldn’t stop every bad thing from happening. And that anger, that twisted, helpless love, had sometimes made him look heartless to everyone else.
Seungmin didn’t know how long they had stood there. Long enough for the world outside to fade into night, and for the ache in his arms to set in. At some point, Hyunjin’s sobs dulled into shaky, broken breaths. His fingers, once twisted tightly into Seungmin’s shirt, fell away with a kind of exhausted surrender.
Seungmin brushed Hyunjin’s hair back from his damp forehead. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s sit down, yeah?”
He guided Hyunjin towards the sofa. Hyunjin dropped onto it heavily, throwing his head back against the cushions. He wasn’t crying anymore. He just looked wrung out.
His grandmother’s words floated into his mind, something she once told him: Don’t cry too much, you’ll have no tears left for my funeral. Good thing she passed before today, Hyunjin thought bitterly. Because today felt like the day he ran out.
Seungmin disappeared for a moment, then returned with a glass of water. The scent hit Hyunjin before he even touched it, sweet and citrusy. Jeju syrup. He thought he’d run out weeks ago. How had Seungmin found it?
He took the glass with shaking hands, managing a slight, grateful nod. He sipped slowly, letting the taste ground him back into his body.
Seungmin didn’t push. He just sat beside him, close but not crowding, waiting with infinite patience.
When Hyunjin finally set the glass down, he stared at his hands for a long moment. Then he spoke, voice so low Seungmin had to strain to hear.
“Minnie... I need to tell you about Yongbok.”
Seungmin only shifted slightly, giving him the space he needed to find the words.
“I'm here,” he said quietly. “Tell me everything.”
And so Hyunjin did.
In a quiet, breaking voice, he told Seungmin the beginning, the middle, the ugly, broken end.
He told him about the first time they met, how Felix’s laugh had been so bright it lit something up inside him he didn’t even know was dark. He told him how he had asked Felix to be his boyfriend, hands shaking, heart pounding, certain he was ruining their friendship forever, but Felix had only grinned at him, eyes crinkling, and said yes.
He told him how Felix hated his Korean name, saying it sounded like it belonged to an old grandpa, not to him. But Hyunjin had been stubborn. He’d called him Yongbok over and over, teasing at first, then softer, with a tenderness that slipped past Felix’s walls. Until the name stopped tasting like resentment and began to taste like love. Until it became a name that meant home.
Hyunjin spoke of the bright days, their late-night drives, the stupid inside jokes, the way Felix would dance terribly in the kitchen just to make him laugh.
And then, he spoke of the darker days.
Of the slow shift he hadn’t noticed at first, the way Felix's smiles started cracking at the edges, the late replies, the missed plans, the distant look in his eyes. Of the substances Felix used to try and claw his way out of a pain he never fully spoke about. Of how Hyunjin tried to hold on, tried to believe love was enough to pull him back.
But he knew too much. He had seen addiction up close before. His older cousin, someone he had looked up to all his childhood, had spiralled into that same darkness, until there was almost nothing left of him. Hyunjin knew the signs. He knew how hope could hollow you out if you clung to it too tightly.
“I was a coward,” Hyunjin exhaled, voice shaking, his knuckles white as he gripped the fabric of his trousers. “I just... left him. I couldn’t stay and watch him struggle. Part of me—” he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the words out. “—part of me knew he could beat it, if he had someone who believed in him. But the other part of me, the part that had already seen what drugs can do to a person…That part couldn’t survive watching him fade away, too.”
He opened his eyes, looking so lifeless that Seungmin's heart physically hurt. Hyunjin wasn’t mourning Felix—Felix had survived. He was mourning everything he had abandoned. The life they might have had. The boy he could have stayed for, fought for.
And under it all, the guilt was eating him alive. The fear that maybe, just maybe, Felix hadn’t made it after all. That by leaving, he’d handed him over to the darkness alone.
Seungmin listened without interrupting, but he didn’t know what to say. This was so much heavier than he could have ever imagined.
If he could, he would turn back time and fix it for Hyunjin. Fuck knows how, but he would try. Even if it meant he would never meet Hyunjin. Even if it meant he'd never get to love him.
“And you saw him today?” was all Seungmin managed.
Maybe Hyunjin wanted him to say more. Maybe he deserved more. But Seungmin needed to understand exactly what had happened today before he could offer anything that would actually help.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin said. “Completely by accident. I went to the studio to dance and... he was there. He was with someone.”
He took a shaky breath.
“He looked happy, Minnie. Happier than he ever was with me. Whoever that was... they're a better fit for him than I could ever be.”
Seungmin shook his head gently. “He moved on because he had to,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t make him happy, Hyunjin. From everything you’re telling me, that love between you—it ran both ways.”
“I’m happy for him. I am,” Hyunjin said, though the way his voice cracked betrayed just how much it hurt. “But Minnie… he smiled. I could see his freckles again, right up close. And then…” He swallowed thickly. “Then his face twisted up like he’d been punched. Right before he recognised me.”
“Did you speak to him?”
Hyunjin let out a bitter, broken laugh. “What do you think?” He dropped his head into his hands. “I ran. I fucking ran again. Literally. Turned around and ran like a stupid coward I am.”
“You had a rough day, Hyunjin. It’s understandable,” Seungmin said carefully, not wanting to risk pushing him any further into that spiral.
“It’s all I do. I run,” Hyunjin said hollowly. “Even this morning, after our argument... I just left.”
“No, Hyunjin. Listen to me,” Seungmin said, his voice firm enough to cut through the noise in Hyunjin’s head. He shifted closer, making sure Hyunjin was looking at him. “The argument, that’s on me. I was a dick to you.” He took a long breath, gathering the words properly this time. “I’m sorry. I know the timing’s terrible, and I wanted to do this the right way, but I’m sorry I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You deserve better. I promise I’ll do better.”
Hyunjin looked at him, and for a second, Seungmin wondered if he might break down all over again. But instead, Hyunjin gave a tiny, tired nod, because accepting the apology was all he had the strength for right now.
“I don’t wanna talk anymore. Words are exhausting,” Hyunjin breathed out. “Can you hold me?”
Seungmin shifted closer, wrapping his arms around Hyunjin and pulling him gently into his chest. Hyunjin melted into the embrace like he’d been waiting for it all day. Seungmin held him quietly, his hand running slow, absentminded strokes down Hyunjin’s back. Outwardly calm, but inside, his mind was a rushing, uncontrollable train.
He was almost certain now. Felix and the Yongbok that Jisung talked to had to be the same person. And if that was true, it meant Felix wasn’t some distant memory tucked away in Hyunjin’s past. He was here. Close. Maybe even working with them. Friends with Jisung.
It meant Hyunjin seeing him again wasn’t just possible. It was inevitable.
Seungmin’s arms tightened slightly around Hyunjin, a quiet promise only he would understand. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe facing him would give Hyunjin the closure he deserved.
All Seungmin could do was be there and make sure that this time, when the past came knocking, Hyunjin would be ready to face it without having to run anymore.
And if not, if he stumbled again... well. Seungmin would be there to catch him. Every time.
Chapter 15: jam swirls
Notes:
I'm back :') Please enjoy this chapter as much as Jisung enjoyed jam swirls <3
Chapter Text
Chan sprawled out on the sofa, limbs draped carelessly over the cushions, his legs awkwardly overflowing off the edge. He lay his head flat in the middle, staring at the ceiling, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. The position was ridiculous, but then again, so was the way he felt—light, carefree, a little silly, but in the best way possible.
He pressed his phone to his ear, listening to the dial tone. A few rings passed before the familiar voice picked up on the other end.
“Hi, Mum,” Chan greeted, smiling instinctively, even though she couldn’t see him.
“Hi, honey,” his mother replied, warmth woven into every syllable. “How have you been? I’m so happy you had time to call.”
Chan sighed, his chest filling with something both comforting and aching at the same time. He was incredibly close to his family, but with them all the way back in Australia, his hectic schedule made it difficult to call as often as he wanted. No matter how long he’d been away, though, his mum’s voice always felt like home.
“I'm good, just busy as always,” he admitted. “I miss you guys so much.”
“We miss you too,” she said, and then, with a knowing lilt in her voice, added, “But a little birdie told me you’re not spending your days alone anymore?”
Chan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He felt like he was fifteen again, being teased about some school crush at the dinner table.
“I knew she’d blab,” he muttered, already picturing his sister’s smug face.
His mum chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “What can I say? Your sister was very excited to share the news. So? Are you going to tell me about him, or do I have to get all the details second-hand?”
Chan hesitated, a rush of warmth spreading through him. It had only been a couple of months since that night—the night he and Felix finally stopped dancing around their feelings and just let it happen. Since then, it had been a whirlwind of stolen kisses, lazy mornings wrapped up in each other, and the kind of happiness that made time slip through his fingers.
He had planned to wait before telling his family. Not out of secrecy, but because it still felt so new, so fragile in a way that he wasn’t quite ready to share with the world. But, if he was honest, he’d been so wrapped up in Felix, so caught in the rush of their little honeymoon phase, that he hadn't thought much about anything else.
And now, with his mother waiting patiently on the other end of the line, he found himself smiling again, soft, fond, hopelessly gone.
“It’s… yeah,” Chan said, shaking his head at himself. “It’s Felix.”
“Felix,” his mother repeated, as if tasting the name. “That’s a lovely name. And you sound really happy, sweetheart.”
“I am,” Chan admitted, his voice softer now. “Really, really happy.”
“That’s all I ever want for you.” A pause. Then, brightly, “So, when do we get to meet him?”
Chan nearly choked on air. “Whoa, okay, let’s not scare him off!” he spluttered, sitting up slightly. “It’s only been a short time, mum. Let’s not start planning a family dinner just yet.”
His mother laughed, the kind of laugh that had always been able to shake the tension from his shoulders. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave. But so that you know, we’d love to meet him whenever you're ready. You know that, right?”
Chan swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. His parents had always been like this—open, accepting, never pushing but always letting him know they were there. It made him miss home more than he expected.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “And… maybe one day. When it feels right.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Chan leaned back into the sofa, exhaling slowly. The thought of Felix meeting his family felt both terrifying and exciting at the same time. But for now, he was happy to just exist in this moment—with Felix, with his mother’s voice filling the quiet and the undeniable warmth curling in his chest.
They talked for a while longer, his mum eagerly filling him in on everything that had been happening back home. It was the little things he missed the most—updates on neighbours he barely remembered, stories about his dad’s latest failed attempt at DIY, the way his mum would drift from one topic to the next as if she were afraid of leaving anything out.
And then, of course, there was Berry.
“She’s getting spoiled rotten, as always,” his mum had said, exasperated but fond. “Your dad insists he doesn’t give her extra treats, but I know he does. I caught him the other night sneaking her a bit of his dinner like she was some sort of queen.”
Chan had laughed, warmth blooming in his chest. His mum carried on, filling the spaces between her words with warmth, and Chan let himself sink into it, eyes slipping shut as he listened.
Eventually, her voice softened. “I really do miss you, sweetheart.”
Chan swallowed against the ache in his chest. “I miss you too, mum.”
They lingered a little longer, neither quite wanting to hang up, before finally saying their goodbyes. When the call ended, Chan stayed where he was, phone resting loosely in his hand, staring up at the ceiling with a quiet, lingering smile.
Home felt far away. But, for now, this was enough.
Chan glanced at the time. Late morning. He stretched, feeling the slight stiffness in his limbs from lying on the sofa for too long, then pushed himself up, padding quietly upstairs. The house was still, the kind of quiet that came with lazy mornings and the aftermath of long nights.
When he stepped into their bedroom, he wasn’t surprised to find Felix still fast asleep, curled up in their bed, completely undisturbed by the world around him. Chan leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head with a small, amused huff.
Felix was an absolute mess.
His blonde hair stuck out in all directions, tangled from sleep, the remnants of last night’s makeup smudged across his cheekbones and just beneath his eyes, giving him a ghost of an unintentional smoky look. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing deep and steady, one arm sprawled lazily across the pillow beside him. Chan knew the moment he woke up, he’d regret not wiping his face before crashing into bed.
Chan felt a twinge of sympathy.
Felix had gone out last night, invited to a party with the other junior doctors who had started at the same time as him. It was a tradition, one that had been going on long before Chan's time. He remembered his own version of it a few years back, remembered the chaos, the feeling of wild, unshackled freedom. It was the last hurrah before reality set in, before the weight of their new responsibilities fully sank in. A final goodbye to university life, to reckless nights and carefree partying.
They were doctors now.
And Chan knew exactly how Felix was going to feel when he woke up.
With a quiet chuckle, Chan stepped further into the room, debating whether or not to wake him. But before he could decide, Felix stirred, shifting slightly beneath the covers. At first, it was just a tiny, sleepy murmur, barely audible—but then it turned into a proper groan, deep and pained, as his eyelids fluttered open.
Chan smirked, arms folding over his chest as he watched the inevitable unfold.
Felix blinked sluggishly, his expression twisted in discomfort, and then, as if the realisation hit him all at once, he let out another groan, this one even more dramatic. He squeezed his eyes shut again like he could will away the hangover creeping in, his head sinking deeper into the pillow.
“Oh, no,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep and regret. “Oh, this is bad.”
Chan couldn't hold back his laughter. “Good morning, sunshine.”
Felix barely moved, only lifting a hand weakly to flip him off before letting it flop back onto the mattress. “Don’t talk to me,” he croaked. “I’m dead.”
Chan snorted, stepping closer to the bed. “You look dead.”
Felix cracked one eye open, squinting at him in what was meant to be a glare but just made him look even more pitiful. “This is your fault.”
“My fault?” Chan raised an eyebrow, thoroughly entertained.
“You didn’t stop me.”
Chan huffed out a laugh, nudging the water bottle closer to him. “I wasn’t even there.”
“Still,” Felix grumbled, shifting onto his side. “You could’ve—I dunno—sent me psychic warnings. Told me not to take that last shot.”
Chan sat on the edge of the bed, shaking his head. “I don’t think even divine intervention could’ve stopped you last night.”
Felix groaned again, dragging the pillow over his face. “I regret everything.”
Chan reached out, gently tugging the pillow away. “Come on, drink some water before your brain shrivels up.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jisung woke up to the familiar weight of a small, warm body landing squarely on his chest. A soft, insistent kneading followed, tiny paws pressing into his skin with delicate precision. Dori.
Half-conscious, Jisung reached up automatically, fingers scratching behind the cat’s ears. A contented purr rumbled in response, but before he could fully enjoy the moment, the brightness of the room hit him. His eyelids fluttered open just enough to be immediately assaulted by the golden sunlight streaming through the large living room window.
Wait. Living room?
His brows furrowed as a sense of confusion settled in. He hadn’t gone to sleep here, had he? He tried to force his sluggish brain to work through the haze, but before he could get too far, a familiar voice cut through the silence.
“Smudged eyeliner, bed hair, the whole thing—very rockstar of you.”
Jisung groaned.
A quiet chuckle followed. “Wondering why you’re in the living room yet?”
Jisung cracked one eye open, just enough to glare blearily at Minho, who was perched on the arm of the sofa, watching him with an infuriating smirk. Damn Minho. Always knowing exactly what was on his mind.
Jisung huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Do I even want to know?”
Minho tilted his head, considering. “Depends. Do you remember anything from last night?”
Jisung groaned again, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “Nope.”
Minho giggled, the sound entirely too pleased, which only made Jisung more suspicious. “Figures,” Minho said. “You and Felix got absolutely pissed at the junior doctors’ party, so me and Chan had to come and pick you up. You’re lucky you have us, you know.”
Jisung squinted up at him, brain still sluggish but now working overtime to process that information. “And how exactly did you two know we needed picking up?”
Minho’s smirk deepened. “Simple. You called me.”
Jisung stared at him. “I what?”
Minho stretched his arms above his head, looking far too entertained. “Oh yeah. Multiple times, actually. First, you slurred something about me being ‘your favourite person in the whole world’—which, I mean, I already knew, but it was nice to hear it out loud.”
Jisung groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Please shut up.”
Minho ignored him. “Then you started talking about the cats—how you were convinced they missed you, and how they’re ‘the best boys ever’—which, obviously, is true, but I’m pretty sure you were crying a little when you said it.”
Jisung peeked at him through his fingers, mortified. “No.”
Minho grinned. “Oh, yes.”
Jisung let out a long, pained sigh. “Okay, but how did Felix end up in the same state?”
Minho snorted. “From what I heard, he kept challenging people to drinking games and saying, ‘I work with Chan, I can handle pressure.’ Spoiler alert—he could not.”
Jisung groaned again, flopping dramatically onto his side. Dori, unbothered, climbed onto his hip and made himself comfortable.
“Anyway,” Minho continued, leaning back on the sofa arm, looking far too smug for Jisung’s liking, “By the time I got your ass here, you seemed to be asleep. But just as I carried you upstairs to the bedroom, you started thrashing in my arms, demanding to sleep in the living room.”
Jisung’s eyes widened. “No…”
Minho was barely containing his laughter now, his shoulders shaking with the effort. “Oh yeah. You kept going on about how the living room had ‘better vibes’ and ‘a more comfortable aura’—like you were some kind of spiritual guru or something.”
Jisung buried his face in his hands, groaning in pure, unadulterated embarrassment. “I did not say that.”
“Oh, you did,” Minho said, grinning like a cat who’d just caught a particularly juicy mouse. “And it got better, too. You said you can see your nose, and you won’t be able to live comfortably anymore because your brain refused to ignore your nose,” Minho chuckled, clearly enjoying Jisung’s misery. “You might’ve been a little dramatic, but it was kind of cute.”
“Cute?!” Jisung looked at him in disbelief, now thoroughly horrified. “That’s not cute, Minho. That’s a nightmare.”
“Well, it was cute to me.”
Jisung grunted, flopping back onto the couch like his soul had just left his body.
Minho patted Jisung’s leg before pushing himself up to his feet. “Come on, lightweight. You need to eat something before you actually die.”
Jisung grumbled under his breath but begrudgingly sat up, still feeling like his brain was stuffed with cotton. He dragged himself to the kitchen, where Minho had already set out food and a glass of water, along with some painkillers.
The food and medicine slowly worked their magic, dulling the throbbing in his head and making him feel slightly more human. Eventually, he stretched, letting out a long sigh. “Alright. I think I’m finally capable of facing the world again.”
Minho arched a brow. “That so?”
“Yeah. Well, at least the part of the world that involves me showering first.”
Minho let out a laugh. “Good call.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“Are you feeling better?” Chan asked, watching as Felix stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling out behind him. His damp hair clung to his forehead in messy strands, and the smudged remnants of last night’s makeup were finally gone. He looked soft like this—sleepy, fresh, but… not quite himself.
Felix made a small sound in response, something between a hum and a sigh. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either.
Chan stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Felix’s waist and pressing a slow kiss to his bare shoulder. Felix was warm against him, his skin smelling of soap and something distinctly him . Felix smelled like strawberries. But not just regular strawberries — the homegrown ones, the ones that smell like sun and summer afternoons, kissed by the warmth of the earth. Like the ones you buy from that tiny farmer’s stall just outside the city, the ones that leave your fingers sticky and your lips stained red after eating too many in one sitting.
“What’s up, baby?” Chan murmured against his skin.
Felix exhaled, his hands instinctively finding Chan’s where they rested over his stomach. He ran his fingers over them absentmindedly before leaning back into Chan’s chest. Chan took the hint and started rocking them gently from side to side, his way of saying, I’ve got you. Take your time.
And it worked, because after a moment, Felix spoke, voice quieter than before.
“Everybody was talking about you at the party.”
Chan blinked, surprised. “Me?” He pulled back slightly to look at Felix’s face. “Why?”
Felix pursed his lips, his fingers still tracing light patterns over Chan’s hands. “Yeah. Your name kept coming up. Even from people who aren’t in your department.”
Chan frowned. “What were they saying?”
Felix hesitated, then let out a slow breath. “That you’re some kind of legend,” he started, voice laced with something Chan couldn’t quite place yet. “That you’re the one to impress, that if you acknowledge someone, they’re basically set. That you never make mistakes, that you work yourself into the ground, that—” Felix paused, shaking his head. “That you’re hot. And single.”
Chan froze for half a second before letting out a small laugh. “Single? Seriously?”
Felix didn’t laugh with him. That’s when it clicked.
Chan’s grip on Felix tightened just slightly, grounding him. “Baby,” he said, voice soft. “You know that’s not true.”
Felix exhaled sharply, finally turning in Chan’s arms to face him. “I know that. But they don’t. And they were… I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “There were just a lot of people saying they’d love a chance with you. Talking like you were…available.”
Chan tilted his head, studying Felix carefully. “And that bothered you?”
Felix groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Ugh, no , because I’m totally cool and chill and unbothered—”
“Lix,” Chan cut in.
Felix huffed, dropping his head back down to meet Chan’s eyes. “Fine. Yes. It bothered me.”
Chan smiled, his hands sliding up Felix’s sides before settling at his waist. “And did you tell them I’m very much not available?”
Felix hesitated. “Well… no. I mean, what was I supposed to say? Actually, he’s mine, so back off? ”
Chan chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle against Felix’s cheek. “That would’ve been hot, honestly.”
Felix groaned again, smacking Chan’s chest lightly. “Shut up.”
But Chan didn’t shut up. Instead, he tilted Felix’s chin up gently and kissed him—slow and deliberate, like he was making a point. When he pulled back, he rested their foreheads together.
“I don’t care what they think, baby,” he murmured. “I’m yours. Always.”
Felix swallowed, his fingers curling into the fabric of Chan’s shirt. “Yeah?”
Chan kissed him again, just as soft, just as certain. “Yeah. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to tell people.”
Felix sighed, his fingers tightening slightly against the fabric of Chan’s shirt. “Chan… you know why we can’t.”
“I know, Lix,” Chan murmured. “But I don’t think people would care all that much.”
Felix pulled back just enough to meet Chan’s gaze. His expression was conflicted. Not because he didn’t want to tell people but because he couldn’t . Not yet.
They’d talked about this before, and every time, Chan tried to be understanding. He was understanding. But there was always a part of him that wished things could be different, that Felix didn’t have to worry so much.
“It’s not about them caring,” Felix said quietly. “It’s about what they’d think .”
Chan exhaled, already knowing where this was going.
Felix bit his lip, looking down. “You know how people talk. If they find out, it won’t just be us . It’ll be about whether I got this placement because of you . Whether I actually deserve to be here or if I’m just—” He hesitated, jaw tightening. “Sleeping my way into the best hospital in the city.”
Chan frowned. “No one would—”
“They would ,” Felix cut in, shaking his head. “Even if they don’t say it to my face, they’ll think it. And in a couple of years, when I apply for a permanent spot… I don’t want there to be any question about whether I earned it or if it was just because I’m—” His voice wavered. “Because I’m with you.”
Chan’s heart twisted. He knew Felix was ambitious, that he wanted to stand on his own two feet. He admired that about him. But it hurt—knowing that Felix felt like he had to keep their relationship a secret to prove himself.
“Lix,” Chan said softly. “You do deserve to be here. Everyone can see that.”
Felix swallowed, still not meeting his eyes. “Maybe. But I don’t want to take that risk.”
Chan didn’t push. Instead, he sighed and pulled Felix back into his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of his head. “Okay,” he murmured. “We’ll wait.”
Felix relaxed slightly against him, exhaling in relief.
Chan didn’t like it—keeping something so good, so important, hidden . But if it meant giving Felix the peace of mind he needed, he’d wait as long as it took.
“Will you please take me home before going out with Minho and Changbin-hyung?” Felix asked.
Chan glanced at him, something unreadable flickering in his eyes just for a second, before he schooled his expression into something more neutral. But Felix caught it.
It was a look he recognised, one that made something twist in his chest.
Chan nodded, but his voice was small when he said, “Yeah, of course.”
Felix frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Chan answered too quickly. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just—” He hesitated, letting out a small breath. “I guess I thought maybe you were getting tired of staying with me.”
Felix blinked. “What? No, that’s not—” He paused, suddenly realising how it might have sounded.
He didn’t mean it like that.
It wasn’t that he wanted to get away from Chan—far from it. But it had been a while since he properly stayed in his own place, and the thought of going back for a night felt… strange. Like stepping into a space that didn’t quite feel like his anymore.
Because, without really planning to, Felix had ended up spending nearly all of his time at Chan’s. At first, he’d worried about leaving Jisung on his own too often, but that guilt had quickly faded when he realised Jisung was just as absent—glued to Minho like a pair of inseparable chopsticks, as Chan had once put it.
It wasn’t something they talked about, this quiet shift in where Felix spent his nights, where he woke up, where he felt at home . It had just happened , settling into place as naturally as breathing.
And maybe that was why Chan’s reaction stung a little. Because Felix hadn’t thought of it as choosing to stay with him, it was just what felt right .
He stepped closer, reaching for Chan’s hand. “I’m not tired of you, idiot.” His voice was softer now, sincere. “I just want to spend some time with Jisung. We agreed to stay at our place tonight. It’s been a while, and we miss each other.”
Oh.
Of course. Chan was an idiot. He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts, his own stupid worries, that he hadn’t even considered that. Of course their little sunshine twins were missing each other.
A slow smile formed on his lips. Both he and Minho absolutely adored the friendship between their boyfriends.
“I think it’s more of a platonic relationship, really,” Chan had once said when he and Minho were talking about it.
Minho had given him a look. A look that made Chan momentarily fear for his life. His eyes had darkened, jaw set like he was about to start growling.
Chan had panicked. “Not like that ! I just meant—”
But it was too late. Minho had already crossed his arms, his expression the very definition of mine . To be fair, Minho was a little possessive like that. Chan could only pray Jisung was into it—otherwise, they’d all be in trouble. It had taken a full five minutes of explaining before Minho finally relaxed, his eyes losing that territorial glint. And then, to Chan’s surprise, his expression softened.
Because Minho liked Felix. And more than that, he was genuinely happy for Jisung to have someone as kind and brilliant as Felix by his side. Felix wasn’t a threat. Even if their sunshine twins somehow ended up falling for each other, maybe—just maybe—Minho would have been okay with that.
As long as Jisung still loved him .
“Sorry,” Chan said, looking like a kicked puppy. “Of course I can take you home before I go out.”
Felix smiled, tilting his head. “Actually… it’s not home. It’s just my apartment.” He squeezed Chan’s hand gently. “Because home is with you. Wherever that is.”
It was cheesy. Maybe even cringe to anyone else. But no one else was in the room. And honestly? Felix didn’t care. Because this —being with Chan, loving him—meant he could be as cheesy, soft, and ridiculous as he wanted.
Because with Chan, he never had to hold back.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jisung absentmindedly strummed the guitar strings, experimenting with a melody Minho didn’t recognise. His fingers moved with ease, the soft hum of the notes filling the quiet space between them.
Minho watched from where he sat, head tilted slightly. It still amused him how much Jisung had lit up the first time he found the guitar in Minho’s house. At first, he’d assumed Minho played too—because, in Jisung’s mind, of course Minho would. Minho was good at everything, after all.
But Minho had only laughed, shaking his head. “As cool as that would be, I’ve never actually learned how to play anything.”
Jisung had stared at him, perplexed. Then why do you have a guitar?
It turned out that Minho didn’t even mean to own one. It had been delivered to his house by mistake, probably a mix-up with the address. He’d waited, thinking someone would come claim it, but no one ever did. So he kept it, unsure what else to do with it.
And now, watching Jisung pluck at the strings like they were an extension of himself, Minho was glad he had. Because the way Jisung smiled whenever he played—wide and unguarded, all soft edges and quiet happiness—was worth more than anything.
“I’ve never heard you play that before,” Minho said, tilting his head as he watched Jisung.
Jisung hesitated, fingers brushing lightly over the strings. “It’s not a song you’d know.”
Minho frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
Jisung exhaled, shifting his grip on the guitar. “It’s mine,” he admitted. “I wrote it.”
Minho blinked, then leaned forward. “You write songs?” His voice carried a mix of surprise and something almost incredulous, like he was trying to figure out how this had escaped him. “How did I not know this?”
Jisung shrugged, focusing on the guitar like that might shield him from the attention. “I used to write a lot when I was younger,” he said, fingers idly plucking at the strings. “It helped. I guess I just fell out of the habit.”
Minho stayed quiet for a moment, watching him, piecing something together in his head.
“Play it for me?” he asked gently, scooting closer. His voice was quiet, but his eyes were big and pleading.
Jisung hesitated, his knee bouncing slightly. “I’m not sure I remember all of it. And I haven’t played in front of anyone in… ages.”
Minho nudged his leg. “Doesn’t matter. Play whatever you remember.”
Jisung let out a slow breath, then nodded, fingers settling properly on the strings. Minho leaned back, watching him with a quiet kind of anticipation, like he was about to witness something important.
Jisung strummed the first few notes, and then, to Minho’s complete surprise, he started to sing.
Falling down, I'm an alien on this earth
I don't seem to belong anywhere but myself
No matter how much I smile, I feel so lonely
Like aliens trying to blend in with Earthlings
No one can hear me when I try and say something...
Minho barely breathed.
Jisung sings? And he’s this good?
His voice was soft but carried weight, steady yet laced with something unshakably real. There was a rawness to it, a silent ache that settled deep in Minho’s chest and took root. Jisung wasn’t just playing a song—he was giving something of himself, something that had probably lived inside him for years.
Jisung wasn’t even looking at him. His gaze was fixed on his guitar, brows drawn together in quiet concentration, like the song was fragile and could break if he wasn’t careful.
Minho swallowed, suddenly aware of how still he was sitting.
Jisung’s voice dipped lower, almost a whisper:
No one can hear me when I try and say something...
Then silence. The last note faded into the air, and Jisung released a small, shaky breath like he had just let go of something heavy. He finally looked up, meeting Minho’s eyes hesitantly.
Minho didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. His mind scrambled for words, but all he could manage was:
“Jisung… what the fuck ?”
Jisung flinched. “Was it that bad?”
Minho blinked, then barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “ Bad ? Are you serious?” He gestured wildly. “You’ve just been sitting on this talent like it’s nothing? Like—‘Oh yeah, I write songs, no big deal,’ and then you sound like that ?”
Jisung’s ears turned red. “I mean, I wasn’t hiding it exactly—”
Minho groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “You’re actually insane. I’m insane for not knowing. We are all insane for letting this go unheard.”
Jisung laughed, shaking his head. “You’re being dramatic.”
Minho sat up again, fixing him with a look. “Jisung. You’re going to play that song for me again. From the beginning. And then we’re going to talk about why the hell you haven’t been doing this all the time .”
Jisung bit his lip, but a small, pleased smile formed there, too. “Alright,” he said quietly.
And this time, Minho listened even closer.
Jisung played a few more songs, whatever he could remember, and Minho was utterly mesmerised. Each note, each lyric, felt like another piece of Jisung unfolding in front of him, like he was letting Minho into a part of himself no one else had really seen.
When Jisung finally set the guitar aside, Minho released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “You should’ve been an artist, not a bloody doctor,” he said, shaking his head like he was genuinely baffled by its injustice.
Jisung laughed, nudging Minho with his shoulder. “If I were, I probably wouldn’t have met you,” he pointed out. “And honestly? That’d be a bigger loss than anything else.”
Minho rolled his eyes, but there was warmth in them that made Jisung’s chest feel light. “Sappy,” Minho muttered, though he was already reaching for Jisung, pulling him in by the wrist.
Jisung didn’t resist. He curled into Minho’s side, melting into the familiar weight of his arms. It started slow—lazy kisses, soft and teasing—but the heat crept in quickly. Minho’s hands slipped under Jisung’s shirt, fingers spreading wide over warm skin, pressing firm against his waist. He pulled Jisung fully into his lap, deepening the kiss with a quiet sigh, like this was exactly where he needed Jisung to be.
Jisung shivered, clutching Minho’s shoulders as their bodies moved together, the heat between them building fast. Maybe he should sing for him more often if this was the reaction he got. But then again, it didn’t really matter—no matter what they were doing, nine times out of ten, it ended with Minho pressing him down, fucking him until his voice was wrecked from more than just singing.
Minho's hands were rough and desperate, sliding under Jisung’s shirt and gripping his bare waist as he rocked him against his lap. Jisung gasped, feeling how hard Minho already was, and let himself melt into it, grinding down just to hear Minho’s breath hitch. Minho swore under his breath, tilting his head to nip at Jisung’s throat, making him jolt.
“Fucking tease,” Minho muttered, but Jisung knew he loved it—loved the way Jisung whined when he bit down a little harder, loved the way his hips stuttered when Minho dragged blunt nails down his back.
Minho was just about to lift him, already planning to pin Jisung against the nearest wall, when a sharp, electronic beeping cut through the haze of their breathing.
Minho exhaled, long and slow, then slumped back against the couch with a groan. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Jisung blinked, dazed, then started laughing, still breathless, as he peeked over Minho’s shoulder at his phone. “Oh. Oh, that’s hilarious.”
“That’s my alarm.” Minho didn’t even sound mad, just absolutely done with life.
“For what?”
“To get ready. Chan and Changbin are waiting for me.”
Jisung grinned. “Guess you better go, then.”
Minho’s hands were still tight on Jisung’s waist, like he had no intention of letting go. “Or…I ditch them.” He tilted his head, kissing the corner of Jisung’s mouth, his smirk growing when he felt the way Jisung tensed. “Stay here. We’ll just—” He rolled his hips up again, dragging Jisung into another slow grind, his voice dropping lower. “—finish what we started.”
Jisung let himself sink into it for a second, eyes fluttering shut, heat pooling low in his stomach. Minho was good, really good, and he knew exactly how to break him apart.
But no.
He forced himself to still, pressing a hand to Minho’s chest. “Hyung, you can’t.”
Minho frowned, looking personally offended. “Why the hell not?”
“Because you actually want to go,” Jisung said, poking his forehead. “Don’t act like you don’t. You haven’t seen them properly in ages.”
Minho groaned, tossing his head back against the couch. “But I also want to fuck you.”
“You can do both,” Jisung said, lips quirking. “Just in a different order.”
Minho squinted at him. “You saying you’ll let me wreck you later?”
Jisung rolled his eyes but still leaned in, letting his lips brush against Minho’s ear as he whispered, “If you’re good.”
Minho swore under his breath, but Jisung was already climbing off his lap, standing up and stretching like he wasn’t affected at all.
“And besides,” Jisung added, grinning, “I was gonna spend time with Felix anyway. I actually have plans, unlike you, who was about to bail on his friends.”
Minho grumbled something under his breath but finally reached for his phone, shutting off the alarm completely.
“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’m holding you to that.”
Jisung just smirked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Felix entered his apartment first, Chan trailing behind him. The stale air hit him immediately, the kind that settles in when a place hasn’t been aired out for a while. Felix paused at the threshold, taking in the familiar yet distant atmosphere. He glanced around the space, eyes landing on a particular spot above the kitchen cupboards where a vase used to sit. It looked empty now, strange, like not his apartment.
It was the kind of feeling you get when you go on holiday and then come back, only to find that your house looks and feels different for a few hours before you settle back in. Felix had only been gone for a short time, yet it felt like so much longer. Staying with Chan in his home had shifted something inside him. What used to be familiar now felt a little foreign. The place, his space, seemed smaller somehow, as if it no longer held the same weight it used to. It was as though sharing his life, his time, with Chan had created a new version of what home was.
The emptiness above the cupboards, where the vase used to be, was a small detail, but Felix couldn’t shake the sensation that it was symbolic. Maybe he was just getting used to the idea that home wasn’t a place anymore. It was a feeling, and for now, that feeling was wherever Chan was.
“Minho texted. They’re leaving now. He’s gonna drive Jisung here, and then we’ll go,” Chan said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Felix turned to him, a smile spreading across his face before he could even think about it. “Perfect.”
He really had missed Jisung. It had only been a few days since they’d last spent some time together, but that was enough for him to feel the absence. Felix had always been someone who needed his people close,the reassurance that the people he loved were still there, still the same, still his.
Chan watched him, something flickering across his face before he stepped closer and cupped Felix’s cheeks in his hands. His palms were warm, steady, grounding in the best way. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing gently over Felix’s skin.
Felix barely had a second to process before Chan started peppering his face with tiny kisses—his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, even the corner of his mouth. Felix giggled, scrunching his shoulders at the ticklish feeling. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked, his voice light and teasing.
Chan only hummed, resting his forehead against Felix’s as his hands slid to hold his waist. There was a look in his eyes Felix had seen before, something soft yet so intense it made his stomach flip.
The truth was that Chan was just in love. So stupidly, overwhelmingly in love. The fear that it would all come crashing down—that Felix would wake up one day and realise he didn’t want him anymore—was buried in the darker corners of his mind. But it was easier to ignore now. Because Felix was here, laughing under his touch, looking at him like he was the best thing in his world.
Chan had never felt like this before. Love wasn’t enough of a word for it. It was deeper than that, something that latched onto his very being and refused to let go. It was terrifying. It was beautiful. And Chan wasn’t sure he even cared what it was called as long as he got to keep feeling it.
“You love it,” Chan teased, pressing one last lingering kiss just below Felix’s ear before pulling back slightly, just enough to look at him properly. His hands still rested at Felix’s waist, thumbs idly stroking over the warm skin peeking out from beneath his hoodie.
Felix sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”
Chan scoffed, giving his waist a light squeeze. “You wound me.”
Felix only smirked, but before he could get another word in, Chan slipped his hands under the hoodie properly this time, palms flattening against the bare skin of Felix’s back. His touch was warm, grounding, so familiar now. But still, something about it made Felix’s breath hitch—maybe the way Chan’s fingers splayed so wide, like he wanted to hold all of him at once, or maybe the way his thumbs dipped lower, pressing into the soft curve just above his hips.
Felix shifted, not thinking much of it at first, just a subtle movement closer. But then, he felt it. The way Chan’s breathing changed. The way his fingers flexed slightly against his skin, like he was trying not to react.
A slow sort of awareness settled between them.
Felix glanced up at him, noticing how Chan’s gaze had dropped to his lips. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too much. There was something about teasing Chan like this that never got old.
So, he tested it. Just a little.
Letting his fingers ghost along Chan’s collarbone, dipping beneath the neckline of his hoodie before trailing back down, slow, light, and entirely deliberate. Chan’s jaw tightened.
Felix hummed, tilting his head slightly. “You okay?” His voice was teasing.
Chan exhaled through his nose, grip tightening at Felix’s waist. “You know what you’re doing.”
Felix blinked at him, all mock innocence. “Do I?”
Chan huffed, shaking his head. “You’re so annoying.”
Felix barely had a second to react before he was suddenly pressed against the kitchen counter, Chan’s hands firm at his hips, his body solid and warm against his own. The playful energy fizzled into something heavier, unspoken, but very mutual.
Chan didn’t kiss him right away. He just hovered close, their noses nearly touching, his breath warm against Felix’s lips. Like he was waiting, like he wanted to drag this out just to see how long Felix could last.
Felix swallowed, pressing his palms flat against Chan’s chest. He could feel his heartbeat—steady, strong, just a little faster than before.
“I thought you were being all sappy just a second ago,” Felix murmured, his voice betraying the slight tremor in his breath.
Chan gave him a sly smile. “I can be both.”
Then, Chan finally closed the distance, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. And just like that, any pretence of teasing was gone—because Chan kissed him with that same certainty he always had, like he meant it, like he never wanted to stop.
Felix sighed into it, melting into Chan’s touch as his fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie. Chan’s hands were still firm at his waist, thumbs stroking idly over his skin, keeping him close but still taking his time.
And then—his hands moved lower, settling just beneath the curve of Felix’s ass, pulling him flush against him in a way that made Felix gasp softly against his lips.
Chan pulled back slightly, his smirk returning. “You good?”
Felix exhaled, biting his lip. “You’re such a tease.”
“You started it.”
Felix huffed, pushing lightly at Chan’s chest, though he made no real effort to move away. Instead, he leaned in again, chasing the warmth of his mouth, ready to pick up where they left off.
Then—
The front door opened.
Felix flinched so hard he nearly smacked his forehead against Chan’s.
“Lixie, I’m home!” Jisung announced at full volume, kicking his shoes off dramatically.
Felix groaned, dropping his head onto Chan’s shoulder. “I hate him.”
Chan just laughed, pressing a quick kiss to Felix’s temple before stepping back. “No, you don’t.”
Felix sighed. “No, I don’t.” But damn, did Jisung have the worst timing.
Minho strolled in right after Jisung, his gaze immediately landing on Chan and Felix, eyes narrowing with amused suspicion.
“And you were telling me I shouldn’t ditch him?” he called out, directing the words at Jisung but making sure his voice was loud enough for Chan to hear. “Look at this guy! He was seconds away from ditching me, too!” He threw his hands up dramatically as if personally offended.
Jisung looked at Felix and Chan, still standing suspiciously close, both looking mildly guilty, and promptly burst into laughter. “You two are the worst,” he managed between breaths. “Poor Changbin.”
“I don’t know,” Minho said, tone casual as if he were commenting on the weather. “I heard Binnie’s been banging someone.”
Jisung gasped and swatted Minho’s arm. “Minho! You can’t just say it like that! And stop spreading gossip!”
Chan perked up, looking at Minho with genuine curiosity. “Wait, for real? Man, about damn time. I’m happy for him.”
Felix gasped dramatically, smacking Chan’s chest with the back of his hand. “Chan!”
Chan blinked at him. “What?”
Felix shook his head, feigning disbelief. “I have never heard you talk like that.”
Chan scoffed, crossing his arms. “What, like I don’t have thoughts?”
Felix laughed, nudging him. “No, gossiping!”
Minho smirked. “Oh, please. If you two weren’t seconds away from fucking like animals, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
Jisung crossed his arms, tilting his head with an exaggerated look of mock impatience. “Alphas, I believe you have somewhere to be?”
Minho rolled his eyes but lifted his hands in surrender. “We’re going, we’re going.”
Felix moved closer to Chan, leaning in so only he could hear. “Come back here later?” he bit his lip before adding, “Minho too.”
Chan’s brows lifted slightly, eyes searching Felix’s like he was trying to decipher exactly what he meant. But Felix just smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Chan’s lips before turning away and making his way towards Jisung. His arms wrapped snugly around the other omega, slipping easily into their comfortable closeness.
Chan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head before calling out, “Alright, have fun, babes.”
“We will,” came the synchronised reply from both omegas.
The moment the doors clicked shut, Minho turned sharply to Chan, eyes narrowing. “The hell you’re calling my boyfriend ‘babe’?”
Chan blinked at him, likely not even realising what he said. “What?” He stared blankly for a second before groaning, running a hand down his face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Minho.”
“I’m just saying. Don’t go getting any ideas.”
Chan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, possessive little shit.”
Minho just grinned, all too pleased with himself.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
“God, Lixie, please tell me you’ve embarrassed yourself just as much as I have,” Jisung groaned, dropping his head onto Felix’s shoulder.
“Chan wouldn’t tell me anything,” Felix admitted, laughing. “So probably, yeah.”
“I can’t believe they had to see us like that,” Jisung muttered, shaking his head.
Felix nudged him. “Hey, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Besides, at least now we know they still want us even when we’re an absolute drunk mess.”
Jisung lifted his head just enough to squint at him. “That’s your takeaway from this?”
“Silver lining,” Felix said, grinning.
Jisung huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, they got to work tidying up their apartment, moving through the space with ease that came from years of knowing each other. It wasn’t like they spent much time here anymore, but neither of them had acknowledged that out loud. There was something strange about it—how this place, once so familiar, now felt like a halfway point rather than a home.
But instead of diving into that conversation, they stuck to what was easier.
They talked about everything and nothing—the Instagram reels that had made them laugh recently, the new cat café in the city that Jisung was determined to take Minho to, the convention Felix had been eyeing for weeks, debating whether or not to drag Chan along. There was some work talk, a little complaining about shifts, and then the important discussion: Felix’s new brownie recipe.
“Your brownies are already amazing,” Jisung said, plopping down onto the couch. “But I like the twist. What’s the new plan?”
Felix perched on the armrest, tucking his legs up. “I want to make them richer, you know? Like, more depth but not too heavy. Just a little extra something.”
Jisung rubbed his chin like he was a food critic on a serious assignment. “You’re really out here treating brownies like an art form.”
Felix laughed. “You make it sound way more impressive than it is.”
“Mate, if I had half your skills, I’d be unstoppable,” Jisung declared. “Minho would probably propose on the spot.”
Felix snorted, but the amusement faded quickly as a new idea struck him. His eyes widened, and he turned to Jisung with a look of pure excitement.
“Oh my god! We should make apology brownies for Chan and Minho when they come back!”
Jisung blinked. “Apology brownies? Is that what we’re calling these now?”
“Yes!” Felix said, sitting up straighter. “Just as a little something to make up for them having to take care of us.”
Jisung groaned, already regretting where this was going. “Lix, I’m shit at all things kitchen, you know that.”
“Bullshit” Felix countered, pointing an accusing finger at him. “I’ll take the lead, and you’ll just help here and there.”
Jisung sighed dramatically, flopping back against the cushions. “Why can’t we just watch anime instead?”
“Because,” Felix said, grinning as he leaned in slightly, “Minho might propose on the spot?”
Jisung threw a cushion at him. “You little shit.”
Despite not feeling thrilled about the idea, Jisung agreed that showing their boyfriends some appreciation would be nice. And if it involved chocolate, well, he supposed he could suffer through it.
Felix scrolled through pictures, showing him different styles of brownies, but the moment Jisung’s eyes landed on one particular image—a rich, dark chocolate brownie with vibrant cherry jam swirled through it—he sat up straighter.
“Can we make these?” he asked, suddenly invested, his previous disinterest wholly forgotten.
Felix raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to do this.”
Jisung scoffed. “I’ve changed my mind. I am now a man of jam swirls.”
Felix chuckled. “Alright then, jam swirls it is.”
As Felix started rummaging through their kitchen cabinets, pulling out flour, sugar, cocoa powder, and whatever else they needed, he let out a small laugh. “Okay, slight issue—we might have to make these vegan. We’re out of eggs.”
Jisung shrugged. “That’s fine with me.”
Felix’s hands stilled for a moment before he turned back to Jisung. “Um… we also don’t have jam.”
Jisung gasped in horror. “Hell no. I want the jam swirls!” He shot up from his seat, grabbing his jacket. “I’m going to the shop. This is a jam emergency.”
Jisung had already shoved one arm into his jacket when Felix’s voice stopped him.
“Hold on, drama king,” Felix laughed, grabbing his own coat. “I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t trust me?” Jisung gasped dramatically.
Felix smirked, slipping on his shoes. “Not after the last time you went grocery shopping and came back with nothing but instant ramen and a single banana.”
“That banana had personality,” Jisung argued. “And in my defence, the ramen was on sale.”
Felix just shook his head, grabbing his keys. “Come on, let’s go before you start writing poetry about that banana.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jisung swung the basket in his hand as they strolled through the supermarket aisles, still grinning from whatever ridiculous joke Felix had cracked a minute ago. It felt like every other time they’d walked like this—side by side, laughing, existing in their own little world. Always Lix and Sung, and for the longest time, that had been enough.
But now, there were two more people in their lives, two people who made everything even better. It still blew Felix’s mind sometimes. What were the chances? Finding their perfect match at the same time—falling for two best friends who somehow slotted into their lives like they’d always been there.
Sure, the road to this wasn’t exactly smooth or predictable, but who cared? They were here now. They were happy.
Jisung suddenly gasped, clutching Felix’s arm hammily. “Lix,” he whispered, eyes wide, “they have the fancy cherry jam.”
Felix blinked at him. “The… fancy cherry jam?”
Jisung nodded solemnly. “The one in the glass jar. The one that looks like it was made by an old lady in a cottage.”
Felix bit back a laugh. “Well, we can’t say no to that, can we?”
Jisung was already reaching up to grab the jar, stretching as far as he could, but he was still a couple of inches too short. Felix watched as his best friend narrowed his eyes at the shelf. This damn supermarket and their ridiculously high shelves—it was as if they didn’t actually want people to buy half the products they stocked. And honestly, who would? The jam was stupidly overpriced, designed to tempt fools with its pretty packaging.
Jisung puffed, rocking back on his heels before turning to Felix with a sudden, wicked twinkle in his eye. “Lix, hop on.”
Felix looked at him. “What?”
Jisung crouched slightly, hands on his knees, like he was preparing for a piggyback ride. “Like we used to. Come on, it'll be just like the good old days.”
Felix immediately started laughing, the image of their younger, much shorter selves doing this exact thing flashing in his mind. Back then, it had been a necessary survival tactic—two tiny kids determined to grab the best snacks without adult assistance. Now? It was pure stupidity.
“Jisung, you can’t be serious,” Felix chuckled. “I can probably just jump and—”
“No, no, no,” Jisung interrupted, blocking Felix’s path like a stubborn child. “That’s boring. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Felix looked around, scanning for witnesses, as if that would somehow make this idea any less absurd. But Jisung was already wiggling his fingers expectantly, waiting for Felix to give in. With a long-suffering sigh—because, really, when had he ever been able to say no to Jisung?—Felix placed his hands on Jisung’s shoulders and carefully climbed onto his back.
The moment Jisung straightened, he let out a low grunt, adjusting his stance as he gripped Felix’s thighs. “Alright, you’re up there. Now retrieve the legendary jam before I collapse under the weight of your sins.”
Felix snorted but stretched toward the jar, fingertips brushing against the glass. “Almost… there—”
For some absolutely ridiculous reason, Jisung decided that was the perfect moment to shuffle his feet. The slight movement threw Felix off just enough that he let out a sharp yelp, his grip tightening on Jisung’s shoulders. “Jisung, I swear to god—”
“I’m stabilising! Chill!” Jisung hissed through laughter, trying not to wobble under the shift in balance. “Just hurry up before someone—”
Felix finally secured the jar, pulling it from the shelf with a victorious huff. “Got it! Now put me down before we both get banned from this store.”
Jisung snickered but obeyed, slowly lowering Felix back onto the ground. As soon as Felix’s feet touched the floor, he took a step back, gripping the jar like it was some kind of priceless artefact. They both stood there, catching their breath, and then, at the exact same time, their eyes met, and they burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“You are an absolute menace,” Felix managed between chuckles.
Jisung grinned, swiping dramatically at his eyes. “And yet, we have prevailed.” He held up the jar in triumph.
Felix rolled his eyes, but there was warmth in his chest, a quiet joy that he rarely paused to acknowledge. Even with everything that had changed—their lives, their relationships, the people who now held space in their hearts—this was still them. No matter how much time passed or where life took them, there would always be moments like this. Moments that reminded him that Jisung wasn’t just his best friend; he was a constant—a forever.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
When Chan and Minho stepped into the bar, they spotted Changbin instantly. He was already there, drink in hand, deep in conversation with someone.
Minho pressed a finger to his lips, throwing a glance at Chan before silently creeping up behind Changbin. Then, without hesitation, he delivered a sharp smack to Changbin’s ass. Hard.
“What the fuck!” Changbin yelped, spinning around so fast that he nearly lost his balance. His eyes darted in every direction, searching for the culprit, but Minho had already shifted to the other side, wearing a smug grin. Meanwhile, Chan doubled over, struggling to catch his breath between laughter.
“I should’ve known it was you!” Changbin groaned, rubbing his backside as he shot Minho a glare.
The guy Changbin had been talking to stood frozen, his expression somewhere between horror and secondhand embarrassment. Slowly, he took a cautious step back, gaze flicking between Changbin and Minho like he was trying to piece together whatever bizarre dynamic he had just witnessed.
Changbin noticed and let out a laugh. “Relax, it’s just my best mate. He has a habit of getting too friendly with everyone’s ass.”
The stranger visibly relaxed, even letting out a small chuckle of his own. “Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “For a second, I thought that was your boyfriend, and here I was, trying to flirt with you.”
Changbin blinked. “What? No—” he started, laughing, but then the words actually sank in. His amusement stalled. “Wait. Flirting?”
The guy flushed. “Uh—yeah. I just thought you were, um—really cool, and I—” He trailed off into nervous babbling, clearly flustered.
“Oh.” Changbin shifted on his feet, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I—uh, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I wasn’t—” He sighed, trying to find the right words. “Not that you’re not good-looking or anything, it’s just—”
“No, no! I’m sorry,” the guy cut in quickly, shaking his head. “I get it. I shouldn’t have assumed.” He looked ready to bolt.
Ever the decent guy, Changbin gently caught his wrist before he could make a full escape. “Hey, there’s nothing to feel bad about. Really. It’s not you, I just…” He hesitated for a moment before offering a small, apologetic smile. “I’ve already got someone on my mind.”
The guy met his eyes, searching for any hint of pity or awkwardness, but all he found was sincerity. Slowly, he exhaled, returning the smile. “Got it,” he said before making his exit.
As soon as the guy disappeared, Chan and Minho exchanged a knowing look that wasn’t lost on Changbin. He sighed. Hospital gossip travelled faster than an overbooked ED shift, and he wasn’t even sure what exactly they thought they knew. But he could already tell this wasn’t something he’d easily brush off.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered. “Drinks on me?”
“Uh-uh,” Minho smirked. “You can buy all the drinks you want, but that won’t stop me from asking about this mysterious ‘someone on your mind.’” He shot Changbin a wink.
Changbin groaned.
“But you should still buy the drinks,” Chan chimed in, clearly trying to ease the pressure, though his eyes were telling he was just as curious.
Changbin smiled. “What are you having?”
“I’ll take a beer,” Chan said smoothly, “and Minho will have a non-alcoholic one.”
Changbin raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“He’s on call tonight,” Chan added before Changbin could ask.
Minho let out a dramatic sigh. “And yet I still have to suffer through your terrible company.”
“Hey,” Changbin scoffed, already turning towards the bar. “You love my company.”
Chan chuckled, watching Minho grin at Changbin’s retreating back.
A moment later, they were all settled in, tucked away in the corner of the bar where the hum of conversation blurred into the background. It had been ages since they’d had a night like this—just the three of them, no work stress looming over them, no hospital alarms jolting them back to reality. Just a couple of drinks, good company, and the easy familiarity that came with years of friendship.
Minho wouldn’t admit he’d missed this, but they all knew he had. It was just part of his charm—grumbling about plans, acting like he had somewhere better to be, and then staying until the very end, usually the last one to leave. He was like that in every aspect of his life, rough on the outside but the softest where it really mattered. Yeah, that was Minho.
Changbin leaned back in his chair, rolling his drink between his hands, his expression unusually thoughtful. Chan took a slow sip of his beer, watching him closely, already picking up on something. Minho, on the other hand, was already preparing for the interrogation. He rested his chin on his hand, eyes gleaming like a detective about to crack a case wide open.
And that case?
Seo Changbin’s love life.
It wasn’t like Chan and Minho were experts when it came to love—far from it, really. Their own histories were messy enough to prove that. But watching Changbin stumble his way through heartbreak, followed by a string of lacklustre rebounds, had been painful. They’d seen it all—the ones who didn’t know what they wanted, the ones who treated him like an experiment, the women who only cared about his looks. And then, of course, there was that asshole.
The one who had the audacity to dump Changbin on Valentine’s Day.
Although if you asked Changbin, he’d tell you it was the other way around. He had been the one to call it quits. He had left first. He had dumped that pathetic excuse of a beta. And maybe that was technically true— maybe —but Minho and Chan both knew the difference between a clean break and a reactionary move. Changbin had been blindsided, and they’d spent that entire evening forcing him to take shots instead of sulking over some loser who didn’t deserve him.
So, after all that, how could they not be intrigued? The guy who had spent the past year swearing he was fine, who brushed off every failed date, who claimed he wasn’t looking for anything serious— that Changbin suddenly had someone on his mind?
Yeah. That wasn’t getting past them.
And from the way Changbin kept his gaze fixed on his drink, rolling the glass between his hands like it held the answers to life itself, Chan and Minho knew they had him cornered.
“Sooo,” Minho dragged out the word, giving Changbin just enough time to squirm. “Spill.”
Changbin sighed. There was no way out of this. And honestly? He wanted to talk about it. Needed to. Keeping everything bottled up was driving him mad, and if there were two people he could trust with this mess, it was Chan and Minho.
“This is a safe space, right?” he joked nervously.
“Always,” Chan said immediately, his expression serious, reassuring. Even Minho, who had been wearing a smug grin moments ago, softened slightly. Whatever teasing he had planned could wait.
Changbin inhaled deeply, already regretting how he was about to phrase this. “There’s someone living with me.”
The reaction was instant—Chan and Minho’s eyes widened, both of them clearly jumping to the worst (or most interesting) conclusions.
“No, not like that ,” Changbin groaned, waving his hand as if to dispel whatever thoughts they were having. “It’s just… a friend.”
Minho raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Chan gave a small nod, silently encouraging him to continue.
Changbin dragged a hand down his face before forcing himself to keep going. “Right. So this friend… is also my colleague. And—” He hesitated. How much did he want to say? How much could he say? “Some stuff happened in the past that, uh, kind of led to him not having a place to stay. I offered. And now… yeah.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment, but it wasn’t the comfortable kind. Minho and Chan were waiting, expecting him to actually say something meaningful. But instead of explaining, instead of laying out the tangled mess in his head, all Changbin could do was sigh and mutter,
“Shit’s fucked.”
Minho blinked. Chan frowned.
“That’s it?” Chan asked, baffled. “ Shit’s fucked? That’s all you’re giving us?”
“Mate, that could mean anything ,” Minho said, unimpressed. “Are we talking ‘I regret letting him move in’ fucked? ‘I secretly have feelings for him’ fucked? Or ‘he’s a total nightmare, and I’m about to lose my mind’ fucked? We need specifics here.”
Changbin groaned again, dropping his head onto the table. “Why did I even think talking to you two would help ?”
Chan patted his back. “Because you want to talk about it. So stop being cryptic and tell us what’s going on.”
“And don’t leave out the juicy parts,” Minho added.
Changbin let out another long-suffering sigh. Yeah, he’d walked right into this one.
And so, Changbin tells them everything.
Well, maybe not everything , but enough. Enough to feel like he’s peeling back layers of himself and laying them bare for Chan and Minho to scrutinise.
He tells them about Jeongin’s rut, how he had been caught in the worst of it, trembling and desperate, and how Changbin had been there to get him through it. (He deliberately chooses not to mention that there was a whole another person with them, too) He tells them about Jeongin’s parents—how they cast him out as if he were some sort of disappointment when he presented as an alpha. And, of course, he tells them about their day-to-day life now, the strange rhythm they’ve found in cohabiting. How Jeongin has made himself comfortable in Changbin’s space, in his life , in ways Changbin never quite expected.
He even tells them about the greenhouse. Not in great detail, but he does.
Minho’s expression sharpens at that, and predictably, he isn’t satisfied with the level of detail. “The greenhouse?” he whistles a little too loud, leaning forward like a predator catching the scent of something interesting.
Changbin exhales sharply. “It’s not important.”
Minho grins. “Oh, I think it’s very important.”
“I think you’re just a nosy, horny little shit.”
Minho doesn’t even deny it. He just shrugs, smug.
Chan, who has been chuckling at their exchange, suddenly hums, tilting his head as if considering something carefully. “You know,” he says, “it sounds very domestic. The way you’re describing it. Like you guys are already a couple.”
Changbin shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He knew they were going to say something like this, but hearing it out loud still made his stomach twist. He shakes his head. “I don’t think Innie wants that,” he says. “He’s still so young. Just presented, just had his whole life turned upside down. I’d hate for him to feel like he needs to tie himself to the first person he fooled around with.”
There’s a beat of silence. Chan is frowning.
Because that —that right there—sounds an awful lot like Changbin isn’t talking about Jeongin at all, but rather projecting his own past, his own insecurities, onto him.
“The key here,” Chan says carefully, “is that he doesn’t need to. But what if he wants to? Shouldn’t that be his choice?”
Minho, for once, isn’t teasing. “I agree with Chan,” he says simply. “I think you two need to have an honest conversation about what’s going on between you. Because if you just keep fucking around without actually talking , someone’s—possibly both —hearts are bound to get broken.”
“We’re not fucking,” Changbin huffs.
Minho raises a brow, unimpressed. “Not yet. But you will in no time, and things will become a lot more complicated if you only use your mouth to suck his dick instead of actually talking.”
Chan laughs as Changbin groans, sinking lower into his seat. He wants this conversation over. He’s already shared more than he normally does—more than he even realises until now. And that alarms him. Since when is he the guy who sits around talking about his feelings? Since when does he let people pick apart the things he’d rather not examine too closely? Some stupid metamorphosis, he swears. So, he does what he does best—shifts the attention away from himself.
“What about you two?” he asks, eyes flicking between them. “How are your boyfriends?” ( Not that Jeongin is his boyfriend. But you know.)
As expected, it works.
Chan immediately softens, going a little dreamy as he starts talking about Felix. The fondness in his voice is embarrassing, really, but also kind of sweet. Minho, on the other hand, isn’t as obvious about it, but Changbin knows him. Knows the way his lips twitch ever so slightly whenever Jisung’s name is mentioned. Knows that Minho likes to act all unaffected, but is actually completely, hopelessly gone for his omega. It’s painfully obvious, no matter how much Minho would argue otherwise.
Changbin listens, and for once, it doesn’t feel like deflection. He likes hearing them talk about this. He’s happy for them—genuinely. So, before he can second-guess it, he says,
“You both should come to our party at my house. Bring Felix and Jisung, too.”
Minho blinks at him. “You’re throwing a party?” he asks, disbelief laced in his voice. Which, fair. Changbin has never been the host type, despite having a massive house all to himself.
“Well,” Changbin shrugs, “it’s just a small thing. Nothing crazy. Just our closest friends.”
Minho hums, seemingly satisfied with that answer. But Chan is frowning slightly, tilting his head.
“Wait. You said our ? As in, you and Jeongin?”
And Changbin doesn’t think much of it before opening his mouth. “Yeah, me and Innie thought it’d be cute to do, like, a housewarming thing. We kinda redecorated the place, so we figured it’d be nice to show it off.” He says it easily, without hesitation, and there’s even a small smile tugging at his lips.
And then, Minho stares at him. Not full-on jaw-dropping shock, but enough that Changbin notices. Enough to make something in his stomach knot.
He starts to raise his hands in protest, already ready to shut down whatever nonsense Minho is about to come up with, but then, Chan is looking at him too, and it suddenly hits him.
The way he just said that. The way it sounds.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not like that.”
Neither of them looks convinced.
But at this point, it’s a lost cause, and Changbin refuses to entertain their bullshit any longer.
“Whatever. So, you’re coming, yeah?”
Minho smirks. “Wouldn’t miss it for shit.”
After that, they settle into an easy rhythm, slipping back into the kind of banter that has defined their friendship for years. It’s different from their wilder nights—quieter, more subdued—but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable.
Being on call, Minho sticks to his non-alcoholic drink, and in a rare show of solidarity, Chan and Changbin follow suit after their first round. Not that it stops Minho from pretending he’s the only responsible one.
“God, you’re both so mature,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm as he swirls his drink. “Look at you, restraining yourselves for me . I feel honoured.”
Chan snorts. “Just take the win.”
“I’d rather take another beer.”
Changbin rolls his eyes. “You’re on call. ”
Minho groans, leaning back in his chair dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s fine. I’ll just be miserable about it until I get to rub it in your faces.”
“You already are,” Chan points out.
“Yeah, well, what’s friendship without a little suffering?”
The three of them laugh, the warmth of the moment settling around them like a well-worn blanket. The bar isn’t too crowded, which is a nice change, and the music hums softly in the background, more of an ambience than a distraction.
Somewhere along the way, they start reminiscing—talking about old shifts, legendary fuck-ups at the hospital, and that one time Minho convinced a bunch of juniors that Chan was actually two different people because of how wildly different he is during a stressful shift versus outside of work.
“They still think you have a twin, by the way,” Minho smirks, lazily stirring the ice in his drink. “I didn’t correct them.”
Chan sighs. “You’re so annoying.”
Changbin, meanwhile, is howling with laughter. “How did they even believe that? You and your stupid little pranks.”
“Hey,” Minho shrugs, “people will believe anything with enough confidence.”
They carry on like this—laughing, teasing, poking fun—until, at some point, Changbin glances up, eyes drifting toward the entrance.
And then—his stomach drops.
Someone stumbles into the bar, clearly drunk. Very drunk. Too drunk.
But it’s not just the drunkenness that makes Changbin’s blood run cold. It’s the person glued to their side, holding them up—no, holding onto them —in a way that immediately sets off alarm bells in his head. Because there’s something off about it. The way they’re gripping them and leading them further inside like they have a plan .
Changbin barely even registers the thought before he’s moving .
Because the person who just stumbled in—drunken, vulnerable, completely unaware of the way someone’s got their hands all over them—is Seungmin.
Changbin is on his feet before he even realises it, his chair scraping against the floor with a sharp screech. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled like a predator about to strike.
Minho and Chan look at him, startled by the sudden shift in energy.
“Changbin?” Chan calls, but Changbin barely hears him over the blood rushing in his ears.
His focus is locked on Seungmin—stumbling, half-conscious, his head lolling forward as the stranger keeps a firm grip on his waist. Too firm. Too possessive. The kind of grip that isn’t about support but control.
Something white-hot surges through Changbin’s veins—rage, instinct, something dangerously close to primal .
He moves before his thoughts can catch up.
“Hey!” Changbin’s voice is sharp, cutting through the bar like a whip. People nearby flinch at the sudden aggression in his tone—an aggression that is rarely, if ever , associated with him.
The stranger barely reacts at first, too focused on dragging Seungmin further inside. That only makes Changbin angrier. His steps are quick, his body already bracing itself for a fight.
He reaches them in seconds and grabs the stranger’s wrist, yanking it off Seungmin with a force that makes the guy stumble back a step.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Changbin snarls, his voice low and dangerous.
The guy—some cocky-looking bastard with glazed-over eyes and an expression that screams drunken entitlement —scoffs. “Relax, man, we’re just having a good time—”
“ You might be, but he’s not ,” Changbin cuts him off, stepping forward until they’re nearly chest to chest. His grip tightens on the guy’s wrist, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His usual restraint is nowhere to be found. “Let me make something crystal fucking clear—he’s done here. And if I see your hands on him again, I’ll break every single one of your fucking fingers.”
The guy sneers, trying to jerk his hand away, but Changbin doesn’t let go. He tightens his hold instead, forcing the guy to wince.
“Alright, fuck , let go!” the stranger hisses. “Jesus, what’s your problem?”
“You.” Changbin finally releases him, but not before giving him one final, warning squeeze. “Now get the fuck out of here before I really lose my temper.”
The guy mutters something under his breath—probably an insult, probably something he thinks will make him look tough—but he turns and stumbles away, disappearing into the crowd.
Only then does Changbin exhale, his jaw still tight and his hands clenched into fists.
“Holy shit ,” Minho says from behind him, voice full of disbelief. “Who are you?”
“Seriously,” Chan adds. “I’ve never seen you that pissed in my life.”
Changbin ignores them both for now. He turns his full attention to Seungmin instead, who sways on his feet, looking dazed and exhausted.
“Seungmin,” Changbin says, softer now. He reaches out, steadying him with careful hands. “Hey, look at me.”
Seungmin blinks up at him, his eyes unfocused. “Changbin…?” His voice is slurred, confused.
“Yeah, I got you,” Changbin mutters, his anger fading into something else entirely—something protective, something furious in a different way. “Let’s get you out of here, alright?”
As soon as Changbin steadies him, Seungmin all but melts against him, his body slack, his weight pressing into Changbin’s chest in a way that is far too intimate for two people who are supposedly just friends.
Changbin stiffens as Seungmin’s arms lazily loop around his neck, fingers brushing over the sensitive skin there as he sighs against him. His breath is warm, laced with the strong scent of alcohol, and when he shifts, his nose nudges into the crook of Changbin’s neck.
“Mmm, you smell good,” Seungmin mumbles, his lips ghosting against Changbin’s skin.
Chan chokes on his drink.
Minho raises his eyebrows. Oh?
Changbin clears his throat, firmly adjusting his hold on Seungmin to something more stabilising and less like the way he would hold someone after a night tangled in sheets. He ignores the heat creeping up his neck, ignores the way Seungmin’s fingers trail down his shoulders, lazily toying with the fabric of his jacket.
“Alright, okay,” Changbin mutters, trying to keep his voice even. “You’re completely wasted; let’s get you home.”
“But I like it here,” Seungmin murmurs, nuzzling closer.
“I don’t,” Changbin shoots back, tightening his grip around his waist. “Come on, let’s go.”
Seungmin hums in vague protest, but he doesn’t actually fight him. If anything, he clings harder, pressing his body fully against Changbin’s. His fingers curl into Changbin’s jacket like he’s trying to burrow into him, and his voice drops, sultry in a way that is completely unintentional but devastatingly effective nonetheless.
“Carry me?” he breathes against Changbin’s jaw, half-teasing, half-sincere.
Changbin groans internally.
“Seungmin,” he warns.
Minho and Chan exchange wide-eyed looks.
Except this time, there’s no teasing in their expressions. They’re not smirking, not making sly remarks. Because Seungmin isn’t just drunk —he’s gone . Slurring, clinging, barely able to stand on his own. And if Changbin hadn’t stepped in, if they had been even a few minutes too late…
Minho looks past Changbin at the stranger who had been all over Seungmin just moments ago. The guy is lingering by the bar, looking pissed , as if Changbin had stolen something from him. It makes Minho’s blood run cold.
Chan exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as realisation settles. “Shit,” he mutters.
Changbin looks up at them, expression unreadable, but they can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tighten around Seungmin like he’s afraid to let go.
“I’m taking him home,” Changbin says, and this time, it’s not just an excuse to leave—it’s a necessity.
“Yeah,” Minho nods, serious. “You should.”
Chan doesn’t even hesitate. “Text us when you’re home, yeah?”
Changbin nods, adjusting Seungmin’s weight against him before heading for the door.
As soon as they’re gone, Minho and Chan share another look.
“…That wasn’t Jeongin,” Minho says quietly.
Chan shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t.”
Minho leans back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. “What is Changbin not telling us?”
Chan doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stares at the door Changbin just walked through, thoughts racing.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I need to hear that story.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Felix watches with satisfaction as Jisung drags the toothpick through the batter; his movements are careful but just chaotic enough to make the swirls uneven. Typical Jisung—completely absorbed in the task, even though he originally had no interest in baking. Felix smiles to himself. It had been delightfully easy to coax him into it, like convincing a child. All he had to do was mention that it was for Minho and, of course, the pretty jam jar he’d picked out. That was enough to turn Jisung from a reluctant observer to an enthusiastic participant.
Jisung’s tongue pokes out slightly between his teeth as he concentrates, and Felix finds himself watching him rather than the batter. He loves this about Jisung—how when he does something, he throws himself into it fully, even if it’s something as simple as swirling jam into brownie batter.
“Okay, last swirl,” Felix announces proudly, watching as Jisung completes his final flourish.
Jisung leans back, surveying his work with a satisfied nod. “That looks good, right?”
Felix tilts his head, pretending to examine the pattern with an overly critical eye. “Hmm. Not bad. I’d give it a solid… eight out of ten.”
Jisung gasps, clutching his chest in mock horror. “ Eight? Felix, I poured my heart and soul into this!”
Felix snorts, nudging him playfully with his elbow. “Yeah, yeah, alright, nine.”
Jisung narrows his eyes, clearly not convinced. “Nine point five ?”
Felix sighs, but he’s grinning. “Fine. Nine point five.”
Jisung pumps his fist in victory. “That’s what I thought.”
Felix rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, instead reaching for the baking tin. “Alright, Mr. Nine-Point-Five, let’s get this in the oven before you start negotiating for a ten.”
As he slides the tin in and shuts the oven door, Jisung hops onto the counter, swinging his legs lazily. “So, do you think Minho’s gonna like it?”
Felix doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course he will. Even if it was burnt to a crisp, he’d still eat it just because you made it.”
Jisung scoffs, but his cheeks go pink. “Shut up.”
Felix just smirks. He doesn’t push—doesn’t need to. They both know it’s true.
Once the brownies were safely in the oven, Jisung hesitated for a moment before reaching for the oven light and flicking it on. He crouched slightly, peering through the glass with an intense focus, his hands resting on his knees.
Felix raised an eyebrow, fascinated. “You know that’s gonna take a while, right? Do you really want to sit here the whole time, staring at the oven door?” He let out a small laugh.
Jisung didn’t answer right away. He just kept watching the batter settle in the heat; his lips slightly parted as if debating something. Then, quietly, he murmured, “I mean…”
Felix blinked. Oh. He was serious.
Without another word, Felix spun on his heel and disappeared into the living room. Jisung barely had time to process before Felix returned just as quickly, triumphantly holding a small, round rug. It was blue, decorated with a Virgo constellation in golden embroidery—one of their flea market treasures. Jisung had insisted they absolutely needed to buy it when they first saw it, citing the obvious reason that they were both Virgos. Felix hadn’t even argued. He knew when Jisung had his heart set on something, there was no point in resisting.
Felix plopped it down in front of the oven without ceremony.
Jisung stared at him for a beat before his lips curled into a smile. Just like that, any trace of embarrassment melted away.
No matter how weird he could be, Felix never made him feel bad for it. Instead, he always found a way to make him feel understood, like now, when he wordlessly brought over the rug, making space for them both to sit in front of the oven, no questions asked.
“You think it’s weird,” Jisung said as they settled onto the rug, Felix positioned behind him, arms wrapped snugly around his waist. Jisung leaned back against him, exhaling softly and melting into the embrace.
Felix chuckled, resting his chin lightly on Jisung’s shoulder. “I think it’s very on-brand for you.”
Jisung scoffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it—just a quiet fondness.
A comfortable silence stretched between them, the warm glow of the oven light flickering against their faces. Then, after a moment, Jisung murmured, “I missed us.”
Felix didn’t respond immediately, but his hold on Jisung tightened slightly. He knew exactly what Jisung meant.
There were things they probably should talk about—things they’d both avoided bringing up. Because the truth was, the only time they had ever really been apart was those few months when Felix had gone back to Australia. And they both sucked at handling it.
This wasn’t the same, of course. They weren’t really apart. They still saw each other every few days, still lived together. But something felt…off. Like the rhythm they had always moved in was slightly out of sync. They didn’t spend as much time together. Their usual habits—movie nights, late-night kitchen conversations, impulsive outings—had started slipping through the cracks.
Felix sighed, pressing his forehead against the side of Jisung’s head. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Me too.”
Jisung swallowed, eyes fixed on the slow, rising swell of brownie batter behind the oven glass. It was easier to focus on that than the way his chest felt tight like something had been pressing against it for weeks now.
Felix’s arms stayed firm around him, grounding him, but it didn’t stop the unease creeping up his spine. He hated feeling like this—like something precious was slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t know how to stop it.
“We’re still us,” Felix said, voice gentle. He must have felt the shift in Jisung’s body, the way he tensed just slightly. “Nothing’s changed that.”
Jisung let out a breath, shaky but quiet. “I know. It’s just… I feel like we’re running parallel instead of together, you know?” He hesitated, but once he started, the words wouldn’t stop. “Like, I see you, I know you’re there, but we’re not meeting in the same way we used to. And I don’t know if it’s just me being stupid or if you feel it too.”
Felix was silent for a beat, and then he hugged him a little tighter, fingers curling into the fabric of Jisung’s hoodie.
“I feel it too,” Felix admitted.
Jisung’s stomach twisted. He wanted Felix to tell him he was overthinking, that everything was fine, that he was just being dramatic. But Felix was never one to lie to him, not about this.
“I’m sorry,” Felix spoke again.
Jisung blinked, turning his head slightly. “For what?”
“For… being distant, I guess?” Felix shifted a little. “I’ve been spending so much time with Chan, and I didn’t realise how much I was neglecting you. It wasn’t intentional, but I still feel bad.”
Jisung let out a soft sigh. “I wasn’t much better,” he admitted. “I’m always with Minho, aren’t I? If I wasn’t at work, I was either with him or sleeping. I probably made it seem like I didn’t even care that we weren’t hanging out as much.”
Felix squeezed him. “You’re allowed to be happy with him, Sung.”
“I am happy,” Jisung admitted. “I love him so much; it’s honestly terrifying sometimes.”
Felix laughed, pressing his forehead against the side of Jisung’s head. “Yeah… I get it.”
Jisung tilted his head slightly to meet Felix’s eyes. “You’re really gone for Chan, huh?”
Felix made a face, but there was no denying the way his lips twitched up. “I don’t know how it happened, honestly. It’s like… one day, he was just this stranger and the next, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And now I have to deal with the fact that I’d probably do anything for him.”
Jisung sighed dramatically. “Pathetic.”
Felix pinched his side, making him yelp. “As if you’re any better! You act all cool, but the second Minho so much as breathes near you, you turn into a lovesick puppy.”
Jisung groaned, but he couldn’t even deny it. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing. Who let us get like this?”
Felix grinned. “We only have ourselves to blame.”
“Actually, I blame you and your heat”, Jisung laughed, and Felix pinched his other side to shut him up.
They just sat there for a moment, shoulders shaking with laughter before it faded into something quieter, something heavier.
“I think… we’re just trying to handle too many things at once,” Felix said after a moment. “New jobs, new routines, new emotions. We’re figuring out how to be with Chan and Minho, and at the same time, we’re trying to hold onto what we’ve always had.”
Jisung hummed in agreement. “Maybe we just need to find a new rhythm. One that works for all of us.”
Felix smiled, a little more sure now. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah,” Jisung murmured. “We will.”
Felix gave him one last squeeze before leaning forward to check on the brownies. Jisung stayed where he was, watching the golden edges form around the batter, his chest feeling just a little lighter.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho was the first to notice it as they stepped through the door—an unmistakable, faintly charred scent hanging in the air. He slowed down just slightly, nose twitching, before shooting a look at Chan, who had clearly caught onto it, too.
“Do you smell that?” Minho muttered.
Chan sniffed the air, frowning. “Yeah. What the hell…?”
Minho dropped his keys onto the counter with a quiet clatter, already making his way toward the kitchen, his instincts on high alert. The closer they got, the clearer the smell became—not quite burned, but definitely on the edge of disaster.
What they didn’t expect, however, was to walk in and find Jisung and Felix curled up together on the floor, fast asleep in front of the oven.
Chan stopped in his tracks. Minho just blinked.
Felix was curled behind Jisung, arms loosely wrapped around his waist. Their legs were tangled together on top of a worn-looking blue rug. Their breathing was soft and steady, completely undisturbed by the fact that their boyfriends had just arrived home to what had very nearly been a baking disaster.
Chan crossed his arms. “Do you think they’re dead?”
Minho rolled his eyes. “If they are, they died in the most dramatic way possible.”
He took a slow step forward, peering over them toward the oven. He squinted at the glass, catching sight of the brownies inside—definitely on the darker side, but not a total loss. He exhaled, relieved despite himself.
“They would fall asleep watching brownies bake,” he muttered.
Chan, however, was still staring at them. Felix, completely at ease, face relaxed in sleep, curled up against Jisung like he belonged there. It made something warm settle deep in his chest.
Minho turned to him, catching the way Chan was looking at Felix, and for once, he didn’t say anything smart. He just smirked a little, like he knew .
“They’re cute,” Chan murmured after a beat.
Minho huffed, crouching down beside them. “Yeah,” he admitted, nudging Jisung’s shoulder lightly. “Too bad they’re also idiots.”
Jisung stirred first, shifting slightly as he grumbled something incoherent. Felix made a small noise of protest, snuggling deeper into Jisung’s back.
Chan laughed under his breath. “I kind of don’t want to wake them up.”
“Yeah? Well, I do want brownies,” Minho retorted, nudging Jisung a little harder this time. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
Jisung groaned, cracking one eye open blearily. “Whassgoingon?”
“You tell me,” Minho said, raising an eyebrow. “You passed out in front of the oven like two absolute weirdos. Also, your brownies almost burned.”
That got Jisung’s attention. His eyes widened as he suddenly sat up, Felix stirring behind him. “Shit—”
Felix let out a small, sleepy whine, rubbing at his eyes. “Did we ruin them?”
Chan snorted, reaching out to ruffle Felix’s hair. “Nah, they’re just a little… crispier than intended.”
Felix just grinned sleepily. “At least we didn’t burn the place down?”
Minho rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Chan just laughed, shaking his head fondly as he moved to grab the oven mitts. “Alright, let’s see if these things are actually edible.”
Jisung and Felix, now fully awake and sheepish as ever, watched as Chan carefully pulled the tray out, the smell of warm chocolate filling the air. Maybe they weren’t perfect, but as Chan set them down and Minho leaned in to inspect them with his usual exaggerated scrutiny, Jisung couldn’t help but think that this—this moment , this little piece of their chaotic, intertwined lives—was pretty damn perfect anyway.
Chapter 16: king's cup
Notes:
Jalapeño - 2,500-8,000 SHU
Cayenne - 30,000-50,000 SHU
Carolina Reaper - 1,400,000-2,200,000 SHUChapter 16 - Proceed with a fire extinguisher and holy water
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Minho had deemed the brownies edible, which, coming from him, was practically high praise. So they cut them into tiny squares, the jam swirls giving them a marbled effect. Minho even complimented the swirls, and Jisung practically beamed, nudging him and clinging to his arm like a cat seeking praise.
“Was my idea,” he announced proudly, resting his chin on Minho’s shoulder.
“Oh, well, in that case, I take it back,” Minho teased, earning a light smack on his arm.
They finished eating in easy conversation, the warm atmosphere lingering even as Felix gathered the plates and carried them to the sink. Chan trailed after him automatically, because of course he did.
“I’ll help,” he said, already grabbing a tea towel to dry.
Felix hummed in approval, handing him a freshly rinsed plate before turning back to the sink. They worked in silence for a bit, the sound of running water and the soft clinking of dishes filling the kitchen. Then, as Chan dried the last plate, he finally asked, “So… why did you want us both to come back here?”
Felix didn’t react immediately. He took his time finishing the dish he was washing, setting it on the drying rack carefully before flicking his eyes up to meet Chan’s. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.
“Is this what’s been on your mind all day?” he asked, his voice lilting with amusement.
Chan immediately looked flustered. “No. I mean—yeah? Maybe?” He exhaled, looking like he hated how easily Felix could read him. “You didn’t say why. Just told us to come back, like it was important.”
Felix shut off the tap and leaned against the counter, wiping his hands on a tea towel. His smile didn’t fade. “What, do I need a reason to want to spend time with you?”
Chan narrowed his eyes slightly, lips pressing together as he studied Felix. “You’re up to something.”
Felix grinned, cocking his head slightly, letting a moment stretch between them. “Maybe a little.”
Chan wasn’t buying it. His gaze sharpened, suspicion creeping into his tone. “Both you and Jisung?”
Felix hummed, pretending to consider it, just to mess with him. Then he shook his head, his smile curling at the corners. “Nope. Just me.”
Chan scoffed, but Felix caught the flicker of something else beneath it—caution, curiosity. Felix knew exactly where his mind was going and could practically see the thoughts assembling in real time. And maybe Chan wasn’t wrong to be suspicious. Felix hadn’t exactly laid out a grand plan, but he was steering things, seeing where they might go, nudging pieces into place.
Chan was always trying to figure things out before they could unfold naturally. But Felix was patient and knew how to work around Chan’s overthinking.
“Relax,” Felix said, nudging Chan’s hip with his own before returning to the sink. “I just wanted us all to spend time together’’
Chan let out a breath, watching him for a second longer before nodding. “Yeah… I get that.”
Felix smirked, his fingers brushing Chan’s when he handed him another dish. Chan hesitated for just a fraction of a second before taking it. Barely noticeable. But Felix noticed.
He let a beat pass, then added, “It’s just been a lot lately, yeah? New jobs, new routines… everything shifting.” His voice was softer now, more thoughtful. “I figured we could all use a reset.”
Chan glanced at him, something easing in his shoulders. Felix wasn’t lying; this was about reconnecting and settling into something that worked for all of them. But there was also something else, something Felix wasn’t saying yet. Not in words, anyway.
He let Chan sit with that for a moment before pushing, just a little more.
“You know,” Felix continued, drying his hands, voice light but laced with something else, “we should do this more often. A proper night in. Just us. No distractions.”
Chan gave him a long, assessing look, then tilted his head slightly. “Felix… this hasn’t got anything to do with our conversation last week, has it?”
Ah. That conversation.
Felix barely held back a smirk. “What conversation?” He played dumb, rinsing off the last dish.
Chan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play innocent.”
Okay, fine. He knew exactly what Chan was referring to—the little chat where Chan, ever so casually, wondered out loud what Jisung’s lips tasted like.
Innocent enough, maybe, except the conversation had… spiralled.
Chan had been on about how Minho was always glued to Jisung, which, according to him, could only mean one thing—Jisung must have some sort of magically addictive lips. Otherwise, why would Minho, who was famously not the biggest fan of PDA, constantly find an excuse to kiss him?
Felix, naturally, had taken the opportunity to inform Chan exactly what Jisung’s lips tasted like. Because, of course, he knew. He and Jisung had fooled around before. What two best friends haven’t? It was nothing serious and never went past kisses, but Felix still had the upper hand in this discussion and was enjoying it.
Until Chan wiped the smug look clean off his face.
Because, as it turned out, Felix wasn’t the only one with an ace up his sleeve. Chan, looking way too pleased with himself, had casually dropped the bombshell that he knew exactly how Minho’s lips felt.
And not just from a few stolen kisses, either.
Felix had gawked at him, struggling to process the information. Chan and Minho? More than once? And Felix didn’t know about this?
Unacceptable.
Even worse, Chan had looked positively entertained by Felix’s shock. And Felix, never one to let things slide, had immediately decided there was only one logical solution to this situation.
They had to even the playing field.
Which meant, quite obviously, that both of them needed to know what it was like to kiss both Jisung and Minho. For fairness. Research, even.
Felix shook himself out of the memory, finally turning back to Chan with a lazy grin. “Oh, you mean that conversation? Hm. Maybe it’s related. Maybe not.”
Chan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, but Felix didn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips, the telltale sign that he wasn’t actually exasperated, just pretending to be.
Felix leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to be suggestive. “You know, we could always settle it tonight.”
Chan huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re really impossible.”
Felix just grinned, knowing full well that he had already planted the thought in Chan’s mind.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
When they returned to the living room, Minho and Jisung were still lounging, half-draped over each other on the couch. Jisung stretched his legs across Minho’s lap, scrolling aimlessly on his phone while Minho absentmindedly traced patterns on Jisung’s ankle. It was casual, effortless, the kind of closeness Felix knew neither of them even thought about.
Felix plopped down next to Jisung, resting his chin dramatically on his shoulder. “Are we boring you?”
Jisung hummed without looking up. “You took forever. We were considering watching something without you.”
Felix gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in fake betrayal. “How dare you?”
Having just sat down on the armrest beside Minho, Chan let out a soft snort. “He’s right, though. You and I were gone for, like, twenty minutes.”
Minho glanced at them lazily, eyes sharp with amusement. “What were you doing for twenty minutes?”
Felix met Minho’s gaze and smirked. “Just talking.”
Minho’s eyebrows lifted, clearly not convinced. “Talking, huh?”
Jisung, finally sensing the shift in the air, squinted at them. “Wait. What did you talk about?”
Felix tilted his head, lips pursing in thought. “Oh, you know. Just—” He waved a hand vaguely. “Past experiences. Common interests.”
Jisung frowned. “What common interests?”
“He’s just messing with you,” Minho said, shaking his head. “Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I could use some real food.”
“You calling our brownies not real food?” Jisung clutched his chest dramatically, gasping in mock offence.
“Sweet stuff is never real food for Minho,” Chan chuckled. “Don’t take it personally.”
Minho shot him a glare, but Jisung and Felix only laughed.
“Shall we order something, then?” Felix suggested, tilting his head.
After a brief debate, which was mostly just Felix deciding on fried chicken and Chan caving instantly, Jisung nodded along happily, and Minho, vastly outnumbered, sighed in resignation.
Once the food was ordered, Felix leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms above his head. “Watching a movie is boring. We should play something.”
“I’m not playing Truth or Dare or any other bullshit like that,” Minho said immediately.
Felix feigned shock, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me, who said anything about Truth or Dare?”
Minho raised a brow. “No offence, but you have the energy of someone who always wants to play Truth or Dare.”
Felix just smiled, slow and knowing. “I was actually thinking King’s Cup .”
Jisung lit up instantly. “Oh my God—yes!”
Chan hesitated. “Minho’s on call, though. And you two”—he pointed at Felix and Jisung—“definitely shouldn’t be drinking again.”
“Oh, please ,” Felix scoffed, waving him off. “We’re not drinking. We’ve got custom rules.”
Minho, intrigued despite himself, tilted his head. “Custom rules?”
Felix smirked. “Sungie, you remember that list we made for that party?”
Jisung’s grin widened. “Oh, I do. Hang on, I should have it somewhere.” He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his notes.
“This is gonna be juicy ,” he mumbled under his breath.
Felix disappeared into the other room to hunt for a deck of cards while the rest waited, stomachs already growling in anticipation. Before long, the doorbell rang, and their food arrived.
Chan plated everything, neatly arranging the fried chicken and sides on the coffee table so everyone could easily reach them. But with all the space now taken up by food, Jisung was the first to point out, “Okay, unless we wanna play on top of the chicken, I say we move to the floor.”
Minho rolled his eyes but was already shifting down from the couch, while Felix returned, shuffling the deck in his hands with a pleased grin.
Settling cross-legged beside the coffee table, they grabbed pieces of chicken and dug in as Jisung wiped his hands, then picked up his phone.
“Alright, alright, here we go. We replaced all the drinking ones with more interactive stuff, so it's still fun without getting smashed.”
Felix clapped his hands. “Perfect. Read them out.”
Jisung cleared his throat dramatically. “So, you know how King’s Cup works—each card has a rule. Ours go like this”
Ace: You’re the King. You make a rule.
Two: Switch seats with someone of your choice.
Three: The person to your right has to sit in your lap until the next round.
Four: Group vote—someone has to do a dare.
Five: Tell a very random fact about yourself.
Six: You have to compliment the last person who spoke.
Seven: Whisper something into the ear of the person next to you.
Eight: Place a kiss on someone’s body—could be anywhere.
Nine: You must rest your head on someone's shoulder for the next round.
Ten: Pick two people to hold hands until the next round.
Jack: Everyone has to say something they find attractive about the person across from them.
Queen: The person who drew this has to answer a spicy question from the group.
King: You decide how the round ends, meaning you can make someone do anything .
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Just what kind of party was this?”
Jisung grinned. “A great one.”
Felix set the deck in the middle of their circle, shuffling it one last time before glancing up with a smirk. “Alright, who's going first?”
“I explained the rules, so not me,” Jisung said quickly, leaning back on his hands.
Minho gave him a look. “Coward.”
“Strategist,” Jisung corrected with a grin.
Chan sighed, reaching for the deck. “Fine, I’ll go first. Let’s get this over with.” He flipped the top card.
Two.
“I’m switching seats with Minho,” Chan announced smugly.
Minho groaned, clearly unimpressed. “Seriously?”
Felix bit back a laugh. “Aww, is Minho sad about being separated from his omega?”
Minho shot him a glare but stood anyway, swapping places with Chan. Now, Minho was seated next to Felix, while Jisung sat beside Chan. Felix and Jisung were next to each other, too.
“My turn,” Minho muttered, drawing a card. His eyes scanned it before he frowned slightly. “What was Queen again?”
Jisung practically lit up. “Oh! You have to answer a spicy question.”
Minho exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “Great.”
“Let’s make it a good one,” Felix said, eyes gleaming with mischief.
The three of them immediately huddled together, shifting slightly away from Minho as they whispered in hushed excitement. Minho rolled his eyes, watching Jisung glance at him and then snicker at something Felix said. Chan nodded, arms crossed, looking pleased with whatever they were scheming.
Finally, they straightened back up, returning to their places like they hadn’t just plotted against him. Felix smirked, triumphant. “Alright. We’ve got our question.”
Jisung’s grin widened. “Minho, if you had to pick one of us to—” he wiggled his eyebrows, “—share a steamy kiss with, who would it be? And you can’t pick me.”
“Chan,” Minho answered without hesitation.
If they were trying to fluster him, it didn’t work. In fact, Minho was smirking, clearly enjoying the fact that he’d caught them off guard instead. Ha. Like hell they were going to get him embarrassed so easily.
Felix narrowed his eyes. “Why Chan?”
Minho shrugged. “Because he’s a good kisser.”
Jisung, who had been mid-chew, suddenly stopped, blinking at him in disbelief.
Minho chuckled at his expression. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, amused. “Med school was stressful, and sometimes we didn’t feel like bothering with hookups outside our room.”
Jisung considered that for a moment, then gave a slight nod, resuming his chewing. “Fair point.”
Felix, however, wasn’t done. He tilted his head. “But I’m a good kisser too.”
“You might be,” Minho admitted, “but I wouldn’t know. I’d have to take the risk.”
There was silence before Chan cleared his throat, shifting slightly where he sat. “Okay, Lix, draw a card.”
All three of them turned to him and burst into laughter. Because, despite his best efforts to stay neutral, Chan sat there with his ears burning.
Felix, still grinning, reached for the deck and drew a card. He glanced at it and let out a small, pixy chuckle. “Well, well, well. It’s a seven.”
He turned his gaze to Jisung, a smile stirring on his lips. “Looks like I’ve got to whisper something in your ear,” he said, voice low and teasing.
Jisung raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Alright, then.” He leaned a little closer, his expression growing more intrigued.
Felix leaned in, his breath warm against Jisung’s ear, his voice dropping even lower, laced with a teasing edge. “You know, if I were to kiss you right now... I wonder how Minho would react.”
Jisung’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and intrigue flashing across his face. He glanced quickly at Minho, who was staring back, his expression unreadable but with an unmistakable flicker of tension in his gaze.
Felix pulled back just enough to catch Jisung's eye, his smirk widening. “Would he get possessive, or would he laugh it off? What do you think?”
Jisung shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip to hide a smile. “Well, considering he’s glaring at you right now, I’d say he wouldn’t be too thrilled.”
Minho’s gaze flicked between the two, his posture stiffening ever so slightly. “I’m right here, you know.”
Felix chuckled, enjoying the little spark of tension. “I know,” he said, voice almost playful. “That’s kind of the point.”
The game carried on, the air between them shifting in a way that none of them acknowledged outright, but all of them felt—a slow-burning undercurrent of something unspoken.
Minho pulled a ten and, with an infuriatingly neutral expression, made Felix and Chan hold hands. Jisung scoffed immediately. “Boring.”
Minho only smirked. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Chan was next. He drew a four. And, unsurprisingly, everyone turned against Minho again. This time, they made him sing along to the cheesiest song they could think of. He did it with a deadpan expression, eyes fixed on a distant point beyond the room, as if detaching from reality would save him from the humiliation. It didn’t. Jisung nearly choked on his drink from laughing too hard.
But then Minho drew a three.
His eyes flicked to Felix, then to Jisung, almost like he was asking for permission.
“Rules are rules,” Jisung said simply, tilting his head as if daring him to protest.
Felix got up, stretching his arms above his head before sauntering over. He lowered himself onto Minho’s lap with a slow, deliberate movement, settling in like he belonged there, like this wasn’t the slightest bit odd. But it was. Even for him. He was playful, sure. He liked pushing boundaries, sure. And this whole game had been his idea in the first place.
But sitting in the lap of his best friend’s boyfriend? Yeah, that was new.
For a moment, Felix almost considered making it quick, just perching on Minho’s knee until the next round was over. But then he caught the way Minho’s muscles tensed ever so slightly, the way his hands flexed like he wasn’t quite sure where to put them, the way he was trying so hard to appear unfazed. And suddenly, Felix wasn’t in any rush to move.
He shifted, making himself comfortable, feeling the weight of Minho’s arms hovering nearby but not quite touching him. Interesting.
Felix was up next, so he stretched lazily from his position in Minho’s lap, reaching for the deck. He flipped the top card.
Ace. Perfect.
A slow grin spread across his lips. “I want Chan and Jisung to kiss.”
Chan’s eyes widened, and so did Jisung’s. Minho shifted slightly beneath Felix, his expression unreadable as he looked at Jisung over Felix’s shoulder. Jisung met his gaze, hesitating, uncertain.
Felix waggled his brows. “Rules are rules, aren’t they, Sungie?”
Jisung exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching in his lap. He looked at Minho one more time, seeking confirmation. A small nod was all Minho gave him, but it was enough.
Jisung turned back to Chan and leaned in, slow and deliberate, his hands hovering near Chan’s face before finally resting against his jaw. He moved closer until their lips barely brushed, a featherlight touch, hesitant and dry. Chan stayed frozen, his breath uneven, eyes fluttering shut as the space between them disappeared.
Felix made a noise of disapproval. “Babe, if you’re gonna kiss my man, at least do it properly.”
Jisung huffed a soft laugh against Chan’s lips. “You heard him,” he murmured.
Chan swallowed, his hands flexing against his knees like he didn’t know where to put them. His gaze flickered towards Minho, expecting him to intervene, to shut this down. But Minho only arched a brow, looking more entertained than anything. There was something measured in his expression, but he wasn’t stopping them.
Jisung took that as a permission.
When he kissed Chan this time, it was firmer, more certain. Their lips pressed together properly now, slow but enough to make Chan inhale sharply through his nose. It wasn’t deep, it wasn’t messy, but it was real.
Minho felt his breath hitch. A strange mix of emotions coiled in his chest—possessiveness prickling like static under his skin, but something else, too. Not quite jealousy, not quite discomfort. Just... something. He exhaled slowly, jaw tightening as he kept his expression neutral, but Felix caught it. Of course he did.
Felix turned to him, placing both hands on his shoulders, his thumbs resting near the curve of Minho’s neck. His touch was light but grounding, his voice softer than usual. “It’s alright, Minho,” he murmured, watching him closely. “Sungie is still yours.”
Minho’s gaze flicked from Felix to Jisung, who was pulling away from Chan now, licking his lips like he was testing the feeling of the kiss. Jisung met Minho’s eyes briefly, something questioning in them, like he was searching for a reaction. Minho held his stare momentarily, then scoffed, shaking his head.
“Yeah, obviously,” he muttered, voice low. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly at Felix. “Just don’t get too comfortable ordering my boyfriend to kiss other people.”
Felix smirked, completely unbothered. “Noted.” He let his thumbs press a little more firmly against Minho’s skin, as if he was testing something. “But... now that I think about it—” he leaned in slightly, voice dropping just a fraction, “—we’re the only ones who haven’t kissed yet.”
Minho’s brows lifted slightly, his grip on his knee tightening.
Felix tilted his head, a slow grin curling at the corner of his lips. “Seems unfair, don’t you think?”
Minho’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Felix had the audacity to look smug, his fingers still resting against Minho’s neck like he could feel how he swallowed. There was something almost taunting in his touch, a playful little test to see how far he could push.
Minho didn’t push back. He just held Felix’s gaze, unreadable. And then, without warning, he moved.
Minho’s hand slid to the back of Felix’s neck, fingers curling just enough to hold him in place, and before Felix could fully register what was happening, Minho was kissing him. Not soft, not tentative—raw and fast, a collision of lips and intent.
Felix barely had time to respond before being kissed breathless, Minho’s lips parting just enough to steal whatever sharp inhale Felix had managed. Somewhere in the haze of it, they heard a wolf whistle—Chan or Jisung, neither of them could be sure—but neither cared enough to pull away.
Only when the need for air became unavoidable did Minho finally break the kiss, though not without dragging his teeth over Felix’s lower lip. This tiny nip sent something hot and electric through Felix’s veins.
Felix swallowed, eyes wide and lips just slightly parted. “Damn, Jisung,” he exhaled, voice uneven but laced with amusement. “I get why you don’t wanna spend your nights at home anymore.”
Laughter erupted around them, and Felix was relieved to see Minho finally ease up, laughing with the rest of them. Good. Because none of this was a threat to Minho, and none of them were a threat to his relationship with Jisung.
“Guess it’s my turn,” Jisung said, voice light as he reached for the deck. The card slipped between his fingers, and his lips curled when he flipped it over.
“Eight,” he read, his eyes flicking towards Felix. “Place a kiss on someone’s body.”
A quiet beat passed. The air felt charged, like a waiting breath. Then Jisung moved.
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask permission, just shifted onto his knees, facing Felix. His hands were gentle as he reached for the hem of Felix’s hoodie, fingers brushing against the bare skin of his stomach as he lifted it just enough. Felix inhaled, watching him, something sparking behind his eyes as Jisung leaned in.
Jisung’s lips met Felix’s skin just above his navel, a light press at first, almost teasing, as though testing the waters. His breath was warm against Felix’s stomach, a fleeting sensation that sent ripples of tension through Felix’s frame. Jisung lingered there for a moment, his presence both bold and hesitant, before pressing in more firmly. The softness of his lips contrasted with the faint scratch of his breath against Felix's skin, deliberate yet restrained. And then, just as Felix’s breath hitched—a sharp intake that he couldn’t suppress—Jisung let his mouth linger. His lips parted slightly, the warmth of his tongue brushing against the spot as he sucked softly, enough to leave a faint mark but not so much that it would sting. It wasn’t possessive or rough; it was thoughtful, intimate, like he wanted to leave just a whisper of himself behind.
Felix exhaled sharply, the sound catching in the back of his throat—a quiet little noise that betrayed more than he intended. His fingers twitched at his sides, unsure whether to push Jisung away or pull him closer. The sensation was maddeningly light but enough to send shivers racing up his spine. He felt vulnerable under Jisung’s attention, exposed even, but something about it felt good.
When Jisung finally pulled away, he tilted his head slightly to the side, his dark eyes scanning the faint mark he’d left behind. There was a flicker of something in his expression—satisfaction? Whatever it was, it made Felix’s stomach flip. Jisung raised a hand and gently swiped his thumb over the spot as if inspecting his own work, smoothing over the slight redness blooming on Felix’s skin. “Perfect,” Jisung murmured under his breath.
Felix blinked down at him, heat rising to his face in waves. He didn’t know what to say or how to react. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of confusion and something else he didn’t quite want to name yet. He tried to focus on the ceiling for a moment, anything to ground himself, but all he could feel was the lingering warmth where Jisung’s lips had been and the weight of Jisung’s gaze on him.
Felix hadn’t expected Jisung to pick him. If anything, he figured Jisung would choose Minho, or maybe even Chan, just to get a slight rise out of Minho and stir the pot. But not him. Never him.
The feelings it stirred were unfamiliar, surfacing before he could make sense of them. Had this game somehow shifted into something else, something heavier, more real than he’d anticipated? Or had this been what he wanted all along, without knowing how to ask for it?
A thought lingered at the back of his mind, pressing against the heat of the moment—maybe they should be talking first.
“You okay?” Jisung asked suddenly. He straightened slightly, one hand resting casually on Minho’s knee while the other stayed poised near Felix’s stomach.
“I-yeah,” Felix stammered after a beat too long. His voice sounded rougher than intended, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Just… wasn’t expecting that.”
“You looked like you could use a little surprise,” Jisung said casually, though his eyes suggested there was more to it than he let on.
Felix’s eyes swept the room, his gaze flickering between the three men who shared this moment with him—a moment that now felt like it teetered on the edge of something far more significant than the playful energy they’d been indulging in moments before. The thickening air hummed against his skin like static before a storm.
Chan still sat where he was, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. His expression was inscrutable; his dark eyes followed Felix’s every move and breath as if he were analysing the scene before him piece by piece, trying to understand it or maybe trying to decide where he fit within it. But he said nothing. His silence wasn’t empty; it was calculated. He was watching, waiting for someone to make a move or perhaps for Felix to unravel himself under the weight of his stare.
Minho, in sharp distinction, didn’t seem to be processing anything at all. His body was unnaturally still beneath Felix’s slight frame, every muscle locked in place as though he were afraid that even the slightest motion might shatter whatever fragile spell had been cast over them. His lips were slightly parted, hesitant to speak. The sharp-tongued, self-assured Minho was absent, replaced by someone trapped between disbelief and an unnamed emotion.
Felix remained perched in Minho’s lap, his legs tucked awkwardly on either side of Minho’s thighs. The physical discomfort was minimal compared to the emotional chaos inside him. His heart drummed erratically against his ribs, a rhythm that didn’t seem to match Jisung’s soft kisses pressed into Felix’s bare stomach.
When had he started kissing him again?
Jisung knelt beside them, hands resting delicately on Felix's hips as if fearing a tighter grip would send him fleeing. Each kiss conveyed reverence, yet Felix doubted he deserved such devotion.
“What the fuck,” Felix muttered under his breath, though it came out more like a shaky exhale than actual words.
Jisung paused mid-kiss and tilted his head up to look at Felix. His lips were slightly swollen from where they’d been brushing against Felix’s skin, and his eyes gleamed with playfulness but undeniable sincerity. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.
Felix opened his mouth to respond, but quickly shut it again. What could he possibly say? That this ridiculous game they’d started as a joke suddenly felt like it had spiralled into new frontiers? Each touch and glance seemed meaningful; he wasn’t sure they were prepared to confront it. Instead of answering outright, he glanced between them again—Chan’s quiet intensity, Minho’s frozen vulnerability, Jisung’s gentle confidence—and felt his stomach twist into knots. Has this game become more serious? Have they crossed a certain line?
The questions buzzed in his head like an alarm he couldn’t silence. It didn’t feel like a little mischievous game anymore, at least not to him. Maybe that was the problem. Perhaps this energy shift existed only in his head, and everyone else was still having fun, still playing along without a second thought. He hated how desperately he wanted to believe that, to convince himself that this was all still lighthearted and meaningless.
“We should stop,” Felix whispered abruptly, startling Jisung.
Jisung blinked up at him, clearly taken aback by both the words themselves and the abruptness with which they were spoken. “Stop?” he echoed quietly, his hands dropping from Felix’s hips to rest on his own knees instead. “Why?”
Felix hesitated again; the words felt tangled in his throat like vines refusing to let go. What would they even talk about if they stopped? ‘ Hey guys, Jisung kissed me on my stomach, and now I feel like we need to have a full-on conversation about it.’ How absurd would that sound out loud? How ridiculous would he look admitting that something so seemingly innocent had completely unravelled him?
“It just... It doesn’t feel like a game anymore,” Felix admitted finally, though his voice wavered uncertainly. “At least not to me.”
Chan uncrossed his arms, his expression softening ever so slightly as he spoke for the first time since this whole thing began. “It doesn’t have to be a game if you don’t want it to be,” he said.
Felix’s gaze snapped toward Chan in surprise, but Chan held it steadily, like he wasn’t afraid of whatever came next. Like he was ready for whatever truths might spill out into the open now that someone had finally cracked through their collective silence.
Minho shifted beneath him then—not much, just enough for Felix to feel it—but enough to draw his attention back downwards. When Felix met Minho’s eyes this time, they weren’t blank anymore; they were filled with something intense and unguarded.
“You’re not alone in feeling that way,” Minho said quietly, almost reluctantly, as though admitting it aloud cost him more than anyone else in the room could possibly understand.
Felix didn’t know what to say to Chan, Minho, Jisung, or even himself.
“Do you want to talk about it now? Or do you just want to feel it for a bit?” Jisung asked, looking at him. His tone wasn’t mocking or dismissive; it was genuine and didn’t demand answers but offered a quiet, safe space for honesty.
Felix blinked slowly, his chest tightening and expanding all at once like his body couldn’t decide whether to hold everything in or let it spill out. He wanted to answer Jisung, but the lump in his throat made it impossible. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails digging crescents into his palms as if the tiny sting could anchor him to the moment. Every fibre of his being screamed at him not to stop feeling this. Not yet. He wanted more. Needed more.
But there was a gnawing fear deep in his gut that if he gave in entirely and let himself drown in this moment, it would all dissolve into nothingness once it ended. Like a dream that fades as soon as you open your eyes, leaving only a hollow ache behind. Would this be treated like something casual? Something fleeting? Felix didn’t know if he could bear that.
“Baby,” Chan said softly, rising from where he sat and closing the distance between them. He crouched slightly so they were at eye level, his movements unhurried and purposeful. “Just allow yourself to feel for once, okay?”
Chan’s hand reached out and cupped Felix’s jaw with a gentleness that made Felix’s breath snag involuntarily. His thumb brushed against Felix’s chin in soft, repetitive strokes—a touch so light it was grounding in its simplicity. His eyes searched Felix’s face as though trying to decode every unspoken thought swirling behind those wide brown irises.
“We will talk,” Chan added firmly, his voice carrying an unshakable reassurance that left no room for doubt. “I promise.”
Felix felt his body loosen at those words. It wasn’t just what Chan said; it was how he said it. The weight of his gaze and the steadiness of his tone told Felix that Chan meant every word.
And that was all Felix needed to hear.
The storm inside him quieted slightly, not gone completely, but subdued enough for him to take a shaky breath without feeling like the world around him might collapse at any second. He trusted Chan in ways that sometimes scared him, but made him feel safer than he ever thought possible. He trusted Chan to understand what he needed even when he couldn’t understand it himself.
“Okay,” Felix breathed out.
“Okay?” Jisung echoed, his voice both a question and an invitation as he extended his hand.
Felix hesitated only for a second before placing his palm in Jisung’s, and Jisung responded by slowly pulling him forward, out of Minho’s lap. Minho let out a small, startled breath at the sudden loss of warmth, his grip loosening instinctively. Chan, on the other hand, simply smiled at him, the corners of his lips twitching with knowing delight.
Jisung didn’t seem to notice their exchange; he was wholly focused on Felix now. He carefully guided him down onto the floor, shifting until they were seated face-to-face. The plush carpet cushioned their knees as Jisung mirrored Felix’s position, sitting back on his feet with effortless grace.
Felix couldn’t look away. His wide brown eyes were locked on Jisung as though he were under some spell. Every movement Jisung made, every flicker of emotion across his features, seemed magnified in Felix’s vision. An odd sense of calm tempered the nervous energy buzzing in his chest that Jisung’s presence always seemed to bring.
Jisung leaned in, his breath ghosting over Felix’s ear as he whispered, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”
Felix found that words had abandoned him entirely. Instead, he gave a small nod, but Jisung didn’t move.
“I need words, sweetheart,” Jisung murmured, his nose brushing against Felix’s cheek, teasing but patient.
Felix swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry despite how feverishly alive he felt in every other part of his body. “Kiss me,” he whispered at last. He closed his eyes for half a second before opening them again to meet Jisung’s gaze head-on. “Kiss me, Sungie.”
Jisung didn’t make him wait any longer. He leaned in closer until their foreheads touched for the briefest moment before tilting further to press their lips together. The world seemed to fall away completely as warmth bloomed where their mouths met.
Felix could feel every detail, the softness of Jisung’s lips against his own, the faint taste of lemonade he must’ve drank earlier, even the way Jisung exhaled softly through his nose as though releasing all tension in one breathless sigh.
From behind them came Chan’s low chuckle, soft enough not to break the moment but loud enough to be heard nonetheless. “You taught him well,” Chan remarked slyly, clearly directing the comment at Minho.
Felix barely registered the words through the haze clouding his senses, but Minho did. A cocky smirk spread across Minho's face as he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back on his hands like royalty surveying their kingdom.
“Of course I did,” Minho replied smoothly. His voice carried just enough smugness to make Chan laugh outright this time.
But none of that mattered to Felix or Jisung, not right then. The world beyond them faded, their surroundings reduced to nothing but their shared warmth and the steady press of their intertwined hands.
Felix melted into the kiss, the sensation grounding him as much as it unravelled him. Jisung’s scent—pineberries, sweet yet fresh—intensified with every deepened press of their lips, as if responding to the heat building between them. Felix inhaled it greedily, letting it fill his lungs until he felt dizzy.
In turn, his own scent spiked—strawberries ripening into something headier, richer. Felix could feel the exact moment Jisung noticed it, the slight halt in his breathing, the way he pressed closer, chasing the scent like it was something he couldn't resist.
Jisung’s free hand slipped under the hem of Felix’s hoodie, finding warm skin at his waist. Felix kissed him deeper, a little faster. He was dizzy with how Jisung tasted and how their scents tangled and transformed in the air around them. The pineapple notes in Jisung's scent began to fade, replaced by something unmistakably strawberry-like, as if Felix's scent was seeping into him, marking him.
Felix's scent changed too, taking on a tart edge, a pleasant sharpness like a sour-sweet confection melting on the tongue. The transformation wasn't lost on either of them. Jisung made a small noise in the back of his throat, something between a hum and a groan, as he traced the seam of Felix's lips with his tongue.
“Do you feel that?” Felix whispered when they broke apart for a breath, his voice sounding foreign to his ears, too rough and needy. “The way our scents are—”
“Yeah,” Jisung breathed, resting his forehead against Felix's. “Never felt anything like it before.”
Felix's eyes fluttered open to find Jisung already looking at him, his gaze heavy-lidded but intense.
“Even with Minho?” The question slipped out before Felix could stop it, quiet enough that maybe only Jisung heard.
Jisung's eyes widened slightly, then softened. He shook his head minutely, their foreheads still touching. ”No,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Not even with him.”
Felix didn't know what to do with this revelation that whatever was happening between them was unique, special in a way neither of them had experienced before. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Because it had to mean something. It always fucking did. With him, everything always meant something .
“I have never heard of scents blending like that,” Chan said.
Everyone turned towards Chan with matching expressions of surprise. Felix's lips were still tingling, his mind foggy from the intensity of what had just happened. He blinked slowly, trying to process Chan's words.
“You can feel it, too?” Felix asked, his voice still rough around the edges. He hadn't considered that what they were experiencing might be noticeable to others in the room. The thought made his stomach flip with something between embarrassment and excitement.
“Oh yeah,” Minho drawled, leaning forward from his position on the floor. His eyes were sharp and observant, making Felix feel strangely exposed. “This whole apartment smells like the blend of your scents.”
As if to punctuate his statement, Minho's scent spiked without warning—fresh mint cutting through the sweetness filling the room. Unlike how Felix's strawberry and Jisung's pineberry had melded together, transforming into something new, Minho's scent remained distinctly his own. It didn't blend or transform; it simply existed alongside theirs, clinging to the edges of their combined fragrance without altering it.
Felix inhaled deeply, letting the complexity of it all wash over him. He could pick out each layer—the base notes of his own strawberry scent, now richer and headier than before; the lingering sweetness of Jisung's pineberry, somehow both sharper and softer in the places where it had tangled with Felix's; and now Minho's mint, cool and fresh, circling them both like a protective barrier.
“That's... unusual,” Chan muttered as he moved closer. Felix could see his nostrils flaring slightly as he took in the scents surrounding them. “Scents don't typically blend like that, not unless…”
Felix's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing to fill in the blanks Chan had deliberately left. Not unless what?
“Not unless what, Chan?” Jisung asked, voicing the question that had lodged in Felix's throat.
Chan's gaze flicked between them, something knowing and almost cautious in his expression. “Not unless there's something... compatible between you. Something deeper than just physical attraction.”
“But I've never experienced that with anyone,” Jisung said softly, his brows furrowing. “Not even with—” He stopped, glancing apologetically at Minho.
Minho waved dismissively, but Felix caught the slight tightening around his eyes. “It's fine,” Minho said, his voice carefully neutral. “I've never experienced it with you either, Jisungie. It's not exactly common.”
“So what does it mean?” Felix asked the question, directed at no one in particular. His fingers unconsciously sought Jisung's, intertwining with them, seeking an anchor in the sudden uncertainty.
As he spoke, Chan's own scent began to emerge—subtle at first, then growing stronger. Cedar and rain, earthy and warm. It didn't blend with theirs either, but it didn't remain separate like Minho's. Instead, it seemed to envelop the combined scent of Felix and Jisung, enhancing rather than altering it.
Felix felt dizzy from the sensory overload, the lingering taste of Jisung on his lips, the complex layers of scent filling the room, the warmth of Jisung's hand in his, and now the reassuring scent of Chan.
“I want to try something,” Chan said, his eyes suddenly fixed on Minho. “If that's okay with everyone.”
“What do you want to try?” Felix asked, his fingers still loosely tangled with Jisung’s.
Chan's lips curved into a slight smile. “I want to kiss Minho.”
Minho choked, his composed facade slipping. “What? Why me?”
“Because,” Chan said, leaning forward slightly, “you and I share something similar to what Jisung and Felix have. I'm curious what happens to our scents.”
Minho ran his tongue over his lips, and his usual confidence returned. “I'm all yours,” he said, then glanced at Jisung. “If Jisungie's fine with it.”
Jisung nodded without hesitation. Jealousy wasn’t his style. Besides, something about Chan and Minho kissing sent a rush of heat through his body. He hoped Felix felt the same, or this could get awkward fast.
Chan moved while Minho stayed where he was. His posture was a little stiff, but expectant. He tilted his chin up, meeting Chan’s approach head-on.
Felix couldn’t look away. His lips parted slightly as Chan reached out to Minho, his fingers brushing against Minho’s jaw in a gesture that was familiar to both of them, and Minho’s eyes darkened in response.
“It’s been a while,” Chan murmured, his thumb grazing the curve of Minho’s lower lip.
“Missed me that much, huh?” Minho smirked.
Chan didn’t rise to the bait. He leaned in slowly, giving Minho a chance to pull away, though he already knew he wouldn’t.
The first press of their lips was gentle, almost chaste. Kissing Minho was something Chan had always enjoyed. The way their mouths fit, the subtle ways Minho responded. They had long since memorised each other’s rhythms, and Chan instinctively kissed him the way Minho liked most.
But it had been a long time. And when their mouths met, Chan realised he had missed this.
The thought appeared without a warning, impossible to ignore by his overthinking brain. Guilt flickered through his mind briefly, but Felix would understand, right? He had to. Felix would know that this didn’t take anything away from what they had. It didn’t diminish their love. It was just part of his history, not a competition.
Minho's hand came up to grip the back of Chan's neck, pressing him harder against his mouth, deepening the kiss. What started as gentle transformed into something hungry. Something that hadn’t been forgotten after all.
Jisung squeezed Felix’s hand, his cheeks flushed as he watched Chan and Minho kiss. Their bodies knew each other, remembered each other. This wasn’t the fumbling of first-time lovers; this was muscle memory, instinct. Yeah… Jisung decided that was definitely hot.
“Holy shit,” he whispered.
Felix made a small noise of agreement beside him, his palm growing clammy against Jisung’s. The strawberry scent around them intensified, and Jisung didn’t need to look to know Felix was just as turned on as he was.
Minho’s eyes were closed, his sharp edges softened by whatever Chan was doing with his tongue. Then Minho let out a quiet sound—half sigh, half groan—when Chan’s hand slid to his waist.
“Have they always been like this?” Felix breathed out.
“I didn’t know they were like anything until today,” Jisung answered, unable to tear his gaze away.
How many times had this happened before? How many nights back in med school had they spent discovering what brought each other pleasure, learning each other’s bodies in a way that was now so seamless it barely looked like thinking?
Their scents didn’t blend so much as press against each other, like two distinct notes in a chord, resonating instead of fusing. Chan’s scent seemed to wrap around Minho’s sharper edge without softening it. And Minho, for all his precision and bite, didn’t repel it. There was no transformation, no chemical shift, just something long-established settling back into the room. Not new, but beyond doubt and not at all quiet.
“Should we join them?” Jisung leaned close to Felix, whispering.
Felix turned to him immediately. “God, yes.”
They moved together, crawling towards the pair who were oblivious to the world outside their bubble.
Chan’s fingers threaded through Minho's hair firmly while his other hand anchored at Minho’s hip.
Minho was making these tiny, soft sounds that had always enchanted Jisung; hearing them now directed at someone else added an unexpected thrill. Felix reached them first, his hand sliding up Chan’s back warmly. Chan broke away from Minho, turning to his boyfriend watching him with hooded eyes.
“Hey”, Chan exhaled softly.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Felix said, but his hand was already curling around the nape of Chan’s neck, pulling him in.
Jisung watched as Felix claimed Chan’s mouth, tasting Minho on his lips. The thought alone made Jisung’s breath catch. He turned to Minho, whose lips were swollen and shiny, his breaths coming unevenly.
“You okay?” Jisung asked, smiling and reaching out to touch Minho's flushed cheek.
Minho caught his wrist, his eyes burning with something Jisung had never seen before. “Come here,” he said.
Jisung went willingly, straddling Minho's lap as naturally as breathing. Minho's hands found his hips immediately, fingers digging into the soft flesh there.
“You're mine,” Jisung mouthed against Minho's lips, not quite a kiss but an affirmation. The words weren't possessive so much as reassuring, more of a reminder that whatever happened tonight, whatever boundaries they pushed, some things remained constant. “But I think I liked watching you with Chan.”
“Yeah?” Minho asked, searching Jisung's face.
“Mhm,” Jisung confirmed softly, shifting slightly in Minho's lap. “And earlier, with Felix, too. Is that okay?” he asked, a hint of nervousness in his tone.
Minho's eyes softened at Jisung's uncertainty. He lifted one hand to cup Jisung's cheek. “More than okay,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against Jisung's in a kiss so light it was barely there. “I liked watching you, too.”
Jisung shivered at the admission, his body responding to Minho's words as much as his touch. He was about to lean in for a proper kiss when Felix's laughter caught his attention.
Felix whispered something in Chan’s ear, and they both giggled before Chan pulled away from Felix. “Maybe we should move this somewhere more comfortable?”
Jisung looked at Minho, and he smiled at him before nodding. It’s all Jisung needed. He was fairly certain that everyone was on the same page.
The bedroom was only a few steps away, but crossing that space felt like walking through a shift in atmosphere. Chan led the way, one arm wrapped loosely around Felix’s waist, guiding him towards the bedroom. Felix leaned into him, his head resting briefly against Chan’s shoulder before he turned to make sure Jisung and Minho were following.
The bedroom door stood partially open, and Chan pushed it wider with his foot. The large bed dominated the space, neatly made with Felix's favourite duvet and too many pillows.
“I, uh, wasn't exactly planning for this,” Felix admitted with a nervous laugh, gesturing vaguely at the bed.
“Weren't you?” Minho raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “Because that game felt pretty intentional to me.”
Felix flushed a little, but didn’t look away. There was a flicker of embarrassment, but something firmer like pride underneath it.
“Maybe I wanted something to happen,” he said.
Minho stepped past Felix, standing at the foot of the bed. He scanned the room like he owned the place, and maybe in that moment, he did. He looked at Felix and Jisung, a hungry grin on his face.
“Both of you”, he said firmly, “get on the bed”
Felix blinked, but Jisung was already moving. Minho’s hand shot out and grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging him forward with just enough force to send him off balance. Felix yelped, landing with a soft bounce on the mattress. Jisung followed right after, collapsing beside him with a laugh that caught in his throat when he noticed how close their faces were. How close everything suddenly was.
“Touch him,” Minho said simply. “Go on.”
He stepped closer to Chan, his hand finding the small of his back as he smirked at him. Chan swallowed, clearly enjoying Minho taking charge of everything.
“Fancy a little show, Channie?” he asked, his fingers getting under Chan’s shirt, still on his back but now dancing across his bare skin.
Chan inhaled sharply through his nose. Fuck. This was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. He couldn't tear his eyes from Felix and Jisung on the bed, their mouths locked together, hands wandering everywhere—gripping, teasing, exploring. Meanwhile, his entire body tingled with awareness of Minho's hand creeping lower on his back, hovering dangerously near the waistband of his sweats.
Minho had always been something of a chameleon during sex, adapting seamlessly to whatever his partner desired, prioritising their pleasure above his own. But with Chan, things had always been different. With Chan, Minho simply took what he wanted. Or maybe this was exactly what Chan wanted, and Minho had merely mirrored that.
On the bed, things were escalating quickly. Both Felix and Jisung had lost their shirts, and Felix had his mouth on Jisung's nipple, drawing out soft, needy whines. Felix straddled Jisung's thighs, their clothed erections pressed together as they rocked against each other with subtle, restrained movements.
Chan gasped when Minho's hand finally slipped beneath his sweats, gripping his ass with commanding pressure. Minho's fingers pressed firmly against his tailbone before one slid lower, spreading him just enough to brush a dry fingertip against his hole, just a teasing touch, but enough to make Chan's knees weak.
“Remember how I used to fuck you?” Minho asked against Chan's ear, his finger circling his rim like they weren't standing three feet from their boyfriends grinding on each other.
“I-I fucked you too,” Chan managed, voice cracking as his thoughts scattered.
“You did,” Minho confirmed, breathing hot against Chan's neck. “But you liked to let go with me more.”
Memories flooded Chan's mind unbidden—Minho above him, commanding as he held Chan's wrists above his head. Minho inside him, filling him so perfectly that Chan had forgotten how to form coherent thoughts. Minho's voice, telling him exactly what to do, how to move, when to come. The relief of surrendering control, of not having to make decisions.
“You know, Felix could easily give that to you, too,” Minho continued, his other hand sliding up Chan's chest to pinch at his nipple through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The sharp sensation pulled a gasp from Chan's lips. “And I think you know that.”
Chan's eyes snapped open, immediately seeking out Felix on the bed. His boyfriend had Jisung's wrists pinned above his head now, his mouth trailing hungry kisses down Jisung's neck while Jisung writhed beneath him. The sight of Felix taking control so naturally made Chan's cock pulse with need.
“He…he doesn’t know I like that,” Chan stuttered.
Minho chuckled against Chan’s neck. “Are you sure about that? Because he’s looking at you right now like he wants nothing more but to take you.”
Chan's gaze locked with Felix's across the room. Felix's eyes were hooded, wide with desire as he watched Minho touch Chan. His lips curved into a knowing smile. Had Felix been waiting for him to ask? Had he been holding back, thinking Chan wouldn't want to surrender control?
Minho's finger withdrew, leaving Chan feeling suddenly empty. Before he could protest the loss, Minho was turning him around, pressing him back against the wall beside the bed. His hand grabbed Chan's jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze.
“Tell him what you want,” Minho said, soft but commanding. “Stop overthinking and just tell him.”
Chan let out a soft moan, his head falling back against the wall. His mind was floating somewhere above his body, disconnected from everything except the points where Minho touched him and the heat of Felix's gaze burning into his skin.
“I can't—” Chan started, but Minho's grip tightened on his jaw.
“You can,” Minho insisted. “And you will. Because I know you, Chan, and I know you're dying to let go.”
On the bed, Felix had stilled, his attention entirely on Chan now despite Jisung's attempts to recapture it with needy whines.
“Baby,” Felix called out, his voice rougher than Chan had ever heard it. “Come here.”
Jisung shuffled on the bed to make room, though he looked a little confused, stealing quick glances between them. He wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, he’d never seen that look on Chan’s face before.
It was eerily familiar, though. It was the same desperate, wrecked expression he wore when Minho was turning him into nothing but a whiny, trembling mess.
Chan hesitated, staring at Felix, his head too foggy to make a decision.
Minho leaned in, a hand pressed flat to the small of Chan's back, giving him a gentle but firm push towards the bed—making the choice for him.
Felix caught Chan's wrist mid-stumble and tugged him down onto the mattress, pulling him to lie next to Jisung.
Minho closed his eyes and breathed in.
Held it.
Let it go slow, catching his bottom lip between his teeth on the exhale.
Damn.
It was a sight to die for. His omega stretched out beside another alpha, and Felix, an omega, sure, but right now he didn’t read like one, was perched above them both, owning the moment like he was born for it.
There was no jealousy in Minho’s chest. Just something warm and full sitting behind his ribs. They were beautiful. All of them. This didn’t make a lot of sense, but nothing did anymore. Just a moment ago, Felix had been freaking out about Jisung kissing his stomach, saying they should stop and now here he was, guiding not just Jisung but Chan too, like it was nothing. So Minho’s absence of jealousy, or whatever reaction he used to imagine he’d have in a situation like this, was the least confusing thing.
He was also so painfully hard he had to palm himself through the fabric just to ease the worst of it. Slow, unfocused pressure. Just enough to take the edge off. His eyes never left the bed.
Jisung pressed gentle kisses along Chan's ribs, a silent reassurance that this was okay. Felix had one hand on each of their chests, his smaller frame somehow commanding the entire space.
Minho relished the view, finding a certain allure in observing from the sidelines. Meanwhile, the three of them were immersed in their own sensations, and Minho could clearly see their reactions. Every facial expression, every slight muscle twitch, and the way their bodies moved was mesmerising.
Felix glanced up, catching his eye. “Voyeur,” he teased.
Minho's lips parted, ready to fire back something equally teasing, or perhaps to simply agree, but it didn’t matter because the shrill ring of his phone cut through the air like a slap.
“Shit,” he muttered, already moving back into the living room to find it.
Everything else froze, the room suddenly too quiet, waiting for him to return.
“Everything okay?” Jisung asked softly when Minho came back. There was a slight pout on his lips, like he already knew what Minho’s next words were going to be.
“I’m needed in,” Minho said, clearly annoyed.
“Do you have to?” Jisung asked anyway, even though he knew the answer. There was no way around it. They were doctors. When they were needed, they were needed . But Jisung’s fuzzy brain still reached for some useless scrap of hope.
Minho dropped his phone onto the dresser and stepped closer, hands rising to frame Jisung’s jaw, tilting his face up into a slow, lingering kiss.
“You’re my good boy, yeah?” he murmured against his lips. “You’re gonna behave for Felix.”
Jisung whimpered, nodding, already pressing in for more, desperate to hold on to the contact.
Minho turned, threading his fingers through Chan’s hair. “You too. Tell Felix exactly what you need. Understood?”
Chan nodded, glassy-eyed.
Finally, Minho turned to Felix. “Make Jisung come. Twice. No mercy,” he instructed. “And Chan…make him earn it, yeah?”
Felix blinked, then smiled, accepting the challenge with delight. “You’re such a dom.”
With one smooth motion, Minho reached out and shoved Felix’s sweats just low enough to land a sharp, loud smack on his bare ass. “And get your phone out,” he added. “Record it. I want to see everything when I come back.”
Jisung whimpered, tears already shimmering at the corners of his eyes from the anticipation, desire, and knowledge that Minho would be watching later, even if he couldn’t be present now.
Minho noticed immediately and turned back to him, softer now. “Cry for me if you need, jagi,” he said. “Just make sure Felix catches it on camera.”
And with that, Minho straightened up, grabbed his phone from the dresser, and turned to leave without looking back.
Little shit. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Felix scrambled to find his phone, snatching it up and quickly navigating to the camera app. The screen glowed bright in his hands, reflecting off his flushed face as he propped it against a stack of books on his dresser.
He stepped back, examining the frame. The bed was perfectly centred, both Chan and Jisung visible, their bodies touching and thrumming with want. But they were still clothed. Chan was fully dressed, and Jisung was only half-undressed, but enough to annoy him.
Felix clicked his tongue. “Darlings,” he said, voice syrup-sweet, “I think you should undress each other.”
The dominance radiating from him surprised even Felix himself. He'd always known he was a switch, had enjoyed both giving and receiving control, but to have his role flip so quickly and naturally was new. It felt right, though, to see Chan's expression change at his tone, noticing Jisung's breath falter.
Jisung and Chan immediately fumbled for each other’s clothes, frantic and uncoordinated, all twitching fingers and shallow breaths. They kept getting in each other’s way, limbs tangling, movement jerky with need. It was clumsy and desperate and fucking beautiful.
Felix watched them struggle, wondering which of them was further gone—Chan with his glazed eyes or Jisung with his impatient whines.
Finally, Jisung huffed in frustration and straddled Chan's hips, yanking the shirt over his head in one clean motion. Chan, catching on, hooked his fingers into Jisung's waistband. Jisung twisted to the side, letting the fabric fall all at once, boxers included, until it bunched at his ankles and kicked them off without grace or care.
Before Felix could process it, they were both naked, Jisung perched atop Chan, their cocks pressed together. They were both hard, tips glistening with precome, and Felix could see the way Jisung shifted his hips, creating the barest friction between them. The contrast made Felix pause. Chan was thick, broad and heavy and made to ruin you. Jisung’s cock was smaller, pretty, the kind that begged to be played with, edged until he cried and begged and—
Felix bit his lip. He was about to return to the bed when a thought struck him, making him pause mid-step. His tongue darted out, slowly wetting his top lip as he considered it. There was a better way. He turned back, retrieving the phone from its makeshift stand and returned to bed, his knees sinking into the mattress as he crawled like a predator.
“Channieeeee,” Felix purred, drawing out the syllables as he dragged the cool edge of the phone across Chan’s chest, pausing over a nipple and smirking when it pebbled under the touch. “You wanna be a good boy, yeah?”
“Yes,” Chan whispered. “Want to be so good. For you.”
“For me and Minho,” he corrected, placing gentle emphasis on Minho's name. Minho might not be there in person, but Felix wanted him threaded into every second of this.
Chan nodded obediently, lips slightly parted.
“Then you’re gonna film me and Sungie. Think you can handle that?” Felix asked softly, leaving the phone right on Chan’s chest like a loaded gun.
Chan reached for the phone with trembling fingers, quickly navigating to the camera app.
Felix reached behind him, pulled a pillow off the bed and tossed it to the floor. “Kneel beside the bed like the good puppy you are,” Felix commanded, the words flowing from his lips before he could second-guess them.
A moment of panic flickered through him—where had that come from? Puppy? He'd never called Chan that before, never even thought about it. But before he could backtrack, he saw Chan's reaction.
A broken noise tore from Chan’s throat, high and needy, his thighs twitching, proving that Felix had stumbled onto something powerful. The visible shudder that ran through Chan's body at the word ‘puppy’ was unmistakable. Felix filed that reaction away for later exploration, when they were alone again.
“Did you like that, puppy?” Felix tested.
Chan nodded, unable to form words. His throat worked soundlessly for a moment before he managed a hoarse, “Yes.”
“Good boy,” Felix praised, watching as the words sent another visible tremor through Chan's body. “Now get in position.”
Chan slid off the bed without hesitation, kneeling on the pillow, phone held steady in his hands, ready to capture whatever came next as he pressed the recording button. His posture was obedient and eager, exactly what Felix wanted.
He turned his attention to Jisung, who had been watching the exchange with wide, fascinated eyes. His cock lay hard against his stomach, leaking and clearly affected by the display of dominance.
“And you,” Felix said, crawling toward Jisung with renewed purpose. “Are you ready to give Minho a show he'll never forget?”
Jisung's lips parted, his chest rising with a sharp intake of breath. “I’m so ready,” he whispered, reaching for Felix. “Please.”
Felix glanced down at Chan, making sure he was recording, before turning back to Jisung. He lowered his voice, just loud enough for the microphone to catch but intimate enough to make Jisung shiver.
“Then let's make him regret leaving us alone.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho pulled into the staff car park with a quick, annoyed flick of the wheel. The place was mostly empty, as expected. It was late, most of the staff were already home, feet up, unwinding with whatever mindless shit helped them forget the day. Lucky bastards. He would’ve given up plenty—his dinner, his pride, maybe even one of his favourite hoodies—just to be one of them tonight.
Instead, here he was. Back in this sterile building, under flickering lights, answering a call that shouldn't have come. Of all the times to be on-call, tonight had to be the one where they actually rang. He cursed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair as he stepped out of the car. The air was cool, but it didn’t do much to clear his head or help with the very specific kind of heat still clinging to his skin.
He tried not to think about what he’d left behind. Jisung, wrecked and needy. Chan, obedient and dazed. Felix, sharp-tongued and in control. Fuck. Minho shook his head, trying to shove it down before his body remembered too vividly. He wasn’t exactly in the right state to be at work. The ache low in his gut had nothing to do with work and everything to do with the half-finished night he’d just walked away from.
When did he get this unprofessional?
He pushed through the automatic doors, pulling his lanyard over his head when a junior nurse spotted him and jogged up, all flustered and half-apologetic.
“Oh, Dr. Lee! You can head back. Sorry—we don’t need you after all. Dr. Song made it in. He was just running very late.”
Minho blinked, the words slow to register. “He’s here?”
She nodded. “Yeah. About ten minutes ago. Sorry for the hassle.”
Minho just nodded, sharp and silent, then turned around and walked straight back out. He didn’t even bother pretending not to be annoyed as he climbed back into his car. He sat there for a moment, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, a slow grin appearing at the edge of his mouth. The universe might be an arsehole, but sometimes it gave back exactly what you needed.
And Minho was going home.
He pulled out his phone, thumb moving fast as he selected three contacts. A message box popped up, and he didn’t bother overthinking it.
I’m on my way back. You better save some for me.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Felix rolled his hips, pushing into Jisung with slow but surgical precision. The movement made Jisung arch off the bed, his back forming a perfect curve as his hands clawed desperately at the sheets. A breathy sob spilt from his lips, filling the space.
“Fuck, Felix,” he gasped, the words breaking halfway through as Felix shifted inside him.
Felix didn't answer at first. He just ground in deeper, staying fully seated inside Jisung, relishing the tight heat surrounding him. He tilted his head, drinking in the sight of Jisung's body adjusting around him, shoulders trembling with each breath, thighs twitching against Felix's sides, the soft swell of his stomach pulling tight with every gasp.
Jisung's eyes were glassy and unfocused, his strawberry-tinted pineberry scent was so thick in the air that Felix could practically taste it on his tongue. The sweetness of it clung to the back of his throat, and the thought that this was their combined scent, that they even had a combined scent, made him all the more dizzy with desire.
“You feel so good, Sungie,” Felix murmured. “So tight and smells so delicious, my pretty little omega.”
Jisung only whimpered in response, his fingers twisting harder in the sheets as Felix shifted his hips in a slow circle, pressing against that spot inside him that made Jisung's toes curl.
Felix glanced over to where Chan knelt obediently beside the bed. His eyes were wide, pupils blown as he steadied the phone with trembling hands, capturing every detail. His cock stood painfully hard against his stomach, leaking steadily, begging for attention. But he hadn't been given permission to touch himself, so he remained still despite the obvious ache.
“You're getting that, baby?” Felix turned to Chan, his voice honey-sweet but commanding.
Chan nodded too fast, eyes fixed on where their bodies joined. “Yes,” he breathed.
“You like watching?” Felix asked, rolling his hips again in a deliberate motion that made Jisung cry out beneath him, his back arching further off the mattress. “You like seeing how deep I get? How good I fuck Sungie open?”
“Y-yeah,” Chan stuttered, his free hand flexing at his side, desperate for contact. “Looks so good. You both—look so—”
Felix cut him off with a sharp smile, enjoying the power thrumming through his veins. “Then keep filming. You can touch yourself, but slowly. I don't want you to come like this.”
Chan whimpered, an obedient little sound that sent a fresh wave of heat through Felix's body. He shifted the camera to one hand and slipped the other onto his cock, his fingers wrapping around the thick length with visible relief. His strokes were controlled despite the desperation in his eyes, already half-lost to the rhythm of Felix's hips.
Felix turned his attention back to Jisung, who was watching him through half-lidded eyes, lips bitten red and swollen. Felix leaned down to capture those lips in a bruising kiss before pulling back, adjusting his angle, and starting to move in earnest.
He built a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing Jisung further up the bed until Felix had to grip his hips to hold him in place. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by Jisung's increasingly desperate moans.
“Felix, please,” Jisung cried, his voice breaking on Felix's name. “I need—I need—”
Felix knew exactly what he needed. He slowed his pace deliberately, grinding his cock against Jisung's prostate with each thrust, watching as Jisung's eyes rolled back, tears gathering at the corners.
“I'm not Minho,” Felix teased, his voice low and possessive, “but you fall apart on my cock all the same.”
“Hnghh,” Jisung whined, his hands reaching up to grasp Felix's shoulders, nails digging into the soft skin there. “L-love your cock, s'deep.”
The admission sent a ripple of pleasure throughout Felix’s body, spreading everywhere and thrumming in his fingertips. It was just like what that eccentric shaman had once described during the strange hippie workshop he and Jisung attended. They had jokingly called him ‘Shaman Daddy.’ So this is what it feels like. Huh.
He pressed their bodies flush together, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along Jisung's neck, occasionally grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin. He could feel Jisung's cock trapped between their stomachs, hot and leaking, twitching with each thrust.
“You gonna come for me?” Felix whispered against Jisung's ear, nipping at the lobe. “Gonna come on my cock while Chan watches? While Minho watches later?”
The mention of Minho's name made Jisung whimper, his body tightening around Felix. “Y-yes, please, wanna come, please let me—”
Felix picked up the pace, driving into Jisung with renewed intensity. The headboard knocked rhythmically against the wall, the bed creaking beneath them as Felix chased their pleasure. He could feel his own orgasm building, a tight coil of heat low in his belly, but he was determined to make Jisung come first, to give Minho exactly what he'd asked for.
Chan groaned from his position on the floor, his knuckles white around the phone. His other hand moved in time with Felix's thrusts, his breathing becoming more ragged with each passing second.
“Felix,” Chan's voice was strained, desperate. “Can I—I need to—”
“Not yet,” Felix commanded, not even looking at him. “I have plans for you”
Jisung's body was trembling beneath him now, his cock leaking steadily between them. Felix knew he was close, could feel it in the way Jisung's thighs tightened around his waist, in the increasingly frantic pitch of his moans.
“Come for me, baby,” Felix whispered, reaching between them to wrap his fingers around Jisung's cock. “Show Minho how good I make you feel.”
And then, barely audible above the sound of skin and breath and the mattress shifting, a new sound cut through. A single message chime.
Chan's gaze flicked to the screen, his rhythm faltering as he read the notification.
From: Minho
I'm on my way back. You better save some for me.
A visible shudder ran through Chan's body at the message, his cock twitching in his hand. He looked up at Felix, eyes wide with excitement and need.
“He's coming back,” Chan breathed. “Minho's on his way.”
Felix felt a surge of adrenaline at the news, his hips snapping forward with renewed purpose. Jisung moaned loudly beneath him, clearly affected by the knowledge that Minho would soon join them.
“Did you hear that, Sungie?” Felix purred, his fingers tightening around Jisung's cock as he stroked him in time with his thrusts. “Minho's coming back to see you. To see us. Better put on a good show, don't you think?”
Jisung nodded frantically, his eyes squeezed shut as his body tensed. “I'm gonna—Felix, I'm gonna—”
“That's it,” Felix encouraged, feeling his own control slipping as Jisung's body clenched around him. “Come for me. Come for Minho.”
Jisung's back arched off the bed as he came with a broken cry, his release spilling hot and thick over Felix's fingers and onto his own stomach. His body pulsed around Felix's cock, the tight heat nearly pushing Felix over the edge. But he held back, gritting his teeth against the pleasure.
Jisung's body pulsed with aftershocks, his muscles still twitching from his orgasm, but something felt... incomplete. The emptiness gnawed at him, a hollow ache spreading through his core. His mind cleared just enough to realise what was missing—Felix hadn't come yet. He was still hard inside him, still holding back, denying them both.
Jisung didn't like feeling incomplete.
“Felix,” he breathed out, voice raw from moaning. His eyes locked with Felix's, seeing the strain there, the way Felix's jaw clenched with the effort of control. “Let go.”
Felix hovered above him, sweat beading along his hairline, arms trembling slightly as they bracketed Jisung's body. A flicker passed over his expression —hesitation, maybe reluctance. Like he wanted to prolong this moment, stretch it out until they both broke from it.
Jisung recognised that look. He'd seen it on Minho countless times: the desire to maintain control even when it made no sense, even when surrender would feel so much better.
“Let. The fuck. Go.” The command slipped from Jisung's lips, his voice dropping to a rarely used register. The omega tone fell away, replaced by something sharper, more demanding.
Felix's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift. Jisung didn't wait for him to process it. He wrapped his legs around Felix's waist—tight—and deliberately clenched around Felix's cock, squeezing with a precision that made Felix's breath hitch.
“Fuck—” Felix gasped, his control slipping. “Jisung—”
Jisung did it again, muscles contracting around Felix in rhythmic pulses, watching as Felix's eyes glazed over. He knew exactly what he was doing, had learned this particular trick long ago, and had used it on Minho countless times.
Felix's hips stuttered forward involuntarily, his rhythm faltering as pleasure overtook his control. “Fuck. God. Shit, Christ, Jellyfish—” A string of curses and nonsense words tumbled from his lips as he finally, finally let go, spilling hot and deep inside Jisung.
The sensation of Felix coming inside him sent another wave of pleasure through Jisung's oversensitive body. He felt claimed, marked in a way that satisfied something primal. Felix collapsed forward, barely catching himself on shaking arms, his forehead resting against Jisung's collarbone.
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, too,” Jisung murmured, wrapping his arms around Felix's trembling form. Then, the last word Felix gasped registered in his brain. “But... Jellyfish?” A bubble of laughter escaped him, vibrating through both their bodies.
“Shut up,” Felix mumbled against his skin, but Jisung could feel the smile pressed against his chest.
Still holding Felix close, Jisung reached out towards Chan, who remained kneeling beside the bed, phone still clutched in his hand. His eyes were hazy with arousal, his cock painfully hard and neglected still. Jisung's heart squeezed at the sight, the way Chan had stayed so obedient, so good, even when it clearly cost him.
Jisung took the phone gently from Chan's grip, placing it on the bed beside them. Then he cupped Chan's cheek, thumb stroking over the heated skin. Chan leaned into the touch immediately, desperate for contact, for acknowledgement.
“You were so good, Channie,” Jisung whispered affectionately. “Thank you for filming this. For being so patient.”
Chan's eyes fluttered closed at the praise, a soft whimper escaping his lips. He looked wrecked, desperate, and so beautiful it made Jisung's chest ache.
Felix stirred above him, finding the strength to pull away. He slid out of Jisung slowly, both of them hissing at the oversensitivity. Jisung felt cum dripping out of him, hot and sticky against his thighs. The sensation should have been uncomfortable, but it felt like a mark, a physical reminder of what they'd shared.
Felix moved to the edge of the bed, his movements languid and sated as he reached for Chan. “Baby, come here,” he said softly, helping Chan up from his knees and onto the mattress. Chan went willingly, his body practically melting against Felix's as soon as they touched.
Jisung watched them for a moment, his mind already racing ahead. An idea formed, wicked and perfect. He pushed himself onto his elbows, ignoring the pleasant ache in his muscles.
“I have an idea,” he announced, a slow smile spreading. “Minho's coming home, right?”
Felix nodded, one hand absently stroking through Chan's hair. “Yeah.”
“Videocall him,” Jisung said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Right now.”
Felix's eyebrows shot up, but a matching grin quickly followed. “You're evil.”
“No,” Jisung corrected, already reaching for the phone. “I'm a genius.”
Chan looked between them, his expression caught between arousal and confusion. “What are you planning?”
Jisung's smile widened as he unlocked the phone, his fingers already navigating to the call app. “We're going to give Minho a little preview of what's waiting for him.” He glanced at Chan's still-hard cock, then back up to meet his eyes. “And maybe help you out with that problem of yours while we're at it.”
Felix caught on immediately, his eyes darkening with renewed interest. “Oh, I like where this is going.”
“I thought you might,” Jisung hummed, settling back against the pillows.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho was breaking the speed limit, entirely unconcerned about the consequences. His grip on the wheel was tight, fingers flexing with impatience as he weaved through what little traffic stood in his way. Rationality was long gone, replaced by a singular focus—getting back to them. He wondered if they’d seen his message, if they’d pause and wait for him, anticipation building. Or maybe they wouldn’t see it at all, and he’d walk in on them completely unaware, lost in each other. The idea made his foot press harder on the pedal, nearly pushing it to the floor.
But cutting through the city like that could only last so long. A sea of red lights stretched ahead, traffic pooling back in waves. Minho groaned, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel with growing frustration. A road accident, of course. Just his fucking luck. Cars were bottlenecked, police lights flashing up ahead, and there wasn’t a single gap to snake through.
He drummed his fingers harder, jaw clenched. The reckless, feral part of him considered just leaving the car right there. The flat was maybe half an hour on foot if he sprinted. He could cut through the side streets, probably make it in twenty. The mental image of ditching his car right in the middle of the road just to get back to them made him laugh under his breath. Christ, he was down bad. Still, the idea lingered, tempting.
But he shook his head, tapping his forehead lightly against the steering wheel. ‘Get it together,’ he muttered to himself. He was an adult. He would not abandon his car in the middle of the traffic just to get his dick wet.
But it wasn’t just that, was it? Minho's fingers tightened on the wheel again. Sure, he wanted them, wanted to bury himself in the feeling of it, all that heat and slickness and the gasping sounds they made, but that wasn’t the only thing driving him crazy. He wanted to see it. That thing they’d stumbled onto, all four of them, something he hadn’t quite wrapped his head around yet. It wasn’t just sex; it was deeper, thicker, like they’d pulled at the edge of something and unravelled it just enough to glimpse what lay underneath.
He wanted to see the way Jisung came apart under Felix’s touch, all pliant and trembling, completely wrecked. He wanted to see Felix in control, watching that sweet, playful grin twist into something sharper, something possessive. And he wanted to see Chan let go again, completely unravel, stripped down to nothing but instinct. For him, for Felix. Fuck, he wanted to watch Chan lose that iron grip he had on himself, wanted to see him break and shatter for them.
Minho groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Am I a fucking pervert?” he asked the empty car, voice muffled. He didn’t know what was worse—the fact that he might be or that he didn’t care.
His phone buzzed and lit up on the car phone holder, stuck to the window. Felix's face glowed from the screen, his contact photo filling the display. Minho's heart rate kicked up instantly. He jabbed the button on his steering wheel to answer, not even checking if it was a regular call or video.
“You better be calling to say you all are ready for me,” Minho growled. The traffic ahead hadn't moved an inch, and his frustration simmered just beneath his skin.
What he didn't expect was Felix's face appearing on his screen, the video call connecting with crystal clarity. Felix looked absolutely wrecked—flushed and glowing with a sheen of sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead in damp strands. That delicious strawberry scent seemed to radiate through the screen, making Minho's mouth water even though he knew that was impossible.
“Oh, we're waiting, all right,” Felix purred. His eyes glittered with mischief as he tilted the camera.
Minho's breath caught in his throat. His hands clawed at the steering wheel as the screen shifted to reveal Jisung sprawled across the rumpled sheets. His thighs were spread wide, cum mixed with slick leaking from his used hole in pearly rivulets. The sight alone made Minho's cock throb painfully against his zipper.
But that wasn't all. Chan was beside Jisung, his expression dazed and desperate as he hovered over Jisung's body. He looked drunk on the combined scents filling the room. Completely gone.
“Channie,” Felix called from behind the camera, his voice lilting with amusement and authority. “You can ask Minho. Maybe he will allow you.”
Chan raised his head slowly, looking directly at the camera. His lips were swollen, parted slightly as he struggled to form words. “Please, can I—hnnghhh—”
The question dissolved into a desperate whine as Jisung wrapped his fingers around Chan's neglected cock. Chan's entire body jerked at the contact, his eyes rolling back momentarily.
“Jagiya,” Minho warned, his voice dropping dangerously. “Let Chan-hyung talk.”
Jisung looked up at the camera, blinking with exaggerated innocence. His lips curled into that bratty smile Minho knew all too well, the one that said he knew exactly what he was doing and had zero intention of stopping.
“Oh my god, these two,” Felix chuckled, the camera shaking slightly with his laughter. “Channie here would like to eat Jisung out, right Channie?”
Chan nodded frantically, already shifting between Jisung's legs, his broad shoulders pushing them wider. “Yes, yes,” he breathed, positioning himself so his face hovered just above where Felix's release was leaking from Jisung.
Jisung whined, bucking his hips upward, desperate to feel Chan's mouth on him. His hands held tightly to the covers, demanding attention with eagerness.
“Wait,” Minho commanded, his voice cutting through their eagerness. The single word had all three of them freezing instantly.
Minho could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck, his cock twitching from the sight of them. His Jisung, spread out and used; Chan, desperate and begging; Felix, controlling it all, was almost too much to process through a fucking phone screen.
“I want to see everything,” Minho continued, his voice low and controlled despite the fire racing through his veins. “Turn the camera so I can see Chan's face while he tastes you both.”
Felix made a small, appreciative sound as he adjusted the angle, capturing Chan's expression perfectly. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” Minho breathed. He glanced up briefly at the still-stalled traffic, then back to his phone. “Now, Channie…”
Chan's eyes locked onto the camera, waiting for permission. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation.
“Show me how badly you want it,” Minho said softly.
Chan didn't hesitate. He lowered his head slowly, maintaining eye contact with the camera until the last possible second. Then his tongue extended, making that first purposeful contact with Jisung's sensitive rim.
The reaction was immediate. Jisung's back arched off the bed, a broken moan tearing from his throat. His thighs trembled on either side of Chan's head, already threatening to close around him.
“Hold his legs open,” Minho instructed, his voice tight with restraint. “I want to see everything.”
Felix's free hand appeared in frame, pressing firmly against one of Jisung's thighs while Chan's broad palm secured the other. Together they held him open, exposed and vulnerable to Chan's eager mouth.
Chan groaned against Jisung's skin, the vibration making Jisung cry out again. His tongue circled Jisung's rim before dipping inside, tasting the mixture of Jisung and Felix. The look of pure bliss that crossed Chan's face made Minho palm himself a little harder.
“How does he taste?” Minho asked.
Chan pulled back just enough to answer, his lips glistening. “So good,” he breathed, his eyes glazed with pleasure. “Sweet and—fuck—I can taste Felix too, it's—” He broke off, diving back in with renewed hunger.
Felix adjusted the camera again, capturing the way Chan's tongue worked, how Jisung writhed beneath him, the way Felix's release mixed with Jisung's slick as Chan devoured them both.
“You're missing out, Minho,” Felix teased. “He's so fucking good at this.”
Jisung's moans grew louder, more desperate. His hands had found their way to Chan's hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, alternating between pulling him closer and pushing him away as the sensation became too intense.
“Is he going to come again?” Minho asked, closing his eyes for a second to take a deep breath and compose himself.
“Oh, definitely,” Felix confirmed, the camera shaking slightly as he adjusted his position. “He's so sensitive after I fucked him. Aren't you, Sungie?”
Jisung could only whimper in response, his head thrashing against the pillows. His cock lay hard and leaking against his stomach, untouched but clearly close to the edge just from Chan's mouth.
Minho was about to open his mouth to respond when a sudden honking interrupted him. He blinked, reality snapping back in jagged bursts as he glanced around. He was still in the middle of a stupid traffic jam, red lights stretching endlessly in front of him, cars inching forward at a snail's pace. And there he was, phone propped up against the dash, screen glowing with absolute filth.
If anyone looked through his window right now, they’d get an eyeful—his boyfriend and his best friend tangled up in each other, Chan’s head buried between Jisung’s thighs like he belonged there, like it was his sole purpose with wet sounds crackling through the speakers.
Shit. What if a cop pulled up next to him? He tried to remember if watching... whatever this was... counted as a violation. Surely there wasn’t a specific law against watching your best friend devour your boyfriend while stuck in gridlock traffic, right? Minho wasn’t a lawyer, but he had a feeling this was probably toeing the line of public indecency. Not that he’d stop.
He should, logically. He should close the app, put his phone away, focus on the road, and not on the way Jisung was writhing, hands fisted in the sheets, back arching off the mattress. He really should not be watching Chan’s tongue move like that, drawing wrecked little sounds from Jisung with every pass. Minho swallowed hard, fingers twitching on the steering wheel.
But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. His cock was painfully hard, pressed up against the zipper of his jeans, the pressure from his belt making it impossible to ignore. Minho shifted in his seat, a hand dropping to adjust himself, hissing at the relief it brought—barely anything, just enough to stop him from going insane. For all his dom talk, the only one edged tonight was him, stuck in this godforsaken line of cars while Chan and Jisung were coming undone for him, right there on his screen.
He caught the flicker of headlights in his side mirror and instinctively angled the phone down a little. Probably didn’t need someone rubbernecking to see him with his hand between his legs and a live-action porn playing on his dash. But he didn’t stop watching.
Couldn’t.
His hand flexed against his thigh, nails digging in just to keep himself grounded. He exhaled, steadying his voice before speaking into the mic.
“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s make this worth my while,” Minho purred, voice a low hum of control. He watched how Jisung trembled under Chan, legs shaking, eyes glassy with pleasure. Minho chuckled, breath ghosting over the mic. “Jisungie, you still got another one in you, yeah? For me?”
Jisung whined, nodding frantically, even though Minho couldn’t see it. His voice came out in a broken gasp, needy and desperate. “Y-yes. I can.”
“Good boy.” The praise rolled out smooth and honeyed, and Jisung’s hips bucked helplessly in response, Chan’s hands bracing him firmly against the mattress. “Now, here’s what I want. Chan, keep going. Use your tongue, get him nice and ready, but don’t you dare let him tip over until I say.”
Felix snorted from off-screen, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he ran his hands down Jisung’s sides, fingertips dancing over his skin. “You’re really gonna make him wait? He’s practically dripping, Minho.”
Minho’s voice sharpened, just a touch. “Felix, you’ve got a job too. I want to see you spread out next to them. Make it pretty for me.”
Felix blinked, then grinned, wicked and slow. “Yes, sir.”
Minho adjusted in his seat, his hand brushing over his own aching hardness. The car around him felt too small and suffocating, but he couldn’t stop watching. Traffic was at a standstill; he wasn’t moving anytime soon.
On screen, Felix crawled onto the mattress, positioning himself right next to Jisung. He propped his head up with one hand as he watched Chan work. His other hand drifted south, fingers wrapping around his own length, pumping slowly. “Is this what you wanted, Minho?” Felix asked, his voice breathy and unrestrained.
Minho let out a groan that crackled over the mic. “That’s it. Now, Chan. Use your fingers, too. I want him shaking.”
Chan obeyed, his hand slipping down, one finger circling before pressing in slowly. Jisung cried out, back arching off the mattress, his hands fisting in the sheets. Felix leaned over, lips brushing over Jisung’s cheek, murmuring something too low for the mic to catch, but it had Jisung nodding desperately, gasping out broken little noises.
“Good,” Minho praised, his own hand squeezing tight over his clothed cock, trying to stave off the throbbing need building up. “Felix, you touch yourself for me, yeah? Show me how pretty you are.”
Felix didn’t hesitate, hand gliding smoothly along his length, hips rolling into his own grip as his eyes stayed locked on Jisung and Chan. “Wish you were here,” Felix whispered, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown wide. “You should be here, making us all fall apart.”
Minho's breath caught in his throat. It was incredible how Felix could seamlessly transition between dominating and submitting. “Keep going, all of you. I’m not home yet.”
The camera shook slightly as Chan adjusted, the angle catching the slick shine on his lips as he worked Jisung open, his tongue flicking over sensitive skin, fingers stretching him perfectly. Jisung was a wreck, head tipped back, throat bared, Felix’s hand stroking himself off right next to him, a live display of debauchery that had Minho practically clawing at the wheel.
“Now listen closely,” Minho rasped out. “Felix, I want you to come first. I want to hear it, I want to see it. Then you’re gonna help Jisung. But Chan?” His voice dipped lower, dripping with promise. “You don’t get to finish. Not yet.”
A chorus of groans echoed through the mic, but Minho just chuckled, low and dark. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Felix’s hand moved faster, hips stuttering into his grip, eyes glazed and mouth parted. Jisung whimpered, gaze locked on Felix as he chased his own high. Minho’s voice remained steady, guiding them, pushing them to that edge. When Felix came undone, shuddering and gasping, Minho hummed with satisfaction, barely concealing the tremor in his own voice.
“Now, Felix,” Minho drawled, voice husky. “Make Jisung see stars. And Chan, you keep him steady. But you…you wait.”
Chan whimpered but obeyed, hands never leaving Jisung, eyes locked on the screen as Minho’s voice poured through the speaker like liquid fire.
Jisung came with a broken cry, trembling so hard that even through the video, Minho felt electricity race down his spine.
Minho’s laugh was soft, indulgent. “Good boys. All of you.”
Minho had missed entirely when traffic started moving again, too wrapped up in the way Jisung's voice cracked when Felix nipped at his throat. Then the car behind him blared its horn, the sound cutting through his haze like a bucket of ice water. Minho jerked upright, blinking rapidly. The traffic jam was breaking up, and cars were finally moving forward.
“Shit,” he muttered, fumbling with the gear shift. His right hand was still hovering dangerously close to his crotch, his palm burning with the need to relieve some of the pressure building there. He abandoned that mission reluctantly, gripping the wheel with both hands as he pressed down on the accelerator.
The car lurched forward, engine revving as he finally pulled away from the standstill. His attention split dangerously between driving and his phone, where Felix and Jisung had flipped Chan onto his back, their wandering hands pulling needy whines from him.
“Fifteen minutes,” Minho growled into the phone, weaving between lanes. “If these idiots would just drive—”
A car cut in front of him, and he slammed on the brakes, cursing under his breath. On screen, Felix and Jisung exchanged amused glances.
“Fifteen minutes?” Felix repeated, deliberately running his fingers down Chan’s chest, watching as he squirmed. “That's so long... We might just have to finish Channie without you.”
“Don't you dare,” Minho warned, accelerating the moment a gap opened. “I'm going as fast as I can.”
Jisung’s mouth was now on Chan’s nipples, but he paused to look at the camera. “Maybe we should make him beg,” he suggested, knowing exactly how to rile Minho up.
Chan whimpered, hips canting upward. “No, please, I need—”
“Not you, baby,” Felix laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We meant Minho.”
Minho barked out a laugh, taking a corner sharper than he should have. “Thirteen minutes now. And I don't beg.”
“We'll see about that,” Felix challenged, reaching down to stroke Chan’s neglected cock. The camera captured Chan’s full-body shudder, his eyes rolling back, the strained tendons in his neck.
“Fuck,” Minho breathed, gripping the wheel tighter. “Twelve minutes. Just keep him right there. Don't let him come yet.”
Felix smiled wickedly at the camera. “I don't know, Minho. He looks pretty desperate... might not be able to hold back.”
“Ten minutes,” Minho updated, running a yellow light. “I swear to God, if you make him come before I get there—”
“You'll what?” Felix taunted, his hand still moving over Chan’s cock. “Punish us?”
The thought sent visible shivers through all three of them.
“Eight minutes,” Minho growled, shortcutting a side street. “And yes, I absolutely will.”
Jisung made a muffled sound of approval, his tongue working faster against Chan’s nipples. Chan’s hands fisted in Jisung’s hair, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Five minutes,” Minho announced. “I'm almost there.”
“So is Chan,” Felix smirked at the camera, then brushed his lips against Chan’s ear and whispered, “Five more minutes of torture. Think you can do it, baby?”
Chan sobbed, tears streaming down his flushed face. “Please, I can't—Felix, please—”
“Three minutes,” Minho said, already turning onto their street. “Hold on, baby.”
“I don't think he can,” Felix observed, stroking Chan faster now.
“Felix,” Minho warned, voice sharp and rough. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
Felix tilted his head, gaze never leaving the camera. “Better hurry, then.”
Minho didn’t even bother responding. He slammed the car into park, leaving it skewed across two spots, half on the curb. The keys were still jangling in the ignition when he all but sprinted to the front door, shoving it open with a force that rattled the hinges. He heard them before he saw them, breathless moans, the slick, obscene sounds of desperation. It made his cock twitch painfully in his trousers.
“Minho’s here,” Jisung murmured, voice pitched low and sultry, dragging his lips up the column of Chan’s throat.
Chan’s eyes flickered toward the doorway, glassy and unfocused, like he couldn’t quite process it. And then Minho stepped inside, chest heaving, jaw clenched, eyes dark and hungry.
Felix barely had time to smirk before Minho crossed the room in three long strides, his hand gripping Felix’s wrist and wrenching him off Chan’s cock. “Move,” Minho snarled, voice like gravel. Felix let out a surprised yelp as he tumbled back onto the mattress, propped up on his elbows, eyes wide with shock but quickly replaced by satisfaction. He had Minho exactly how he wanted him.
Minho’s attention flicked to Jisung, who still had his hands all over Chan, lips swollen from his earlier ministrations. Minho’s expression softened just a fraction. He reached out, brushing his knuckles down Jisung's cheek. “Good boy,” he murmured, voice dipping low. “But you need to move now.”
Jisung’s pupils blew wide, and he swallowed hard before nodding and settling beside Felix with a tremor still running through his limbs. Felix slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close, whispering something in his ear that made Jisung’s cheeks flush deeper.
Minho’s gaze swung back to Chan, sprawled out and panting, his body tense and shaking, cock straining and flushed an angry red. He looked wrecked, absolutely ruined, and Minho felt something dark and possessive curl up his spine. “Look at you,” Minho purred, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Holding out like a good little puppy.”
Chan whimpered, hips shifting against nothing, desperate for friction. “M-Minho, please…”
Minho climbed onto the mattress, knees bracketing Chan’s hips, his hands smoothing up sweat-slick thighs. He leaned down, lips brushing against Chan’s ear. “You waited for me, yeah? Didn’t let them make you come?”
Chan’s hands fisted in the sheets, his entire body shuddering. “I—I tried, but—”
“But nothing.” Minho’s voice turned sharp, commanding. “You did good. So fucking good. But you’re mine now.” He reached down, dragging the pad of his thumb over the tip of Chan’s cock, smearing the pre-cum leaking there. “They got you all warmed up for me, huh? Got you desperate and shaking, just how I like you.”
Chan nodded frantically, lips parting on a moan. Minho leaned back just enough to catch Felix and Jisung’s eyes. “You two are gonna watch. I want you to see how he falls apart for me.”
Felix bit his lip, eyes flicking between Minho and Chan with open hunger. Jisung settled further back into Felix’s side, wide-eyed and breathless.
Minho leaned back down, lips brushing against Chan’s jaw as he whispered, “Now, be good and scream for me.”
Minho's gaze swept across the bed, taking in the dishevelled sheets, the flushed skin, the heavy scent of sex and pheromones. His eyes landed on a small bottle of lube, tossed carelessly among the rumpled bedding. He paused, brow furrowing slightly.
Why would they need lube?
The thought struck him as odd. Jisung was always dripping wet for him, slick enough that additional lubrication was rarely necessary. And Felix, being an omega too, wouldn't be any different. The bottle's presence didn't make sense unless—
Minho's hand drifted lower, fingers tracing down the curve of Chan's ass, seeking his entrance. Instead of the soft, puckered rim he expected, his fingertips met something firm and smooth—a base, slightly flared, nestled snugly between Chan's cheeks.
“Is this—” Minho paused, surprise mingling with arousal as realisation dawned. “Did you—”
Felix met his gaze head-on, tongue darting out to wet his lips in a deliberately slow motion. His eyes gleamed with mischief, satisfaction radiating from him in waves. He didn't answer, just held Minho's stare with a challenge written across his face.
“When?” Minho asked, eyebrow arching high. His finger circled the base of the plug, applying just enough pressure to make Chan whimper beneath him. “I was on the call with you the entire time.”
He tried to piece it together, mentally rewinding through everything he'd witnessed on screen. There hadn't been a moment when Chan was out of frame, when they could have—
“You weren't watching the whole time,” Felix finally said. “Remember when you were cursing at traffic? The camera angle shifted.”
Minho's eyes widened slightly. He'd been so focused on the road, on his own frustration and arousal, that he hadn't noticed.
“You planned this,” Minho accused, not angry but impressed. His finger pressed more firmly against the plug, watching as Chan's back arched, a strangled moan escaping his lips.
Jisung giggled, nestling closer to Felix. “It was Felix's idea. Said you'd want to fuck him as soon as you got home.”
“We wanted to save you some time,” Felix added, eyes following the movement of Minho's hand as it continued to tease at the plug. “He's all ready for you.”
Minho's breath stumbled in his throat. The image of Felix working Chan open while he was stuck in traffic, sliding the plug in to keep him stretched and ready sent a jolt of heat straight to his cock.
“How long has he had this in?” Minho asked.
“Long enough that he's been squirming the whole time,” Felix replied, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Chan's forehead. “Kept shifting his weight, trying to get it to press where he needed it.”
Chan made a small, desperate sound, confirming Felix's words. His hips lifted slightly, seeking more pressure, more friction, anything to ease the ache building inside him.
Minho's lips curved into a predatory smile. He gripped the base of the plug more firmly, giving it a slight twist. Chan's entire body jerked in response, a broken sob escaping his lips.
“Did you think about me while they put this in you?” Minho asked, leaning down to murmur directly into Chan's ear. “Did you imagine it was me stretching you open, getting you ready to take my cock?”
Chan nodded frantically, words failing him as Minho continued to play with the plug, applying pressure and then releasing it in a maddening rhythm.
“Use your words, baby,” Minho urged, his free hand coming up to grip Chan's jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze.
“Y-yes,” Chan gasped out, eyes glazed with need. “Thought about you. Like back—back in med school.”
“That's it,” Minho praised, rewarding him with a gentle tug on the plug that had Chan's back bowing off the bed. “Now, let's see just how well they prepared you.”
With slow, deliberate movements, Minho gripped the base of the plug and began to ease it out. Chan's breath seized, his muscles clenching involuntarily around the intrusion as it slid free. The wet sound it made as it finally released had Jisung biting his lip, eyes wide and fixed on the scene unfolding before him.
“Look at that greedy hole,” Minho remarked, his voice dropping to a register that made Chan delirious. “Already clenching around nothing. Pathetic.”
Chan whimpered, the word landing like a physical touch. His cock twitched against his stomach, leaking a fresh bead of precum onto his already slick skin.
Felix shifted uncomfortably beside Jisung, a small frown creasing his brow. He'd never heard Minho speak to anyone like that before—certainly not to Jisung, whom he treated with nothing but tender praise and gentle encouragement. The sudden shift in tone had Felix glancing at Chan's face, searching for any sign of distress.
But Chan wasn't distressed. His eyes were glazed over, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at Minho with something akin to worship. His lips were parted, breath coming in short, desperate pants, and there was a flush high on his cheeks that spoke of nothing but arousal.
“You want my cock, don't you?” Minho continued, voice dripping with disdain as he unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. “Desperate little slut, can't even wait for me to get undressed properly.”
“Please,” Chan gasped, voice barely recognisable. “Please, Minho, I need—”
Minho silenced him with a sharp slap to his inner thigh, leaving a pink handprint that made Chan cry out. Not in pain, but in startled pleasure.
“Did I ask what you need?” Minho's tone was ice over fire. “You'll take what I give you, when I decide to give it.”
Jisung's eyes widened further, a small gasp escaping him. He'd never seen this side of Minho before—dominant, yes, but never cruel, never degrading. Yet there was something about the way Chan responded to it, the way his body arched into every touch, that made Jisung's own cock stir with renewed interest.
Felix leaned over, whispering in Jisung's ear. “Is he... is this okay? Should we stop them?”
Jisung shook his head minutely, unable to tear his gaze away. “Look at Chan,” he murmured back. “He's flying.”
And it was true. Chan had slipped somewhere beyond conscious thought, his body responding on pure instinct. His eyes were unfocused, his breathing shallow, his entire being centred on Minho's next word, next touch.
Minho positioned himself between Chan's spread thighs, lining up his cock against Chan's entrance. The lube glistened in the low light, making everything slick and ready. Minho didn't push in right away; instead, he dragged the head of his cock along Chan's rim, teasing, taunting.
“You think you deserve this?” Minho asked, pressing just the tip of his cock inside, then withdrawing. “You're a desperate little slut who can't even wait for me to get home before letting someone else play with your hole.”
“I'm sorry,” Chan gasped, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. “I'll be good, I promise, just—”
“Not good enough,” Minho smirked at Chan's broken whine. “Tell me why you deserve my cock.”
“I-I waited,” Chan stuttered, hips canting upward, chasing contact. “I didn't come. I was good—I was so good.”
Minho hummed, considering. “You were, weren't you? Even with Felix's mouth on you, with Jisung's hands everywhere…” He pushed in again, just an inch, watching as Chan's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Did you like that? Having them touch you while I watched?”
“Yes,” Chan admitted, shameless in his need. “But I wanted you more.”
Something flickered across Minho's face—satisfaction, possession, perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. He leaned down, lips brushing Chan's ear. “Good answer.”
With one smooth thrust, Minho buried himself to the hilt inside Chan, swallowing his cry with a bruising kiss. The pace he set was punishing from the start, hips snapping forward with precision that betrayed years of knowing exactly how to take Chan apart.
Felix and Jisung watched, transfixed. There was something almost voyeuristic about it, like they were witnessing something sacred and profane all at once. This wasn't just sex; this was history, memory, something that existed long before tonight and would continue long after.
“Oh my god,” Jisung breathed, unconsciously pressing closer to Felix. “They're so…”
“Beautiful,” Felix finished, unable to tear his eyes away. His hand found Jisung's, their fingers intertwining as they bore witness.
Minho's rhythm never faltered, each thrust drawing increasingly desperate sounds from Chan. His hands gripped Chan's hips hard enough to bruise, angling him just right to hit that spot that made Chan see stars.
“You take me so well,” Minho growled, sweat beading on his forehead. “Always did. Always fucking perfect for me.”
Chan couldn't respond with words anymore, reduced to incoherent moans and pleas. His cock lay untouched against his stomach, angry red and leaking steadily. Felix itched to reach out, to wrap his hand around it, to feel Chan pulse and throb beneath his touch.
As if reading his mind, Minho's gaze snapped to Felix, dark and commanding. “Touch him,” he ordered, voice rough with exertion. “Make yourself useful.”
Felix didn't hesitate. He crawled forward, settling beside Chan's trembling form. His hand hovered for a moment before wrapping around Chan's neglected cock. The contact made Chan jerk violently, a hoarse cry tearing from his throat.
“That's it,” Minho encouraged, never slowing his punishing pace. “Show me how well you know him.”
Felix's grip was perfect—not too tight or loose—and his rhythm matched Minho's thrusts with practised ease. He leaned down, lips brushing against Chan's ear. “You're doing so well, baby,” he murmured, his tone contrasting with Minho's harsh demands. “So beautiful like this.”
Chan's eyes fluttered open, finding Felix's with desperate intensity. His hand shot up, tangling in Felix's hair, pulling him down into a messy, uncoordinated kiss. Felix melted into it, swallowing Chan's moans as Minho continued to drive into him relentlessly.
Jisung watched, entranced, his own arousal building again despite his earlier release. There was something intoxicating about seeing them like this—Chan caught between Felix's tenderness and Minho's intensity, all of them connected in ways that transcended simple desire.
“Jisung,” Minho called, voice strained with approaching climax. “Come here.”
Jisung moved without thinking, drawn by Minho's command. He positioned himself on Chan's other side, opposite Felix, awaiting instruction.
“Kiss me,” Minho demanded, and Jisung stretched up to meet his lips, tasting the salt of sweat and the heat of exertion. Minho bit down on Jisung's lower lip, drawing a surprised gasp from him before soothing the sting with his tongue.
When they broke apart, Minho's eyes were wild. “Now kiss Chan,” he instructed, his voice dropping even lower. “Let him taste me.”
Jisung complied eagerly, dipping down to capture Chan's lips in a gentle kiss that quickly turned desperate. Chan moaned into his mouth, the sound vibrating between them as Minho hit that perfect spot inside him.
Felix's hand never stopped its rhythm on Chan's cock, his own breath coming faster as he watched Jisung and Chan kiss. When they finally separated, a thin strand of saliva connecting their lips, Felix couldn't resist leaning in to taste Chan on Jisung’s lips.
The four of them moved together in a synchrony that defied explanation, like they'd done this a thousand times before, like their bodies knew exactly how to fit together in this dance of pleasure and desire.
“I can't hold back anymore,” Chan breathed out. His eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in his body drawn taut like a bowstring. His fingers dug into Jisung's shoulders, anchoring himself as Felix's hand worked him mercilessly.
“Then don't,” Minho commanded, his rhythm growing erratic. “Let go for us, puppy.”
The pet name broke whatever last thread of control Chan was clinging to. His back arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from his throat as he came harder than he ever had before. Thick ropes of white painted his stomach and Felix's hand, his body convulsing around Minho's cock.
The sight of Chan coming undone, combined with the vice-like grip around him, pushed Minho over the edge. He slammed in one final time, burying himself as deep as possible as his release flooded Chan's insides. Minho's head fell back, a guttural moan escaping him as pleasure coursed through his veins like a burning liquid.
For a moment, the room was silent save for their ragged breathing. Minho stayed there, still buried inside Chan, reluctant to break the connection. When he finally pulled out, it was with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his earlier roughness. Chan whimpered at the loss, oversensitive and dazed.
“Shh,” Minho soothed, his demeanour shifting completely. Gone was the dominant force that had taken Chan apart so thoroughly. In its place was something softer, more tender. He brushed sweat-dampened hair from Chan's forehead, pressing a light kiss there. “You did so well, baby. So perfect for me.”
Chan blinked slowly, struggling to focus as he floated in the aftermath. His limbs felt heavy, his mind pleasantly foggy. He tried to speak but managed only a soft, incoherent mumble.
“Don't try to talk yet,” Minho murmured, stroking Chan's cheek with his thumb. “Just breathe for me, okay?”
Felix moved to get up, but Minho caught his wrist. “Could you get a warm flannel?” he asked, voice gentle. “And water?”
Felix nodded, slipping off the bed. Jisung followed without being asked, understanding instinctively that Minho needed a moment alone with Chan.
Once they'd left, Minho gathered Chan into his arms, cradling him against his chest. “Come back to me,” he whispered, lips brushing Chan's temple. “You went so deep, Channie. Need you to come back now.”
Chan stirred slightly, nuzzling into Minho's neck. His breathing was evening out, his body relaxing in increments. “Minho,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and raspy. “That was…”
“I know,” Minho soothed, pressing soft kisses to Chan's hair, his forehead, his cheeks. ”You were incredible. Perfect.”
Chan's eyes fluttered open, still dazed but more focused now. “We haven't done that in years,” he whispered, a hint of wonder in his voice.
Minho's lips quirked into a small smile. “Didn't think we ever would again,” he admitted. His fingers traced idle patterns on Chan's skin, soothing and grounding. “But I'm glad we did.”
“Me too,” Chan murmured, shifting slightly to look up at Minho. “I forgot how... how right it feels.”
Something vulnerable flickered across Minho's face, there and gone in an instant. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “It does.”
They stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, until Felix and Jisung returned. Felix carried a bowl of warm water and a flannel, while Jisung balanced four glasses on a small tray. They moved quietly, setting everything down on the bedside table.
Felix approached the bed first, flannel in hand. “May I?” he asked, his voice gentle.
Minho nodded, but didn't release his hold on Chan. “He's still a bit floaty,” he explained, running his fingers through Chan's hair.
Felix smiled, understanding immediately. He perched on the edge of the bed and began to clean Chan with careful, tender strokes. Jisung joined them, offering a glass of water to Minho, who helped Chan take small sips.
“Better?” Jisung asked, his hand resting on Chan's ankle, thumb rubbing soothing circles.
Chan nodded, more alert now. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Thank you.”
Exhaustion settled over them as the adrenaline of the night began to fade. Felix finished wiping Chan clean, dropping the flannel back into the bowl with a soft splash. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but it was weighed down with unspoken questions and realisations.
“So…” Jisung was the first to break it. “Where are we all sleeping tonight?” He glanced around at Felix's bed, which was definitely too small for four grown men. “I mean, as much as I'd love for us all to pile in here…”
Minho looked down at Chan, who was nestled against his chest, eyes half-lidded and still slightly unfocused. His fingers continued their gentle strokes through Chan's hair, protective and anchoring.
“I should stay with Chan,” Minho said softly. “He went pretty deep, and it wouldn't be good to separate us too quickly.” His eyes flickered to Felix, gauging his reaction. “If that's okay with you.”
Felix bit his lip, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. But he nodded, understanding the necessity. “Of course.”
“Felix and I will take my room,” Jisung suggested, gently squeezing Felix's shoulder.
Felix's eyes met Jisung's, something vulnerable and questioning in them. Jisung smiled reassuringly, and Felix felt his chest loosen slightly.
“Is that okay, jagi?” Minho asked, looking directly at Jisung.
Jisung nodded without hesitation. “More than okay.” He stood, extending a hand to Felix. “Come on, Lix.”
Felix took Jisung's hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. Jisung kept a steadying arm around Felix's waist as they gathered their discarded clothes, murmuring soft reassurances that only Felix could hear.
“We'll be fine,” Jisung whispered, lips brushing against Felix's temple. “It's just for tonight, and we all need some time to process.”
Felix leaned into the touch, grateful for Jisung's understanding. “I know,” he whispered back. “It's just... a lot.”
“I know, sweetie,” Jisung soothed, guiding him toward the door. “But we'll figure it out together, okay?”
They paused at the doorway, looking back at Minho and Chan. Chan had drifted into a light sleep, his breathing even and deep, face peaceful in a way it rarely was when awake. Minho looked up at them, something gentle and exposed in his expression.
“Goodnight,” he said quietly. “We'll talk in the morning.”
Felix nodded, trying to ignore the flutter of anxiety in his stomach at the thought. Tomorrow would bring conversations they all needed to have.
Notes:
sorry if your phone is overheating...(but also not really lol)
Chapter 17: made to become one
Summary:
For us, the day we should celebrate the most
Is the one we first met
So, the second day we should celebrate the most
Is the one we call 'today'—Wherever You Are by One Ok Rock
Notes:
Hello! :) This is probably the last chapter before I go see skz in less than three weeks (!!!) I'll be focusing on making freebies until then, so updates might pause for a bit. Thanks for being here, as always! <3
Chapter Text
As soon as Changbin stepped out of the pub, he flagged down the first taxi he saw. The logo read Star Taxi —the most overpriced company in Seoul, and everyone knew it. He could’ve fumbled with his phone and booked an Uber, but honestly? He didn’t give a damn about the fare. All that mattered was getting Seungmin home safe.
With careful hands, he guided Seungmin into the back seat and buckled him in, then circled around the car and slid in beside him. The car pulled away from the curb, and Changbin instinctively shuffled closer, watching Seungmin’s head wobble before gently tipping against his shoulder. He let it stay there.
The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror, mouth already twitching with some joke about drunks and dates. But the look Changbin shot him shut that down before it even started. Silence settled over the cab like a second skin, and that’s exactly how Changbin wanted it.
A million thoughts rushed through Changbin’s head, none of them sticking for long. Thankfully, the ride didn’t last more than a few minutes, and soon enough, they were stepping into the quiet of his house.
Getting Seungmin inside was no easy task. The younger leaned heavily against him, limbs loose and uncooperative, mumbling something incoherent about scenting and territory, words slurred beyond recognition.
“Seungmin,” Changbin muttered. “God, how did you even get this drunk?”
He shook his head, more baffled than annoyed, guiding them both through the door and kicking it shut behind them.
Luckily, Jeongin wasn’t home, off at one of his flower-growing workshops again, still fiercely determined to make the garden look like something out of a glossy magazine. Not that Jeongin would’ve judged, but Seungmin probably didn’t want an audience for this. Right now, of course, he didn’t care, but once he sobered up, Changbin was fairly certain the mortification would be strong enough to make him combust on the spot.
It was barely past 6pm, and unless Seungmin had started drinking with breakfast, he’d clearly fast-tracked this state through a line of back-to-back shots. That meant the alcohol might burn off a little quicker, especially if he helped it along.
He guided Seungmin to the sofa, laying him down gently before heading to the kitchen. A glass of cold water was a start. Then he rummaged through the cabinet and pulled out one of those powdered rehydration sachets Jeongin always kept around. Electrolytes wouldn’t magically fix everything, but they’d help. Maybe later some soup or rice to soak things up.
Changbin returned from the kitchen with a glass in one hand and the rehydration sachet in the other, dissolving the powder with a quick stir. He knelt beside the sofa and gave Seungmin’s shoulder a light shake. Getting him lucid enough to drink this without spilling it all over himself was the next mission.
“Alright, time to drink something that isn’t pure regret,” he muttered.
Seungmin groaned dramatically, rolling toward the sound of his voice. “Don’t wanna,” he slurred, then frowned. “Wait… what’s that? Is that… soup?”
Changbin huffed a laugh. “It’s water with magic powder in it. You’ll thank me later.”
Seungmin’s eyes fluttered open enough to squint at him. “Why’re you so hot, though…”
“Because I’m not the one who drank a litre of soju on an empty stomach, probably.”
“No, like, hot hot,” Seungmin insisted, clumsily reaching out. His fingers brushed Changbin’s hoodie, then clung. “Bin… you smell so good. You always smell so good. You know that?”
Changbin tried to lift the glass to Seungmin’s lips, but Seungmin ignored it entirely, now tugging insistently on the front of his hoodie.
“I think I wanna kiss you,” he mumbled.
Changbin sighed, gently pushing Seungmin back into the cushions with his free hand. “Yeah, well, I think you need to not throw up on my carpet first.”
“But you’re so…” Seungmin trailed off, staring at him with those heavy-lidded eyes that would’ve been dangerous if they weren’t so thoroughly drunk. “So muscly. And warm. And strong. Hyung, I think I’m in love.”
“That’s just the alcohol talking,” Changbin said flatly, though his ears were warming.
“S’not,” Seungmin insisted, slurring adorably as he swayed forward, nearly toppling into Changbin’s lap.
“Okay, whatever you say,” Changbin muttered, catching him with one arm and guiding the glass back to his lips. “Now drink.”
Seungmin obediently took a few sips, sighed contentedly and flopped sideways, half on top of Changbin. “You’re so good to me, hyung,” he mumbled into his chest. “I bet you’d be good in bed too…”
Changbin nearly spat out the mouthful of water he hadn’t even taken. “Jesus Christ—okay. That’s enough out of you. We’re putting on the TV, something aggressively unsexy. Like a nature documentary.”
“You’re so comfy, hyung,” Seungmin hummed, hugging his arm like a body pillow. Then, with the deadpan conviction of a man who clearly thought he was making a poetic declaration, he added, “Like a pillow I wanna fuck.”
Changbin’s brain short-circuited. It immediately conjured up an unhelpful image of Seungmin back during that week with Jeongin, rutting desperately while they both tried to soothe him—
Nope. Absolutely not. Shut it down. Changbin screamed internally at his own mind.
He didn’t answer. He just pressed his lips together and prayed for Seungmin to pass out. Maybe if he stopped feeding the conversation, Seungmin would finally drop off, and when he woke up, he’d remember nothing.
But hope was never enough.
For a few minutes, Seungmin stayed quiet, nestled against him, almost like he might fall asleep. Then, without warning, he tilted his head up from Changbin’s lap, expression soft and strangely clear.
“Hyung,” he said quietly, voice oddly steady for someone still clearly off his face. “You don’t want me, do you?”
Changbin exhaled hard through his nose. “Min… you really need to get some sleep.”
“You don’t want me the way you want Innie,” Seungmin pushed, sitting up now, staring straight at him. His gaze was alarmingly focused.
Changbin blinked. That electrolyte drink must have been laced with sorcery.
“What are you even talking about?” he asked cautiously.
“You live together. You go on trips together. I bet you fucked him during that little getaway,” Seungmin said bitterly, his voice cracking at the edges.
“This isn’t a conversation to have when you’re intoxicated—”
“I might be drunk, but that doesn’t make it untrue,” Seungmin shot back, breath trembling. “You don’t want me.”
Changbin opened his mouth, but Seungmin steamrolled on.
“I’m such a fucking idiot. Falling for both people who clearly want each other,” he muttered, laughing bitterly. “Like a complete moron.”
“What?” Changbin asked, eyes widening. “Seungmin—”
“You don’t get it. Of course you don’t,” Seungmin said, the words spilling out in a rush. “I haven’t stopped thinking about either of you since that week. I thought it was just a phase. I thought it would pass. But it’s not. It’s ruining me, it’s ruining everything.” His voice cracked again, this time on a sob that escaped before he could stop it.
And Changbin felt it. In his chest, in his gut, somewhere deep and aching.
“It’s okay, hyung,” Seungmin whispered, swiping angrily at his tears. “You don’t have to say anything. I won’t make this your problem.”
“It’s not that,” Changbin said finally. “Min, it’s not that at all.” He gently brushed a thumb beneath Seungmin’s eye where a tear still clung. “I want you.”
Seungmin blinked up at him, stunned for half a second. Then his expression shifted—hope crashing into need. “Then have me,” he breathed, already leaning in, his hand curling into Changbin’s shirt.
Their mouths were barely a breath apart before Changbin caught him, hands on Seungmin’s shoulders, firm but gentle, holding him just out of reach.
“I want you,” Changbin repeated, voice rough now. “But not like this. Not when your mind’s still hazy. Not when you won’t even remember it.”
Seungmin’s lips parted, but no protest came. He just stared, eyes wide and flickering with vulnerability.
“If you still feel the same when you’re sober,” Changbin said, his gaze unwavering, “then I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”
There was a long pause. The tension thinned and shifted, and something in Seungmin’s shoulders eased.
“Then…” he whispered, glancing away for the first time, “can we just… can you cuddle me at least?”
Changbin didn’t answer with words. He opened his arms, and Seungmin folded into them like he belonged there. They stayed on the sofa like that, Seungmin pressed into his chest, wrapped up in warmth. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and Changbin felt his weight go slack in sleep.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Seungmin woke up a couple of hours later, still groggy, but the thick fog of intoxication had mostly cleared. The lights were dimmed low, the TV murmuring some wildlife documentary in the background. It took only a second for him to register that he wasn’t alone—that he was still curled up on the couch, resting against Changbin’s chest.
He tensed immediately, eyes going wide as he pulled away and sat up. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
Changbin was awake, of course. He had been the whole time, holding Seungmin like something fragile and worth keeping safe. Now he just looked at him, calm, like he wasn’t in any rush to make Seungmin feel worse than he already did.
“Did I… say anything stupid?” Seungmin asked, his voice rough and quiet as fragments of memory began piecing themselves together in his mind.
“You said some stuff,” Changbin said gently, “but nothing stupid.”
Seungmin groaned and buried his face in both hands. “This is why I don’t drink. I get too lip-loose.”
“It’s okay, Seungmin-ah,” Changbin said, like it really was.
And it did help, the way he wasn’t laughing at him, wasn’t listing off everything he’d said with a smirk. He just sat there, steady as ever.
“I was out of line,” Seungmin said, voice cracking a little. “I made everything weird, didn’t I?”
“You said what you said,” Changbin replied simply. “And I heard you. We don’t have to solve it today.”
Seungmin hesitated, then gave a small nod. “I-I need to go home and think,” he said. “Hopefully I can get there before Hyunjin…”
Changbin’s stomach turned. Hyunjin. Fuck. Right. Seungmin had a boyfriend. One he cared about deeply. One he was still very much with. How the hell had Changbin managed to forget that for even a second?
“Okay,” he said, jaw tight, though his voice stayed even. “I’ll drive you.”
He didn’t let his panic show. There’d be time to unpack everything later, time to apologise properly, to talk things through, to figure out what this meant and what it didn’t.
They drove in comfortable silence, with no words between them that would try to fix everything too soon and make everything worse.
Changbin glanced at Seungmin in the passenger seat, a question bubbling up that he’d been pushing aside for a while now.
“Why were you drinking so early anyway? And so much?” he asked.
“Ah…” Seungmin closed his eyes briefly, visibly embarrassed. “Like I said, I don’t usually drink. I just… had a lot on my mind, and I thought maybe it’d take the edge off or something.”
“Alcohol doesn’t solve anything, Seungmin-ah,” Changbin said. He wasn’t scolding—just a little protective.
“I know,” Seungmin muttered. “I didn’t mean to drink that much. But then someone started talking to me, and we ended up drinking together, and… yeah.”
Changbin’s expression shifted, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly as he remembered the alpha from the bar—the one who held Seungmin too tightly, who clearly had the wrong intentions.
“Next time… call me, yeah?” Changbin said firmly. “If you’re feeling like that, don’t go out drinking with some sleazy alpha hanging around.”
‘I wasn't planning on anyone's company,” Seungmin muttered, staring out the passenger window. The streetlights cast alternating shadows across his face, highlighting the stubborn set of his jaw.
“What would have happened if I wasn't there, hm?” Changbin asked, the careful control in his voice finally slipping. “That alpha was—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I don't even want to think about it.”
“But you were there,” Seungmin countered, turning to face him now. “And nothing happened.”
“Yeah—by some fucking miracle!” Changbin's voice rose. “Do you understand that? I wasn’t looking for you—I just happened to be there!”
“Hyung, I'm an adult,” Seungmin reminded him, the words clipped. He knew he'd fucked up—the hangover already building behind his temples was punishment enough—but something about Changbin's protective anger made his own frustration flare.
What right did Changbin have to lecture him? While Seungmin had been drowning in his feelings, Changbin was probably cuddled up with Jeongin, sharing inside jokes and soft touches in their perfect little home. The idea sent a wave of unease churning in Seungmin's gut.
“Being an adult doesn't make you invincible,” Changbin said, softer now but no less intense. His eyes flickered briefly from the road to Seungmin's face. “Being smart doesn't make you immune to—”
“To what?” Seungmin challenged, the alcohol's remnants still making him bolder than he'd normally be. “To bad decisions? To getting hurt?” He laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Trust me, I'm well aware of how much those things can happen even when you're trying to be careful.”
Changbin's mouth pressed into a thin line. “That's not—”
“What was I supposed to do?” Seungmin interrupted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Call and interrupt your cosy night with Jeongin? 'Hey, hyung, sorry to bother you while you're being all domestic and perfect together, but I can't stop thinking about both of you, and it's driving me insane.'”He scoffed, then immediately regretted it when he saw Changbin flinch.
The car slowed as they approached a red light. In the silence that followed, Seungmin could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up his neck.
“Is that what you think?” Changbin finally asked, his voice so quiet that Seungmin almost missed it. “That Jeongin and I are just... excluding you?”
Seungmin felt a knot form in his chest. He wanted to say yes, to let his hurt and jealousy spill out in ugly accusations, but Changbin's genuine confusion stopped him cold.
“I don't know what to think,” he admitted instead, slumping back against the seat. “I just... I see how you two are together, and it's obvious you have something special. Something I'm not part of.”
The light turned green, but Changbin didn't immediately accelerate. A car behind them honked, and he startled, pressing the gas pedal with more force than necessary.
“Seungmin,” he said carefully, “you know that week changed things for all of us, right? Not just you.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Changbin sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained.
“It means Jeongin talks about you constantly. It means he asks me at least three times a week if I think you're avoiding us. It means—” He cut himself off, jaw working like he was physically restraining the words.
Seungmin blinked. “He... what?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” Changbin's voice went flat, professional. “We're almost at your place.”
But Seungmin wasn't about to let it go. Not when his heart was hammering against his ribs, not when something that felt dangerously like hope was unfurling in his chest.
“No, don't do that,” he said, turning fully in his seat to face Changbin. “Don't shut down on me now. What were you going to say?”
Changbin's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “It doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Seungmin—”
“Please.” The word came out smaller than he'd intended, but it had the desired effect. Changbin's shoulders sagged slightly, some of the tension bleeding out of them.
“It means,” Changbin said slowly, “that you're not the only one who hasn't stopped thinking about that week. And you're definitely not the only one who's been confused about what it all meant.”
“Then why didn’t you talk to me?” Seungmin asked.
“I tried!” Changbin exclaimed, lightly hitting his fist against the steering wheel. “But you shut me down every single time.”
Seungmin stared out the window, watching familiar landmarks pass by as they neared his apartment. “I was scared,” he admitted softly. “I thought I was reading too much into it. That I was just... convenient during Jeongin's rut.”
Changbin's jaw tightened. “You were never just convenient, Seungmin.”
They pulled to the curb outside Seungmin's building, but neither moved to exit the car. The engine hummed quietly beneath them as Changbin shifted to face Seungmin properly.
“Look,” Changbin said, “I need to say something before this goes any further.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You have a boyfriend, Seungmin. I didn't want to be the selfish asshole who ruins everything you two have built together. That's why I held back. That's why I kept my distance.”
Seungmin's demeanour relaxed, a subtle, understanding grin flickering at the edges of his lips. “Hyunjin knows,” he said calmly, holding Changbin's gaze. “He knows about all of this and how I feel.”
Changbin blinked, his mouth opening and closing without sound. “He... what?”
“We've talked about it. A lot, actually.” Seungmin's fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “After that week with Jeongin, I was a mess. I couldn't hide it from him even if I wanted to. So I told him everything.”
“Everything?” Changbin echoed weakly.
Seungmin took a deep breath. “Hyunjin and I have always been honest with each other. We don't believe in ownership.”
“So he's just... fine with you having feelings for other people?” Changbin pressed, trying to understand.
Seungmin's lips quirked up in a small, fond smile. “He wants me to be happy. He trusts me.” He shrugged, the gesture somehow both casual and profound. “And I trust him. We talk about everything.”
It was quiet between them for a moment.
“Me and Jeongin…” Changbin said, the words coming out in a rush, “We aren't together, by the way.”
Seungmin's head snapped up, eyes widening slightly. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Changbin exhaled. “It's... complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
Changbin hesitated, searching for the right words. How could he explain something he barely understood himself? The way he and Jeongin orbited each other, close but never quite colliding. The way they'd both been tiptoeing around the Seungmin-shaped hole in their lives.
“We live together. I care about him,” he said slowly. “But we're not... I haven't…” He trailed off, frustrated by his inability to articulate it.
A soft touch on his arm made him look up. Seungmin was watching him with gentle eyes, the anger from earlier completely gone.
“You said it yourself,” Seungmin reminded him, a small smile on his lips. “We don't have to solve everything today.”
Relief washed over Changbin in a warm wave. “Of course, you're right. Or I'm right.” He chuckled softly, a hint of unease fading from his expression. “God, this is weird.”
“Good weird or bad weird?” Seungmin asked, his smile growing more confident.
“Just... weird weird.” Changbin shook his head, but he was smiling too now. “Anyway, you're probably feeling like shit. I'll leave you to sleep it off.”
“Yeah,” Seungmin agreed, but remained still in his seat . He adjusted his position slightly, focusing more intently on Changbin. . “But before I go…”
His hand was still on Changbin's arm, warm through the fabric of his hoodie. Changbin watched, breath catching, as Seungmin's gaze dropped briefly to his lips.
“You said something earlier,” Seungmin continued. “About showing me exactly what you meant. If I still felt the same when I was sober.”
Changbin's mouth went dry. “I remember.”
“I'm sober now,” Seungmin said simply. “And I still feel the same.”
To hell with everything. Changbin leaned in, placing his hand gently on Seungmin’s cheek. He observed Seungmin as he closed his eyes in anticipation, then shut his own eyes and drew nearer, nearer…until their lips finally touched. The initial contact was a soft, dry graze. Changbin gently coaxed Seungmin’s lower lip between his, and Seungmin responded without hesitation.
Changbin’s cologne reached him in waves—delicate jasmine layered over ripe pear, bright and clean, like the memory of a summer evening. It didn’t smell like pheromones—he wouldn’t know what that felt like—but it was sweet and dizzying, and it suited Changbin too well.
Seungmin let out a quiet sound against his lips, and the kiss deepened, despite still being slow and exploratory. Changbin tilted his head and slipped a hand behind Seungmin’s neck, gently drawing him in. Seungmin’s lips parted further, inviting more, and Changbin took it—the slick slide of mouths meeting, the hush of shared breath in the space between.
Their kiss wasn’t hurried, nor was it leisurely; it was perfectly in sync with the electric energy coursing through them. Like they were learning each other’s pace and finding, to their surprise, that it matched.
When they finally broke apart to breathe, Seungmin kept his forehead resting lightly against Changbin’s.
“You smell amazing,” Seungmin murmured.
“I think I've heard that before,” Changbin teased.
“Quiet, you”, Seungmin laughed along. “What is that you’re wearing?”
“Just a cologne I used to like. Thought I’d bring it back.”
“Well…it works. But I wish I could smell your real scent.” Seungmin leaned back slightly to look at him. “Your pheromones, I mean. Is this close to how you actually smell?”
Changbin’s smile curled, warm and just a little devilish.
“If you could smell me right now,” he said, voice dropping, “you’d catch warm cherries, dark chocolate…sweet—probably too sweet. Like a saccharine jam that clings to your tongue and won’t let go.”
Seungmin blinked, pulse skipping.
Changbin leaned in again, brushing their noses, lips barely apart. “You’d know exactly what I wanted, and you’d feel it too. Even without a single word.”
Seungmin let out a shaky breath. He’d never felt sad about being a beta, never once regretted not being able to smell pheromones—but right now, for the first time, he wished he could.
Then Changbin was kissing him one last time—a firm press of lips before his tongue slid in, sweeping up to taste the roof of Seungmin’s mouth. Seungmin let out a quiet moan, the sound too soft to hear but felt as a tremor against the alpha’s tongue.
Changbin pulled back with a teasing smirk, thumb brushing the corner of Seungmin’s kiss-damp mouth.
“Get some rest, silly boy,” Changbin said affectionately.
“Thank you for tonight, for finding me, for taking care of me, for everything,” Seungmin said as he stepped out of the car.
“Always,” Changbin smiled.
With one last look, Seungmin closed the car door. Changbin watched him walk to the entrance of his building and waited until he was safely inside before starting the engine again.
As he pulled away from the curb, Changbin took a long, shaky breath. His lips still tingled from their kiss, and his mind raced with questions he didn't have answers for yet. What this meant for all of them—him, Seungmin, Jeongin, even Hyunjin—was a conversation for another day.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho woke first, the room still cloaked in early morning darkness. He blinked slowly, awareness filtering in piece by piece. He had no idea where his phone had ended up to check the time, and his arm was completely numb from where Chan had slept on it all night. He didn’t bother moving it; the sight of Chan sleeping soundly, mouth slightly parted and eyebrows smoothed out, was worth a bit of discomfort.
Chan’s insomnia was notorious, and although things had improved since Felix came into his life, Minho knew the struggle wasn’t entirely gone. But tonight, Chan had slept deeply, untroubled, and that alone felt like a victory.
He exhaled softly, the breath barely stirring the air. Would things still be alright today? Yesterday had been pure emotion—skin on skin, frayed nerves soothed by touch, edges softened by orgasm and adrenaline. But morning had its way of peeling back illusions, exposing everything left unsaid and unresolved. Would they regret that?
He didn’t want to think that, but Minho knew better than to assume emotions would stay the same once the sun rose. First, he needed to figure out how he felt about it all because there was no sense in worrying about anyone else’s thoughts if he wasn’t even sure of his own. Whatever came next, he wanted to be sure of what he wanted, what he could give, and what he was ready to hold onto.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Felix slowly opened his eyes, grateful for the closed blinds that shielded him from the morning's assault. His mouth felt like sandpaper, his lips cracked and dry. The hangover sensation rivaled yesterday's aftermath from the junior doctor’s party, which seemed bizarre considering he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol last night. Just... other intoxicating things.
Jisung lay beside him, having migrated during the night but still maintaining contact—his butt firmly pressed against Felix's side like a small, warm anchor. Felix's lips curved into an involuntary smile. Even unconscious, Jisung was endearing in ways that defied logic. The thought wasn't new; Jisung had always been cute to him, in every state and circumstance. Angry Jisung with his puffed cheeks and narrowed eyes. Morning-rush Jisung with hair sticking out in seventeen different directions because he'd once again fallen asleep with it wet. Concentrated Jisung with his tongue peeking out from between his lips. Even distressed Jisung, though Felix hated seeing him that way, carried an undeniable sweetness that tugged at something deep in Felix's chest.
As if summoned by the thought, Jisung stirred beside him. He turned, still mostly asleep, and nuzzled into the crook of Felix's neck with a soft, barely-there whimper. The sound was so faint that Felix only caught it because he'd instinctively held his breath, his body tensing at the proximity.
Felix buried his nose in Jisung's hair, expecting the familiar sweet pineberry scent that had become so much more potent last night. Instead, his nostrils filled with something... off. The sweetness remained, but underneath it lurked something sour, like fruit beginning to rot. Felix's nose wrinkled as concern etched itself across his features.
“Sungie,” he whispered, his voice barely disturbing the quiet room. “Baby, what's wrong?”
Jisung's eyes fluttered reluctantly, another noise of protest escaping him—louder this time, more distressed. The sour note in his scent intensified immediately, transforming from slightly off to unmistakably wrong: rotting pineberries, overripe, and fermenting.
Felix pulled back just enough to see Jisung's face, his eyebrows drawing together. “Why the long face?”
“Because you have to leave first,” Jisung answered, a tiny whine colouring his words. His fingers curled around Felix's waist.
Felix blinked, confusion momentarily overriding his concern. “I'm not leaving now, Sung,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Jisung's head and tightening his arm around the smaller frame.
Jisung responded by curling closer, wrapping himself around Felix like a koala to an eucalyptus tree. His grip was almost desperate, as if he didn't believe Felix's words. As if Felix might evaporate if he loosened his hold even slightly.
The behaviour puzzled Felix. What had triggered this sudden clinginess? He'd given Jisung no reason to fear abandonment. They'd been best friends for years, always orbiting each other, always close. Friends.
The word echoed in his mind, suddenly hollow and insufficient. Friends. But friends don't kiss each other like they're dying of thirst. Friends don't touch each other with trembling hands, don't memorise the sounds each makes when they come undone. Friends don't know how the other tastes, how they feel from the inside. Friends don't fuck .
But even the word fuck felt wrong and inadequate for what had happened between them. Yes, technically speaking, Felix had his cock buried inside Jisung, had felt him clench and pulse around him as he came. But calling it fucking seemed to strip away everything else that had made the experience so overwhelming. The way Jisung had looked at him, eyes wide and trusting. The way their scents had mingled, creating something entirely new. The way Felix's heart had threatened to burst from his chest when Jisung whispered his name.
Felix stared at the ceiling, mentally fumbling for a better term. Making love floated to the surface of his consciousness, and the thought startled him so badly that he physically jolted.
Jisung stirred again at the movement, his whimpers becoming more frequent. His grip tightened to the point where his knuckles whitened. The desperation in his scent and posture was impossible to ignore now.
“Hey,” Felix whispered, stroking Jisung's hair. “Hey, what's going on with you? Talk to me.”
“I don’t know,” Jisung croaked. “My omega is anxious.”
Felix frowned, his hand pausing in Jisung's hair. “Your omega is anxious? About what?”
Jisung made a small noise of frustration, clearly struggling to articulate his feelings. “I don't know, it's weird. Like something's... different.” He pressed his face against Felix's neck and inhaled deeply, then pulled back with confusion written across his features. “You smell different.”
“Different how?” Felix asked, trying not to sound alarmed.
Jisung's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “It's still strawberries, but there's something else underneath.” He leaned in again, his nose tracing along Felix's collarbone. “It's making my omega feel strange. Almost like—” He stopped abruptly, looking embarrassed.
“Like what?” Felix prompted.
“Like when an alpha enters a room,” Jisung admitted quietly. “That instinctive awareness. But that doesn't make any sense.”
Felix felt a strange chill run down his spine. “I'm an omega, Sung. You know that.”
“I know, I know,” Jisung said quickly, looking frustrated with himself. “It's probably just because we were all together last night. Scents mixing and stuff.”
“Maybe,” Felix agreed, though uncertainty gnawed at him. He'd never heard of omega scents changing like that, not without suppressants or hormone therapy. And he hadn't changed anything in his routine.
Jisung seemed to sense his discomfort and forced a smile. “I'm being weird, sorry. Still half-asleep.” He stretched and yawned dramatically, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Should we check on the others?”
“Yeah, let's get dressed,” Felix suggested.
They quickly pulled on Jisung's clothes—Felix swimming a bit in the oversized shirt while Jisung yanked on some sweatpants—before padding out to the living room. The air was thick and stale. Felix wrinkled his nose and went straight for the windows, throwing them open to let in the morning. The flat exhaled, the cold air biting at their bare ankles.
Jisung tilted his head toward Felix's bedroom. “I'll check on them.”
He approached the door quietly, assuming at least Minho would be awake—the guy never slept past seven, even on his days off. Pushing the door open slowly, the hinges betraying him with a soft creak, Jisung froze.
Minho and Chan were kissing. Not frantically or passionately, but with a quiet intimacy that felt almost more intrusive to witness. Soft, gentle kisses like they belonged together. Jisung stood paralysed, unsure whether to announce himself or quietly back away. But it was his boyfriend in there. His, right?
A cold weight settled in his stomach, heavy and uncomfortable. Where was this feeling yesterday? When everything felt right and perfect? Now jealousy—was it jealousy?—clawed at his throat, and fear gripped his chest.
What if Minho and Chan were always meant to be together? What if he and Felix were just... stepping stones? Convenient bodies to bridge the gap until Minho and Chan found their way back to each other?
He'd seen the way they moved together last night, the perfect synchronicity of their bodies, the way they anticipated each other's needs without a word. Years of history between them, a connection that ran deeper than Jisung had ever realised.
And what did Jisung have? A few months of fumbling through a relationship, always half-afraid Minho would wake up one day and realise he could do better. Always trying so hard to be enough, to be worth staying for.
His chest tightened painfully as another thought struck him: What if Minho didn't want him anymore? Now that he'd had a taste of what he and Chan used to have, what if Jisung seemed pale in comparison? Inadequate. Forgettable.
He'd done it again, hadn’t he? Built his entire happiness around someone else, let it become the whole foundation under his feet. And now, if it was being pulled away, like a rug slipping out from under him, he would have nothing left to stand on. Again.
Jisung's knees felt weak,the sour scent of his distress filled the doorway. He needed to move—to run, to hide, to escape before they saw him standing there like some pathetic, abandoned pet.
Minho's head jerked up abruptly, his nostrils flaring. His gaze zeroed in on Jisung, who stood motionless in the doorway, recognition flickering across Minho's face.
“Jisungie,” Minho said softly. He adjusted his position, creating a space next to him and Chan, and patted the spot invitingly. “Come here.”
Chan also turned to look at Jisung, wearing a gentle smile instead of the guilt, embarrassment, or displeasure Jisung might have expected.
Cautiously, Jisung made his way to the bed and kneeled to settle beside Minho.
“Are you okay?” Minho asked, rubbing Jisung's thigh.
“I'm not sure,” Jisung replied honestly. “Should I... should I be worried?” he asked hesitantly.
Minho's brows knitted together, while Chan simply groaned and gave his forehead a light smack. Minho's focus shifted to Chan, trying to figure out what was happening.
“Sungie,” Chan said, “are you worried about what you just saw?”
The panic surged within Jisung once more, and he managed only a small nod.
That's when understanding dawned on Minho's face. Yesterday had been yesterday, but Jisung had woken up without his boyfriend by his side. Instead, he found his boyfriend entwined with another man, and the first thing he witnessed was them sharing tender kisses. Minho wasn't an idiot; he realised that if they wanted to maintain whatever this was, they needed to have a serious conversation, and so far, they had done everything but talk. Maybe he was an idiot after all.
“Oh, baby,” he breathed. “No, no, no.”
And then Minho was pulling Jisung into his arms, not giving him the chance to resist. One hand cradled the back of Jisung's head, pressing his face into the crook of Minho's neck where his scent was strongest. The other arm wrapped firmly around his waist, anchoring him.
Jisung immediately pressed in, scenting Minho, and Minho scented him right back with equal passion. That seemed to do the trick, because Jisung’s scent gradually settled into its usual sweet warmth.
“I’m gonna go find Lix,” Chan said quietly, nodding toward the door.
In return, Minho gave a small nod but didn’t speak, unwilling to interrupt the rhythm of Jisung’s scenting or the fragile calm returning to the room. He kept patting his back gently, whispering soft nothings into his ear.
When Jisung finally stilled, his breathing steady again, he pulled back just enough to meet Minho’s eyes.
“You still want me, right?” he asked, voice thick, eyes glassy.
“Baby,” Minho said, barely above a whisper, “you are my sun, my moon, and all of my stars. You’re everything to me. I will always want you.”
He held Jisung’s gaze, his own unwavering. “I love you. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.”
A small sob slipped out of Jisung, but he was smiling now.
“I love you too, hyung,” he said. “So much. I was just scared that—like, what if you wanted… I don’t know, I just— I–I…”
“Hey, hey,” Minho said gently, brushing Jisung’s cheek with his thumb. He leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Chan woke up really anxious. Riddled with guilt, overthinking everything. He was spiralling—kind of like you are now. I didn’t know what else to do, so I kissed him to shut him up and calm him down,” he explained.
Jisung sniffled and wiped his eyes, the smile on his face breaking into a laugh. “Lee Minho, do you usually shut people up with kisses?”
“Only the special few,” Minho grinned, laughing with him.
“I’m sorry,” Jisung said after a beat. “That makes sense. And I… I wasn’t jealous, hyung. Not really. I actually liked watching you two yesterday. Not just because of the sex—well, okay, that too, it was hot—but it was more than that. I liked all of it. You with Lix, me with Lix, me with Chan, all of us, just—fuck—”
He had to cut himself off, gasping for air after the sudden onslaught of words.
Minho chuckled, smoothing a hand down his back. “Should we go join the others? Then we can have a proper talk, yeah?”
Jisung nodded, already leaning back in. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Chan found Felix perched on the edge of the sofa’s armrest—the kind of half-sit that said he didn’t plan on staying long. Like he’d just leaned in and forgot to leave. His phone was in his hand, thumb still, eyes locked on the screen with that scrunched-up look of deep focus.
“Morning, baby,” Chan murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.
Felix turned toward the sound, and his lips curled into that beautiful smile. “Hi.”
Chan slid his arms around his shoulders from behind, letting them drape heavily over his chest like a coat being shrugged off. He hooked his chin onto Felix’s shoulder, nose brushing the side of his neck.
“Whatcha reading?” Chan asked lazily.
“Ah.” Felix clicked his phone locked. “Just an article.”
“What about?”
Felix hesitated. What about, indeed? Omega anomalies? Secondary gender deviation? Scent dynamics, unclassified hormonal shifts? He’d fallen down a rabbit hole trying to make sense of what happened yesterday and Jisung’s morning words. But he didn’t want to worry Chan. Not yet.
“Just some random facts about puffer fish,” he lied.
Chan snorted. “Did Jisung go off on another one of his nature doc rants again and plant weird fish questions in your brain?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Felix said. And was he lying? Only about the marine life. Jisung had definitely puffed a few thoughts into his skull.
Chan was just about to ask another question when the sound of footsteps padded into the living room—two sets, uneven in rhythm but in step.
Felix looked up first. Minho walked in with Jisung tucked into his side, the way you do when someone’s just cried or nearly has. Minho’s hand was resting easily on Jisung’s lower back like it had been there a while.
“We good?” Chan asked, straightening just slightly but not letting go of Felix.
Minho nodded. “Getting there. Can we talk?”
Felix sat up properly this time. “Course. Want coffee or...?”
Minho shook his head. “Just you two. And somewhere we can all sit down.”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
They sat around the dining table where the kitchen bled into the living room. No one hurried to break the silence, allowing time for reflection.
Chan broke it. “There’s a lot here,” he said. “But I think, weirdly, it’s pretty simple too.”
The others let out small breaths almost at once. Someone had started, and that was the hardest part.
Minho leaned back slightly, fingers tapping the underside of the table. “I never pictured myself in anything like this,” he said. “But it feels… right. Like it fits.”
“I did,” Jisung said, eyes flicking up. “I mean—not exactly like this. But when I was younger, I would read stories about old pack dynamics. I used to wish I had something like that.”
Felix added, “I don’t think the idea of being with more than one person ever bothered me. But I never imagined alphas being part of it.”
Chan gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “That makes sense, baby.”
Minho glanced over, puzzled.
“Felix has a complicated history with alphas,” Jisung explained. “Family stuff.”
“I’ll tell you about it later,” Felix said, softening the moment with a slight smile aimed at Minho.
“Judging by how we all started this conversation,” Chan said, glancing around the table, “I think it’s safe to assume we all feel that this was more than just sex. Am I right?”
He didn’t sound nervous, but he was definitely careful. He laid something down gently, hoping no one would flinch.
No one did.
Minho nodded slowly. “Yeah. I wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t.”
Jisung gave a slight shrug, but his voice was steady. “It felt different. Like... it mattered. Not just in the moment.”
“I think I knew that before it even happened,” Felix said. “That if we went there, it would change things. And I wanted it to.”
Chan exhaled, surprised to find he had been holding his breath. “Okay. Good. I just needed to hear it out loud.”
He looked down at the table, drumming his fingers lightly. “Because if this is going to be a thing, we need to talk about what that means. And be honest if it’s not the same thing for all of us.”
There was a brief pause, but it was not the bad kind. Jisung’s gaze shifted to Minho.
“Do you know what it means for you?” he asked.
Minho didn’t answer right away. “I think I want to find out,” he said finally. “I’m not scared of it. I’m just... not used to having something I actually want to make work.”
Felix reached over and nudged his foot under the table. “That’s alright. We’re not in a rush.”
“We already saw that separating Jisung and Felix, even if it wasn’t intentional, affected them both,” Chan said. “Whatever’s between you two—” he gestured between them, slow and sure, “—it’s not just friendship. Maybe it never was. And trying to keep you apart because of some imaginary line we drew... It’s not working.”
“We didn’t realise how much you needed each other,” Minho added. “How much that bond matters.”
Felix nodded, eyes flicking toward Jisung. “We didn’t know it would feel like this either, honestly.”
Jisung hummed in agreement. “I want to explore that more.”
“And me,” Felix said, smiling as he leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Jisung’s cheek. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but the first time it carried intent like this.
Jisung flushed. His gaze drifted instinctively to Minho. But Minho was already looking at them with that quiet, proud smile Jisung had only ever seen a handful of times, reserved for real, rare things. Something in Jisung’s chest unclenched.
No one needed to explain it further. The omegas weren’t incomplete on their own, but something about their closeness made them closer to whole.
“What about you two?” Jisung asked, tipping his chin toward Minho and Chan.
Chan looked down briefly, then up again with a small, rueful smile. “We had something, once. Similar to what you two have.”
“But somewhere along the stressful way of becoming doctors,” Minho said, “we stopped making space for it. We thought it would be easier to let it go than keep fighting for something we couldn’t keep up with.”
“But now?” Felix asked gently. “Now you have the space. Would you want to revisit it?”
For the first time since they'd started talking, Chan looked genuinely nervous, shifting his gaze to Minho.
But Minho radiated certainty, his face open and eager, and he was already nodding. “I know I would.”
Chan let out a slow breath, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Yeah. I would, too.”
There was a gentle pause, like the anticipation before your favourite artist is about to play a song you’ve been waiting for the entire concert.
“So what are we saying here?” Felix asked, tilting his head. “That we all just... date each other?”
“We take it one day at a time,” Chan said with a quiet authority that made even the most chaotic hospital shifts feel manageable. “And we talk. If something feels off, confusing, or just needs saying—I want us to say it. No tiptoeing.”
Everyone nodded. No hesitation this time.
“Okay,” Minho said, clapping his hands like a man about to reorganise his fridge. “So, next—house arrangements.”
“House arrangements?” Jisung repeated, brows creasing.
“We need time together to make this work. And with our shifts being what they are, we can’t rely on spontaneity. Especially for you and Lix.”
Felix hummed, eyes drifting somewhere behind Minho’s shoulder. He realised then that he had no idea what the plan was. Technically, he and Jisung still lived here. He hadn’t talked to Chan about moving in. And as far as he knew, Jisung and Minho hadn’t had that conversation either.
The table went quiet again. Everyone looked like they were doing the same mental calculations.
Then Felix, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, blurted out, “Our lease is up soon.”
“We were gonna renew for another two years,” Jisung said quickly, glancing between Minho and Chan like he needed to preempt any awkwardness. “We talked to the landlord and everything.”
“Well, no need for that,” Chan said. “I’d rather you didn’t waste money on rent if you don’t have to.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Minho nodded. “Just move in with us?”
“Our places are basically next door,” Chan added. “We could just rotate. Take turns at each house, depending on who’s working late or early.”
“I like that,” Minho said. “Makes sense. Feels doable.”
They spoke with the easy confidence of two people discussing bin schedules. Meanwhile, Jisung and Felix sat frozen across the table, mouths slightly ajar.
They looked at each other. Blinked. Then looked back at Minho and Chan, who were now calmly discussing storage space and laundry machines.
Felix leaned in a little and whispered, “Did we just get adopted?”
Jisung nodded, eyes wide. “I think we did.”
Felix started laughing quietly, the sound catching in his throat. Jisung joined in, the kind of laugh you let out when everything feels a little surreal but also… right. It hadn’t even been five minutes since they’d agreed they were all dating. Now they were coordinating toothbrush drawers. But strangely, it didn’t feel rushed.
Felix glanced at Chan, heart tight in a soft way. Home , he thought. Maybe this was what it actually felt like.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
They moved around the apartment, gathering their things, laughter weaving between them like background music. Minho needed to feed the cats. Jisung had a late shift. Chan was heading out for groceries, and Felix had dance practice.
It was like a choreographed chaos, the kind that happens when four bodies navigate a space meant for two. Felix ducked under Jisung's outstretched arm as he reached for his phone charger. Chan sidestepped around Minho, who was tying his shoes while perched on the arm of the sofa.
“Soonie's probably plotting my murder by now,” Minho said, checking his watch. “I swear he can tell time better than most humans.”
Jisung snorted, rifling through a pile of clothes to find his hospital ID badge. “Remember when he somehow got into the bathroom cabinet and knocked all your cologne bottles into the sink?”
“That was targeted revenge for being fifteen minutes late with dinner,” Minho replied solemnly.
Felix found himself smiling as he stuffed his dance clothes into his duffel bag. The conversation flowed naturally, as if they hadn't just reconstructed the entire foundation of their relationships. As if they hadn't just agreed to move in together, to build something entirely new. The lack of awkwardness felt like a confirmation—this was right.
“What time's your shift, Sung?” Chan asked, keys jingling in his hand.
“Four to midnight,” Jisung groaned. “Matron’s on the warpath about patient charts again.”
“Want me to pick you up after?” Minho offered.
Jisung paused, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, that'd be nice.”
Felix caught the look that passed between them—tender and familiar, yet somehow new. His gaze drifted to Chan, who was making a grocery list on his phone, tongue poking slightly between his lips in concentration. Felix's chest tightened with affection.
“I'll be done with practice around eight,” Felix said, zipping his bag closed. “Should I grab dinner on the way to yours, or...?”
Chan looked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I'll be cooking,” he said. “Text me when you’re done, and I’ll pick you up.”
The casual domesticity of it made Felix's stomach flutter. This was happening. They were really doing this.
“Oh, before I forget,” Minho said suddenly, digging into his pocket. He pulled out two small objects and tossed them to Felix and Jisung. Keys. “For my place. Chan already gave you his, right?”
Felix caught his, the metal cool against his palm. “Yeah, earlier this morning.”
“Now you're officially part of the cat-sitting rotation,” Minho announced with a grin. “Doongie likes his chin scratched, but will bite if you go for the belly. It's a trap.”
Jisung turned the key over in his hand, a strange expression crossing his face. “I've never had more than one key before,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
Felix knew exactly what he meant. One key to one place that was yours. Now they had keys to multiple homes—multiple hearts. The symbolism wasn't lost on any of them.
“You okay?” Felix asked.
Jisung nodded quickly, blinking rapidly. “Yeah, just... happy, I think.” He laughed, the sound slightly watery. “It's weird how something so small can feel so big.”
Felix felt that same emotion bubbling in his own chest, that peculiar mix of disbelief and certainty. Every time their eyes met across the room, there was a jolt of recognition, of rightness. A silent acknowledgement: This is us now. This is what we are.
Minho checked his watch again and cursed. “Okay, I really need to go before the cats stage a full rebellion.”
“Are you sure you don’t want us to give you a ride?” Chan asked, looking at Felix and Jisung.
They shook their heads together. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Felix replied.
They converged near the door, an unconscious gravitational pull bringing them together before they separated. For a moment, they just stood there, a tangle of limbs and uncertain energy. Then Chan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Felix's forehead, natural as breathing. Minho squeezed Jisung's hand, then reached out to ruffle Felix's hair. Jisung rose on his tiptoes to kiss Minho’s cheek, then turned to do the same to Chan.
Felix found himself caught in Minho's gaze, a question in the air between them. Without overthinking it, he stepped forward and brushed his lips against Minho's—brief but deliberate. When he pulled back, Minho's eyes were wide with surprise, but his smile was immediate.
“See you all tonight?” Chan asked, hand on the doorknob.
There was a chorus of agreement, plans solidifying in real time. Felix felt something buzzing under his skin, an electric current of possibility. It wasn't just the lingering sensation of kisses or the weight of new keys in his pocket. It was the promise of what waited on the other side of today—of all their tomorrows stretching out before them, suddenly richer with potential.
Minho and Chan made their way toward the car, Jisung waving them off from the doorway while Felix fumbled with the keys.
Once the engine had faded down the street, Jisung turned, a smile already stretching across his face.
“Taking the bus like the good old days?” he grinned. Felix’s dance studio was in the same direction as the hospital.
“Except these are the new days, Jisungie,” Felix said dreamily. “And they’re so much better.”
Jisung just beamed as he reached out and laced their fingers together. Their palms pressed close. They used to fit like mittens, but now they fit like snug gloves.
“This okay?” he asked softly.
Felix didn’t answer right away. He leaned in and kissed him—quick and warm, right on the lips.
“How about that?” he murmured, eyes teasing.
“Perfect,” Jisung said, cheeks flushing pink.
They walked in companionable silence toward the bus stop until Jisung broke it.
“So, what’s happening with that competition of yours?”
Felix groaned dramatically. “Fuck knows. They wanted me to represent us with a solo, but I said absolutely not . I hate solo stuff. Still... they want me to do the group choreo. I don’t think I’ll get out of that one.”
“That’s good, though!” Jisung said, bright and earnest. “I know you’re nervous, but you’re brilliant, Lix. And you’ll be with the others. You’re gonna smash it.”
“Thanks, baby,” Felix said, grinning.
Jisung turned a brighter shade of red. It sounded really nice, coming from Felix. He could get used to this.
They let go of each other’s hands only to climb aboard the bus, and the moment they sat down side by side, their fingers found their way back again, as if nothing else made more sense.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Minho slouched on one of the bar stools at Chan’s kitchen counter, cheek resting against his forearm, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the cool surface. Chan stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up, hands busy with a small pile of marinated beef—sliced thin and darkened with soy, sesame oil, garlic, and pear juice.
“Are you seriously making bulgogi now ?” Minho asked, not moving. “It’s like, 5 in the afternoon.”
Chan didn’t look up. “I’m prepping. Lix will be back hungry after practice, and Jisung’s on late—this way it’s ready to go.”
Minho hummed. “And you’re doing it wrong.”
“I’m sorry?” Chan glanced over, one eyebrow raised.
Minho nodded lazily toward the mixing bowl. “You’re putting too much sauce. The meat’s drowning.”
“Remind me again why you’re here? Is it to teach me how to cook, or were you planning on actually helping?”
“I’m helping. I’m boosting morale.” Minho sat up a bit, eyes crinkling. “Also, if you burn the soy sauce reduction again, I’m calling your mum.”
“That was one time ,” Chan muttered, but a grin was now pulling at the edge of his mouth.
Minho hopped off the stool and wandered around to Chan’s side of the counter, eyes scanning the ingredients. He picked up a bunch of green onions and inspected them like they’d personally offended him.
“These aren’t even trimmed,” he scoffed.
“Minho.”
“Yes, Chef Bang ?”
Chan's laugh was soft and low, the kind that came from deep in his chest. He shook his head and set down the knife, wiping his hands on a nearby dish towel. The lighthearted banter between them faded, giving way to a raw, deeper sense of vulnerability.
“You know,” Chan said, leaning his hip against the counter, “I've missed this.”
Minho's smile faded slightly, replaced by something more contemplative. “What, me criticising your cooking skills?”
“No,” Chan said. “This. Us. The way we used to be together before everything got so complicated.”
Minho set down the green onions, suddenly very interested in aligning them perfectly with the edge of the cutting board. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I've missed it too.”
“Do you really want to try again? With us? With me?" Chan’s eyes searched Minho's face. “Because last time—”
“Last time we were different people,” Minho interrupted, stepping closer. “We were stressed and exhausted and too stubborn to bend.”
“And now?”
Minho reached for Chan's hand, threading their fingers together. “Now we have Jisung and Felix, too. It’s balanced, somehow.” His thumb traced the ridge of Chan's knuckles.” So yes, I want to try again. With you. With all of us.”
Chan smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile that made his eyes disappear into crescents. “We're going to make this work, aren't we?”
Instead of answering, Minho closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Chan’s in a kiss that held all the certainty of his unspoken yes. It was gentle at first, but deepened when Chan’s hand came to rest at the nape of Minho’s neck, fingers threading through the soft hair there.
The kiss was unhurried, a conversation without words—an apology for time lost and a promise for time to come. When they finally pulled apart, they remained close, foreheads touching, sharing the same breath.
“The beef is still going to be too saucy,” Minho murmured.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Chan sat in the car, fingers drumming softly against the steering wheel to the beat of the music playing low from the stereo. His phone buzzed with a message from Felix.
my haengbok:
Come inside, please.
Chan frowned. Why would Felix want him to come inside? But before he could overthink it, he was already unlocking the car and stepping out.
He pushed open the large glass doors to the dance studio, suddenly realising he had no idea where he was meant to go. The place was bigger than he expected — corridors branching off, the faint thud of music echoing from different rooms.
But Felix found him almost instantly. Sweat clung to his skin, his dance clothes clinging slightly, his hair tied in what had once been a neat ponytail and was now unraveling, wild at the edges.
“Come with me,” he said, grabbing Chan’s wrist and pulling him along without slowing down.
They reached one of the practice rooms. Felix pushed open the door without checking first.
“Oops,” he winced.
A group of girls inside had just frozen mid-movement, blinking at the sudden intrusion.
“Felix! What the heck?” one of them yelped, but there was no real annoyance in it.
“Sorry, sorry! Thought this one was empty!”
“Wait—is that your alpha boyfriend?!” another one shouted, already rushing toward them.
One of them, Felix thought, and the idea made him giddy.
“Yes, this is Chan,” he said, hurriedly, already backing out of the room. He was giggling as he tugged the door shut behind them.
Chan blinked as they ran.
“Felix! Don’t you dare run!” the girl shouted from behind, but she didn’t chase them.
When they finally stopped in front of another door, Chan looked at him, thoroughly confused.
“They wouldn’t let us leave,” Felix explained, as if that was simply obvious. “They’re so nosy.”
Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he added, “Anyway, I wanted you to dance with me for a bit.”
Chan stared. “I’ve never danced like that—I’ll suck at it!” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped uncertainly into the studio.
Felix turned to look at him, eyes bright. “No, you won’t. I promise. I’ll teach you,” he said, taking his hand with quiet confidence.
He could feel the pulse of music still lingering in the mirrors, in the scuffed floors beneath their shoes. The energy of movement was still in his limbs, but all he could focus on was Chan—awkward and handsome, a little shy but always willing. Felix felt a pull at his heartstrings. He dragged Chan forward, into the middle of the room.
Chan stumbled with a laugh. “What exactly are we dancing again?”
Felix giggled. “Just follow me. I won’t make it hard.” He turned and guided Chan’s hands, adjusting their grip. “Think of it like...trust falls. With rhythm.”
Chan rolled his eyes but smiled. “You’re lucky I trust you.”
Felix looked up at him, letting that smile slow. “I know.”
He leaned up and pressed a kiss to Chan’s lips. It was gentle, lazy, a smile hidden inside it. They laughed softly as their foreheads bumped, noses brushing, hands still loosely linked. It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed like this, but something about doing it here, in Felix’s world, added a strange new weight to it. He felt safe.
They parted slowly, laughing again as Chan muttered something about needing dance shoes and a time machine. Felix wandered over to the mirrors, checking the time on the small wall clock. He had about twenty minutes before they had to leave.
Chan pulled out his phone and leaned against the wall, eyes drifting over Felix with that soft look he always wore when he thought Felix wasn’t watching.
Everything was still.
Peaceful.
Until it wasn’t.
There was a flicker of movement, barely noticeable, from the back of the room. Felix’s eyes darted to the edge of the mirror’s reflection. Just a shift. Like someone slipping away.
His brows furrowed. “Hello?” he called out instinctively, stepping forward a little.
No reply.
Maybe he was imagining it. The studio was always creaky. Or maybe someone had wandered in and backed out quietly when they saw the room was occupied. Still, unease crawled up his spine. He started to move toward the door, intending to check, when he saw it:
A bag. Left just near the exit.
He called out again, louder this time. “Hey! I think you forgot this!”
No answer. But a shadow just slipped past the frosted glass of the door.
Without thinking, Felix rushed out, hand brushing against a figure just ahead. He grabbed their wrist, not hard, just enough.
And then he saw.
Time shattered.
He blinked, and the shape before him sharpened like a lens snapping into focus. The face turned. The eyes—those eyes—met his.
Hyunjin.
For a second, Felix couldn’t breathe.
His fingers let go like they’d been scorched. His mouth opened, but no words came out. The corridor tilted. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
But it was.
He stumbled back, staring at his own hands. The room spun wildly. This had to be a trick. A dream. He blinked again, heart hammering. No distortion. No surreal haze. Then why did it feel like he was standing underwater?
The bag hit the floor with a dull thump. Neither of them moved.
Hyunjin was just...there. Exactly the same and completely different. Time had changed him. Sharpened the edges, maybe. But the softness was still there. In his mouth. In his eyes. Eyes that were looking at Felix like they’d seen a ghost.
Felix didn’t know what made him do it, but he took a small step forward, and that’s when Hyunjin turned.
And ran.
“Hyunjin!”
His voice broke on the name.
It barely reached the end of the corridor when footsteps pounded behind him. A hand settled on his shoulder. Chan.
“Felix?” Chan’s voice was low, concerned. “What was that? Who—?”
Felix didn’t turn to face him. His eyes were still locked on the door Hyunjin had vanished through, chest heaving.
“I think that was Hyunjin,” he whispered.
Chan’s hand gripped his shoulder a little tighter.
“No,” Felix said again, this time with more certainty. “I’m sure it was him.”
He blinked. Once. Twice. But the hallway was empty.
Chan didn’t speak.
For a long moment, they stood in silence, surrounded by the echo of something old cracking open again, bleeding into the light.
Felix’s hands were still trembling. But when Chan’s arm wrapped gently around his waist, grounding him, he leaned in. Because even when the past came sprinting back, Chan had been real. This had been real.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Jisung pressed his phone harder to his ear as he smiled apologetically at Seungmin and exited the break room.
“Woah, okay, slow down,” he said, wincing at Felix's rapid-fire words. “Take a breath.”
He leaned against the corridor wall, eyes widening. “Are you absolutely sure it was him?”
A pause as he listened, fingers drumming anxiously against his thigh.
“Are you with Chan right now?” Another pause. “Good. Don't be alone. I'm coming home early.”
He rolled his eyes at whatever Felix said next. “Yes, this is absolutely an emergency. Felix, for once in your life, shut up. I'll be there soon.”
Jisung hung up and strode back to the unit, mind racing. He needed to find whoever was in charge and get out of here. Images of Felix three years ago flashed through his mind—Felix curled into himself on their bathroom floor, sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe. Felix staring blankly at the walls for hours. Felix flinching at the mention of dance for months afterwards.
It had taken so long—so fucking long—to piece Felix back together after Hyunjin left. Jisung had held him through countless nights, had wiped away tears until Felix's face was raw, had practically force-fed him when food became an afterthought. He'd watched his best friend slowly, painfully rebuild himself, only to find joy again with Chan. With all of them.
And now Hyunjin was back, just like that. Appearing out of nowhere like a ghost from the past they'd finally managed to bury.
Jisung's fists clenched at his sides as he pushed through the double doors back into the unit. The anger that surged through him was so intense it made his vision blur at the edges. How dare he? How fucking dare he show up now, when Felix was finally happy?
He quickly found and informed the nurse in charge that he would be leaving early. He tried to calm the rage boiling inside him as he changed out of his scrubs with frantic movements. He hated Hyunjin. Hated him for breaking Felix so completely three years ago, for walking away when things got hard, for not fighting for what they had. For being a coward.
And now he hated him even more for showing up just when everything was finally, beautifully right. When Felix had found his place with Chan, with Minho, with Jisung himself. When they were all figuring out this strange, wonderful thing between them.
He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Minho:
Finished. Can you pick me up? It’s urgent.
Minho showed up fifteen minutes later, and Jisung climbed into the car without a word. The moment the door shut, Minho turned to look at him, brows drawn together. He’d already caught the sharp tang of Jisung’s pheromones, dripping with rage.
“What happened?” Minho asked worriedly, his eyes flicking briefly to Jisung’s clenched jaw before turning back to the road.
“There’s no time for the whole story,” Jisung said, exhaling hard through his nose. “And it’s not really my story to tell, but you need context.”
As they drove, Jisung filled him in—just the essentials—about Hyunjin and how he left three years ago, leaving the wreckage behind.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Felix was oddly calm. Not the artificial calm that comes from shock, but the stillness that had settled in his bones during the car ride home. He'd cried in Chan's arms at the studio, but it wasn't the violent, gasping sobs Chan might have expected. Instead, tears had slipped silently down his cheeks, his body trembling slightly against Chan's chest. The crying had lasted only a few minutes before Felix had wiped his face with the back of his hand, taken a deep breath that expanded his chest, and pulled out his phone to call Jisung.
Now, as they stepped into Chan's house—their house, he reminded himself, Felix still couldn't quite categorise what he was feeling. The encounter at the studio felt distant, like he'd watched it happen to someone else, like a scene from a movie he'd seen years ago, hazy around the edges.
“Hyunjin,” he whispered, testing the name on his tongue. It felt foreign now, though he'd once said it a thousand different ways—laughing, moaning, crying, pleading.
He'd spent countless nights imagining what it would be like to see Hyunjin again. In those scenarios, he'd pictured himself screaming, demanding answers, or perhaps coolly dismissing Hyunjin with all the dignity he hadn't possessed when they'd broken up. But when the moment actually came, there had been none of that—just a hollow space where all that imagined emotion should have been.
“Minho went to pick Jisung up,” Chan said, his voice pulling Felix back. They were removing their shoes in the entryway, the familiar ritual grounding Felix slightly.
Felix looked up at Chan, suddenly aware of how this must be affecting him. Chan, who had only ever known the aftermath of Hyunjin, never the cause. Chan, who had patiently held Felix through nightmares he didn't understand, who had never pushed for details Felix wasn't ready to give.
“I'm sorry,” Felix said, guilt creeping into his voice. “We were gonna have a nice dinner together and I just…” He trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Ruined it? Complicated everything? Brought a ghost into their home?
“No, Felix. None of that,” Chan said firmly. He reached out, his warm palm cupping Felix's cheek. “You need us now, and we are here for you. I'll be honest with you, I don't really know what to do to make it better.”
Felix leaned into the touch, Chan's palm warm against his skin. “Just being here with me is enough. Thank you.”
Chan's eyes softened, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Felix's forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?” Chan asked. “About him?”
Felix hesitated. Did he? Hyunjin had been a closed subject for three years, a wound too tender to touch. But now...
“I don't know what there is to say,” Felix admitted. “It was him. He saw me. And he ran.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Again.”
The sound of keys in the door interrupted them. Felix turned, his heart rate picking up slightly. The door swung open, and there was Jisung, his face flushed and eyes wild. Behind him stood Minho, his expression serious.
Jisung didn't waste time with greetings. He crossed the room in four quick strides and pulled Felix into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around Felix's waist.
“I'm going to kill him,” Jisung whispered fiercely against Felix's ear. “I swear to god, I'm going to find him and—”
“Sungie,” Felix interrupted, his voice steadier than he expected. “I'm okay.”
Jisung pulled back just enough to look at Felix's face, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You're not okay. You can't be okay. He—”
“I am,” Felix insisted, surprised to find he meant it. “I'm... I don't know what I am, actually. But I'm not falling apart.”
And it was true. He felt strange, disoriented, like he'd been dropped into someone else's life for a moment. But the crushing weight he'd expected, the reopening of an old wound—it hadn't come. Not yet, at least.
Jisung studied his face for a long moment, then let out a shaky breath. “Okay. But I'm still going to kill him if he comes near you again.”
“Get in line,” Minho muttered from behind them, his voice deceptively casual despite the hard glint in his eyes.
Felix felt a strange urge to laugh. Here they were, his people, ready to fight battles he hadn't even asked them to fight. Ready to protect him from a past they'd only heard pieces of.
“Come on,” Chan said, his hand finding the small of Felix's back. “Let's sit down. I'll make some tea.”
Felix nodded, allowing himself to be guided to the couch. Jisung immediately sat beside him, their thighs pressed together, while Minho perched on the arm of the sofa, one hand resting on Felix's shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Minho asked, echoing Chan's earlier question.
“I'm not sure how much you know, Minho,” Felix said. He looked up at Minho, whose hand remained a warm weight on his shoulder. “About Hyunjin. About...before.”
Minho's expression was carefully neutral, but his eyes were attentive, focused entirely on Felix. “Only what Jisung told me in the car. The basics.”
Felix nodded, his fingers twisting together in his lap. The fabric of his dance pants was still damp with sweat, a reminder of how quickly everything had shifted. One moment he was dancing, the next he was face-to-face with a ghost.
“I will let Jisung tell you more when it's the two of you.” He turned to Jisung, their knees bumping together. “You have my permission to tell him everything. He needs to know anyway.”
Their eyes met, and Felix knew Jisung understood what he meant—not just about Hyunjin, but everything else too. The drugs. The spiral. The nights Jisung had to pick him up from places he shouldn't have been, with people who didn't care if he lived or died. The detox. The relapse. The second detox. The way dance had saved him, in the end.
Jisung's fingers found his, squeezing gently. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Felix nodded. “There should be no secrets between us. Not if we're doing this.”
Minho pressed his lips together and nodded, his thumb tracing small circles on Felix's shoulder.
“I think what hurts the most is that he ran again,” Felix said after a moment, his voice catching on the last word. The memory of Hyunjin's retreating back flashed through his mind—not just from today, but from three years ago. Always walking away. Always leaving Felix behind.
“He's a fucking coward and I swear he's just—” Jisung started, his voice rising with each word, vibrating with the anger Felix couldn't seem to access.
A firm hand on his shoulder cut his words off. Chan squeezed, his fingers pressing into Jisung's skin just enough to convey his message: Not now. This isn't about how you feel.
Jisung fell silent, the rest of his sentence evaporating into the air between them. Felix hadn't seemed to notice the exchange, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the living room walls.
“I thought I'd feel more,” Felix admitted after a long pause. “Seeing him again. I thought I'd be…” He gestured vaguely with his free hand, searching for the right word. “Devastated. Or furious. But I just felt...empty.”
Chan took a seat in the armchair across from Felix, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Maybe you're in shock,” Chan suggested gently. “It might hit you later.”
“Maybe,” Felix conceded. "Or maybe I've just...moved on more than I realised.”
His eyes drifted from Chan to Jisung to Minho, taking in their concerned faces, feeling the weight of their presence around him like a shield. Three years ago, he'd had only Jisung to lean on. Now he had all of them.
“I used to dream about seeing him again,” Felix continued. “In the dreams, I always knew exactly what to say. I had all these speeches prepared.” He let out a small, humourless laugh. “But when I actually saw him, it all faded into nothingness.”
“What would you say now?” Minho asked. “If you could?”
Felix considered it for a moment. “I don't know,” he admitted. “I used to think I needed answers, but now…” He looked up, meeting Minho's gaze. “I'm not sure those answers would change anything.”
Jisung shifted beside him, clearly struggling to contain himself. His leg bounced rapidly, a physical manifestation of the emotions he was trying to keep in check.
“I just want to know if he's okay,” Felix said finally, surprising even himself with the admission. “That's all.”
“After everything he put you through?” Jisung couldn't hold back anymore, the words bursting from him like water from a broken dam. “You still care if he's okay?”
Felix turned to look at his best friend, taking in the flush of anger on his cheeks, the protective fury in his eyes. “I don't think I'll ever stop caring,” he said simply. “That doesn't mean I want him back in my life.”
The truth is, none of them knew how to fix this for Felix. They were all just fumbling through it, doing what little they could. Jisung swallowed his rage, recognising that his anger would only add to Felix's burden. Minho stayed quiet, piecing together fragments of a story he didn't fully understand yet, but knowing better than to push for details now.
Chan moved around the kitchen cleaning up, his hands steady even as his mind raced. He wanted nothing more than to wrap Felix in safety, to shield him from whatever pain might be coming. But beneath that protective instinct lurked something more complicated—a knot of uncertainty tightening in his chest. Not jealousy exactly, but something adjacent to it. Something that whispered: What if this is where it ends? What if Hyunjin comes back with the right words, the right promises? Felix had said he would always care about him. And three years might change a person, but some bonds never truly break. What happens if Hyunjin wants him back? What happens if Felix wants that too?
Shaking his head to chase off the selfish thoughts, Chan returned to the living room and eased down beside Felix, where Minho and Jisung were already curled close around him. Felix reached for him without looking, and Chan let himself be pulled in, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his hair.
This, at least, they knew how to do—wrap him in love and safety.
Hopefully, it was enough.
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
Changbin sat cross-legged on the floor, a crown of toy dinosaurs balanced precariously on his head while his niece carefully clipped another onto his hair.
“Uncle Binnie’s the King of Jurassic Park!” she declared, triumphant.
He gave her a dramatic roar that sent her into a fit of giggles, her younger brother squealing beside her and trying to climb into Changbin’s lap. He let them, arms steady as he gathered them both, heart full.
His sister watched from the kitchen doorway, a fond smile softening into something more thoughtful.
“You’re good with them,” she said, after the chaos had settled into the quiet hum of cartoons in the background. “You always have been.”
Changbin shrugged, brushing a bit of glitter from his shirt. “They’re easy to love.”
She came to sit beside him, nudging him gently. “You’ve been quiet today. That got something to do with the boy living in your house?”
Changbin hesitated, eyes still on the cartoons. “He’s been... having a rough time lately.”
“Is that why you’re worried?” she asked softly.
He gave a small nod, almost imperceptible. “I just want him to be happy.”
“I’m sure you do.” Her tone was gentle, but he recognised the shift. “I have a friend, actually. Lovely omega. Thought about setting her up with someone, and Innie came to mind.”
He didn’t mean to react—really, he didn’t—but his shoulders tensed, jaw twitching just enough.
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t like that idea.”
Changbin said nothing.
A beat passed. Then she sighed.
“Binnie, I love you. You know that. I just... I want you to be happy. And that’s exactly why I’m saying this: I don’t think you’ll find happiness with him.”
He looked at her then, a sudden spark ignited in his eyes, revealing a hidden intensity.
“He’s an alpha,” she went on softly. “One day, he might want a family of his own. Children. That’s not something you can give him.”
He glanced toward the kids, one asleep now against his side, the other humming to herself under a blanket fort.
“You adore them,” his sister murmured. “Don’t you want this for yourself one day too?”
Her voice gentled even more. “Don’t you want that for him?”
🩺 ♥️ 🩺
As Changbin parked his car in the driveway, his sister's words rattled around in his head.
You can't give him a family.
The engine ticked as it cooled, counting down the seconds he sat there, staring at the front door of his house. Their house, now. The place where Jeongin's shoes sat beside his in the entryway, where Jeongin's toothbrush leaned against his in the bathroom, where Jeongin's laughter had somehow become as essential as the foundation.
“Bullshit,” he muttered, the word crystallising his resolve.
He wasn't going to make that choice for Jeongin. Chan and Minho were right—it should be Jeongin's decision. Who was his sister to decide what would make either of them happy? Who was anyone to tell him what he could or couldn't offer someone he cared about?
Changbin yanked the keys from the ignition, the metal biting into his palm. Tonight. He would talk to Jeongin tonight. No more dancing around it, no more pretending this thing between them was just friendship or convenience or whatever safe label they'd been hiding behind. Especially with whatever was happening with Seungmin now, they needed solid ground beneath them.
“Innie?” he called as he stepped into the house.
“In here!” Jeongin's voice floated from the living room.
Changbin rounded the corner and there he was, curled up on the sofa, drowning in what Changbin immediately recognised as his own black hoodie. A bowl of crisps on Jeongin's knees, a few crumbs scattered across the fabric. His hair was slightly mussed, like he'd been running his fingers through it, and his eyes—those eyes that Changbin could never quite look away from—lit up at the sight of him.
The knot in Changbin’s chest loosened at the sight. For the first time, he let himself believe this conversation might actually go well.
His mind conjured up various scenarios where he confessed to Jeongin, and Jeongin's eyes met his with the same feelings. He imagined Jeongin saying he wanted Changbin too, that they were perfect for each other, that they were enough . Changbin longed to feel those sweet lips on his once more, as Jeongin would kiss him to affirm his answer. And then, oh, how he wished to touch that body again—not in a rushed moment squeezed into the greenhouse, but with the leisure to discover what the other alpha enjoyed. He’d let Jeongin take the lead if he wanted to—top him, have him, anything. Or he’d take care of him himself, if that was Jeongin’s preference. Whatever it was, Changbin just wanted to be his.
He took a deep breath, forcing the thoughts away. He needed to be patient and earn this, not rush it.
“Hey,” he said, a smile spreading across his face despite the nerves buzzing under his skin like electricity searching for ground. “Did you eat anything other than junk today?”
Jeongin shrugged, the oversized sleeve of Changbin's hoodie sliding down to reveal his wrist. “I had a toast.”
“A toast,” Changbin repeated, emphasising the singular. “I'm gonna cook something so you can eat proper food.” He glanced toward the kitchen, already mentally cataloguing what ingredients they had.
But Jeongin pouted. Pouted. Changbin’s heart stuttered—the alpha rarely did that.
“Nooo, hyung, come here. Let’s watch something. I’m not hungry!” Jeongin whined, patting the spot next to him.
Changbin hesitated, torn between responsible caregiving and the magnetic pull of Jeongin's invitation. “Fine,” he conceded, settling back onto the sofa. “But you're eating a real dinner later.”
The television cast flickering blue light across Jeongin’s face as they settled into their familiar rhythm, half-watching, half-mocking the low-budget drama onscreen. But Changbin barely glanced at it. He kept stealing looks at Jeongin instead.
Somewhere between a ridiculous fight sequence and a cringeworthy love confession, Jeongin shifted closer. So subtly, so naturally, that Changbin didn’t even realise until he felt the warm press of Jeongin’s head against his shoulder.
Jeongin’s scent spiked—bright citrus cutting through Changbin’s own sweet blend of cherries and dark chocolate. Together, they made something intoxicating. Something indulgent and impossible. Chocolate-orange cakes existed. Cherry-chocolate cakes too. But orange-cherry-chocolate? That had to be the best flavour combination in the world.
Changbin swallowed hard. This was it, this was the moment. The words pressed against his lips, ready to spill out.
He took a breath, opened his mouth—
“Hyung, what kind of omega would you want to settle down with someday?”
The question hit Changbin like a physical blow, knocking every prepared word from his mind. His throat constricted, the air suddenly thick and difficult to breathe. The warmth that had been building in his chest turned cold, a spreading frost that reached his fingertips.
Jeongin was still nestled against him, seemingly unaware that he'd just scorched through Changbin's core, burning every confession to ash.
“I—” Changbin started, then stopped. What could he say? That he didn't want an omega at all? That the person he wanted was currently wearing his hoodie and asking about his future mate as if they were discussing the weather?
Jeongin tilted his head up slightly, eyes curious and expectant. The television light caught in them, turning them into pools of reflected blue and white.
Changbin came to a disheartening realisation that his sister might have been right. Every alpha longed for an omega, wanted to settle down, and start a family. That's the norm. Every alpha except him—a defective alpha, as his ex had once told him.
Changbin's alpha traits seemed flawed, and naturally, who would want that? Certainly not this young and handsome alpha, who deserved a future that matched his potential.
Despite his earlier determination, Changbin couldn't muster the courage to confess his feelings. It was up to Jeongin to decide, and it seemed Jeongin had already made up his mind. Changbin felt relieved that this understanding came before he voiced his confession. The thought of being gently rejected by an alpha with a caring tone, guilt woven into each word, would have been unbearable.
“I…” Changbin shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Jeongin's expectant gaze suddenly unbearable. “Actually, I just remembered I need to check something.”
He stood abruptly, dislodging Jeongin from his comfortable position against his shoulder. The younger alpha blinked up at him in confusion, his expression caught between surprise and something that looked almost like hurt.
“Hyung?”
“I'll be right back,” Changbin mumbled, already backing toward the hallway. “Just need to... bathroom.”
He didn't wait for Jeongin's response before escaping down the corridor, his heart hammering against his ribs. Once safely behind the locked bathroom door, Changbin leaned against the sink, breathing hard as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The man looking back at him seemed defeated, shoulders slumped under the weight of unspoken words.
With trembling fingers, he pulled out his phone and typed a message to his sister:
Hey, about that omega friend you mentioned. When do you want to set them up with Innie? I'll make sure he shows up.
His thumb hovered over the send button for several seconds before he finally pressed it, watching the message disappear with a swooping sensation in his stomach. It felt like surrender, like stepping away from something precious before it could reject him first.
The reply came almost immediately:
Really? That's great! How about next Friday at that new café downtown? 7pm?
Changbin typed back a quick confirmation, then set his phone down on the counter with more force than necessary. This was the right thing to do. Jeongin deserved a chance at the future he wanted—a traditional alpha-omega relationship, the potential for a family. Things Changbin couldn't give him.
He splashed cold water on his face, trying to compose himself before returning to the living room. When he finally emerged, Jeongin was sitting upright on the couch, phone in hand, no longer relaxed.
“Everything okay?” Jeongin asked, studying Changbin's face with those perceptive eyes.
“Yeah, of course,” Changbin lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Actually, I have some good news. My sister has this friend, an omega, who I think you might really like. I set you up for next Friday.”
Jeongin's expression shifted, his eyebrows drawing together. “You... what?”
“A date,” Changbin clarified, keeping his tone deliberately light. “She's really nice, apparently. Pretty too.”
“But I didn't ask for—”
“It'll be good for you,” Changbin interrupted, unable to bear hearing Jeongin's objections. “You've been cooped up in this house with me for too long. You should be out meeting people. Potential mates.”
The word ‘mates’ tasted bitter on his tongue, but he pushed through it. He had to do this.
“Is that what you want, for me to find an omega mate?” Jeongin asked, and for a brief moment, his eyes showed a flicker of pain, though Changbin chose to interpret it as something else.
“Of course,” Changbin replied with a smile that he had to work hard to keep from looking forced.
Jeongin stood up, not-so-accidentally scattering the remaining crisps across the sofa, making quite a mess.
“I'm going to bed, hyung,” he said. “Sorry for the mess. Make sure to text me the details for my date on Friday.”
And with that, Jeongin walked out, the bedroom door closing with a soft click that somehow felt louder than a slam. Changbin stared at the scattered crisps on the couch, at the dent in the cushion where Jeongin had been sitting, at the paused TV screen showing two actors mid-embrace. He'd done the right thing. He was sure of it. Practically certain. So why did his chest feel hollow? Why did his hands feel empty? Why did he have the distinct sensation that he'd just deliberately steered his life into a fucking wall?
Pages Navigation
Shadowonthewind on Chapter 1 Sat 28 Dec 2024 09:17PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 1 Mon 30 Dec 2024 10:57AM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 2 Mon 27 Jan 2025 11:16PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 2 Mon 27 Jan 2025 11:43PM UTC
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Opalred on Chapter 2 Sat 08 Mar 2025 01:04PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 2 Sun 09 Mar 2025 07:59AM UTC
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chamomile_lili on Chapter 3 Mon 06 Jan 2025 12:08PM UTC
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Shadowonthewind on Chapter 4 Mon 13 Jan 2025 07:43AM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 4 Mon 13 Jan 2025 07:57PM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 5 Tue 28 Jan 2025 05:25PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 5 Wed 29 Jan 2025 06:58PM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 6 Tue 28 Jan 2025 06:01PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 6 Wed 29 Jan 2025 07:04PM UTC
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Spburks on Chapter 7 Sun 02 Feb 2025 04:26AM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 7 Wed 05 Feb 2025 10:26AM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 9 Tue 18 Feb 2025 04:37PM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 9 Tue 18 Feb 2025 04:58PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 9 Tue 11 Mar 2025 06:18PM UTC
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WannaBeFamous212 on Chapter 10 Mon 03 Mar 2025 12:36AM UTC
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PansexualMayhem on Chapter 10 Mon 03 Mar 2025 05:08AM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 10 Tue 04 Mar 2025 12:19AM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 11 Thu 13 Mar 2025 03:37PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 11 Thu 13 Mar 2025 08:25PM UTC
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PansexualMayhem on Chapter 12 Sun 16 Mar 2025 10:02PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 12 Sun 16 Mar 2025 10:25PM UTC
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rebellsgf on Chapter 12 Sun 16 Mar 2025 11:37PM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 12 Mon 17 Mar 2025 06:45AM UTC
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WannaBeFamous212 on Chapter 12 Mon 17 Mar 2025 09:36AM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 12 Sun 30 Mar 2025 12:21PM UTC
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PansexualMayhem on Chapter 13 Sun 06 Apr 2025 07:31AM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 13 Mon 07 Apr 2025 10:36AM UTC
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WannaBeFamous212 on Chapter 13 Tue 08 Apr 2025 10:32AM UTC
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Cosmos_Sol on Chapter 13 Tue 08 Apr 2025 07:58PM UTC
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