Chapter Text
If you ask anyone at the safe house, they’ll tell you this...
Doran was never supposed to be here.
He doesn’t arrive with a suitcase and a plan. He arrives with a piece of paper, an address scribbled in Peanut’s handwriting, and the faint sense that he has made several questionable life choices in a row.
It starts with Peanut and Zeka running away.
Not dramatically—no tearful goodbyes, no slammed doors—but suddenly enough that the house feels hollow overnight.
Their room is empty. Their mugs are still in the sink, and no one knows where they went, except for one hastily written note Peanut leaves behind for Doran.
Just an address.
That’s it. No explanation. No context.
Doran stares at it for a long time before folding the paper carefully and stuffing it into his pocket.
He doesn’t want to go—But he also doesn’t have anywhere else to go.
So he does.
The safe house looks nothing like what Doran imagines.
He expects something intimidating—large gates, security, a place that screams alpha territory. Instead, it looks lived-in.
Too lived-in.
Shoes by the door that don’t match. A plant that’s half-dead but stubbornly alive. A faint smell of coffee and detergent and something warm underneath it all.
He stands outside longer than necessary, rehearsing sentences in his head.
Hello, I’m Peanut’s brother. I don’t really know why I’m here either. I promise I won’t be a problem.
"—Faker-ssi... May i have a minute?"
Doran whips his head to him and stares at the guy who the receptionist called ’Faker'.
He takes a good look at his brother's friend and thinks, oh so this is him.
The black cat clears his throat, making sure he could answer everything calmly. He walks towards the receptionist and stand near Doran, "yes, why?"
The receptionist gestures to him and says to Faker, "this boy wants to see you."
Faker nods curtly and stares at Doran, "I'm Faker. What's your name?"
Doran takes it as his cue to say everything he had reharsed in his head.
"I-I'm Doran—I'm Peanut's little brother. He told me to find you in this address."
He doesn't forget to hand him the piece of paper he's holding and explains, "It's the only thing he left me. I'm sorry for troubling you—"
The squirrel is so nervous, he keeps babbling as Faker takes the paper and examines it.
After few seconds, te black cat touches his arm and says, "come with me. Let's talk inside. It's warmer."
Doran nods and he tails behind Faker.
They go inside the elevator and it takes them both back to a floor with a single door.
"I apologize in advance for the pheromones. The others are restless and worried about Peanut."
The beta understands, "it's alright. I'm a beta, i can barely smell anything. I'll be okay"
Doran feels the older's eyes linger a bit longer at him, before he reminds him, "... you know, you don't have to be okay all the time"
He is speechless, so he just keep quiet and let the older opened the door and walk inside first.
The beta heard some muttering noises. The thouse is... Really warm, contrasting to the weather outside.
Doran feels his body, slowly getting warmer.
Doran scans the house, there are more than five people inside and all of them are eyeing him—which make sense, he's an outsider anyway.
A stranger.
Of course they would be wary of him.
But none of them says anything.
"Come to my room, i have some questions" As if on cue, the black cat speaks to Doran, silently making his pack members acknowledge that this beta isn't a threat.
Just a mere guest.
Doran still follows Faker from behind, eyes down, looking at their feet—and suddenly the marble floor is much more interesting for him.
Faker keeps his room door opens and let Doran enters first before he close the door.
"You can sit on that chair, Doran" He points to the chair near the window.
The squirrel quietly walks there and sits down, then Faker sits on the opposite chair.
The room is quiet—too quiet for Doran's liking but whatever. He's still buzzing in nervousness.
"Let me, get to the point. Did Peanut tell you with whom—?"
"The alpha." Doran squeaks, "i don't know much since he only told our parents about his relationship with a leopard alpha."
Faker waits until he finishes before asking the next question, "did Peanut tell you his name?"
Doran shakes his head fast, "he wasn't even there. Our parents scolded him so harsh, my dad was even using a broom to hit Peanut hyung"
The older gulps, "are you here to find your brother?"
The squirrel shakes his head again, "i'm here for—" He stops mid-sentence. He realize he doesn't have any word to explain why he's here.
Doran stands there, just inside the doorway, and realizes there isn’t a single sentence in his head that can properly explain why he’s here.
He can’t suddenly tell Faker that he feels stuffed at home and now he’s running away like his brother, can he?
The thought alone makes his chest tighten.
Unfortunately, Faker remembers the content of the letter Peanut left to Doran.
“are you here to stay?”
The question is calm. Neutral. Almost gentle.
Doran swallows.
He has nothing prepared. No excuse. No plan. Nothing respectable enough to justify his presence.
So the best he can do is be honest, even if it makes him sound like a freeloader.
“For several nights until i can get a job and place to stay, maybe?”
The words feel small the moment they leave his mouth.
Faker looks at him for a long moment.
Doran doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing—pity, consideration, calculation—but whatever it is, the older omega doesn’t look annoyed. He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t tell Doran to leave.
Of course he wouldn’t.
First, Doran looks pitiful. He knows that.
Even without meaning to, it’s written all over him—his posture, the way his hands fidget, the fact that he’s standing there with nothing but the clothes he came in.
Second, Doran has nowhere to go. Of course Faker will offer his place for him to stay. That’s just… being normal.
Third—and this one Doran doesn’t say out loud—he’s Peanut’s little brother. Faker can smell Peanut slightly on him, and honestly… he needs it. The familiar scent settles something restless in him amidst all the chaos Peanut left behind.
“Peanut's room is empty now that he vanishes. You can stay there.”
Doran’s shoulders loosen before he can stop himself.
“But i need you to tell me the whole story. What happened when he talked to your parents. That leads to his disappearance.”
Doran nods firmly.
He remembers everything. Vividly. Too vividly.
Peanut’s voice raised in frustration. The sharp edge of his words. The way he stood between Faker and their parents without hesitation. Even Peanut’s yells when he defended the alpha in front of them echo clearly in his head.
“Not only about Peanut.” Faker’s voice pulls him back, “I need to know about you too. Especially things that made you feel suffocated.”
Now that Doran is calmer, the tension slowly drains from his body.
He thinks about the things his parents said—about him being a beta, about limitations—and suddenly it all feels… smaller. Manageable—maybe even something he exaggerated.
“It’s actually not a big deal” Faker doesn’t accept that.
“Oh, I’ll be the judge to decide if it’s a big deal or not.”
The words aren’t harsh. They’re steady. Certain.
“You just have to tell me the story. In details”
Doran exhales before he starts talking.
Oner doesn’t mean to stare.
He’s at the kitchenette because that’s what needs doing—someone has to make sure the new guy eats, because Zeus worried out loud that Doran “might be hungry,” and that was apparently enough reason for the entire responsibility to fall onto him.
So, he heats instant soup, tearing open the packet with more force than necessary, the kettle humming softly in the background.
The safe house feels wrong without Faker.
Too quiet. Too hollow.
From where he stands, the tiger can see the living room clearly.
Doran sits on the edge of the couch, hands clasped tightly, staring at the floor.
That’s Oner’s first real impression of him.
Not when he followed Faker into the room earlier. Not when he stood awkwardly in the doorway.
This—this stillness—is what sticks.
The beta looks like he’s afraid to sink into the cushions, like he hasn’t earned the space yet.
His shoulders are tense, spine straight, tail tucked close in that instinctive squirrel way that says flight before fight, always.
He hasn’t moved since Oner called him out of Faker’s room. Hasn’t touched his phone. Hasn’t looked around.
Just… waiting.
Oner glances back down at the pot, stirs, then looks again.
Doran hasn’t spoken once.
He looks spaced out.
Too quiet—the kind of quiet that makes Oner’s hackles rise, because it’s not calm—it’s shock, or fear, or the numbness that comes after something cracks.
Delight is down the hall in Viper’s room, rummaging through files and old medication lists, preparing answers for doctors that haven’t even asked yet.
Zeus disappears for a moment, then reappears with a blanket draped around his shoulders like a cape.
Oner watches him pad softly across the room and settle beside the new guy.
For a moment, Zeus just swings his feet, humming.
Then—very gently, very polite—he taps Doran’s arm, “Um… Doran-ssi?” his voice is small but steady.
Doran looks up, startled, "hm? Yes?”
The alpha pauses his stirring.
Zeus tilts his head, as if checking whether it’s okay to speak honestly.
After he's sure, he goes, "It’s okay to feel scared,” he says simply, “when Guma hyung disappears for a while, I get worried too. He does that a lot.”
Oner snorts quietly from the kitchen but turns away to hide it.
Doran blinks, “…Guma hyung?”
He nods, "yes. The bulky bear who sat on the sofa... That's my older brother"
"Oh!"
The tiger glances over again.
Doran’s eyes are round now—not panicked, not frozen. Just… present.
The younger's eyes round and serious—ready to drop some facts bombs, "Gumayusi hyung likes… physical communication.”
Oner exhales through his nose, amusement leaking out despite himself.
But the young bear continues, hands folded neatly on his lap like a child giving a school speech, "when we were younger he always wrestled me. Or pinned me down. Or used me as a warm pillow.”
He lifts a finger, counting.
“Sometimes he grabbed me like this—” Zeus makes a wide grabbing motion, "—and I would fly a little bit.”
Doran’s eyebrows shoot up, “…Fly?”
“Yes. Briefly,” Zeus says earnestly, “but only horizontally.”
Oner breaks, “horizontally?? Zeus, please—”
Zeus ignores the tiger and turns to Doran again, expression pure and reassuring, "what I mean is… brothers do strange things. But no matter how annoying or violent they are, they always come back.”
Oner carries the bowls over slowly, quieter now.
Doran, knows this kid trying to calm him down, appreciates the effort, "thanks for your reassuring words—"
He nods once, solemn as a monk, "...even if they suplex you.”
Oner stops short.
The squirrel tries, and fails, to hold his shock, "“what?"
Zeus blinks, "what?"
"No, please continue"
The youngest smiles softly, relieved, "Doran-ssi, you didn't lose your brother. He’ll come back too. They always do.” he leans forward, lowering his voice, "also… if it helps, I can let you hold my blanket. It’s very comforting.”
That’s when Oner sets the soup down, close enough to be within reach but not invading space.
“He means it. That blanket is basically his emotional support animal.”
The bear nods proudly, "yes. It has a very friendly aura. I haven't develop a scent since I'm stil unpresented but—“
Doran finally exhales—his shoulders loosening for the first time, ".…Thank you, Zeus—and it's fine. I can't smell people's pheromones anyway"
"You’re welcome. I’m good at comforting. Guma hyung says I have a very ‘healing face.’” he beams
Oner chips in, “he said that after putting you in a headlock.”
Zeus bows his head politely, "yes. That was after the headlock.”
Oner watches Doran carefully.
The beta doesn’t laugh—he’s not there yet—but the tightness is gone from his posture.
His hands unclench. His tail flicks once, slow and uncertain, like he’s testing whether it’s safe.
That’s when it hits Oner.
Doran isn’t weak.
He’s just overwhelmed.
This isn’t someone who barges into places. This is someone who waits to be allowed.
Someone who absorbs instead of lashes out. Someone who doesn’t know what to do when the person holding the structure of his world collapses overnight.
The alpha straightens.
A squirrel beta, quiet, polite, sitting on the edge of the couch like he might be asked to leave at any second.
“…Tch,” Oner mutters under his breath, turning back toward the kitchen, “great.”
Another complicated one.