Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jeongin wants to die.

The bus jumps, tossing his small bag onto the floor and across to the isle beside him, and he shoves back the tears pricking in his eyes. Tears can't help him, there's no point in letting them fall now.

The man beside him retrieves the bag, setting it snugly underneath his legs. He's tall and strong and terrifying, and he won't look at Jeongin. Not when the nurse shoved them into the bus together, not when he sobbed and screamed and pounded on the glass, begging them to take him back.

He's all out of tears now, but the emptiness is almost worse.

He slumps against the window and pretends to sleep, just so he doesn't have to see the dirty bus anymore.

If he truly focuses, he can pretend he's on his way to school, not some mysterious feral adoption facility he knew nothing about.

He's spent the first twenty years of his life in a rescue center for feral hybrids, and it wasn't good there, but at least it was familiar. He has no idea where he's going now, and he has no way of getting back.

No matter how hard he tried, Jeongin was too disoriented to keep track of where the bus took him, and he's been in here for long enough that it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

Jeongin doesn't miss it, not exactly, but his throat still aches with unshed tears.

At some point his refusal to watch the scenery slips into unconsciousness, and the sky is dark by the time Jeongin opens his eyes again.

His throat aches, but he doesn't want to ask for his bag to get his water bottle. It doesn't matter in the end, though, because the bus slows to a stop before Jeongin can work up the nerve. The man shoves his bag into his arms and Jeongin winces as something inside of it slams against his arm.

"We're here." He says, no other warning, before he steps off of the bus in long strides.

Jeongin scrambles to follow him, slinging his bag across his back and trying not to shiver at the way the bus driver reaches out to touch his tail as he gets out of the bus.

He's outside for maybe a minute, the bodyguard pushing him forward over smooth concrete and manicured grass. He tries to smell the air, but he only gets a burning nose for his trouble. The building smells like chemicals, bleach and something far stronger, and Jeongin can't help but think that they're hiding something with it.

The building he's dragged towards is unassuming, but all Jeongin can really make out about it is the height. There has to be at least five stories, but oddly enough there aren't windows on any of them.

The first floor does, at least, though theyre covered with thick curtains.

The man's grip shifts from his shoulder to his neck, forcing him through the heavy doors. It makes Jeongin feel like a child again, dragged around by the scruff of his neck when he strayed too far from his mother's nest. Grief threatens to swallow him whole again, but he quickly shoves the thought away and takes in the building instead of lingering on it.

The inside of the building is completely white.

Bright florescent lights nearly blind him, buzzing and aggressive. It's sparsely decorated, only a reception desk in the middle and a couch on the side, the same pristine medical white as everything else.

The man pushes him onto the couch, glaring at him as if to say "stay put", and Jeongin is too tired to be disobedient.

He doesn't curl into the couch so much as he slumps into it, the exhaustion of the day finally settling in, now that his body's worked out all the anger and pain it can stomach.

"Yang Jeongin?" A sweet looking woman with long brown hair bends over to look at him, eyes gentle and welcoming.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but his mind is groggy with it and his limbs are stiff. The man seems to be long gone, and something about his absence makes dread curl around Jeongin's chest.

He's also no longer on the couch, which is distressing. Someone must have moved him while he slept, and the idea of hands on him, however chaste, makes him want to vomit.

The woman tries to help him sit up but he flinches out of her hands, baring his teeth slightly.
She offers him a shaky smile and folds her hands together behind her back.

"Good evening! We decided to let you sleep for a bit, but it's really better that we get the formalities and information out of the way before you go in with the others."

Jeongin nods, feeling oddly sluggish as he listens to her. Sleep isn't letting him go that easily, much to his annoyance. He normally isn't this exhausted at night, but the bus ride and the transfer have fucked his sleep schedule beyond repair.

"Right. Uh... What exactly... Is this? What will I have to do?"

Her smile tightens, and Jeongin cringes back into the bed.

"This is Shooting Stars Placement Facility, an omega adoption agency for..." She fights to find the correct word, "Difficult omegas. Your legal owners have given you up, so now you will live here until you're adopted!"

Jeongin's heart plummets, even though he knew most of that already. Still, hearing it so plainly like that is...

"What will I have to do?" Jeongin asks again, instead of a million other questions like "Where's my phone?" or "How do I get out of here?"

The woman turns towards a desk, picking up a tablet and a stack of papers.

"First, I need you to sign a few waivers. All the important ones have been signed off already by your previous owners, but these are specific to our relationship going forward, for as long as you remain adoptable. There's also some pages where you can talk about yourself, to go on your file."

Jeongin flips absently through the papers, blinking tears back.

"Then, I'll put your data onto this tablet. This is your new hub for communication within the agency, no phones. You'll be able to chat with the other omegas or contact staff whenever needed. It also has a schedule and map for you, in case you get confused on where to go or what to do next."

The tablet is shiny and black, and Jeongin can see his face in the reflection. He looks... Tired. And sad. His ears are already matted and pressing hard against his skull, and he reaches for his tail, trying to smooth out some of the tangles. His face twists up into something pained and he looks away, back at the papers.

"Once all that's finished I'll get the nurse and we can schedule your tattoo appointment, then get you set up on your first doses of Fantasia."

Jeongin jolts, letting go of the papers like they burned him.

"What is that?"

The woman smiles at him again, tighter this time, and pulls something up on the tablet.

It's an infographic, bright and overwhelming, but luckily she points to sections of it as she speaks.

"It's a specially made drug, exclusively for omegas. It's main function is hormone and temperament control, though it also prevents pregnancy and helps stabilize heat cycles. You'll take it daily for as long as you're in our care, and you'll be given some when you're adopted, but we cannot enforce it's use then."

Jeongin actually might vomit, this time.

A sticky, crawling feeling spreads over his entire body and he shudders, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I have to- get tattooed? And, and you're gonna drug me?"

He might be hyperventilating or maybe his body is finally cracking under the stress of the day, doing him a favor and making his lungs stop working so he can escape the hell he's found himself in.

"Please calm down, it's alright. It's just protocol. Most people on Fantasia truly enjoy it, you know. It takes away all the overwhelming senses and pains of being feral, and makes you a lot more desirable to your new owners. You'll love it, promise."

Jeongin forces his heart to slow, because it's obvious that he's not going to get anything close to kind out of this woman and having a breakdown would only embarrass himself.

He swipes the wetness from his cheeks and starts filling out the papers, refusing to say another word. She gives up after a bit, busying herself with setting up the tablet.

They sit in awkward, angry silence while Jeongin writes, scowling at the paper.

The first few pages are waivers and he doesn't even bother reading them, just scribbles his signature and moves on. The next few are questions about him; height, weight, age, and, most infuriating, virginity status. Jeongin leaves it blank, because he doesn't need these people to know anything about his life before if they don't already.

There's a section about likes and dislikes and a space to talk about himself and his preferences in a pack.

It makes him sick, writing down that his favorite color is scarlet and that his favorite food is steak, but he doesn't have a choice. He tries to leave it blank and the nurse just stares at him until he picks the pen up again.

When he gets to the preferences section, his mind goes blank. Before this he hadn't ever considered being in a pack, at least not one that would allow his preferences.

Jeongin knows he's not a good omega. He's feral, for one: always on edge and up too late and too temperamental, and he's got his fair share of scars that he'd rather claw out of himself than have someone poke at. He's not made for packs. His old facility made it very clear that once he passed 16, no pack would ever consider him, which he's sure is part of the reason they transferred him here at all.

Besides the fact that he ripped out an alphas throat, of course. The memory still makes him sick in a shaky kind of way, like the adrenaline coming back to him in bursts. The thick, heady smell of blood all around him, the way it felt to push teeth into flesh.

The nurse is snapping at him to write, so Jeongin shakes his head and writes, "I want a pack with a yard."

He hands the papers to her and she rolls her eyes, but Jeongin can't find it in himself to even be annoyed at her.

Another nurse enters the room, then, face perfectly blank.

The strangest part of her, besides the vacant look in her eyes, is the fact that she doesn't smell like anything. Not even the blank, light scent children have, just... Nothing. The other nurse smelled faintly of something floral, but this one is empty.

"Yang Jeongin. It's time for your first dose of Fantasia. Please give me your right arm." She asks, but Jeongin doesn't get the chance to say anything before she's grabbing his elbow and pointing a syringe at it.

"Hey! No, let go of me!" He tries to thrash but the needle is already in, and the feeling is so disgusting he can't think enough to move.
The liquid is thick, and cold, and he can feel it pushing into his bloodstream and it hurts so badly.

"Get off!" He snarls, trying to swat the nurse away, but all of a sudden his movements are sluggish, like there's a lag between his head and his body.

He bares his teeth, a scream building in his throat, but neither of the nurses seem concerned. The first one takes the papers and tablet and leaves, and the second merely watches him as he thrashes and shouts.

"This room is soundproof and I am not afraid of you, mutt. Stop that incessant screaming this instant."

Jeongin only screams louder at this, until something thrums in the back of his head, like the worst migraine he's ever had turned up to a thousand.

It's so painful his scream breaks into a sob, and he slumps forward. It's a little while longer before the pain actually makes him pass out, but even when he does it is not a relief.

Chapter Text

Jeongin wakes up in a pristine white bed with nothing more than a paper-thin sheet covering his bare skin.

The room takes a moment to come fully into focus, too bright for his sensitive eyes to easily process.

It takes him a while, but he can eventually gather that he’s in a hospital room of some kind. He takes a deep breath, trying to build the strength to sit up, but something seems off about it.

He sniffs the air again, expecting ammonia or stinging bleach, but it doesn't come. The air doesn't smell like anything. Not bleach, not cotton, not even the milky bland scent children have before they present, just nothing.

Distantly, this information is upsetting. He knows that he should be able to smell things, but he simply doesn't have the energy to be upset or worried over it.

He shakes his head and tries to push himself up again, but a firm voice makes him freeze. “Don’t move, the artist will be here in a moment.”

It's another nurse, looking down at a clipboard and only paying him a cursory amount of attention. She doesn't smell like anything either, and a phantom pang of distress hits him. He knows the emotion is there, but it feels like watching it through glass.

“The artist?” He asks, because he knows she probably won't answer any of his other questions.

She glances up at him, bored and a little bit annoyed. “The tattoo artist for your marking tattoo. This was all explained to you, and it is not my job to do so again. Sit still and be quiet.”

Her voice leaves no room for argument, so he turns his head back to face the ceiling instead of looking at her.

They sit in silence until Jeongin considers biting his own hand, just for something to do, but the door clicks open before he can work up the resolve.

The artist is a tall man, with shoulder-length black hair and all-black clothes, and Jeongin truly wasn’t expecting the relief it would be to see something dark enough for his eyes to follow properly.

Jeongin opens his mouth to say something, maybe a greeting or a request for similar clothes, but the man doesn’t say a word to him, just pulls the sheet off his body and onto the floor. Jeongin yelps, curling up to cover himself, but the man just sighs and grabs his ankles to keep him still. “I was planning on putting it on his stomach. Foxgloves would be pretty, don't you think?” The man asks, but he doesn't seem to be talking to Jeongin.

The nurse hums, still uninterested. “I don't care what it is or where. Just hurry this along, please.” The artist huffs at the dismissal but does as he’s told, reaching for the tattoo gun on a nearby desk.

The process takes longer than Jeongin imagined a tattoo would, but at least it doesn't hurt. He can feel the pressure of it, but the actual pain is somewhere in the back of his mind with the panic.

The man beams at him once it's finished, urging him to look at it.

It’s big, about the size of his hand, long vines of orange foxgloves curling around his navel. The surrounding skin is still red and inflamed, and the sight drags bile up his throat, even if he can't feel the revulsion properly.

"It'll be all healed up within a few months! I bet your future alphas are going to love it."

Jeongin nods, because that seems like what the man wants him to do.

He puts his head back down and watches the ceiling until the nurse forces him up, pulling him to stand and shoving a pile of clothes into his hands. He puts them on with jerky movements, scratchy threadbare cloth in some semblance of underwear and a dress. It aches against the freshly irritated skin with every step he takes, but he doesn't say anything.

The nurse leads him down a series of hallways, all the same pristine white and insignificant, more a labyrinth than a building. Eventually they approach a door, a single spot of interest painted slate gray. There's a small placard beside it with "4-A" engraved into it.

"Come, keep up." The nurse snaps at him, tugging his arm and dragging him in front of the door. "This is your room, you are to stay here unless otherwise notified. All of your relevant belongings are there already."

She unlocks the door and pushes him in, one tight hand on his shoulder.

There are two other people in the room, both watching him like a lion stalking prey.

One of them is standing a few steps away, tall and dark eyed, with giant black wolf ears on top of his head and a matching tail, bristling with suspicion.

The other one is crouched on the floor, somewhere between hiding and prepared to pounce. He's thin, with wild, red-rimmed eyes that follow Jeongin's every movement. Round ears sit on his head, nearly hidden among the messy curls of white-blonde hair.

His tail is long and flicking at the end, bristling with irritation or fear, or both. It's covered in dense-looking fur and spotted with black. A snow leopard?

Jeongin jolts backwards, trying to run back out the door, but the nurse shifts her hold to his neck to keep him still.

He's barely aware of the panic rushing through his veins, but his breath picks up, and his ears twitch back regardless. He can't take two other feral omegas at once, could he?

It wouldn't make sense for them to put him here, go through all the trouble of tattooing him just to send him into a glorified fighting ring, would they?

"Oh, relax. Don't worry, a pretty thing like him won't last a week in here."

She squeezes his neck and steps back, quickly leaving the room and locking it behind her.

The wolf stalks towards him, slow and deliberate, watching him like a mouse caught in a trap. He backs up against the door and claws at the wood, but the wolf stops a few steps away. His eyes shift from violent to interested, scrutinizing him, his bare legs, his twitching tail.

"You're third," He says, voice deep and flat. "They don't usually do that."

"A fox?" The other one says, but there's no energy or emotion behind it. Jeongin nods because he doesn't know what else to do, and the blonde boy straightens up. He's shorter than the wolf, but just as intimidating. This is obviously their space and Jeongin is an intruder in it, but the door is locked. He can't leave even if he wanted to (He does, God, he does), they can't blame him for that, can they?

"I can't leave." He says, thinking it will sound desperate, sad enough for them to pity him, but the words come out flat, resigned.

“We know. Neither can we.” The leopard says, taking a small step forward.

“What’s your name?” The wolf is still too close for Jeongin’s comfort, but he seems content to stay where he is.

“Jeongin.” He probably shouldn’t tell them, but it's not like he has anything better to do. If they decided to torment him, at least he would have something to focus on other than his boredom and new lack of senses.

The wolf just hums at him, eyes now fixed on the wall behind him. Did he smell something? Suddenly Jeongin is eager to find out if that's the case, to see if he’d found a way to make his senses come back. But the wolf shakes his head after a moment and sits on one of the beds, somehow looking even bigger in comparison. Did he even fit on it?

The leopard takes another few steps forward, eyes trained on the wolf. “I’m Yeosang, he’s Mingi. Did they tattoo you yet?”

Disgust rises in his throat again, but it doesn't last long enough for him to do anything about it. “Yes. They’re foxgloves.” He says it easily, and the nausea does not return. It’s a fact, there was no real need to be so worked up about it anymore. Screaming and crying would not make the ink disappear, so he shoves down the part of him still aching to claw it out of his skin.

“Pretty,” Yeosang says, like a formality. “Mine are snow lilies.”

“Wolfsbane,” Mingi says, pointing to his back. Jeongin is struck with a wave of curiosity, but it fades just as it came. Instead of asking to see them, he just smiles politely.

Yeosang points to the bed on the far wall, the only other furniture in the tiny room besides Yeosang’s identical one. It’s covered in nothing more than a thin sheet, just like the hospital bed he was on earlier, and the distress lasts longer than before as he stares at it.

“That’s your bed.”

Jeongin nods and steps towards it, but Yeosang moves to block his path. Jeongin tilts his head at him, but Yeosang seems just as confused by the action. “You can't touch me. Or Mingi. We’re not allowed to touch.” The words sound punched out of him, and fear shows on his face for a split second before it smooths out again. Jeongin nods, wanting to reassure him, but Yeosang doesn't move. “I would. If I could.” He says in a harsh whisper, like a dangerous secret. “I’d scent you.”

Something in Jeongin's chest aches, and his arms twitch at his sides. He wants to grab Yeosang, shake him and ask why they’re listening to their rules in private at all, but the feeling fades within moments. “I would too, Yeosang-ssi. That’s very kind.”

The words feel wrong on his tongue, but they seem to placate him. Yeosang jolts away to sit on his bed, and Jeongin does the same.

Once he’s seated and content that he’s not going to be mauled (at least for the moment), the exhaustion of the day catches up to him. Was it even daytime? He hasn’t seen any windows the entire time he’s been here, and he doesn’t see his tablet anywhere to check. The room is bright but artificial, he can hear the fluorescent lights buzzing above them.

By all accounts he shouldn’t be tired, he’s only been awake for a few hours at most, but he finds himself listing to the side without his permission. “It makes you sleepy. At least, it does for me.” Yeosang says, watching him blink the world back into focus.

“Just keeps me awake. You should sleep now before they take you for training.” Mingi isn’t looking at him, his eyes are focused on that blank patch of the wall again.

“Training?”

Yeosang makes that face again, barely there disgust. It’s gone by the time he speaks, “They train you to be a better omega, so you get adopted.”

“It’s-“ Yeosang makes a noise, somewhere between a hiss and a shout, and gestures to the door. Mingi shuts his mouth. “You’ll want to be rested for it. I doubt they’ll take you for a while, to let your tattoo heal. But if one of us aren’t in here, that's where we are.”

Mingi looks at him, then, something broken in his expression, but he looks away soon after.

Jeongin nods, but he can't really take in the words. His vision is blurring at the edges, and his muscles ache. He wants to curl up in soft, warm blankets and rest, but instead he pulls the sheet back and slides underneath it. He means to say something to thank them, or maybe ask them to wake him up soon, but his eyes are closed the moment his head hits the pillow.

:—:—:—:—:—:—:—:—:

"He’s not going to be here long anyway, I don't know why you’re so invested."

Jeongin comes back to consciousness slowly, choosing to keep his eyes closed against the still bright lights of the room.

"You don't know that. What if he- what if he can’t handle it? I almost didn’t."

Yeosang? Were they talking about him?

It’s curiosity then that makes him keep his eyes closed, making sure his breathing stays steady.

"People love fox hybrids, and he’s pretty. He’ll be picked within the month. He’ll be fine."

They both sound worried, which is more emotion than Jeongin’s heard from anyone since he got here.

"You don't know that!" Yeosang snaps, voice low and vicious, terrified in its anger.

Jeongin takes a deep breath in and catches a hint of dead flowers in the air, and the fact that he can smell it is so surprising he gasps and jolts up on the bed. Both Yeosang and Mingi flinch, but they recover quickly.

“I- I can-“ Yeosang crosses to his bed and reaches for him, but stops short a few inches away.

"Shh," He says instead, pressing a finger against his mouth. "They haven’t brought the food with our new doses in yet, so it's wearing off. They’ll be here any minute, so you have to be quiet."

Jeongin nods and tries to think around the influx of scents and information, overwhelming after so long without them. Yeosang has distress written all over him, scent soured and unpleasant. Jeongin still takes it in, trying to memorize it, sweet lilies and honey, bitter now but still lovely.

He looks over at Mingi and nearly jumps out of his skin, catching violence on his earthy scent. He’s low on the ground, like a predator on the hunt, hands curled into claws, eyes and ears focused entirely on the door.

"Mingi?" Jeongin calls, more confused than scared of him. "What are you doing?"

Mingi makes a low growling noise and gestures his head towards the door, one ear swiveling to focus on him.

"They try to come inside when they bring the food. I don't want them in here."

Jeongin nods, climbing out of the bed. He walks towards Mingi and stands behind him, reaching out, only to remember Yeosang’s warning.

"Why can't we touch each other? We can't smell it most of the time anyway, right?"

Yeosang shakes his head, "Fantasia doesn't block out bond scents. If we scent each other enough, it makes it useless."

"And when it stops working, they get rid of you. Can’t have feral omegas running around with thoughts." Mingi snarls, ears flicking so hard that Jeongin can hear the air whip around it.

"If they find out you’ve touched someone, even by accident, they take you and put you in solitary until the scent fades, or until they feel like letting you out."

Mingi’s voice is dark and angry when he speaks next, and he finally turns away from the door so he can look Jeongin in the eye. "This entire thing is torture, but the only time I’ve genuinely wished for death is in there. Do whatever you can to stay out of it."

Jeongin swallows hard, trying to suppress his own scent flaring up into something ugly and sharp, scorched sugar.

"You probably won't be here long, though. Fox hybrids are popular. They probably put you here to send a message to us."

Jeongin pushes his annoyance down at the mention of being popular because he knows Mingi is right. He’s been adopted plenty of times, but he’s never stayed longer than a few weeks.

"How long do people usually stay here?" He asks, watching the door with the same intensity as Mingi, now.

"The domestics — cat and dog hybrids — usually only stay a few days. I hear they’re not even tattooed. Aggressive ones take a little longer. Ones like you— foxes, birds, deer — go within a month. Just exotic enough to be exciting, but not really enough to be a bother." Mingi looks at him again, then at Yeosang. "But us? Predators? We’re here for life."

"Life?" Jeongin squeaks, shuddering at just the thought of this for the rest of his life.

Yeosang nods. "I’ve been here since I was six." He crouches down next to Mingi, not touching but nearly there.

"I was born in here. They tested the first doses of Fantasia on me."

Jeongin nearly chokes, barely able to breathe around his own scent. "Mingi…" He tries, but what is there to say to that?

"I’m sorry" sounds empty, but he doesn't know what else to do. He grew up in a shelter, sure, but it was nothing like this.

Mingi’s been on this drug since he was a baby. Potentially dangerous, unstable versions of it.

He met this man only hours ago, but Jeongin is already full of vengeful rage on his behalf.

"Stop that," Mingi says, strangely intense. "You can’t fix it, you can’t get us out. You’ll get yourself killed trying, so stop it. We’re fine."

"This isn’t fine!" Jeongin snaps, barely above a whisper but full of rage. "You’ve been on this drug since you were kids!"

Mingi sighs at him, and it's so tired that Jeongin stops short. "Which means we’ve learned how to keep ourselves out of trouble. You should do the same while you’re here."

Jeongin means to say something to that, but the door handle creaks and shoves open. Mingi stands and crowds them both back, a low, threatening growl spreading around them.

A tall man in all white clothes stands in the doorway, scent perfectly neutral. He's scowling at them, but Jeongin notices that his gaze falters on Mingi. Just the slightest flash of fear, before it's smoothed over once again.

Mingi must notice it too, because his face splits into a fanged smile. They're long and surprisingly white, so sharp Jeongin can barely see the tips.

Yeosang steps around him to take the trays, but he's glaring too. He hands one to Jeongin, but neither of them look at it, attention focused entirely on Mingi. Would he attack? Or will the standoff end in a moment?

Mingi snaps his jaws at the guard, and he stumbles back, shouting a curse and pulling a strangely shaped gun off of his belt. Jeongin flinches back this time, but Mingi stands his ground.

"Oh, was that scary? Am I being threatening?" Mingi taunts, taking a step forward.

He's close enough to touch the guard now, and Jeongin wants to grab him and pull him back because that's a gun, and he doesn't want to watch Mingi get shot. He doubts they'd give him medical attention, and he has no idea how much medical knowledge Yeosang has, but Jeongin certainly doesn't know how to handle a bullet wound, and—

"Go on, shoot! I dare you."

"Mingi-!"

BANG!

Jeongin whines and flattens his ears, eyes squeezing shut. He sits there, silent and unmoving, until he realizes that no one else is speaking.

No cries of pain, no copper smell of blood...

He pries his eyes open and nearly falls over at the sight.

The guard and Mingi are in the same positions they were a moment ago, but there's a small cloud of smoke rising from the barrel of the gun. The guard looks outraged, still holding it up like a defense even as it proves to be useless.

Mingi laughs, low and violent, but the guard darts forward and shuts their door before Mingi can lunge.

He still snarls, loud and so animalistic, Jeongin would believe it came from an actual wolf if he wasn't staring right at him.

"Come eat, Mingi." Yeosang says, voice low but distinctly amused.

"Why did you do that? He could have shot you!" Jeongin snaps, fingertips trembling around the plastic tray.

Yeosang gives him a soft look, but Jeongin doesn't meet it.

"They never load the guns," Mingi shrugs, taking his tray from Yeosang's outstretched hand.

"What if they chose to today? You could have died!"

Mingi's expression sobers, and he stalks forward, crowding Jeongin back onto his bed.

"First lesson?" He cages Jeongin in, taking full advantage of the no-touching rule. "Those people are terrified of us. They keep us drugged and complacent and break us down, because they can't handle us otherwise. Letting them scare you gives them what they want. Instead, scare them. If they do decide to kill us —which they might, one day— don't you dare let them do it thinking they had power. If you can't murder them first, at least make them wish you did."

Jeongin swallows hard, heart pounding. Mingi smells like blood, like violence, like years of nightmares and a resolution to make someone pay for them.

Jeongin smiles.

"Okay. Make them afraid."

Mingi looks him up and down, then matches his smile. Jeongin's struck with the insane urge to hook his fingers around Mingi's fangs, pull him closer, and if the heat in Mingi's eyes is any indication, similar thoughts are running through his head.

Mingi moves back to his bed, and Jeongin's cheeks burn. He shakes his head, patently ignoring the amused look Yeosang is giving them.

Yeosang and Jeongin's trays look nearly identical, a large portion of meat and something like rice, but Mingi's is nothing but meat, piled high and with little care.

He guessed it made sense, especially when Mingi tears into it like a ravenous animal. When was the last time he ate?

"Wait, if they drug us with the food, then can't we just stop eating? They'll have to give up eventually, right?"

Mingi snorts around a bite of what looks like a rabbit, and Yeosang sighs deeply.

"They'll just let you starve." He says. "I tried it once, I think. It's hazy. They let you starve for a while and if you still don't give in, they just inject you by force."

"Or put you in solitary so they don't have to deal with you anymore." Mingi adds, voice already smoother, less emotional.

Jeongin feels a shudder move up his spine, remembering the sticky, cold feeling of that first injection.

He picks up his fork.

They sit in silence while they eat, and though it should be suffocating, it isn't. Mingi keeps glancing at him with those warm, sharp eyes, and Yeosang makes intricate knots out of his pillowcase while he chews.

It's not much, and it isn't a solution by any means, but an hour later when Jeongin curls up in his bed to nap, he imitates them with his pillowcase and tries to remember lilies and cinnamon.

Chapter Text

Despite Mingi's assurances, Jeongin is still in the facility 6 months later.

He knows why, but he lets Yeosang and Mingi wonder about it. He doesn't want to tell them why he's here, why he's sure plenty of people have looked at his file and chosen someone else.

They gave him a week of rest before they took him for his first training session, a strange man across from him asking invasive questions.

It made him itch, answering questions about his previous sex life and how pleased his previous alphas were with him.

He told them the truth, because his brain was too foggy to come up with coherent lies; Most of the sex he's had before wasn't his choice, but he knows the alphas were satisfied by the end.

The man told him that his main priority should always be pleasing his alphas, and even gave him tips.

He thinks those meetings happen weekly now, though Jeongin is never aware enough about the days passing to be certain. There don't seem to be any windows in the main facility beyond the front room, but Jeongin hasn't been there since that first day.

Jeongin doesn't really care most of the time, though. He spends his days sleeping or talking with Yeosang and Mingi, goes to the training sessions when he's told to, and tries not to throw up afterwards. The drug doesn't give him the chance to think of much else.

It's... Fine, all things considered.

It isn't pleasant, and he's developed a habit of biting his nails and pacing the small room in circles, but it's fine.

He can't feel pain, or shame, or anger, not really, and even when the Fantasia dulls, none of the emotions are overwhelming. He's a bit surprised at how quickly he became resigned to the entire ordeal, but what else was he going to do?

"Jeongin." Mingi is standing, eyes trained on the door, ears twitching. Jeongin still isn't sure if he can actually hear what's going on out there or if it's simply instinct or routine, but he's rarely ever wrong.

"What is it?" Jeongin pauses his latest nervous tic, biting his claws into sharp points, to look at Mingi properly. It's strange, not feeling the anxiety but still responding to it, but it's nothing new by now.

"They're coming to get you."

Jeongin sighs and stands up, feeling disgust rise up again, distantly.

"Alright. Thank you for-"

"Jeongin," Mingi snarls, suddenly urgent, and Jeongin notices that he's digging his claws into his own palm.

Alarm joins the disgust, but he only tilts his head.

"It's been months. And it's a different person coming to get you. This one- this training session..."

"They're going to hurt you." Yeosang says, voice firm but distant. "It's easier if you don't fight."

Jeongin is sitting in the corner with his pillow tucked up against his chin when a man enters the room.

Mingi growls at him but he's still under the drug, and it's barely threatening at all. Yeosang is on his bed with the blankets up over his head, shaking like a leaf, tail lashing underneath it, and Jeongin can't blame him.

Still, he shudders when the man drags him out of the room by his arm.

He follows, numb, surrendering entirely to the drug's sedation.

Whatever this is, he doesn't want to feel it.

The man stops in front of a room Jeongin's never seen before, dimly lit and furnished like a bedroom. It's far more lavish than his, though, a gigantic four-poster bed in the center with plush looking blankets.

For a moment, Jeongin entertains the idea of going along with this just to lie on it, but bile rises to his throat and chases the thought away before it can take hold properly.

"You've done well in your evaluations and lessons so far, little fox," The man says, voice distinctly amused as he begins to circle around Jeongin's body. Like a predator circling prey, toying with him.

Jeongin clenches his jaw. Runs his tongue over his fangs.

"Thank you, sir." He bites out, voice perfectly even and soft and submissive. Omegan.

"Of course, little one. You deserve the praise. Now, though, it's time to put those lessons to the test, don't you think?"

The man steps forward, holding out a hand. The gesture is kind, inviting, and Jeongin doesn't hesitate to take it.

Something buzzes in the back of his head, a feeling he's begun to recognize as panic under the drug, and it's unpleasant but easy to ignore.

"I will do whatever is asked of me, so long as it pleases you." The words are recited verbatim from the many training sessions, virtually muscle memory now. There isn't any emotion behind it, blank and rehearsed, but it seems to please the man.

Jeongin doesn't know his name. He's about so submit to this man, and he doesn't know his name.

"Good pet. Go sit down on the bed."

Jeongin takes a step, then... Stops. It feels like hitting a wall, brain fighting against his body, urging him to both move and stay still.

"I-" He tries, but his mouth seals shut, and he trails off into a faltering breath.

The buzzing gets louder, like a swarm of bees inside his head, screaming that he should run, that he should rip up the bed until all that's left is sawdust and thread, but he doesn't move.

He stands, frozen, until the man slips a hand into his hair.

Jeongin jolts, but he doesn't fully react until he grabs one of Jeongin's ears.

The snarl that snaps out of his mouth is unlike any sound he's made since he got here; violent, enraged, promising bloodshed.

He remembers bloody fangs, the feeling of sinking teeth into flesh, and he drags the hand on his head down until he can sink his teeth into the man's wrist.

He screams, and the sound makes a vicious cackle build in Jeongin's throat. He bites again, into the soft fleshy part of his thumb, and then again further down the wrist. The man is trying to throw him off, screaming bloody murder, and Jeongin hopes it will be.

Mingi said to terrify them before they kill him, and Jeongin is sure that if he gets on that bed he'll die. and he will not go like these people think an omega should.

It isn't the man who finally gets him to stop digging his teeth in, though.

It's a needle in his arm, pushed there by the same nurse he met that first day.

He stares at her, her eyes, full of panic and rage and fear, and he bares his teeth.

:—:—:—:—:—:—:—:—:

Jeongin wakes up in a white room.

This, in and of itself, isn't unusual. His room is white all over, though he can usually hear Mingi or Yeosang breathing around him.

Here, there is nothing. Not the slight bustle of people outside the door, not the buzzing sound of fluorescent lights, nothing.

Just Jeongin and his own breath.

For a moment, it's almost peaceful. There's no one to hurt him here. No one who can touch his ears, or call him a good pet, no one to look at him like he's a monster when he opens his mouth.

It is peaceful, and then it is violent.

He's been given another dose of Fantasia, he's sure of it, but suddenly it's a lot easier for his emotions to shove past the barrier it puts on his mind.

Violent rage is palpable enough even half-felt, Jeongin realizes, as he shreds the mattress and thin sheet in the corner into dust.

It doesn't even take him long. He bites the white mattress and sees that his fangs leave a red imprint, and that red blocks out his vision for who knows how long.

When he comes back into himself, he cackles again. It's a wretched sound, promising violence and revenge, and the room is probably soundproofed but he hopes someone can hear him. He hopes that man hears him, hopes the image of his bloodied fangs and wild eyes haunts him until he forgets how to think of anything else.

Maybe he'll try to take Fantasia to fix it.

The idea makes Jeongin's skin burn with a sick satisfaction, and he starts to run around the room, full of pent-up energy and violence. He wants to scream, to put as much distance between himself and this hellscape of a building, but instead he paces and laughs and snarls, digging his claws into the floor.

Mingi told him to avoid this, that the only place he’s ever wanted to die was in here.

Jeongin doesn't agree. He doesn't want to die.

He wants to kill.

:—:—:—:—:—:—:—:—:

His body gives out on him before his mind does. He collapses into the heap that used to be his mattress and seethes while his body aches with tension, exhausted past its limits.

It's then, when he's quieted only due to the ache in his throat, that a small window opens at the bottom of one of the walls.

Jeongin dashes for it, swiping, hoping he hits flesh, but it snaps shut in mere seconds.

Between that time, a tray of food has been pushed into the room.

Its a bowl of rice with some type of meat on it, smothered in sauce and smelling heavenly.

There's a bottle of water too, and Jeongin snatches that even as he eyes the food suspiciously.

It's most definitely drugged. The water shouldn't be, Yeosang said Fantasia was too thick in liquid form and turned the water red when dissolved, so they kept it only in the food.

Jeongin swallows down the entire bottle, then crushes it for something to do with his hands.

The food is hot and looks delicious, and Jeongin is so hungry.

But he won't eat their food. He won't willingly go back to numbness, to obedience. If they want him to go back under, they'll have to come in here and face him head on.

He turns the bowl over on the tray so he doesn't have to look at the food anymore, and shoves it into a corner. It's still tantalizing, drawing his attention every few minutes, but he busies himself with looking for the sliding panel the food came from.

There isn't a seam on this side of the wall, but if he could push hard enough someone might notice him, might investigate, if only to tell him to stop.

And then he'll maul them. Force them to give him food without drugs in it, force them to let him and Mingi and Yeosang and all the other omegas go.

He's forced to rest his body again a few hours later, fingers rubbed raw from pressing against the wall and scratching. He sits on the floor, legs drawn up to his chin, hands pressed against his eyes.

The lights are so bright. He's not built for them, he's been here for months and the florescent white lights are everywhere, even if he can't hear them in here.

The Fantasia made it so he couldn't feel the way his head pounded, but now it's here in full force, a total migraine that makes him want to scream. He would, if his throat was strong enough to make it sound like more than a whine.

He considers eating the food for a moment, just for a reprieve, but sleep comes for him before he can work up the nerve.

:—:—:—:—:—:—:—:—:

"Get up!"

Jeongin jolts awake, head burning as a nurse pulls on his arm. She's glaring at him, and he's too disoriented to even swipe at her. She's not holding a syringe or any kind of weapon, which is even weirder. What is she doing?

"Come on, we need to get you looking presentable." She snaps, dragging Jeongin out of the room. He stumbles behind her, deciding to listen until she tells him what's going on.

She pushes him into a room, and Jeongin nearly sobs at the sight of windows. It looks like the early morning, and he wants to go get a closer look but the nurse doesn't release him.

"Put these on. Now." She pushes a pile of clothes into his hands— undergarments, jeans, and a plain t-shirt.

He's not going to complain about getting to leave behind the paper-thin outfit, and he's so far beyond shame that he doesn't even care about the woman watching him as he strips and gets dressed.

"What is this for?" He asks, cursing how wrecked his throat still sounds.

She grabs a wet rag and scrubs at his hands, cleaning the blood off of them and ignoring the way he flinches. Jeongin's about to repeat the question when she steps back, giving him a once-over.

"This should work." She mutters, and turns to leave the room with his discarded clothes.

"Wait!" He croaks after her, "Where are you going?"

"To get your new alpha.”

Chapter Text

Jeongin considers ripping the room to shreds as he waits, but the nurse opens the door again before he can manage it.

He stands up straight as the door opens wider, revealing the nurse with a distinctly uncomfortable look on her face, and a man with dark brown hair and worried eyes.

He's looking at Jeongin, eyes trailing over him, but it doesn't feel violating like everyone else here. His gaze feels appraising, like he's cataloging things about Jeongin's appearance.

It's... Something.

"Yang Jeongin, this is your new alpha, Bang Chan!"

The nurse is obviously trying to sound cheery, excited for them, but her shoulders are tense and she keeps glancing back at Chan like he's a buzzing wasp nest.

This woman who stared him down as he snarled and bit at her hands, is trembling just at the presence of this alpha. Who was he about to go home with?

"It's nice to meet you, Jeongin." Chan says, but his voice sounds distracted.

"Could you give us a moment alone, please?" He tells the nurse, a saccharine sweet smile on his lips. It's beautiful, charming, but fake, and Jeongin furrows his eyebrows.

The nurse looks between them, unsure, but Chan steps in front of Jeongin and places a hand on the nurse's shoulder. It looks like too tight of a grip to be friendly, but his voice is light when he says, "We'll only be a moment. I just want to get to know him a little more."

Jeongin immediately tenses, backing up towards the window. It doesn't look reinforced, he could probably grab something and break it if this man tried anything. He's a lot bigger than Jeongin, but he doesn't have claws.

The nurse still seems hesitant but she nods and steps out of the room, giving Jeongin a hard look.

The moment the door is shut Chan turns to him, taking a few steps forward. "How many omegas are in this facility?" He asks, urgent, taking out his phone and typing something out.

"What?" Jeongin blinks at him, but Chan just shakes his head. "It's okay if you don't know, but I need you to tell me if you can. I'm going to get you all out of here."

"Out?" Jeongin repeats. He's... Trying to get them out?

Chan smiles, but this one is genuine, warm. "My name is Bang Chan, I work for a hybrid omega rights group. We're here to get you all out of here, and it would be really great if you helped me."

And... Well. It's not like Jeongin has anything to lose.

"I've seen 12 rooms, and they keep at least 2 people in every room, but some have three."

Chan nods, typing something else. "Thank you. I'll take you out of here, to a hospital, personally to keep them from thinking something's wrong. The moment you're out, my colleagues will get everyone else out and shut down the facility. Okay?"

Jeongin squints at him. "How do I know you're not just taking me and running? You can't leave everyone else in here. Some- some of them were born here, you have to get them out!"

Jeongin thinks about Mingi and Yeosang, about the empty look in their eyes when they talk about their pasts. It makes his heart twist in his chest to just think about it, and he'd stay here for years if it meant they got to leave.

"Jeongin, I swear to you, I will get every single omega out of this facility by the end of the day."

"I don't know you." Jeongin insists, "You pulled me out of solitary confinement and now- now you're some miracle? Where were you before, huh? This place has been like this for decades, why should I believe you're going to help now?"

Chan stares at him. He flickers between sympathy and anger, and the mixture makes Jeongin want to rip his hair out.

Then, Chan sends a message on his phone. Within seconds, there's shouting and banging going on outside, loud enough to make Jeongin's ears quiver back.

"What did you do?" He asks, glancing out the window to see ambulances and black cars surrounding the building.

"Those are my colleagues. We're getting you all out of here, Jeongin."

He blinks, gaze bouncing between the window and Chan. He seems genuine. Those are certainly real ambulances outside.

He looks at the window and bites his lip, curling his hands into fists. This couldn't be real. It can't be that easy. His gaze catches on two people walking out of the building, one in nondescript black clothes and the other in the white uniforms they had to wear. A long black speckled tail and round ears, silver blonde hair.

"Yeosang!" He shouts, clawing at the window. It doesn't open, but Yeosang still hears him. They lock eyes, and Yeosang smiles. It's soft, a little sad, but relieved.

The person in black guides him forward again and Yeosang waves, going willingly.

Jeongin steps back from the window.

"I'll go with you," He starts, voice trembling, "On one condition. You take me to the same hospital as Kang Yeosang and Song Mingi. I need to see them."

Chan blinks, but a wide smile breaks over his face. "I can do that. Come with me?"

He steps back towards the door, pulling it open. Jeongin walks to his side, staring out at the once-empty halls bustling with movement, with shouted commands and softer words, people moving with urgency and care. He sees omegas pass the door, helped down the halls or guided outside.

He doesn't recognize anyone, which means Mingi is probably already out, too. Jeongin wants to see him, wants to know how he feels about all of this. He wants to hear his voice, always so sure of himself, wants to see his fanged grin, always ready to protect him. He wants to see that smile when he doesn't need to be protected.

He steps outside. Chan places a hand on the spot between his shoulder blades, barely there, just to guide him down the halls and through the crowds.

"Did you have any belongings here you'd like me to get?" Chan asks, once they're outside. There's a circle of spectators around the building, some people with cameras trying to push through the crowds.

Jeongin shakes his head and tries to ignore the cameras, and Chan slips his arm around his shoulders. He almost protests, but then he realizes that Chan is putting himself in front of the cameras. From where they are, they'd only see Chan holding someone, they wouldn't see him.

Jeongin relaxes a little as Chan takes him to a car. It's nice, ordinary, just black and sleek.

"You said you wanted to go with two other omegas, right? I'll go find them for you." Jeongin blinks at him, but Chan just guides him into the car and shuts the door.

Jeongin watches, mystified, as the crowds part for Chan. He barks out orders, voice firm but kind. And they listen. People smile at him and obey, moving or searching for something, and within a few minutes, Yeosang and Mingi are following behind Chan.

Jeongin moves down so they have room to get in the car, and Mingi gives him that fanged smile he loves so much as he slides in.

Yeosang is smiling, but his face is mostly still impassive. A sniff of the air proves that they're both still drugged, and Jeongin wilts a bit. He'd hoped that it was before they were fed, so they could talk without the drug's influence on them.

"You okay?" Mingi asks, eyes trained on Chan's back as he gets into the driver's seat.

Jeongin doesn't answer. There's nothing he can say that encapsulates his feelings right now, anger and hope, relief that they're all okay, fear that this is just another trap.

Instead, he presses his face into Mingi's shoulder and reaches for Yeosang's hand. Mingi wraps an arm around his back, trembling, and Yeosang presses Jeongin's hand to his cheek, gripping it like a lifeline.

They sit like that for the entire car ride, and it takes a lot of coaxing by Chan to get them to let go of eachother.

Yeosang still holds both of their hands as they walk into the hospital, grip tight and desperate even as his face remains impassive.

Jeongin's pretty sure that Mingi is still drugged too, but he seems a lot more... reactive than he normally is. He snaps at Chan any time he gets close to them, and he even snaps at Jeongin when he drifted too far behind him.

Chan eventually gets them to settle in an empty corner of the waiting room, standing in front of them and watching some of the other omegas file in.

Jeongin counts twelve omegas in total— birds, tigers, insects, even other foxes.

Mingi keeps a close eye on all of them, but Yeosang is far more interested in clinging to his arm and Jeongin is busy trying to figure out what Chan's deal is.

He speaks to every person that comes in, but his smiles get thinner and thinner as the minutes pass by.

Jeongin can smell the stress building on him, wood burning to ash, and he braces himself for an outburst.

But... It doesn't come. They sit there, and Chan stews in his stress, but he still smiles at everyone who catches his eye, however tight it is. He still glances at the three of them, even when Mingi growls, to make sure they're alright.

"Bang Chan?" A nurse calls, stepping towards them. She seems to know Chan, and they smile at eachother before Chan urges them to stand and follow her.

He tries to walk behind all of them, but Mingi snarls at him until he walks in front. It's interesting that Chan is listening to Mingi. At first Jeongin thought it was fear, but Chan usually just hums out an "Alright, alright," before doing what he wants. He doesn't seem afraid of any of them, and it's weird. Mingi was always able to scare the nurses and handlers in the facility, and Jeongin can tell it's getting under Mingi's skin as well.

The nurse leads them to separate rooms, and they're all too exhausted to argue. Chan promises that their rooms will be close, and follows Jeongin into the farthest one.

It feels too much like the rooms at the facility, sterile and white, but at least it doesn't smell like Fantasia.

"You can have a seat on the table there and I'll take your vitals, alright?"

The nurse smiles at him, warm, and it's so different from the emotionless or cruel nurses from before that Jeongin relaxes, just a little.

He sits down, and the nurse takes him through a few basic checks; his weight, height, and a small blood sample. Once she's finished she shoos Chan out of the room to get food and water.

When they're alone, she gives Jeongin a wry smile. "Clingy alphas, hm? I take it you're his newest packmate?"

Jeongin blinks at her, uncomprehending, and then flushes bright red. "No! He isnt- I mean- yes? I just... He just adopted me, I think. So... Yes?"

The nurse hums, nodding, like she's carefully revising the information in her head.

"I see. I knew you were one of the rescue cases, but he didn't come in with any of the others. I figured you were special."

Jeongin shrugs, trying to figure out why his face is burning. "Not special. I was just... I was probably just the first person he saw, he only did it so he could get into the facility."

The nurse hums again, but this time she sounds like she's humuring him rather than actually understanding.

"I see. Well, if it is a real offer, I suggest you take it. If you want to, of course." She nods towards the door, "Bang Chan is a good pack leader, and he understands hybrids a lot more than your average alpha. If you don't join his pack, at least stay in touch. He's a great person to have on your side."

Jeongin bites his lip, staring down at his hands. What exactly is he supposed to say to that? Chan is... Fine. He's not an abusive asshole, at least, but Jeongin knows enough about alphas to not even trust that very much. Chan could be an entirely different person with his pack, or when he's upset. Jeongin doesn't know anything about him.

But. He can't lie and say that joining a pack wouldn't be lovely. The idea makes his chest ache with longing, and he wants.

All those years of being picked over like bruised strawberries, or chosen and immediately spat back out has made him jaded to the idea, yes, but hes only human. Of course he wants a pack. He wants people who love him, people like Mingi and Yeosang who just understand, who know him so well he doesnt have to beg for what he wants.

He wants to believe that Chan is good, that he's capable and understanding and kind. He wants to believe that Chan could want him, that he could find a place to be that isn't painful, isn't scary. He wants to find a place that doesn't look at him with fear.

Chan isn't scared of him. He's not scared of Mingi or Yeosang, either. They could all rip his throat out in a few seconds with the right motivation, but he smiles fondly at Mingi, he followed Jeongin into this hospital room, he's out getting them food and water now.

He cares, at least in public. Jeongin thinks he could handle that. If he's different in private, it can't be that much worse, right? It definitely can't be worse than the facility, and Jeongin doesn't want to go back to another shelter. He doesn't even know if they'll take him back, after what he did. He doesn't know if Chan will want him, once he finds out.

Does Chan even want him now?

"I'll... Think about it." He says, just as Chan comes back into the room. He's holding a water bottle and a bowl of what looks like bibimbap, and Jeongin's ears perk up. It smells delicious, and Jeongin remembers that he hasn't eaten in at least a day. He snatches it from Chan's grip without thinking, ripping open the plastic cutlery and digging in to the rice without even mixing it properly.

It's mild hospital food, not particularly flavored or high quality, but it feels like ambrosia on Jeongin's tongue. The first food he's had in months that wasn't intended to make him docile. Jeongin has to blink back tears as he swallows.

He chitters around a mouthful, and he's so pleased he can't even be embarrassed about it. He calms down after a few bites, mixing the rest of the meal and drinking half of the water Chan gives him.

"I'm going to go check on some of the others, alright? I'll give you two a moment alone."

The nurse leaves with a smile, and Jeongin almost wants to ask her to stay. She's sweet, kind, and an easy grounding point when he gets too caught up in how familiar the room is.

But now he's alone, with Chan, and he tries not to think about it.

"I'm glad you like the food," Chan comments, leaning against the far wall. There's a good amount of distance between them, and Chan isn't crowding the door. Jeongin could leave if he wants, and it's that thought that makes him feel relaxed enough to respond. "I haven't eaten in a few days." He says, around a mouthful of rice. It's so good that he can't bring himself to care how rude he's being.

Chan's eyebrows furrow, "You haven't eaten? Why not?"

Jeongin snorts, "They were drugging it. I figured, if they were going to put me under they'd have to be brave enough to inject me themselves." He smiles, just a little, at the memory of the fear in that nurse's eyes. When she realized that he is a predator, that he could be violent if he wanted to be. That it was only a tiny vial of poison saving her life that day.

"You won't have to worry about that anymore." Chan promises, voice firm, and Jeongin just nods.

"What's gonna happen to us? The omegas, I mean."

He has to know. If Chan says he's going to another shelter, he's going to bolt out of that door right now. His hands shake as he pulls another spoonful of rice and meat to his lips, as he watches Chan's jaw work.

"It's mostly up to you. We have rehabilitation shelters set up for hybrid omegas, where they can live lives safely outside of packs or form ones together. That's where most of you will go, it'll give you the most freedom. Of course, some of you may choose to join packs or go off on your own, and if anyone chooses that they'll be given the resources necessary to do so."

Jeongin stares at him.

"I'm going to ask everyone we got out of there what they'd like to do, once they're back in stable conditions." Chan continues, an odd look in his eye.

"You adopted me, though." Jeongin points out, because this man has to be stupid. He must have signed papers to get anywhere near him in that facility, they couldn't just ignore them. The others would be given "freedom", and Jeongin would be stuck with this stranger. He wishes he was surprised, but he just scoffs.

"Jeongin, that adoption means nothing as of now." Chan is moving closer now, gripping the end of the bed. "If you choose to go somewhere else, no one will stop you. You were an invaluable help for me to pull this entire thing off, the very last thing I want to do is trap you as they have."

Jeongin can't help but laugh. "That's nice of you to say, but you wouldn't be hovering around me so much if that was it. You want something from me."

Jeongin takes another bite of food and leans back against the bed. Whatever it is, Jeongin would probably agree. He just wants Chan to stop lying about it.

"You're right, I do. But I'm not going to make you do anything."

Chan seems very steady on that point, and Jeongin is already exhausted of it.

"What? What do you want?"

Chan moves to sit at the end of his bed, and Jeongin almost snarls, but his eyes are warm and earnest. Kind. Chan is kind, and he smells like the forests Jeongin used to play in as a child, and he is going to listen.

"My pack has been discussing adding another member. Another omega. And, I have to admit, when I saw your profile I thought about it."

Jeongin snaps his spoon in half.

Chan jumps, and takes the ruined utensil out of his hand. He's almost done, anyway, but he still pulls the fork out to eat the last few bits of rice.

"You picked me?" Jeongin asks, incredulous. He figured Chan chose a random profile, figured that Chan had the same chance of picking anyone else, but...

Chan picked him. He looked through his profile, his history, the incident report he knows is there.

But he's still here, eyes still warm with a gentle offer, and Jeongin wants so badly it takes his breath away.

It couldn't be bad, could it? He'd at least be fed, and he'd have a house, and maybe a yard. He thinks he'll put up with anything at this point, just to go outside.

"I did. We can talk more about it once you're fully recovered, yeah? I want to make sure you're perfectly healthy, and that the drug is out of your system."

Jeongin scowls, despite himself. He wants to talk about it now. He wants Chan to take him now, to a home with windows and a backyard.

"But I can—"

"No. We aren't having this discussion right now."

And Jeongin glares, but Chan's voice has gotten sharper, and Jeongin doesn't want to upset him.

"Can I go see Mingi and Yeosang?" He asks, looking at the door. He wants to hold them or ask what they're going to do, just feel safe in their presence, know that this is real.

"You can see Mingi. Yeosang is..."
He trails off, a pained, sad look in his eyes. He shakes it off quickly, but that expression sticks in Jeongin's mind.

"Do you know how long they've been on Fantasia?"

Jeongin flinches, holding back a snarl at the memory. "Mingi's been on it his entire life, I think. He was born in the facility. Yeosang came when he was a child, so most of his life."

He wants to break something, so he reaches for the fork and snaps that in half, too.

"Jesus," Chan breathes, and his scent pitches up into something dark, violent. It mirrors Jeongin's own scent right now, and he leans forward to catch more of it.

Could Chan be just as violent as him? Is that why he picked Jeongin?

There is murder in his eyes, and Jeongin almost grins.

But the look is shuttered almost as quickly as it came, and Chan falls back into practiced calm.

Jeongin deflates and Chan gives him an odd look, but doesn't press it. "I swear, everyone responsible in that facility will be dealt with, and we're fairly certain Fantasia isn't being produced anywhere else nearby."

Jeongin nods, pulling himself off of the bed. "Is Yeosang alright?"

Chan hesitates, but eventually jerks his chin in a nod. "He's being treated. The doctors think it's a withdrawal from the drug, and mixed with the stress... They had to sedate him."

The idea makes Jeongin shudder, hands twitching with the need to see him, to hold him, but Chan had a point. Yeosang was rarely violent, but Jeongin knew enough about panicked feral omegas to let it be, at least for now.

"Tell me when I can see him?"

Chan smiles at him, hovering a hand over the small of his back and guiding him to Mingi's room.

"Of course. I'm sure the nurses will let you stay with Mingi for a bit, but just find me if anyone gives you trouble, yeah?"

It's cute, really, that Chan thinks Jeongin can't handle "trouble," especially any that a nurse would give him, but he nods anyway.

Chan steps away from him once they reach Mingi's door, smile slipping from his face in favor of a worried expression. He keeps looking at Jeongin's hands, and he'd almost forgotten how mangled they looked in the chaos of everything.

He hides them behind his back and looks at the floor instead of at Chan.

"The nurse looked at your hands, didn't she?" He asks, even though Chan was there when she pressed bandages over the worst cuts and spread salve over the bruises.

"Yeah. They don't really hurt."

Chan doesn't exactly seem convinced, but he lets it go.

"I'll be here if you need me, alright? Just ask one of the nurses."

They say their goodbyes and Jeongin slips into Mingi's room.

He's pacing, and doesn't even slow down when he sees Jeongin enter.

"Can I sit?" He asks, gesturing to the bed, and Mingi just growls at him in response. It isn't a no, so Jeongin hops onto the bed and tries to take Mingi in.

His hands are curled into claws, and Jeongin can see his jaw clenching, teeth grinding.

He's upset. Not mad, exactly, just afraid, and Jeongin only confirms it with a deep inhale of his scent, burnt cinnamon sticks, smouldering with anxiety and anger.

"Come here?" He offers, leaning forward. He starts to calm his own scent, but stops when he remembers that Mingi can't smell it, yet.

He spots an IV patch on his arm, keeping him on a sort of leash beside the bed. It must be driving him mad, and Jeongin slips off of the bed.

"Wouldn't touch me right now if I were you," Mingi warns, but Jeongin places a hand on his shoulder anyway. He freezes, muscles bunching with tension, and Jeongin tugs him back into the bed.

Mingi goes without much fuss, but he doesn't relax until Jeongin lets him go.

"You're really too confident for your own good." He growls, turning his body so he can watch the door.

"You won't hurt me." Jeongin isn't sure when exactly he became so sure of that fact, but he is.

"I could. I rarely ever mean to hurt anyone, I just do. I just snap."

Jeongin takes one of Mingis hands, gently working it out of its claw shape. "You won't hurt me." He repeats.

Mingi just snorts at him, but doesn't protest again.

"Have your senses come back yet?"

"Not really. I can sort of smell you now, but only if I focus."

"Then focus. Just on me."

Mingi blinks as Jeongin wraps a hand around the back of his neck, drawing him in for a hug. Mingi tucks his nose into Jeongin's throat, right against his scent gland, and it's like breaking a dam— Mingi melts.

It only takes him a few minutes to fall asleep, and Jeongin can't help but smile as he settles them down to lie on the bed.

Chapter Text

The next few days pass in a blur.

Jeongin and Mingi are allowed to see Yeosang on the second day, and he's... Anxious. Restless. Unpredictable. But he's okay.

Some days he sits in Mingi's lap while they talk, some days he prowls his room like a caged animal, snapping at anything that moves, and others he walks around like normal—at least as normal as he can be.

But either way he's safe and alive, and that's all Jeongin truly cares about.

Chan checks on him periodically, and every single day he seems to get more and more exhausted. His attitude stays the same, always calm and supportive and strong, but the bags under his eyes grow every time he enters Jeongin's room, now, and he avoids answering any questions he's asked about it.

All the nurses and doctors here seem to know Chan well, and they all notice his growing exhaustion as well. Some of them bring it up, but just like Jeongin they're brushed off. Those who don't say anything aloud still watch him with worried eyes, and some of the older staff even mutter under their breaths about it.

"That man wouldn't know rest if it smacked him. One day he's going to be the one in a hospital bed."

"When he does, can we get everyone to pitch in for an "I told you so" card?"

"It's the hybrids, I think. He's always felt responsible for them, and getting new homes set up can't be easy."

"The hybrids are under constant care, and last I checked he slept in one of the waiting room chairs in the middle of a phone call. He's not even going home to his pack!"

Jeongin knows he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but if Chan was going to be his pack leader then he has a right to know what he's going through, right?

So he listens. To the doctors, the nurses, the secretaries... And to Chan.

Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to realize that Jeongin, along with all the other hybrids here who've recovered enough for it, can hear his conversations from anywhere in the hospital if they want to look.

Mingi looks. He has plenty of thoughts about Chan, how he must be insane for pulling something like this off, how he gets quieter when he's angry rather than louder, everything.

By the time the nurses are discussing letting them leave the hospital, Mingi and Jeongin could write a book on the intricacies of Chan's behavior under stress.

Jeongin tucks the information away like hidden weapons, priming himself to deal with this stressed version of Chan for the foreseeable future. Once Chan takes him, this worry won't subside. But, at least Chan is still kind to him, even on the days when he's tired enough to let the mask of strength slip.

Today is one of those days, where Chan looks for all the world like a man who has been through hell and made it out the other side.

But, beyond the bone deep exhaustion, theres determination in his eyes when he comes to sit beside Jeongin's bed. Yeosang and Mingi are in various stages of relaxation on his bed, Mingi dozing slightly beside Jeongin, his head resting in the crook of his neck, and Yeosang curled over their laps. Its a wonder in itself that the pair of them don't jerk up when he enters the room, but Chan's presence has become an inevitability. He doesnt smother them, but he comes in every day to just say hello, and they've all started to understand that he isn't going to hurt them, at least not in here.

Sleep has been scarce for Jeongin, but he much prefers sitting in the relative quiet of the hospital at night, listening to Chan's terse conversations with god knows who. The conversation he just finished wasnt nearly as intense, though, and Jeongin is still trying to make sense of the words he caught from it. Someone named Hongjoong is on his way here, but neither of them said why on their short call.

"Good evening, you three." Chans voice is soft and low, and Jeongin knows immediately that he has news. He's sitting calmly, not fidgeting or avoiding eye contact, so either he isnt nervous about the news or hes very good at hiding it.

"What is it?" Jeongin's never had time for pleasantries, especially when Chan is acting so calm. It feels like Chan wants him to take whatever he has to say calmly, which means that what he has to say could potentially make him not calm.

Chan smiles fondly at him, and Mingi pulls him tighter against his side. Its blatantly posessive behavior and Jeongin feels something within him preen, so intense he has to swallow back a purr. "Youre onto me, then." Rather than being annoyed that Jeongin listened in on his private conversation, Chan seems almost charmed. Jeongin narrows his eyes, and Chan gets the hint.

"The nurses have cleared the three of you to leave the hospital when youre ready, and I want to discuss your options for what comes after this."

This makes Mingi and Yeosang perk up, though they don't speak.

Jeongin's head swims, a fantasy of being taken to a house with a yard he can run around in overriding every other thought for one blissful heartbeat. He hasnt been outside in what feels like decades.

"Take us." Jeongin orders, tail and ears flicking with excitement or glee or pure restlessness, he doesnt care. He just wants out of this fucking hospital, wants to go outside.

But Chan holds up a hand, soothing Jeongin's excitement. He has the urge to snap at it, but Chan still looks fond, patient, so Jeongin refrains.

"Thats why I'm speaking to you all together. Jeongin, you know that I was considering taking you in after everything settled."

Jeongin furrows his brows, "Adopting me, you mean?"

Chan pauses and just looks at him for a moment, like he's choosing his words carefully. "Wherever any of you go," He starts, gaze intense and sharp, watching all three of them, "You are not property. You are not pets to be sent off to the highest bidder. And if anyone you encounter makes you feel otherwise, I will tear them apart myself."

Jeongin blinks, stunned, and Yeosang hides his face in Jeongin's lap, but Mingi purrs.

"Youre just as violent as we are." He says, voice low and delighted. His scent flares, something darkly pleased in it, and Chan's comes up to meet it. its the same dark smell Jeongin noticed when they first came here, the strong heavy bark of a thousand year old tree, a forest that has stood tall through wildfires.

Jeongin chirps deep in his throat and Yeosang melts a little, both of them just watching as Chan and Mingi grow some form of... Respect? Promise? Jeongin isn't sure, but he is sure that Mingi trusts Chan now, at least with his safety.

Their scents melt back into normalcy a moment later, and Jeongin has to fight to keep from leaning his nose into Chan's neck to chase it.

"Back to my point," Chan smiles, "You all have a choice in where you want to go after this, and I want to make sure you all understand your options."

Yeosang sits up, resting his head against Jeongin's chest, "You're not taking us?" He seems genuinely surprised, head tilted just a little, and Jeongin purrs gently at him.

"Not if you don't want me to. I'd like to let you guys meet some other people willing to add you to their packs, so you can choose the one you think you'll thrive best in. They're all very close friends of mine, and they've been heavily vetted to make sure that they have your best interests in mind, but whoever you choose, your decision isn't binding. You can change your mind if something doesn't work out."

Jeongin, against all his better judgement, bristles.

He'd have to go through this entire process before he got to have a yard. Lovely.

"Who's coming to meet us then?"

Chan stands, picking up a thick stack of folders from one of the desks.

"Today is Kim Hongjoong. He's my closest friend, and our packs are very close as well. These folders have information about him and his pack, and he'll be here to meet you in a little while— if you want to, that is."

He hands each of them a folder, and Jeongin doesn't waste any time opening his.

The first page is general details about the pack. Apparently they've been established for six years, lead by Kim Hongjoong. There's 6 members including him, 4 alphas and 2 omegas. The rest of the folder seems to be pages for each member, and Jeongin makes himself breathe before he moves on.

The first thing his eyes catch on is the picture.

Hongjoong is beautiful, with warm eyes and a charasmatic smile. His hair is short and bleached on one side, swept out of his face. He's wearing an expensive looking suit, deep burgundy browns and gold accents, and Jeongin finds himself wanting to reach out and feel the fabric himself.

The rest of the page lists his credentials, and theyre... Long. He apparently works as a fashion designer, and judging by how nice his clothes are, he gets a lot of money from it. It also lists multiple donations to something called the HPA, which makes Jeongin pause for so long Yeosang notices. Apparently he'd been reading Jeongin's folder the whole time, and Jeongin smiles apologetically before flipping the page.

Next is an omega named Seonghwa, and their photo is just as breathtaking. Long, slighly curled black hair and deep, inviting eyes. They look beautiful, in a long flowy skirt and blouse. The picture reminds Jeongin of the advertisements of "perfect omegas" his old shelter used to make him read, but while those made him feel disgusting, this one seems almost... safe. Seonghwa looks happy in the photo, happier than anyone Jeongins ever seen. Its... Interesting.

Seonghwa seems to be the newest addition to the pack, but they're listed as a "caretaker" rather than a head omega, and Jeongin looks up to Chan.

"Whats a caretaker?" He asks, and Chan hums, "Caretakers are hired members of packs, usually for really big or busy packs, or ones with members who need special care. They fill in the gaps of what the pack may not be capable of handling on their own. Theyre usually omegas, like Seonghwa, but betas are also very common."

Jeongin blinks, tilting his head so far that Mingi has to bat one of his ears away. He growls, but its half hearted. "So he's not actually a member of the pack?"

"Seonghwa is part of the pack. Some caretakers consider their jobs as just that, an occupation, but for Seongwha it's more of a lifestyle. She's just as much a part of the pack as I am a part of mine."

Jeongin nods, but his skin itches with the need to talk to Seonghwa himself, to see if he's somehow managed to fake being a perfect omega or if hes just lucky enough to be perfect. Both ideas make Jeongins jaw clench, so he turns the page.

They flip through Yunho's page, the head alpha of the pack with a photo intimidating enough to prove it, Jongho, a painfully handsome omega lawyer, and San, an alpha who works as an English teacher.

Theyre all gorgeous, but Jeongin just finds himself growing more upset the more he reads.

All of them are so... Perfect. The perfect alphas, the perfect omegas, the perfect pack, and Jeongin just... Can't imagine himself living among them. His skin crawls at the very idea. Being overshadowed or pitied like some sort of charity case among these strong, secure, and gorgeous people...

Yeosang turns the last page for him, far more interested than Jeongin, and he only looks to make it seem like hes trying. He is, he swears, but he can't.

Jeongin gives the page a cursory glance, and promptly does a double take, because the man in the picture has wings.

He's breathtaking. Short cropped black hair, sharp birdlike features, and wings. Ink black wings spread wide for the photo, catching the light and shimmering blue at the tips. Jeongin doesnt even read anything else on the page, his eyes stay locked on the image.

The wings cant be fake, they're too big, too detailed. And even the boy's hair looks like feathers, thick and clumped together but silky. His nails look sharp enough to cut through skin, just like Jeongin's, like Mingi's, like Yeosang's.

"He's feral." Jeongin breathes, and Mingi holds him tighter.

"Yes, Wooyoung's a hybrid omega as well. He was part of the first group of omegas I rescued 6 years ago, he started the pack with Hongjoong."

"He looks happy." Yeosang whispers, sounding awed, and Jeongin knows, deep down, what Yeosang will choose.

"Can we meet him?" Mingi asks, sounding... Nervous? Is Mingi nervous right now?

"I can ask if Hongjoong can bring him, but he models for Hongjoong's agency so there's a chance that he's—"

Chan's words are cut short by a nurse stepping into the room, a pleased smile on her face.

"Sorry to interrupt, but, there's two people here to see you, Mr. Bang."

Chan tilts his head, "Two?"

"Hongjoong and Wooyoung, sir. They're, ah, very... Excited."

Mingi scoffs, both amused and disbelieving, and Chan just sighs.

"That sounds about right. I'll get them."

He slips out of the room with the nurse, and Jeongin places his folder on the bed.

"Is it strange that I'm excited?" Yeosang asks, eyes trained on the door. "I've never met another feral omega who wasn't in the facility."

"It's not strange. I just hope he isn't mean." Jeongin mutters, eyes trained on the door. He can hear Chan talking outside, telling them about what happened. One of them makes a wounded, sympathetic noise when Chan mentions the drug, and Jeongin tenses.

There's no reason why Hongjoong and Wooyoung shouldnt know what happened to all of them, but jeongin cant help but worry that them knowing will make them reconsider. No matter what Jeongin does, its obvious that Mingi and Yeosang want to be with them, and Jeongin wants that for them.

No one leaves, though, and a few seconds later the door is opening again.

Chan steps inside, then the pair of them. Hongjoong is beautiful, even moreso than his picture. Hes wearing a soft looking sweater and clean, pressed slacks, his hair loose around his ears. Either the photos were taken recently or hes worked very hard at upkeeping his hair color, because the white side is still defined and bright.

But, truthfully, Jeongin doesnt linger for very long on Hongjoong.

Instead, he watches Wooyoung.

He had to tuck his wings in close to get through the door, and he spreads them wide once hes fully inside. Theyre breathtaking in person, shining in the flourescent lights like spilled ink. They flutter and tuck back behind him, and Jeongin finally takes in the man himself. Hes imposing just by the sheer volume of space he takes up,m but Jeongin is far from afraid. His hair is pushed back behind his ears, a few strands falling over his eyes, and hes smiling. Jeongin doesnt consider himself a gullible person, but he might do anything Wooyoung asked him to if he just smiles at him like that.

"Hello, you three." Hongjoong says, a warm smile on his face. Jeongin forces himself to focus on the matter at hand, rather than Wooyoung.

Hongjoong doesnt do anything like hold out a hand to shake-- instead he just stands carefully behind Chan and watches them, letting them make the first move.

Chan nods, urging them to act, and Jeongin loathes how much it helps.

Shaking his head, Jeongin meets Hongjoong's eyes.

"I'm Jeongin." Hongjoong smiles warmly, even though he definitely knew his name already.

"I'm Mingi, this is Yeosang." Mingi straightens up slightly, curling a hand around both of their waists. Yeosang waves, and Jeongin hesitantly does the same.

"I'm Hongjoong, as I'm sure you all know." He glances over to Chan, watching him with fond eyes. "Chan's never been able to resist trying to get his favorite hybrids into our pack."

Chan squalks, "Wh- I do not!"

Wooyoung steps fotward with a laugh, brushing one of his wings against Chan's shoulder. "C'mon boss, I'm right here. You can only lie about it for so long, I'll tell them eventually."

"Would it kill you to be quiet for once?" Chan growls, but his scent is still warm and pleasant. Wooyoung's scent is just as carefree, lush moss and a warm breeze, and Jeongin lets himself relax even further.

"Yes." Wooyoung replies, and then he brushes past Chan to lean his palms on the bed. His wings open slightly to help him balance, and Jeongin fights to keep from staring at them.

"This dork over here has spent the last few days raving about the three of you to us. "Oh, wooyoung, theyre so pretty!" and I just wanna hold them, and—"

Chan straight up tackles Wooyoung, dragging him onto the floor by the back of one of his wings. They roll on the floor for a moment, a heap of laughter and limbs and feathers, and Mingi lets out a startled, flustered laugh.

Hongjoong sighs, sending the three of them an apologetic look, and then he barks.

It's a deep, gutteral noise that makes Jeongin's ears perk up, and the matching flare of a dark scent— pure black coffee and ancient wood —make all of them freeze.

It's not aggressive, or angry, just... Dominant. Jeongin could get used to that, he thinks. Control, without anger.

Chan and Wooyoung stand, and though Chan looks a bit embarrassed, Wooyoung somehow looks more smug than before he went down.

He reaches behind himself to preen his feathers, but Hongjoong takes over within a few seconds. Wooyoung makes a soft chirping noise as he straightens out the feathers, fingers quick and practiced.

Chan clears his throat, "Sorry about that." He smiles, and Jeongin notices a light in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"It's fine," Yeosang says, offering Chan a wobbly smile before returning his focus to Wooyoung's wings. He hasn't been subtle at all about staring at them, and Wooyoung finally meets his eyes once Hongjoong steps back from his wings.

"You like them, Yeosangie?" Grinning, Wooyoung steps to the side and stretches out one of his wings to it's full length. Just the one is the same length as he is tall, if not taller, and Jeongin wants, desperately, to touch them.

Jeongin feels Yeosang's hands twitch and bites back a laugh.

"Uh- yes! They're beautiful."

"Thank you!" He grins for a moment, then sobers slightly. "I love all of your ears and tails, too. They're gorgeous, and very well kept."

Yeosang purrs. Mingi chuffs, and even Jeongin can't hold back a pleased little yip.

If anyone who wasn't feral, who didn't understand, said something like that, Jeongin probably would have clawed their eyes out. But it's Wooyoung. He's smiling, soft and warm and knowing. He knows what they've been through in the facility, and something about that makes Jeongin feel so warm inside that he can feel his tail begin to thump against the bed.

"Thank you, Wooyoung." Jeongin whispers, and he can't even bring himself to be annoyed at himself for the way his voice wobbles.

"Of course, Jeongin. Of course."

He blinks, and Jeongin notices that Wooyoung's hand is in front of his face. The other one is occupied in Yeosang's hair, scratching gently.

Jeongin...

Huh.

For years, decades even, being pet was... Entirely off limits by anyone. Even Yeosang and Mingi didn't do it, the most they'd ever try is nuzzling into him, and even that wasn't received well every time.

But... Wooyoung is offering his hand. It's just there, open and welcoming. Jeongin could only hold his hand and Wooyoung would be just as happy as if he let him pet his ears.

So... Jeongin ducks forward, trying to keep his ears from pinning back, and positions his head underneath Wooyoung's hand.

He starts slowly, gently. Just gentle pets, a stark contrast to the way he's scratching at Yeosang's hair. He doesn't even touch Jeongin's ears, not until he tilts his head to force him.

It's... fuck, it's nice.

He sighs, shoulders relaxing, and he leans into the touch. There's no pulling. No one's dragging him anywhere, or pulling his hair, or calling him a pet. Wooyoung is just... There. Gentle. Kind.

At first he doesn't move unless Jeongin does, but after a bit he starts to shift slightly, moving between petting his ears and his hair.

Mingi laughs, soft and fond, and Jeongin looks up to meet his eyes. He's looking at Yeosang, who would definitely be in Wooyoung's lap right about now if he could. His head is pressed entirely against his chest, and he's purring so loudly Jeongin wonders how he didn't notice.

Christ, does being pet like this really dull his senses that much?

In an instant, Jeongin is jerking his head back and away from Wooyoung, breath catching and jagged.

Chan is there, then, kneeling on the bed and filling his eyesight.

"S-sorry." Jeongin whispers, trying to will his body not to shake and failing.

"Don't be." Wooyoung smiles at him, completely unruffled. "Did I touch you in a way you didn't like? You're entitled to that, of course, I'd just like to know."

It's so— welcoming. Wooyoung is so sensible, it's exactly what Jeongin wants to hear and the idea that Wooyoung can see what he wants makes Jeongin want to run.

He focuses his gaze on Chan's chest, the soft red shirt he's wearing. It's the same one he had on when he rescued them— Jeongin can smell his own scent still on it, under a layer of artificial clean.

"You didn't. Just... Sorry."

Jeongin can hear the sad smile in Wooyoung's words when he says, "That's alright, Jeongin. Take all the time you need. I think Chan would be up for a hug, if you are?"

Jeongin blinks, snapping his gaze up to Wooyoung. His smile is gentle, unassuming, but there's something in his eyes. Something knowing, as of his words held a deeper meaning that Jeongin couldn't parse.

But Wooyoung doesn't look like he's going to elaborate. Instead, he offers his hand to Mingi, who bats it away with a lighthearted growl. Taking the rejection with grace, Wooyoung just places his hand on Yeosang's other ear, somehow making him purr even louder. Mingi does settle a bit closer, tucking himself underneath one of Wooyoung's wings.

Jeongin huffs out a laugh, then looks back at Chan.

Chan, and his fresh, forest scent. Chan, with his strong arms and calm voice and his potential for violence that matches Jeongin's own.

There's embers of it in his eyes now, underneath the sorrow and fondness.

Jeongin crawls forward, head bowed, until his face fits perfectly in the spot between Chan's chin and shoulder.

Here, at the source of his scent, Jeongin can do nothing but breathe in the deep, complex scent that is Chan. There's wood, earthy and mild, but there's also something metallic underneath, like river rocks in a grotto, or amber growing deep in a cave.

For just a moment, if Jeongin sits very still, he can pretend it's real. That he's sitting in a forest, or a yard, climbing trees and kicking up dirt and moss.

Chan's arms wrap around his back, hesitant but steady, and Jeongin lets himself breathe.

They sit like that for a while longer, Yeosang soaking up pets from both Hongjoong and Wooyoung, and Mingi supervising all of them with sharp but warm eyes.

Eventually, Hongjoong checks his phone and taps Chan's shoulder. "We have a shoot with the boys in an hour." He says, apologetic, and Jeongin just relaxes back into Chan's arms.

"Ah, right. I'll call you, okay?" Hongjoong nods, and gives Jeongin a soft smile and wave before taking Wooyoung's hand and leading him out.

Yeosang seems a little put out, but he just crawls over to curl into Jeongin's lap instead.

Chan lets him go, and Jeongin almost growls— except he's looking at his phone and there's a sadness in his eyes that Jeongin hasn't seen before.

"Chan?"

He blinks, then smiles, but it falls just as fast.

"Sorry. Do you think you three would be alright here for the night?"

Jeongin tilts his head, "Why wouldn't we be?"

Chan flushes now, like a scolded child, and he keeps looking at the phone.

"Just... My pack needs me. I haven't been the most... Attentive, lately. I'll be back tomorrow, and we can sort out getting you where you'd like to be, okay?"

Jeongin opens his mouth to say something but Mingi beats him to it— "Go handle your pack, we'll be fine." He waves Chan off, almost dismissive, and both Chan and Jeongin blink at him, stunned.

Rather than get aggressive, though, Chan just grins. "Yeah, alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

He lingers for a moment, but eventually he does leave the room.

"What do you think?" Yeosang asks, opening his folder to Wooyoung's page. His fingers are tracing over it, over his wings, like he could feel the texture of them through the image.

"I... I don't know. They're all..." Jeongin doesn't know how to explain himself without sounding mean. He's sure they probably aren't perfect, but in comparison to Jeongin they may as well be.

And besides, rational thought isn't doing anything to sate the way his heart twists thinking about them.

Instead, Jeongin forces himself to think about Mingi and Yeosang joining their pack. Jeongin already knows that Yeosang is going to join, and Mingi won't leave him, wherever he goes.

They'd fit in, he thinks. Mingi's protective, he'd probably fit right in with Yunho. And Yeosang would love Seongwha, he's always liked the softer, sweeter types of people. He already seems to like Wooyoung, and a relationship that clicks this fast is sure to grow beautifully.

Jeongin can imagine it, going to visit them and witnessing how smoothly they fit into the pack. With Wooyoung they shouldn't have any issues due to being feral, and Hongjoong seems just as kind as Chan, if a bit quieter.

"I think you guys will like it there, in their pack."

Yeosang smiles, nuzzling into Jeongin's hip, but Mingi digs his claws into Jeongin's thigh.

"What do you mean?" He whispers, something almost afraid in his tone, and Jeongin squirms. "I just... I don't know. I think... I think I'm gonna go with Chan." Mingi makes a noise, half a growl and half a gasp, and Jeongin rushes to explain.

"I like them! Don't get me wrong, I think they're great, but I... I don't think I can do that. Not yet. I can't trust them not to get rid of me."

Mingi's grip loosens, but his voice is still rough when he asks, "Why not? We could all be together."

Something aches in Jeongin's chest, but he knows why.

"Chan picked me. He... He saw what I did, what all happened to me, and he... Wants me."

"Jeongin..." Yeosang whines, tail flicking with sympathy. He leans over to kiss his cheek, petting some hair away from his face.

"Damn it," Mingi growls, burying his face in Jeongin's hair. "I can't really argue with that without being an asshole, can I?"

Jeongin laughs, despite himself, and reaches out to pet one of Mingi's ears. "We'll still be in touch, you know. Chan said he and Hongjoong were close."

Mingi just growls, and Jeongin lets it drop. He sits there, quiet, letting both of his closest friends make peace with being apart for the first time in months.

And Jeongin, in his own head, swears that someday, somehow, he'll have the life with Mingi and Yeosang they all imagined in that facility.

Chapter Text

Chan doesn't come back to the hospital until early the next afternoon, with a pleased tone to his voice and thick scent blockers covering his neck.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that his pack mates probably missed him, but it's interesting that he chose to block the scents rather than wearing them proudly like most people do.

Maybe he's one of those extra possessive alphas, who forces their pack to wear blockers in public. Or is he just private? He did seem to be a known figure, if the occasional paparazzi that show up at the hospital for him are any indication, but Chan's never paid them any mind, at least not where Jeongin could see it.

It's childish, and wholly irresponsible, but Jeongin can't help but feel unsettled without Chan's scent near him. It's still in his room, faintly, but most of it has been washed away and drowned out by the hospital's cloying scent.

Deep in his chest, right where the pain of leaving Yeosang and Mingi at the shelter sits, is an almost overwhelming urge to find Chan and ask him to take the scent blockers off.

But requesting that would be just as insane as Chan being anywhere in his heart at all, so Jeongin stays put.

Besides, his main focus right now is getting Mingi and Yeosang ready to go.

Hongjoong came back early this morning to check on them for a few minutes between jobs, and Mingi explained their choices to him. Hongjoong, oddly enough, seemed disappointed that Jeongin wasn't coming, but he wished him luck anyway and promised to stay in touch.

Mingi and Yeosang would be leaving tonight, when Hongjoong was completely off work for the weekend, and Jeongin wasn't really expecting to feel so... Excited about it.

He's not excited to be away from Mingi and Yeosang, of course — just thinking about it for too long makes his chest tight— but Hongjoong seems like an amazing alpha. He's funny and sweet, and while Jeongin knows he's too broken to be near him for very long, Yeosang and Mingi already get along great with him.

They're sad, yes, but their smiles aren't forced while they talk about it.

"I wonder what their house is like?" Yeosang muses, running gentle claws through Jeongin's tail.

"Probably big," Mingi answers, "Six of them live there, and they're definitely rich with how Hongjoong dresses."

Jeongin hums, but doesn't comment. Instead, his eyes linger on the folder still sitting on the bedside desk.

Hongjoong brought it with him this morning on Chan's behalf, and Jeongin wanted to wait until Mingi and Yeosang left to look through it. He can hear Chan talking to the secretary, about getting his discharge papers in order, and the urge to grab it and absorb all of its information nearly eats him alive.

His scent must reflect the urge, because Mingi pushes his shoulder. "What are you waiting for? Go get it. You think we don't want to know who we're leaving you with?"

And Jeongin flushes, because he... Hadn't thought of that. He didn't want to remind them of the obvious, but if he hadn't met Wooyoung and Hongjoong, Jeongin would have a lot more objections to letting them go.

He crosses the room and picks up the folder, curling into Mingi's chest when he gets back to the bed. Yeosang moves to face him, drawing soothing shapes into his side.

"Jeongin, it's okay." Yeosang soothes, and Jeongin jumps, realizing that his breathing had picked up.

He takes a moment to match Mingi's breaths and opens the folder.

The first page is just like the other folders, an overview of the pack. It's been established for six years, just like Hongjoong's pack, lead by Bang Chan. Seven members: three alphas, a beta, and three omegas.

Mingi has to turn the page for him.

It's just Chan, and the familiar face helps Jeongin relax, somewhat.

The picture of him is beautiful— he's in a soft looking sweater with slightly tousled hair, a warm grin on his face. It's the same smile he's given all of them, and just as comforting.

Chan is twenty five, born in October, and pack leader.

The page lists credentials like the others, but Chan's list gives him pause.

Founder of the HPA, Hybrid Protection Association.

Hybrid what?

Jeongin pauses, running his fingers over the words like they could tell him any new information, but the bullet point stays exactly where it is. Its simple, nondescript and straight to the point, like Chan's height and age, and the not knowing makes Jeongin's skin itch.

He focuses on Chan again and finds him in a tense conversation with someone on the phone, and Jeongin can't hear the other side of the argument but Chan doesn't seem pleased.

He sighs and keeps reading.

Besides whatever the HPA is, Chan apparently works as a music producer with two other members as a group called 3Racha. Jeongin flicks an ear at the name, but they seem popular enough.

Jeongin flips the page before he loses his nerve, letting Mingi hold him tighter.

The next page is for Lee Minho, a man with almost catlike features and violet hair. His photo is casual, like Chan's, but instead of radiating warmth, Minho's smile looks confident and self satisfied. Jeongin might believe he was a cat hybrid himself if the lack of ears didn't immediately give it away.

Minho is head alpha, twenty four, and born in October like Chan.

Apparently he's getting a degree in pack dynamics, which is... Cool, actually. Jeongin knew, vaguely, that more expensive colleges had classes about pack dynamics and secondary genders, even some about feral omegas, but of course Jeongin's never been in one.

He wonders if he'll be able to take a class, sometime. Once he gets to Chan's pack he probably won't have much else to do, so maybe he could enroll with Minho?

The idea slots itself in the back of his mind, and he fights a smile off of his lips as he turns the page.

Next is Seo Changbin, and Jeongin falters at his title.

Changbin is listed as the head omega of the pack. It’s a title that Jeongin hasn't seen used since he was a child. He remembers his mother telling him about them, little cartoon diagrams drawn on the back pages of a book. According to her, pack dynamics always had a pack leader, and they'd organize most affairs in the pack and represent them whenever needed. Sometimes there was a separate head alpha, who focused more on the relationships between members, and, even rarer, head omegas. His mother said that their role in a pack was the most important, and the most delicate. Most packs have multiple omegas, and a head omega would work specifically with them to make sure they were taken care of and safe. If anything went wrong, head omegas would be the first to advocate for the most vulnerable members of the pack.

They fell out of the common structure because plenty of alphas didn't see the point, believing that they could take care of their omegas on their own.

Jeongin always thought the idea was interesting, but learning that their role was usually disregarded didn't shock him.

He's struck with the urge to ask Changbin what he does in the pack, but he tucks the questions away for now.

Mingi whistles behind him, and Jeongin focuses, quickly understanding why.

Changbin is... Built. The photo isn't particularly focused on his physique, but his arms are crossed in it and it would be hard not to notice the muscles there.

He's looking away from the camera, a stern but not unkind expression on his face. The whole image makes him seem unapproachable but kind, and Jeongin hopes they get along, even if they don't end up close.

He works with Chan in his production group, and as a personal trainer. That would explain his strength, then. Jeongin guides his thoughts away from being personally trained by Changbin and turns the page, but Yeosang definitely notices the heat in his scent because he laughs and leans in to nuzzle at his neck.

Next is Han Jisung, the last alpha of the pack. His photo brings a smile to Jeongin's face, a candid with Jisung crouching in front of a cat, eyes wide and shiny with awe as the cat nuzzles against his knee.

He's cute. Chest achingly so, and Jeongin can't help but purr, just a little. Mingi outright laughs at him, and Jeongin blushes but the purring doesn't stop.

Jisung's the third member of 3racha, and he's in college for music production, which makes sense.

"He's only a year older than you, isn't he?" Yeosang murmurs, a clawed finger pointing to the little number beside his name.

Jeongin hums— Jisung is 22, and he can't help but wonder how different their lives were in a relatively similar amount of time.

Yeosang flips the page, opening it to...

"Oh."

Kim Seungmin is gorgeous.

His photo looks like a photoshoot, despite its framing as a candid. He's in a blazer, buttoned low enough to show a deep 'v' of his chest.

His hair is brown, but the lighting makes it shimmer like gold. Jeongin swallows hard and looks away, trying to focus on the text and not Seungmin's eyes, bright and sweet.

Seungmin's in graduate school to be a lawyer, which isn't uncommon for a beta, but he seems to be good at it. A few cases are listed underneath and Jeongin obviously doesn't recognize any, but they all look important.

One, though, the last on the list, catches Jeongin's eye.

"Caldera vs. Jung Wooyoung"

He taps Mingi's arm, pointing at the words. "That's Wooyoung, right? The same one?"

Mingi stares at it for a moment, then nods. "Yeah. I mean, I'm sure he's not the only Jung Wooyoung, but it looks like it."

Jeongin's eyebrows furrow, but Chan is still on the phone so he cant ask. He doesn't seem as angry as before, but he doesn't sound pleased either.

It also doesn't sound like he'll be coming in here anytime soon, so Jeongin huffs a little and turns the page. He'll ask later.

Hwang Hyunjin, an omega with sharp, elven features. His photo is definitely from a photoshoot, but whoever took it is talented. He's in a field of lush green grass, dressed in loose white clothes and with his hair loose and long around his shoulders. He looks like some sort of nature fairy, absolutely beautiful.

He's pretty in the way the alphas at his old shelter liked, and the thought makes something sour curl in Jeongin's gut. He can't stop himself from thinking about it, if Hyunjin was hurt the same way so many omegas are before he entered the pack. He shouldn't ask, he knows it's rude, but the urge to know is still there.

He's a model and a dancer, and the file lists multiple competitions he's won, along with brands he's modeled for.

Jeongin's never been very interested in fashion, but Hyunjin is pretty. He'd read any amount of magazines to watch him in his element like this.

The last page is for Lee Felix, who nearly takes Jeongin's breath away. If Hyunjin is pretty, Felix is lovely. His photo looks just as professional as Hyunjin's, but while Hyunjin looked confident and aloof, Felix looks almost demure.

Soft looking brown hair and big soft eyes, and freckles. They're scattered across his cheeks like powdered sugar, and Jeongin wants to kiss them.

That thought gives him pause— and he pushes it down. He hasn't even met Felix and he's already being weird about him, what a great start.

Felix doesn't have much listed, but he apparently works as a florist. That definitely fit his looks, Felix looks like a fairy, something not of this world. A flower shop, where he's surrounded with vivid colors and lush greenery sounds like exactly where he belongs.

"They seem really nice!" Yeosang purrs, and he sounds genuine but Jeongin can smell the slightly cloying hint to his scent, perfume spilled over linens.

"I'm sorry I can't go with you two." Jeongin murmurs, for the thousandth time, and Mingi squeezes him tighter, biting his shoulder gently.

"You're not doing anything wrong," He says, also for the thousandth time. "You wouldn't be happy with Hongjoong, and that's your choice to make."

Jeongin cringes, even as the words make the knot in his chest loosen. "I'm still sorry. I don't want to leave you."

Yeosang drops the act and nuzzles into Jeongin's thigh, arms locking around his waist.

"Gonna miss you," He whispers, tail swishing sadly, and Mingi pulls them both close and purrs, licking the back of Jeongin's neck and playing with Yeosang's hair.

They sit still like that for a while, until one of the nurses knocks on the door.

Mingi calls for her to come in, and doesn't release either of them from the tight embrace, much to Jeongin's amusement. He may pretend to be the strongest one here, but he's just as clingy as they are.

It's the same nurse from the first day, and she smiles warmly at them all before she speaks.

"Hongjoong is here, and Chan would like to come in, if that's alright?"

Jeongin blinks— it's still afternoon, isn't it? Hongjoong said he'd be here later. The thought of losing more precious time with Mingi and Yeosang immediately puts Jeongin on the defensive, and the nurse raises a hand to calm him.

"Please, let them explain. I don't think you three have anything to worry about."

Mingi nods stiffly above him and Jeongin mirrors it, though Yeosang only whines against Jeongin's hip.

Chan enters first, smiling, but there's something tense in his eyes. Not upset, exactly, but wound tight.

Hongjoong is the picture of calm, though, his scent gentle and warm. Yeosang perks up a bit when he enters, but he doesn't pull away from Jeongin.

"How are you three doing?" Hongjoong says, approaching the bed with slow steps. He only gets close enough to place his hand on the footboard, and Chan moves to stand beside him.

He offers them a smile, like a peace offering, which is odd because Jeongin wasn't aware that they weren't already at peace.

"What's going on?" Mingi snaps, curling forward, and Jeongin makes himself smaller to let him cover them.

"Nothing bad, I promise," Chan starts, moving closer, but he returns to his spot when Mingi bares his teeth at him.

"Then explain." Jeongin snaps, eyes narrowed squarely at Chan.

"Hongjoong and I are thinking about merging our packs."

Mingi freezes.

Yeosang jumps.

And Jeongin stares.

Chan is looking back at him, smiling, and Hongjoong looks almost proud.

Jeongin bounces between thoughts, unsure which to start with, but what wins out is, "Is that what you were talking about earlier?"

Chan tilts his head, but Hongjoong nods. "Yeah, we were on the phone together about it for most of the morning. There's a lot of logistics to work out, but it's going well."

"So, we'd all be in the same pack?" Yeosang says, climbing up to look Hongjoong in the eyes. "You're serious?"

"Eventually, yes. I'd like to let you three get settled in the packs separately first for a couple of months, but we were considering it before this as well."

"Months?" Mingi says, voice bordering on a whine. Hongjoong reaches out a hand to placate him, scent growing warmer around them.

"Merging packs is a long process, Mingi. We'll have to work out finances, possibly do renovations or even purchase a new house, as well as work through any conflicts that come up between members. But don't worry, you three will be able to contact and see eachother whenever you'd like."

"Conflicts between us and the others, you mean?" Yeosang curls back against Jeongin's side, not quite hiding like he was earlier but hardly confident. His scent is still light, though, so Jeongin doesn't let himself worry too much. Its a fear Jeongin has as well- While its easy to listen to Chan's promises that they'll fit in well, its completely possible that some of them just... wont get along. Some of them might even hate him.

Hongjoong frowns a little at them, tilting his head like he's trying to work out a complex math problem. "No, not necessarily. The other members are friends, yes, but living in two separate packs and being in one large pack are very different environments."

Chan risks a step forward again and Mingi lets him, "Dynamics change a lot when packs merge, just like they do when members are added or removed. Thats just the nature of packs, and we have to account for it."

Hongjoong must notice their growing anxiety, because he offers them a soft smile. "Don't worry. If there are any issues between you three and the packs, we'll make sure they're resolved and that you're taken care of. That's why we have caretakers, and head omegas. Try not to stress too much about it, yeah? They're going to love you."

Jeongin snorts but doesn't argue, and Hongjoong doesn't push him on it.

"So that's why you're here early?"

Hongjoong rubs the back of his neck, "Actually, I'm here early because I got impatient."

Chan pushes his shoulder, "Feel free to say no, you're allowed your time to say goodbye to eachother. But we're ready to take you home when you are."

Jeongin almost hisses at him for putting the decision on him, but Mingi speaks before the anger can set in, "We should go now. If I keep sitting here I'm never going to let Jeongin go."

Now instead of anger Jeongin's scent sours with pain. He knows Mingi has a point, that the longer he stays in their arms the harder it'll be to leave, but he doesnt want to leave in the first place. Yeosang clings harder to him and Jeongin tucks his nose into his neck, breathing in freshly bloomed lilies and wishing he never had to leave.

Yeosang is crying when they pull away, and Jeongin isnt far from it himself. He shifts away, sniffling and red faced but with a bitter little smile on his face.

Mingi tugs Jeongin back against his chest and kisses his neck, then bites the spot where his throat meets his shoulder. Jeongin freezes, feeling the teasing pressure, not hard enough to break skin but not far off. its just hard enough to leave an imprint on his scent glands, just enough to let Mingi’s scent melt into Jeongins. He pulls back and Jeongin is left reeling, but he does catch Mingi leaning over to bite Yeosang in the same place.

"Wasn't gonna leave without finally getting to bond you." He grumbles as explanation, cheeks a little pink, lips flushed. Jeongin takes a deep breath, trying to find words, but there are tears catching on his eyelashes and he can feel his scent changing, just barely. Tiny hints of cinnamon and honey, mixing with fresh earth and burnt sugar. Its overwhelming and disorienting, and all he can bring himself to do is tuck his head back into Mingi's neck and mirror the action. Jeongin is expecting the bloom of whiskey and smoke, but it still makes him a little dizzy. Tasting his own scent beginning to mix with it is heady to say the least, and Jeongin could get drunk on it.

Jeongin's barely pulled away from Mingi's throat before Yeosang is latching onto his, and they bite eachother at the same time.

The completed bond makes something thrum happily deep in Jeongin's chest, like sunlight after snow, and he purrs so loudly his tail bristles.

Mingi tugs them both against him for a second, nuzzling into their ears, and then he pulls away.

They rise off of the bed together, hand in hand, Jeongin in the middle. Mingi and Yeosang walk him towards Chan like they're sending him off to die, but Jeongin cant really blame them. They're all walking into something new and terrifying, and all they can do is pray that it works out.

"Hurt him and I make your bones into fertilizer." Yeosang hisses, stepping back. Mingi doesnt say anything, just bares his teeth in warning, but it melts into a soft smile afterwards. Chan returns it, eyes serious but pleased, like their threats made him happy somehow.

He kisses Jeongin's cheek and moves to stand beside Hongjoong, pulling Yeosang with him. Jeongin follows them for a moment, but only so he can level Hongjoong with a glare. "I'm trusting you, and I don't do that. Ever. If you make me regret it I'll..." Jeongin trails off, rage and fear stealing his words for a moment. "I've killed alphas for less." Is what he settles on, and Hongjoong doesn't seem shocked. He just nods, sharing a quick look with Chan.

"Your trust isn't taken lightly. Thank you for giving it." Chan tells them, and then Hongjoong leads the way out of the room, then out of the hospital.

Jeongin steps out into the shining, golden sun and takes a deep breath, smelling lilies and smoke and bark and home, and something in his chest loosens..

Jeongin is safe. He is bonded, and loved, and absolutely nothing is going to take that away from him.

Chapter Text

The car Chan leads him out to is sleek and black, nondescript but obviously expensive. Jeongin also notes with no small amount of fear that the car has a driver, and they arent completely alone like he’d expected. Chan must sense his anxiety, because he smiles and slips into the car beside Jeongin, close enough for their shoulders to touch, scent warm and sweet.

"Dami is a friend of mine. Dont worry, shes not paying us much attention."

Jeongin still eyes her warily, but his chest loosens. The car starts and Jeongin turns around in his seat, watching Hongjoong's car pull away. He clings onto the sight of them until he can’t make them out anymore, and Jeongin was expecting the ache but that doesnt mean it hurts any less.

"Jeongin-ah, put your seatbelt on." Chan chides, but his eyes are soft when Jeongin meets them. He sits down and reaches for the strap, but its twisted oddly and he can’t get it to stretch enough around him and—

Chan reaches over him and slips the fabric out of his hands, gently pulling his claws out of it, and easily slots the belt into the buckle.

Jeongin is simultaneously grateful and humiliated, so he looks out the window instead of at what Chan's expression is. "Sorry. Not used to... cars."

Chan makes a sympathetic little noise and Jeongin hates it, but Chan isn’t even looking at him anymore. Instead, he’s digging around in a red bag, full to bursting with seemingly random objects.

Eventually, he emerges with a rectangular box and hands it to Jeongin, before going right back to the bag.

"What is this?"

Chan glances at him with a lopsided smile, nudging the box further into his hands. "Cell phone. Once you get it set up I’ll give you Yeosang and Mingi's numbers, as well as mine and Hongjoong's."

Jeongin blinks at the box, cheeks quickly heating as he turns it over in his hands. Its not a large box, but its still bigger than any cell phone Jeongin's ever used. Theres a photo of it on the front, and Jeongin cant even begin to understand what any of the buttons and icons are for. He’s had the same phone since he was 13, a small heavy thing that flipped open. He only ever used it to message a few other omegas at the shelter after they’d been adopted.

He has no fucking idea what to do with this.

"...Cha— Ah. Alpha?"

This gets Chan’s attention, and Jeongin doesnt miss the sweet, satisfied swell in his scent. "Yeah, omega?"

Jeongin flushes so hard and so fast his head pounds for a moment, and suddenly he can’t remember what he was going to ask.

Luckily, Chan seems to put it together all on his own.

"Ah. I don’t suppose they gave you all phones there, did they?"

Jeongin shakes his head, "Not like this. I had a flip phone, but they took it when I got to the facility."

Chan’s scent darkens and then abruptly backs off, and Jeongin is grateful that Chan wiped the scent blockers off when they left the building. It’s not that Chan is difficult to read, exactly, but Jeongin gets so much more information from his scent than any of the words he says.

"I'll help you, don’t worry. It’s really simple."

Jeongin somehow doubts that, but Chan has yet to lie to him, so he doesn’t push it.

"So... What’s going to happen once I get there?" Jeongin's mind conjures up the idea of a welcoming party and he shudders so hard Chan gives him a concerned look. "We'll probably have a late lunch and you’ll meet Changbin and Minho, I think Jisung will be there as well."

Jeongin tilts his head, noting the way Chan follows the movement of his ears with no small amount of annoyance, "Where are the others?"

Chan sits back, leaning his head up against the seat, and Jeongin very pointedly does not admire the faint teeth indentions he sees on the side of his throat. He does, however, stare openly at the splashes of red tattoo ink peeking out from the back of his shirt collar.

"Seungmin is still in class until tonight, and Hyunjin and Felix should be home too, but you’ll meet them a bit later."

Jeongin resists the urge to tilt his head again, fiddling with the box instead. "Why? Do they... do they not want to meet me?"

Genuinely, Jeongin has absoloutely no idea why the idea makes his heart plummet onto the street, but here they are. He hadnt realized how much stake he was actually putting into being liked in the pack. He doesnt want to care, he shouldnt care, but his chest aches with the idea of losing two members of the pack before he’s even reached the house.

"Of course they do!" Chan says, like the very idea of the alternative was a fantasy, "They want to meet you, omega. They’ve had a busy couple of weeks, so they just need some recharge time, thats all."

The words lift a physical weight off of Jeongin's chest, and he can’t contain his sigh of relief. "Right, okay. That’s good."

"You have nothing to worry about, Jeongin. They're all going to love you."

Jeongin looks at his hands, picking at his claws. Should he have filed them down? They're clean, but still sharpened to a point, dangerous looking. Pack omegas don’t have claws.

A small, nasty voice in Jeongin's head snaps that he isn’t a pack omega, that he doesnt belong here, but he sighs and does his best to ignore it.

The drive is long, and Chan only comments on the scenery after nearly an hour. "These woods are connected to our backyard," he says, sounding for all the world like a proud alpha. The dense forest around them diffuses the sunlight, making it feel like an alternate dimension, where sunlight is pale green and moss covers everything in sight. Jeongin can’t bring his eyes away from it, can’t stop himself from imagining the heady thrill of climbing to the top of a tree and sitting there for hours. He watches birds and squirrels jump from branch to branch and the longing in his chest threatens to eat him alive.

"Thankfully we dont get too many wild animals— they’re all smart enough to not approach humans— but sometimes in the spring the deer will bring their babies to eat the strawberries Minho grows."

He perks up at the mention of Minho, eager for a way to spark conversation with him if the time came. It was one of the lessons they taught him at the facility, but he figured this small thing wasn’t omega specific, at least not enough to make him avoid it. Besides, he loved strawberries. Fruit was a rare delicacy at the shelter, ripe ones even rarer, but every so often in the hotter months someone would come back with a carton of strawberries and Jeongin would gorge himself until his fingertips stained red.

"Minho gardens? That's nice."

Chan grimaces, but his eyes are fond. "He’s very intense about it. Steer clear of his planting areas when you go outside. He... Ah. It's better if you don't touch them."

The look in his eyes makes Jeongin think that he knows exactly what happens if he touches them, and Jeongin bites back a laugh.

"I won't. Are we almost there?"

He can hear voices, but it's faint. The sound of the forest is taking up most of his attention, and he can't bring himself to focus on anything else.

"Just a few more minutes. Don't worry, there's a hospital closer to home— but I needed a bigger one to accommodate you all." Chan is rummaging in that bag again, voice mildly distracted as he locates items.

Jeongin scoffs, "Wasn't worrying. I don't want to go back there."

Chan gives him a sympathetic smile, but oddly enough he doesn't say the quiet part out loud. Jeongin knows, of course, that he'll have to go back to a hospital eventually— he's too reckless, too accident prone not to— but Chan just sits back in his chair, a leather collar and bracelet in his hands.

"Do you have any issues with collars?" He asks, holding out both of the items. "You can wear a bracelet instead if so, but you'll need one of them when you go in public now."

Jeongin eyes the leather. They're... Expensive looking. It's high quality leather, rich and soft to the touch when Jeongin takes them. They’re both a deep, crimson red, padded with soft fabric on the inside, and Jeongin finds himself running his fingers over it as he inspects the tag.

It's simple, just a silver circle with Chan's name and phone number on it, along with the registration number of their pack. Most importantly, though, the back of the circle has a small capsule of liquified pheromones.

Jeongin blinks at it, once again floored by just how much money these people have. Pheromone capsules like this discouraged attacks, and ensured that even if an omega wasn't scented recently people would know which pack they're in. The procedure to get them made is horrifically expensive, Jeongin remembers balking at the numbers when he snuck in a magazine about them back at the shelter. A quick glance shows that there's one on the bracelet, too. Jesus.

Did every omega in the pack have these, or just him? The idea makes his stomach turn, another reminder of his otherness.

He thinks, for a moment, about putting the collar on. The idea of it makes his heart pound, but the collar is soft. It's sleek, no hooks or loops for a leash, just a tag and the clasp on the back. It's just a pack collar, nothing more and nothing less.

He doesn't want to wear the collar, not really, but the idea of wearing the bracelet is almost worse. People don't look for pack bracelets, they're rare and a lot less obvious than collars, and the very last thing Jeongin wants is to be too frozen to raise his arms and show off the bracelet.

Jeongin forces himself to release the tag, blinking and looking back up at Chan. "I can wear the collar." He mumbles, looping it in half and placing it on top of the phone.

The car slides to a stop, and Jeongin jolts, eagerly taking in their surroundings.

The first thing he notes is the yard. The grass is natural and lush, Jeongin can hear little bugs deep in the thick of it, can smell the earthy warmth of dirt and roots. There's a birdbath near the corner of the white fence, where a few pigeons are staring at the car, and Jeongin bites his lip to keep from charging at them.

A giant oak tree casts shade over the porch, dense with leaves and wildlife.

Less interesting but just as grandiose, the porch of the house is made of deep brown wood, clean and homey and warm looking. It looks well worn but well maintained, with wicker chairs and a small table in the middle. The door is made of a similar wood, carved with ornate designs. There's a wreath on it, made of soft looking leaves and wildflowers, and Jeongin suspects that it was Minho's doing.

"Pretty," He mumbles without thinking, skin itching to press against the grass, to run his fingers over the wildflowers, to let ladybugs crawl over his hands.

Chan beams, "It is, huh? Minho maintains it, he does a great job."

Jeongin just hums, and Chan smiles fondly at him before stepping out of the car. Chan holds a hand out for him and Jeongin's too distracted by all of the noise and greenery to be embarrassed as he takes it.

Chan's hands are warm, calloused. There's softness there, but also strength in equal measure.

"Come on, let's go inside. Everyone's eager to meet you."

Jeongin casts one more glance at the car, watches it glide easily back into the road and out of sight, and then meets Chan's eyes.

"Okay."

· · ────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The inside of the house is just as warm feeling. One of the patio doors is open, letting a soft breeze blow in, but otherwise the room feels almost cozy. The hallway they walk into has a rack for shoes and a coat closet, but it also has a coat rack being used as a makeshift pot for a twisting vine. Bright pink flowers dot every few inches of the tendrils, and Jeongin can't help but gently stroke one of the petals.

Chan holds his arm while he slips his shoes off, this silly little grin on his face before he calls, "Honey, I'm home!"

Laughter bounces back to them throughout the house, some soft, some exasperated, all fond. Jeongin can hear people coming down stairs, shifting to come see him, and his heart beats a little faster.

"Come on," Chan whispers, voice dripping with so much warmth that Jeongin nearly trips on his own feet.

Chan leads him into the main sitting room, where a massive couch and two nesting chairs sit around a coffee table and TV, all settled in a dip in the flooring. The room smells like a forest, scents mingling into something almost intoxicating.

Chan takes the box and collar and dashes upstairs, disappearing for only a moment before he's back, smiling and almost giddy.

Chan waves him forward into the kitchen, shoulders bouncing to a melody Jeongin can't hear. He dances around the counters and cabinets, pulling out bread and utensils and deli meat.

"You hungry, omega?"

Jeongin, drawn by both the petname and the smell of fresh bread, stands right beside Chan as he assembles 7 sandwiches, each piled high with meat and cheese. Jeongin notes the small differences in them, though; one only has one type of meat, while another seems to have more than 5. A few have lettuce while the rest don't, and Chan carefully trims the crusts off of one.

Jeongin eyes that one for a moment, torn between interest and confusion. He couldn't imagine willingly throwing away a perfectly good part of a meal, but before today he couldn't imagine having a bird bath either. It's a display of casual wealth that makes his stomach turn with anxiety, but he pushes it down.

Chan hands him a plate, the one with all the meat on it, and his stomach chooses that exact moment to growl. Chan gives him a fond look and arranges the other plates on the table, leaving two— the one with no crust and one with lettuce— in his hands.

Three people emerge from the ornate wooden staircase, then, and Jeongin grips his plate a little tighter.

He recognizes them as Minho, Changbin, and Jisung, and he falters, unsure of how he should greet them. Should he bow? Is he supposed to offer a wrist for Changbin to scent? They're higher ranking than him, but he doesn't know how formal this pack is. What is he supposed to do—

"Hi, Jeongin!" Changbin steps forward, holding out a wrist, and Jeongin deflates. His voice is soft, inviting, and Jeongin shifts his plate into one hand so he can brush their wrists together. Changbin smells sweet and tart, like fresh honeycomb and cranberries.

Changbin hums, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he takes in Jeongin's scent. He's grinning when his eyes open again, cheeks the slightest bit pink. It's... Cute. A little embarrassing, but cute. It's a good sign that Changbin likes his scent, right?

"Hey. It's, ah, it's nice to meet you, Changbin-ssi."

Changbin scrunches up his nose, waving the air as if he could physically push the words away, "Please, just Changbin. Call me hyung if you want, but definitely not that. We're pack, aren't we?"

Jeongin blinks, suddenly floored with the knowledge that Changbin is right. They're not just his new roommates, these people are his new pack. His new family.

"R-right. Of course, hyung." The word sounds unnatural on his tongue. He never called Mingi or Yeosang hyung, even though he probably should have. It just never felt right at the facility, and they became too close too quickly for it to make sense.

Changbin smiles at him, though, all warmth and sweetness, and Jeongin's gaze drops to his feet.

"You probably know a little about me already, but for clarity's sake," Changbin says, leaning against the dining table as he speaks. "I'm the head omega here. If you need anything, anything at all, I'm always just a few steps or a phone call away."

Jeongin nods, working up the courage to meet Changbin's eyes again. His first instinct is to scoff— "let me know if you need anything" usually just meant "tell me if you're dying, but otherwise figure it out yourself,” But Changbin probably wouldn't like that answer, and against all of Jeongin's better judgement he wants Changbin to like him. He wants it so desperately it hurts. He could lie. He's great at lying, and if it means he gets to stay here, he'd never tell the truth again.

"Okay. I'll let you know if I need anything." It sounds like what he's supposed to say, like what Changbin wants, and he holds his breath waiting for his response.

It brings another bright, almost proud smile to Changbin's face, and Jeongin's shoulders loosen, just a bit.

Changbin steps back, then, and Jeongin tenses up all over again, though he forces his ears to remain straight.

It's Minho in a soft looking gauzy dress, a violet corset wrapped around his torso, that steps forward next. It's obviously expensive, obviously tailored, and beautiful. Minho looks like a witch straight out of a designer fairy tale. His makeup only accentuates the look— sharp cat eyes, glittery eyeshadow, deep red lipstick.

The outright and unapologetic feminity of him throws Jeongin for a loop. It's not the first time he's seen people subvert the usual stereotypes, but to see someone do so in such an intentional and beautiful way is striking. The cut of the dress even mirrors the ones in most omega magazines, A-line and sleek, meant to keep its shape around a pregnant belly. But the corset directly contrasts that, showing off the smooth flat plane of Minho's stomach and chest.

Jeongin drags his gaze back up to Minho's face, the knowing, warm look in his eyes.

"It’s nice to finally meet you, Jeongin." He says, voice smooth and warm, "Chan's told me a lot about you."

Jeongin immediately feels panic set in his chest, and he looks at Chan.

Before now he's been aggressive, violent, irritable. He threatened to scratch a nurses eyes out because she commented on his tattoo, and Chan has been telling these people about him?

God, he's fucked.

Chan's voice is soft and even, "You have nothing to worry about, omega. It's alright."

His scent flares, too, just a little bit. It floats between them all, and Jeongin watches, awed, as Minho and Jisung hum, both melting slightly at the scent.

It smells nice enough that Jeongin wants to do the same, but he holds himself rigid.

Minho yawns, blinking like a cat waking up from a nap, and Jeongin wonders again if he's feral and hiding it somehow.

"Don't panic, Jeongin," He soothes, saying his name like a precious stone, "It was mostly gushing about how pretty you were, and how resilient."

Jeongin flushes pink, the same way he did when Wooyoung said the same. He hadn't listened back then, but now with two people saying almost the same thing...

"I don't think he needed specifics—" Chan grumbles, but Minho just blows him a kiss.

"I'm head alpha. Chan can be a bit of a workaholic, so if he's not home I'm the highest authority. Though, you're always allowed to drag Chan away from his work if you need him."

Minho winks, as if he was sharing a secret and not speaking plainly, just a few feet away from Chan himself.

It's... Cute. Charming. Chan and Minho bicker with eachother both through words and actions — a playful glance here, a slightly targeted sentence there. It somehow balances perfectly on the line between aggressive and fond, and it's so strange that Jeongin finds himself wanting to observe them more.

Changbin snorts, nudging Minho's shoulder. "He's serious. Jisung once locked him out of the studio and buried the key in Min's gardenias."

Jisung stifles a laugh in his palm, and Jeongin lets his attention fall on the other alpha. He's pretty, all soft edges and sweet eyes. The smile on his face lights him up, a soft pink flush dotting his cheeks and nose.

He's standing close to Minho, their pinkies intertwined, and Jeongin wonders, idly, if they're bonded. Their scents are too muddled to know for sure right now, but it would be rude to ask so Jeongin keeps his mouth closed.

"Easily my least favorite prank." Chan grumbles, arms crossed, but his annoyed expression quickly melts into a soft smile.

"This is the problem," Jisung says, voice brighter than Jeongin expected, "He still thinks it was a prank, not a protest."

Changbin and Minho erupt into giggles, and even Chan can't contain a small snort. Jeongin smiles, watching the four of them like he’d watch a movie— detached, still invested but distinctly outside.

"This is Jisung." Minho announces once the laughter dies down. He bumps their hips together, smiling when Jisung yelps and quickly bows.

Jeongin returns the gesture, something warm and fond building in his chest. "Hi. I'm Jisung." He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth, and Jeongin can't help but smile.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jeongin."

Jisung falters for a moment, but the relief on his face is almost a physical thing between them. The difference in how the three carry eachother becomes most apparent when looking at Jisung— while Changbin holds himself with easy confidence and Minho with all the pride of a preening cat, Jisung feels smaller. His shoulders remain hunched forward even when he straightens from the bow, and his free hand is constantly tapping a frantic pattern against his thigh. His scent is mainly pleasant, dark leather and fragrant wood, but theres an undercurrent of something shaky, uncertain, anxious. It’s the same scent as some of the omegas from the shelter, and Jeongin doesn’t exactly love it. Those omegas were always erratic, set off by the most minor of things. They were always kind enough, but Jeongin hates the feeling of walking on eggshells around people.

Jisung seems alright for now, though. He’s got the dorkiest smile on his face, and even Jeongin cant help but admit that it’s endearing.

Now that introductions are out of the way..." Changbin says, placing a hand on Jisung's hip and guiding him into a seat, "Lets eat, yeah?"

Changbin waits until they're all seated to grab the two plates out of Chan's hands, using his elbows to make him sit down.

"I'll take these up to the darlings and be right back," He calls, heading up the ornate staircase.

So those two were for Felix and Hyunjin, then. Jeongin doesn't really know what to do with that information, so he tucks it into the back of his mind, an extra bullet point on the mental files he has on the pack.

"Busybody," Jisung murmurs, fond. He takes a bite of his sandwich, one of the few with lettuce.

Jeongin does the same, resisting the urge to purr at the taste. Something so simple really had no business being this good.

"Jeongin-ah, do you like the front yard? I made sure to tidy it up for today."

Did he like it? The question nearly makes him scoff, but he muffles it with a bite of food. There are birds in the bath now, chirping and fluttering their wings in the water. Bees float around the wildflowers, a constant pleasant hum in the back of his mind.

"It's—" He starts, but a sharp hiss from upstairs makes his head snap towards the steps, ears perked.

"Jeongin? What is it?" Minho looks slightly alarmed, if a bit amused. Jeongin blinks for a moment, but then realizes that they probably didn't hear it at all.

"Nothing! Sorry, I just... Thought I heard someone hiss, that's all. It's fine, probably just something outside."

Minho hums at him, though his eyes are lit with something like humor, or fondness, maybe. Jeongin's ears remain pricked and focused upstairs, but he tries to tune out anything that didn't seem violent. He catches the ends of words, soft and whispered, but no one hisses again.

"The yard's pretty. I like it." He clears his throat, taking another bite of the sandwich to hopefully change the subject.

Minho seems happy to follow his lead, "I'm glad. I'm sure you'll like the backyard, too."

His skin itches again with the need to dig his claws into dirt, so he balls them into fists and nods.

Changbin bounces back down the stairs, a fond smile on his face. He sits next to Jeongin like he belongs there, and maybe he does. It would make sense for the head omega to sit next to him, a new addition to the pack and his newest charge. Under any other circumstance Jeongin would find his presence annoying, presumptuous maybe, but Changbin moves with such ease, such confidence, that Jeongin finds himself relaxing.

"How are they doing?" Chan asks, scent warming with affection as he looks at Changbin.

"Oh, they're great. Jinnie hissed at me a bit, but they're both in good spirits."

Jeongin tenses, resisting the urge to tilt his head in confusion. A fight nearly broke out between them? But Changbin seems perfectly happy, even fond as he speaks. And how could they be in good spirits if whatever Changbin did upset Hyunjin enough to hiss?

"Anyway, I heard you guys taking about the yard, right? Min does a great job with it, the backyard too."

Jeongin decides that whatever happened upstairs could be questioned later, lest he make a fool of himself in front of all the most important members of the pack. Discussing the yard is safer, so he refocuses on that instead.

"I'm sure it is. Cha- Alpha. Sorry," He flushes, stumbling over the word, but Chan just gives him a soft, reassuring smile. "You're alright, Jeongin. You don't have to call me Alpha all the time, we're not very strict on that. I'm perfectly happy to be called my name."

That's... Odd. Isn't it? Chan was pack leader, he should be referred to as such, every single piece of media and training he's had said that Jeongin should call him alpha, nothing else.

Changbin must notice his confusion, because he smiles and nudges Jeongin's shoulder.

"Don't worry, we're very casual. Most of those protocol things aren't that important for us, so try not to stress yourself out over them."

Fuck that.

All it would take is Jeongin misjudging a rule and grossly overstepping, and then he'd be back in a shelter again. He knows this trap too well to fall into it, no matter how genuine Changbin sounds.

"Alpha showed me some of the woods on the way here. It's beautiful."

Jeongin doesn't miss the slightly exasperated look on Chan's face, but he doesn't waver. Minho seems happy enough to move on from it, interest piqued by the mention of the forest.

"It really is. I'll take you into it later if you'd like, show you the paths and the best places to find some wild plants."

Just the thought of that, exploring the forest, eating fresh berries, resting in the moss, sends his heart beating faster. He forces himself to take deep breaths, but he doesn't bother keeping his tail from swishing behind him. Thankfully it's curled away from Changbin, so he can save himself some embarrassment at least.

"That sounds good," He murmurs, thoughts swirling with plans of how to explore it best. He hopes he’ll be allowed to go on his own at some point. "I used to love exploring forests, before—" His words die off, his throat locking against the words, against the idea of before.

Before his mother passed. Before his mother was murdered. Before he was shipped off to an omega shelter and before his life turned into constantly being attacked and rejected and treated like a pet—

"Omega." Changbin's voice is low and measured, a gentle hand touching Jeongin's arm. "Breathe. You're here with us, with Chan and Jisung and Minho. It's alright."

Jeongin breathes. He drags one breath in after the other, pushes them out like pulling teeth.

"Sorry." He mumbles, staring down at his half eaten sandwich. The thought of eating more makes his stomach turn, and tears threaten to fall down his cheeks, because it was good. It's the first meal he's had in months that wasn't drugged or flavorless. It's fresh and delicious and Jeongin is being ungrateful.

"Jeongin?" It's Jisung's voice, and the shock of hearing him speak is startling enough to grab Jeongin's attention.

"Um... Is... I mean, just— Chan said you liked the color red?"

Jeongin blinks at him.

Jisung is staring at his hands, and Jeongin realizes, belatedly, that he's twisting something between his fingers underneath the table. He shakes his head, a jerky, sharp movement, and holds out the item like it might burn him if he holds it too close.

"I got this for you. I hope— uh. I hope its good? That you like it, I mean."

It's... A necklace.

The chain is thin and dainty, rose gold and glinting in the light. What catches Jeongin's attention, though, is the pendant on it. It's a deep scarlet red stone, laid in an ornate casing that matches the chain. The top of the casing sports tiny fox ears, and the design of it is distinct — a foxglove.

Jeongin nearly vomits.

His fingers shake as he reaches out for the necklace, but he can't bring himself to touch it.

It's beautiful. Gorgeous, even. It's obviously expensive, real gold, probably a real stone as well.

Foxgloves. Foxgloves. Of all the fucking plants, it had to be foxgloves?

He doesn't realize that he's whining until Changbin takes his arm again, standing and helping Jeongin to rise as well.

Jisung puts the necklace away, eyes wide and confused and sorry, and Minho is telling him something in a soothing voice and Changbin is guiding him upstairs.

They stop in a hallway, empty save for a bookshelf and a tiny chair, and Changbin puts him in it without waiting for Jeongin's opinion on the matter.

"Omega, breathe. It's alright."

"Foxglove." Is the only word he can force out of himself, a shaking, violent thing. He spits it out like blood, stomach rolling with disgust and long buried pain. He wraps his arms around his stomach, around the skin that still feels rougher under the tattoo ink.

It'll never be gone. He will always be branded with a foxglove, always owned, and Jisung only meant well but the idea of wearing that disgusting mark in a place people can see feels like ripping his own skin off.

"Foxglove? I don't understand."

Jeongin bites his lip, unable to decide whether telling Changbin would help. If he'd told Chan then Jisung probably wouldn't have gotten him that necklace. Maybe it wouldn't happen again if they knew.

It's not their fault, anyway. If Jeongin ignores the flower, the necklace itself is a heartbreakingly sweet gesture. It still made him feel different, but it didn't bring up the same revulsion that thought usually carried.

Still. Even if Jeongin did want to tell them, he has no idea how to get the words out.

"Facility. They... Foxgloves, they..." His mouth seals itself shut without his permission, and out of pure frustration he tugs his shirt up to expose his stomach.

Changbin does not react.

Then, like watching vines slowly take over an old home, rotten honey and sharp acid flood Jeongin's senses. He drops the shirt to cover his nose, the rage and violence of it bringing tears to his eyes. Changbin smells like a battle, the sickening smell of blood on the air.

"Jesus." He mutters, before taking a slow, measured breath.

"Chan told me some of what happened, but... God. I didn't know they branded you."

Jeongin flinches at the words, cheeks burning with anger and humiliation.

"Alpha doesn't either. Or, at least, I didn't tell him. One of the other omegas may have, I don't know."

He risks a glance up at Changbin and immediately regrets it. The look in his eyes is pure unfiltered pity. There's rage there, sure, but the narrowed eyes, the furrowed brows, the tears catching on his lashes...

"Come on, love. Let's get you to your room, yeah?"

Changbin straightens up, his eyes slipping closed for a moment while he forces his scent back into neutrality.

"Everything's fine," He calls, and the nervous energy in the house dissipates in seconds.

It's almost unsettling, the amount of power Changbin's scent has in the house. Jeongin hadn't noticed the excess anxiety until it was gone. There’s still Jisung’s scent, more distressed than before, but Jeongin forces himself to ignore it.

Changbin helps Jeongin to stand, offering a soft smile.

"I'm sorry I reacted so badly. I've never been good with these things, they just..." He groans, shaking his head. "Sorry. Thank you for telling me, though. I promise, I'll be here to talk if you ever need it."

Jeongin analyses the wood tile under his feet. It's cherry red, warm and welcoming. They probably polished it recently.

"Right. Well, your room is down this hall. The second floor has all of our rooms, the third is for nesting rooms, and the basement has a dance studio and gym."

Changbin leads him down the wide hallway, and Jeongin takes the somewhat private moment to marvel, again, at how much money these people have. It's not uncommon for larger packs to live comfortably, but three floors and a basement? A home gym and dance studio? An entire floor dedicated to nesting rooms?

Shaking his head, Jeongin looks up to examine the hallway properly. It's not particularly remarkable itself, four doors on either side with one at the end of the hall. The real intrigue comes with the canvases on seven of the doors.

They're all decorated, some with glitter and others in cool grays and neutral blues. They say everyone's names in the center, and it's... Oddly charming. It shifts the normal hallway into a warm, lived in area, and Jeongin can't help but admire each of them.

Changbin stops him in front of the only door without a canvas, besides the one at the end. He's tempted to ask what it is, but he's too tired to bother.

"Here's your room. I'm right beside you, and Chan's is the room right across. You're welcome to stop by anytime, no matter how busy Chan says he is." Changbin laughs a little to himself as he pushes the door open, quickly stepping to the side so Jeongin can see the room.

It's... god.

It's just as grand and beautiful and perfect as the rest of the house.

The first thing he notices is the bed. Wide and plush, a thick red duvet and folded quilts on the corner. A canopy with gauzy fabric hanging over the top of it.

The rest of the room isn't decorated much, a simple dresser and closet, a vanity, a full length mirror. There's some basic items on the vanity, a brush, hair ties, and what looks like a jar of scent blocking cream.

There's a door on the far end of the wall slightly ajar, exposing white tile and a pristine sink.

Jeongin bounces between wanting to scream and cry, slowly walking around the room. Its big. It's beautiful. It's too much. He remembers the mattress in his solitary confinement room, how it was little more than thread by the time he finished with it. How much would it take for him to do the same with this bed?

He places a hand on one of the pillars holding the canopy up, smoothing his fingers over the grain.

Changbin doesn't move further into the room with him— instead he lingers in the doorway, a sweet little smile on his face.

"I'll let you get some rest, then. I'm sure all of this has been overwhelming."

Jeongin sits on the bed, using the banister as support. It sinks low underneath him, so soft he nearly cries. "Right. Thank you, the room is..."

Changbin waves him off, "Don't worry, I know it's a lot. Give it some time, yeah? And you can let us know if you want something changed, it's your room to do whatever you'd like with."

"Okay."

"And about the necklace, Jisung didn't mean any harm, but I'll let him know to avoid foxgloves in his gifts from now on. I'm sorry our first meeting didn't end perfectly, but there's plenty of time to make up for it."

Jeongin offers him a wobbly smile, but doesn't meet Changbin's eyes.

"I'll get out of your hair, then. I'm really glad you're here, Jeongin." He says, voice soft and suddenly earnest. He's gone before Jeongin can work up the courage to look at him, the door settling closed with a sharp click.

Jeongin, hands trembling, slips underneath the bedsheets. They're soft and beautiful and warm, and the pillows cradle his head like cotton. He buries his face into them, breathing in the clean, empty scent of new fabric. He digs his claws into the cloth, poking holes into the mattress. This is his. He's home.

He won't go back. This place is too beautiful, too soft, too perfect, and he doesn't deserve it but by god he's going to keep it.