Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sangwon never intended for things to end up like this.

Truth be told, he’d given up on any dream of debuting long ago, he’d dedicated so many of his teenage years to the idea of debuting only to have it taken away at the last minute and… He’d given up hope. Until just a few months ago, when Leo had shown up at Sangwon’s tiny apartment, grinning like he already had the answer to everything. One last chance at debut, Boys 2 Planet, he’d said, waving his phone in Sangwon’s face, showing clips of last season’s winners and the way they’d skyrocketed to fame. 

He’d insisted that this was their chance, and Sangwon stupidly and naively had agreed.

It had been going well, better than well, if he was being honest with himself. 

He’d breezed through the evaluations, charmed the mentors, and survived the early cuts without much difficulty. His name was already trending on social media as a “hidden gem,” the sort of trainee everyone swore had that natural star quality, that “center energy’, the one to watch. 

At least, until now….

"Can they really do this?"

"It’s their show, they can do whatever they want."

"This is discrimination..."

Sangwon keeps his eyes forward, pretending to stretch, pretending not to hear the murmurs of the other trainees. They had gathered everyone up as soon as the fanmeeting had ended, told everyone that there would be one more round of cuts before the show officially began airing and to meet in the auditorium to see if they survived the elimination. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The whole point of Boys 2 Planet was that there were two shows, two separate groups who’d merge into one big, flashy project group at the end. A knockoff EXO, basically, fun and competitive, with sixteen boys debuting, until now… Everyone had expected the eliminations to be by some talent based metric, or by fancam views not—"All non-Alphas will be eliminated from the show. If you have not presented yet, a staff member will come by to swab and test you. All presented Betas and Omegas are hereby dismissed.”

The tension in the room is sharp enough to taste, even with almost everyone wearing scent blockers.

"This isn’t fair!" someone shouts, voice cracking with frustration.

Sangwon doesn’t look to see who it is. 

A part of him, some awful, detached part, gets it. Everyone remembers the reveal of the winners of Boys Planet season one, when they hid everyone’s subgender and the final group debuted without a single Alpha, just two Betas and the rest Omegas. 

Fans had loved it, sure, but companies? They hated it. 

Mnet had clearly decided they weren’t letting that happen again.

A warm hand slips into his where no one can see. 

Leo leans in, close enough to murmur, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sangwon says, forcing a smile he doesn’t feel. 

“No one’s looking at you,” he murmurs, low enough that only Sangwon can hear. “No one’s going to find out. You’re fine. You’re an Alpha here, same as the rest of them. Don’t shake.”

“I’m not shaking,” Sangwon lies, though his knees feel like paper, and if Leo wasn’t holding his hand it probably would be shaking. He always shakes when he’s nervous.  

Leo’s thumb rubs firmly along the inside of Sangwon’s wrist, slow circles over his scent gland. He can’t scent him properly, not through the mandatory scent blocker patches they’ve all been forced to wear for filming, but the motion still calms Sangwon in a way he hates admitting. 

A part of him aches for the reassurance of a familiar scent, something to anchor him while the room feels like it’s spinning.

Staff weave between the trainees quickly, swabbing mouths of the unpresented trainees, scanning the IDs of others. Names are being called, one by one, to be cut from the lineup. The unlucky ones stand stiffly as producers deliver the news, “Thank you for your hard work, please pack your things.”

Sangwon’s pulse hammers so loud that he worries the staff will be able to hear it. 

He’s fine. 

He will be fine. 

On paper, Sangwon is an Alpha. HYBE made sure of that when they added him to Trainee A, their doomed all-Alpha predebut project. Every document says he presented Alpha. It had been a logical guess, both of his parents were Alphas, but somewhere along the line a dormant gene had been passed along. Some nights when he lays awake unable to sleep he blames himself for their group’s dissolution, his mistake of a presentation had been one of the many factors that led to Trainee A falling apart.

Because despite all of his official documents marking him as an Alpha… It isn’t true. 

In his mind Boys 2 Planet was supposed to be his moment to come clean. To turn HYBE forging his documents into a narrative, paint himself as the honest underdog, expose HYBE’s manipulation, and win the audience to his side. The timing would’ve been perfect, the general public has been pretty against HYBE these days, it would have only worked in his favor. 

But now… With every non-alpha packing their bags to be eliminated… 

Now it’s either give up on debut or keep lying. For how long? A year? Two? The entire five years of the group’s contract?

Sangwon feels sick just thinking about it. 

Leo’s hand presses a little harder, grounding him even as Sangwon’s mind races, 

“You’re fine. You’ll be fine,” Leo murmurs again, but the words feel empty and not nearly reassuring enough.

The staff are moving closer now, weaving through clusters of nervous trainees with their tablets and ID scanners. Leo’s thumb gives one last slow press to the inside of Sangwon’s wrist before his hand drops away, casual, as though it was never there at all. Sangwon feels the loss immediately. 

They’re both supposed to be Alphas, and two Alphas sitting this close is already enough to raise eyebrows, they can excuse it as having been close pre-presentation, but still, people talk.

Sangwon bites the inside of his cheek, hard enough to taste blood as a staff member heads their way. For one brief second Sangwon’s gut twists cold, what if they want to swab him, just to double-check? What if someone slipped up, what if someone noticed something off? But the tablet just blips softly as the staffer scans both of their ID tags with the affirmative noise. 

“Well,” the staffer says, tone brisk, “you two know you’re good. You can get your bags and move into your new All-Star dorms.”

“Right,” Sangwon blinks, throat tight. “Yeah…” 

“Tomorrow morning,” the staffer continues, “we’ll have the K and C Alphas all meet together. It’ll be a big event, cameras will be rolling, so get your rest tonight and try to look your best tomorrow.”

“Yes, PD-nim. Thank you,” Leo says smoothly, nudging Sangwon to echo it.

“Thank you,” Sangwon manages, and the staffer is already striding off to the next cluster of trainees. 

The moment they’re out of earshot, Leo grins, satisfied. “See? Told you, you’d be fine.”

*

The dorm building is the same as the one they’d been in before, just with a lot less boys here now. Sangwon scans the sign-in table looking for room assignments, but  “There’s… nothing next to our names?”

One of the staff shrugs without looking up from his clipboard. “No fixed rooms tonight. You’ll pick roommates with your team tomorrow, after the first mission briefing. Tonight you can room with whoever, just… don’t sleep in the hallways.”

Relief blooms in Sangwon’s chest. 

No need to risk some stranger sniffing too close. 

He glances at Leo, who grins like it’s the best news all day. “Guess it’s you and me, huh?”

“Obviously.”

They toss their duffels onto a narrow twin-bedded room. Sangwon unpacks slowly, folding shirts that don’t really need folding, just doing anything really to keep his hands busy. And to ignore the heavy feeling in his chest, the fear that he’ll be found out and exposed for what he really is, an Omega. 

“I should just… tell them,” he mutters finally. “Drop out before they figure it out themselves.”

Leo looks up from plugging in his phone, “Hey, no! Don’t start that. Don’t you want to debut?” 

“I do want to debut,” Sangwon tells him. That’s the problem. He wants it so bad that it hurts. After the failure of Trainee A and his failed attempts to start an idol career after that. He’d given up debut. He’d taken a bunch of stupid part-time jobs, and watched other kids debut, living out the dream that he’d once had. 

Jealous had burned like a quiet ember in his chest for so long, but he’d made his peace with it, as much as anyone could. And still a part of him yearns for this, for the stage, he never feels as alive as he does when he’s on stage. 

But… 

“But if they find out—”

“They won’t,” Leo cuts in. 

“I can’t pretend to be an Alpha forever.”

“You don’t need to pretend forever,” Leo tells him. “Just until we debut. They wouldn’t kick you out after we debut, not when we’re killing it on stage and making them a shit load of money. It wouldn’t be worth the profit loss, and you know all Mnet cares about is the money.” 

Sangwon lets out a shaky laugh, “You make it sound easy.”

“It will be,” Leo insists, before he peels the corner of his scent-blocker patch. 

The synthetic neutral smell fades, and his real scent rolls through the room, lemon mixed, something sharp like cracked pepper. Sangwon’s always found the scent comforting and grounding. Sangwon’s fingers hesitate over his own patch. His hazelnut scent thankfully isn’t too Omega-like, but it’s also not particularly Alpha-like either. 

“Come here,” Leo says, “Let me scent you.”

Sangwon hesitates just for a moment, before stepping into the circle of Leo’s arms. Leo guides Sangwon to lay down on one of the beds beside him. The Alpha’s scent settles over him like a weighted blanket, heavy, warm and overwhelming. This time when he rubs at the scent gland at Sangwon’s wrist, Sangwon’s inner Omega reacts at the feeling, soothing just a little at the Alpha’s touch. 

“Nobody’s gonna find out,” Leo murmurs against his hair. “Not on my watch. I’ll make sure of it. We’re going to debut together .”

“You can’t promise that,” Sangwon tells him, wishing not for the first time that he had Leo’s confidence. “We might not even be on the same team tomorrow. You don’t know how they’re gonna shuffle us around.”

“I don’t care if we’re on the same team,” Leo shoots back immediately. “I care about you, and I’m not letting anyone mess with you. Not the other trainees, not the mentors, nobody.” 

For a moment Sangwon just stares at him. Leo’s like that, overprotective of him, ever since his presentation. It’s just the type of Alpha that Leo is, the type that speaks as if the world will have to bend to his will if he just pushes hard enough.

Back when they were still trainees, crammed into tiny practice rooms until dawn, Leo’s strong presence had been an anchor for Sangwon even pre-presentation, he’d looked up to Leo. And when his first heat blindsided him at eighteen, panicked and shaking in the company dorm showers, it was Leo who found him. Leo steadied him and stayed close until the fever broke, burning off the edge the way only an Alpha could. 

They’d never talked about it after. 

They’d never done anything like that again. 

But now the memory lingers in Sangwon’s mind as Sangwon breathes his scent in. The scent clings to his hoodie, threads into his hair, reminds him of a time when things felt simpler, when all he wanted was to debut and stand on a stage. When he still believed that dream was actually his to claim, and that he wouldn’t have to hide the most important part of himself away to get it. 

His eyelids grow heavy as they lay there in the cramped dorm bed with Leo’s heartbeat steady against his ear.

“You’re gonna make it,” Leo murmurs into his hair, low and sure. “I’ll make sure of it. You hear me?”

“You can’t promise that,” he whispers, weaker this time.

“Watch me.”

*

Sangwon wakes to the lingering weight of Leo’s arm across his waist, the heavy sharp-lemon pepper of his scent all over him. For a second the world feels still, and Sangwon has half the mind to close his eyes and fall back asleep, but then the panic hits him. 

He can’t go into the meeting with the C group Alphas smelling like Leo. 

Smelling like another Alpha . 

He shifts carefully, doing his best not to wake Leo, who mumbles something incoherent in his sleep, a protest against Sangwon leaving that Sangwon ignores as he tiptoes to grab his toiletries from his suitcase.

With a quick wash and a scent blocking patch, he should be able to successfully mask himself in the facade of an Alpha, but to do that he needs to shower and get every trace of Leo off of him. Sangwon hurriedly pops a heat suppressor, as he’s done nearly every day since his presentation, before hurrying in the direction of the showers. 

The dorm showers are already full of other trainees by the time Sangwon gets to the showers. It’s communal showers with no walls, no privacy, and no room to hide. Prior to now, he’d been doing his best to go at low traffic times, where he wouldn’t run into too many other trainees, but now he doesn’t have the luxury of time. Not unless he wants to show up for filming reeking of Leo’s scent. 

Sangwon steps in and picks the first empty shower nozzle, stripping down quickly, trying to keep himself as invisible as possible. He’s ever so aware of the other trainees, the remaining Alphas around him, as he lathers up his hair with some scent-neturalizing shampoo. 

Junseo and Yumeki are already at the sinks, brushing their teeth, while Seowon stands under a stream of hot water two stalls down, the muscles of his shoulders and back flexing as he adjusts the temperature. Geonwoo leans casually against the wall, towel low around his hips, smirking at something Junseo had said. Even standing alone in a corner of the room, his senses are assaulted by the lingering Alpha pheromones in the air, so much that the dorm’s scent-neutralizing disinfectant doesn’t do much to stop it from mingling in the air. 

Sangwon exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly, as the shower helps to wash away not only Leo’s scent, but helps to mute his own hazelnut scent. One he finishes washing, Sangwon steps out of the stall and wraps a towel around his waist. 

For a moment, he just breathes, focusing on masking his own weaker, Omega scent before he can even think about putting on the scent-blocker patch. Despite his scent not being as sweet as a traditional Omega scent, his scent is still mild and easily overpowered by other’s scents. 

He moves to the small counter, his eyes flick down to the small tray of scent-blocker patches laid out neatly by the sink, the producers had mandated that everyone be on Heat or Rut suppressors for the duration of the show as well as wearing scent blockers that way nobody could use their scents to manipulate those of opposite subgenders to do what they want. 

Though as he peels off the backing and presses the patch to his skin, feeling the slight tingle as the suppressor engages, he can’t help but wonder if that rule will remain with all the other Omegas and Betas gone. 

His answer comes all too soon as he follows the other trainees out of the bathroom to where a staff member is waiting for them. She intercepts them just outside the bathrooms, clipboard in hand, checking something off on her clipboard as she sees them. 

“Hold on, everyone,” she says. “You don’t need to wear scent blockers today. All of you are alphas, so there’s nobody here who can be influenced by scents. The patch is optional for the day, but rut suppressors are still mandatory.”

Sangwon pauses, hand hovering over the waistband of his hoodie where he had just pressed the patch in place. Relief and unease war with each other. Relief that Leo’s scent, his own soft hazelnut trace, won’t be a liability today, but unease because now that they’re optional he’d be surrounded even more so by the other Alphas scents. 

Something that wouldn’t be a problem were he actually an Alpha.

The staff member pulls out a small cup, handing each trainee a single pill. Sangwon’s eyes narrow slightly at rut suppressors. He’s been on heat and scent suppressors for most of his life, but mixing these could be dangerous. He moves to slide the pill into his pocket determined to get rid of it later, but his motion is caught too soon. 

The staff member stopping him, her hand on his wrist, 

“Take it now.” 

Three sets of eyes flash his way, the suspicion in one of them all too clear. He can’t give them any reason to doubt him. Hurriedly Sangwon pops the pill down his throat, swallowing and opening his mouth obediently to show the staff member that he’d followed her rules. 

Surely one wrong dosage won’t kill him. 

He’ll just make sure next time to be more careful about skipping the rut suppressors.

*

By the time trainees are ushered into the main studio, the walls lined with cameras and staff hovering around watching, Sangwon’s nerves have mostly settled. Despite it being an option now, he wasn’t the only person who’d still chosen to wear a scent blocker, which thankfully meant his choice wouldn’t make him stand out too much.

But he can’t help himself from pointedly noting as he falls in line beside Leo that his friend had taken the chance to forego scent blockers, his lemon pepper scent lingers at the edges of his senses as the recording begins.

The staff explain everything for their benefit, but most for the benefit of the audience that will eventually be watching an edited down version of this day. Sangwon does his best to get in all the right reactions for the camera, surprise when necessary to make sure he makes the episode's cuts, though he hardly needs to plan his surprised reactions when The curtain at the far end of the stage rustles, then drops, revealing the Alphas from C group. 

The first thing Sangwon notices is the number, there’s far fewer Alphas in C group than there had been in K group. 

The second thing he notices is, Zhou Anxin.

Sangwon freezes. 

He had known of Anxin in theory, the boy who was the center of C group, who had captured attention in teasers and pre-merge profiles, but he hadn’t had a reason to really know him, not until now. 

Anxin is taller than he expected, lean but muscular, with wide, alert eyes that seem to drink in the whole studio, and for some reason those eyes find Sangwon. Across the room, amid all the chaos and flashing lights, Anxin seems to be looking directly at him, not at Geonwoo, the K group center he should be sizing up, but Sangwon. 

Chapter Text

The studio lights are so bright that Sangwon’s eyes sting when he blinks, listening as the production staff tells them how everything is going to be filmed. How they’ll remove their stickers each only when it’s their turn starting from the lowest ranked all the way up to the All Stars. 

He tries to calculate where everyone else has landed as the numbers are revealed, ticking names and ranks off in his head like a ledger. 

But his focus keeps slipping, because someone’s watching him.

At first, Sangwon tells himself that it’s nothing. That it had just been the other one sizing up the competition, putting on an act for the cameras. But then it happens again. And again. Even now, across the room, as stickers peel away, Anxin’s gaze is still on him. 

Sangwon doesn’t mind being looked at by Alphas. Not really. Under other circumstances, he actually quite likes the attention. He’s not the most omega-like, which to be fair, is probably the only reason he has been able to pass as an Alpha for so long, but that doesn't mean that his inner Omega doesn’t like the attention of Alphas. In fact, he quite likes flirting with Alphas.

And Anxin isn’t a bad looking Alpha. He’s young,sure, recently presented by the looks of him, his shoulders still filling out, his confidence still testing its edges, but everyone knows the recently presented Alphas have better stamina. 

If this weren’t a survival show, if Sangwon weren’t fighting to keep his status as an Omega hidden… maybe he’d enjoy the attention. But there are cameras rolling, and thousands of eyes will watch this footage later, so he has to be careful, he can’t let even a flicker of interest show on his face. 

He forces himself to look away, to listen to the order of names instead, to focus on what actually matters.

The one-stars finish, and then the two-stars. Everyone shifts into order by rank, leaving open space every few numbers where a C group trainee will go once their numbers are revealed. 

Sangwon’s heart picks up speed in his chest when they move onto the All Stars, a sense of anticipation building in his stomach as he watches everyone around him go to peel their stickers off. His fingers hesitate over his own, going still for a moment as he looks over to where Leo is, the number six standing out clear on Leo’s name tag.

Still in the top eight, still with debut potential, but lower than he had expected. Leo shrugs it off like he doesn’t care, but there’s an edge to his eyes that Sangwon catches before it smooths over for the cameras. If Sangwon hadn’t known Leo for so long he might have missed the flicker of disappointment, but he does know him.

Sangwon frowns as his fingers go to work at undoing his own sticker. If Leo was sixth, then what would his rank be? Lower surely? 

Carefully Sangwon peels back his own sticker. Even before he looks down at the number he can hear faint noises from the other trainees in the room, surprised mostly as the number two is revealed on his name tag. 

There’s a little pause, as though the number hangs in the air before everyone reacts. 

Yumeki comes in first, no surprise there with his dancing skill and preexisting fame, but Sangwon’s stomach gives a strange twist as his own rank sinks in. He wonders how the Mnet producers would feel if they knew their second ranked Alpha wasn’t an actual Alpha at all. 

Maybe debut isn’t impossible. 

Maybe if he keeps his head down, keeps winning them over, the people will force Mnet’s hand. He can’t be the Alpha they want him to be… but maybe he doesn’t have to be, clearly, someone out there wants him just the way he is. And if that’s the case, maybe Leo is right, maybe he can reveal his true subgender once they review and Mnet won’t be able to remove him, not if the fans already love him.

For a moment, the thought feels dangerous. 

Debut feels possible, and it tastes so sweet. 

He schools his face into calm, but inside, hope burns him up a little. 

Maybe this will all be worth it.

Across the room the C group trainees begin peeling off their stickers, and Sangwon watches as Anxin is revealed as third, before the Alpha crosses the room to take his spot in the line up of All Stars, sliding neatly between Sangwon and Kangmin. 

Close enough that Sangwon can smell his Alpha scent now, Anxin having chosen just as many others had to remove their scent blockers. Sangwon breathes in Anxin’s crisp rainwater scent, sharp and fresh, tickling at the back of his throat even through the blockers. Heat stirs in his chest despite himself, his traitorous Omega instincts rising where he least wants it. 

Anxin’s scent shouldn’t be this easy to breathe in, and yet…

Sangwon glances sideways carefully, catching Anxin’s eye, and the younger Alpha smiles at him. 

Not a smirk or a challenge, just a small smile. 

Sangwon forces himself to look straight ahead and not react, remembering that there’s cameras on them, that there’s always cameras on them and he can’t be caught slipping. 

As the producers start explaining the first mission, detailing how the teams will be chosen and which songs they’ll perform. Sangwon locks on to every word, drilling it into his mind. Team selection first, then rehearsals, no time for distractions. The first mission will be team-based, and the highest-ranked trainees will pick first. 

Which means Yumeki, sitting confidently at the top of the metaphorical pyramid as number one, gets the first choice.

Sangwon watches him step up front and center and scan the room with a nervous sort of energy. But Yumeki’s gaze slides right past Sangwon, like he isn’t even standing there in the All-Star line. No pause, not even a brief flicker of interest, just glancing past him, the way it happens so unbothered makes Sangwon’s stomach tighten.

They’re neck and neck in rank, first and second. 

Maybe Yumeki sees him as competition. 

“First pick,” Yumeki says easily, “Anxin.”

Of course, it would make sense to pick the center of C group for the first team, especially given the fact that Yumeki has all the options, but as Sangwon watches as the young Alpha jogs forward, he can’t help but feel a brief pang of jealousy, he would’ve liked to pick Anxin for his team. 

Yumeki barely even pauses before making his second choice. His eyes sweep the group again, this time landing squarely on Leo. 

“My second pick is Lee Leo.”

Sangwon’s jaw tightens, just a fraction, as Leo celebrates being picked, making a big show of it for the cameras. 

Leo flashes that wide grin as he moves to Yumeki’s side, but his eyes immediately flick to Sangwon, mouthing his ‘You’re next’ . 

Sangwon wants that. Badly. 

Not just because Leo’s familiar, but because on Leo’s team, he’d feel safer, less like he has to watch his own back every second. Leo’s always been good at looking after him and covering for him. 

But also because it’s clear that Yumeki is aiming to make an Avengers team. Each pick he makes is one of the best of the best, the best rappers, singers, and dancers. Every pick he makes whittles down the pool of potential trainees that Sangwon will have left to pick from for his own team. As Yumeki makes his fifth pick, Sangwon’s eyes scan the remaining group mentally rearranging the possible combinations of teammates he could choose. Kangmin would be good maybe, if Yumeki doesn’t take him. Seowon, too, are both experienced idols, but not domineering Alphas. Which meant Sangwon could probably trust them not to sniff too closely at the cracks in his armor.

He keeps running the math in his head while Yumeki deliberates, but every time Sangwon’s eyes lift, there’s Leo again, looking at him, whispering his name as if he hopes Yumeki will hear him and choose him.

But still, Yumeki doesn’t even glance his way.

Sangwon holds still, gaze locked on Yumeki, trying to will his own presence into visibility. If he didn’t have a scent blocker patch on, and if he wasn’t worried about being exposed, it would be a little easier, he could use his Omega scent to entice the Alpha into looking at him. As it is in his current condition all Sangwon can do is hope Yumeki looks his way. 

But Yumeki’s eyes slide past him again, impassive, calculating. It’s as though Sangwon’s invisible, except to one person. 

Anxin is watching him again. 

Sangwon risks a glance, looking away from Yumeki for just a second to meet Anxin’s eyes. The younger Alpha tilts his head curiously, his gaze open in a way that makes Sangwon’s pulse stutter in his chest. 

Then Anxin leans, casual as anything, and murmurs something to Yumeki, too soft for the mics to catch. 

Sangwon sees Yumeki’s brow furrow just slightly in response to whatever it was that Anxin had said and then, finally, Yumeki’s gaze settles on him .

“For my last pick,” Yumeki says, “Lee Sangwon.”

*

“So, first things first—we need to decide the killing part.”

They’re all circled up in the practice room, sweaty from running Whiplash through just once to get the feel for it. 

 He’s glad they picked this song. It may not be an Alpha power anthem like S-Class or Rising Sun , but it’s a good choice, and if done right, it could turn the whole performance in their favor.

With a team like theirs the benefit was almost guaranteed to be theirs, but the highest prize isn’t just the benefit, it’s being the “killing part” being the one who everyone in the audience will remember. 

Before Yumeki can even finish explaining how they’ll audition for it, Geonwoo, Anxin, Chingyu, and Junseo all shoot their hands up, classic Alphas, all of them, jostling for the spotlight without hesitation.Sangwon glances at Chingyu, he’s still unpresented, but carrying himself like he already knows what he’ll be, and then at Geonwoo, who practically vibrating with the need to dominate. Anxin and Junseo are no surprise either. 

All the presented Alphas scents are sharp with competition, it’s enough to make Sangwon’s own hand hesitate, but the original center for this song isn’t an Alpha. She’s an Omega, a fierce one, yes, but an Omega all the same. 

The performance isn’t about raw dominance, it’s about pulling eyes without begging for them.

The way only an Omega can. 

The way he can.

Leo catches the thought before Sangwon can voice it. “That’s five, then—counting Sangwon.”

Sangwon shoots him a look, his hand still only barely just hovering over his lap, not even fully raised, but none of their other team mates seem to think anything of Leo basically volunteering him for the part. 

As the others start, Sangwon sinks to the floor, knees drawn up, eyes flicking between each Alpha auditioning for the killing part. The cameras are still rolling, the crew hungry for reactions, the crew wanting to see their reactions to each other’s performance so they can edit it down and show it to fans on tv later. So Sangwon does his best to keep his expression neutral as Geonwoo steps up first. 

Geonwoo’s dance moves are sharp, he’s got a little too much energy for the song, but he’s undeniably skilled. Junseo follows, clean and precise. Even Chingyu, unpresented as he is, but reckless in his confidence, throws himself into dancing without hesitation.

Anxin is last before Sangwon. His moves are cleaner than Sangwon expected, smooth, playful, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, like he’s genuinely having fun with it. Well, Sangwon supposes, it’s good that at least someone is enjoying themself. 

And then it’s Sangwon’s name.

The music starts, just the clipped intro to the chorus, and for a moment it feels like every eye in the room is trained on him as he stands and steps into position. 

And then he moves. 

This song doesn’t want someone to hit it with a hammer. It wants a knife, one that’s smooth, and precise, that cuts close to the skin. 

So he keeps his movements liquid, his breath controlled. He doesn’t think, he just dances, until the very last beat, when his gaze flickers to the side and finds Leo watching him with this tiny, proud smile like he knew Sangwon had it in him all along.

When he sits back down among the others, heart thudding a little in his chest, as the three who aren’t competing for the killing part go to decide who should get it, Anxin sits down next to him, close enough that their knees brush.

“I’d pick you,” Anxin says quietly, low enough the others can’t hear.

Sangwon blinks up at him, “…Huh?”

He breathes in Anxin’s scent—all crisp and wet like concrete after rain. It’s softer than the other Alphas in their group, calmer, and some of Sangwon’s tension eases, as if someone rinsed it out entirely.

“If it can’t be me,” Anxin continues, leaning closer, hand resting on Sangwon’s thigh, “it should be you.”

Sangwon should shake him off, shouldn’t let an Alpha touch him like this, but the gesture is soft, puppy-like, affectionate and completely innocent because Anxin thinks that they’re both Alphas. And he doesn’t want to look like he’s brushing off a puppy , especially not one that the cameras could paint into a rival of his for the drama and cost him fans, so he lets Anxin’s hand stay as they all sit there quietly pretending not to eavesdrop on Yuemki, Yoon Min, and Leo’s conversation. 

Sangwon’s ears burn, flushing a little with embarrassment as he hears Leo’s voice rise, not even attempting to whisper, “He has the best visuals for it. You saw it—he’s perfect for the killing part.”

The debate takes a few minutes. Before Yoon Min shrugs and says it should be either Sangwon or Geonwoo, and Yumeki suggests they both do it again to make the decision clearer.

Sangwon stands again, this time opposite Geonwoo. 

Up close, Geonwoo’s scent is spicy, burning at Sangwon’s nostrils when he stands close to him. He's a very typical Alpha. Sangwon feels his own pulse spike, a little defensive, a little determined to succeed. 

The music starts. Geonwoo goes first, every movement crisp, powerful, confident to the point of arrogance. Sangwon follows, and this time he doesn’t hold anything back. He lets himself want it, lets it curl through every line of his body. Lets himself imagine those camera lights burning just for him. 

When it ends, the decision feels instant.

“I think it’s obvious,” Junseo says with a lazy grin. “Sangwon’s got… decadent sex appeal.”

“Yeah,” Yoon Min adds, teasing, “if he weren’t an Alpha I’d probably find him hot.”

“Nothing wrong with two Alphas finding each other hot,” Junseo says with an eyebrow wraggle, which earns a laugh from the group. 

Sangwon flushes, half embarrassed, half burning with something sharper. The irony that if only they knew . 

His eyes catch Anxin’s across the circle. The teasing feels lighter, somehow, when Anxin smiles at him again and leans a bit closer in, his voice low as he says, “I always knew it should be you, Sangwon-hyung.”

The words hang between them for a second and Sangwon feels the heat in his chest settle into a slow, steady pulse. 

He breathes in, smelling that crisp, rainwater scent so close, and it’s as if everyone around them the cameras, even the teasing, fade away

Then Leo’s laugh cuts through, breaking the tension. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he says, sliding an arm around Sangwon’s shoulders. “You all wish you were omegas so Sangwon could knot you. That’s enough.”

Sangwon lets out a small, half-smile, half-sigh, still flushed, still savoring the brief, electric calm of Anxin’s presence before the chaos of the group washes back over him.

*

Sangwon exhales as the van door slides open. 

The first day of rehearsals had gone well, he’s tired, but it’s a good kind of tired, the kind that tells him he didn’t embarrass himself, or mess up and that Yumeki-hyung won’t regret picking him. 

The paper with the new rooming assignments is posted by the lobby door. 

He glances at it quickly, relieved to see that his name is next to Leo’s again. A small wash of relief. He’s safe, at least for now. His eyes flick to the other names, noting a few other match ups and that most notable Anxin’s rooming with Geonwoo. 

If he hadn’t been rooming with Leo, he would’ve wanted to room with Anxin. 

They’re back in the same room as last night, the staff clearly having just decided to keep it the same for convenience. Though the bedding’s been folded neatly at the ends of the bunks, as if waiting for a new duo to arrive in this picture perfect room. Sangwon drops his duffel with a satisfying thump and starts unpacking again. A pointless ritual, they’ll be here for a few weeks at most before the producers shake things up with new rooms again, but he likes his things where he can see them. 

A drawer for shirts, one for practice clothes, socks lined up in rows.

Leo’s already sprawled on his bunk, watching him with that easy half-smile, “Well, that worked out, huh? Same team. Same room.”

“I’m lucky Yumeki-hyung picked me," Sangwon says, not looking up as he smooths a shirt flat. 

He tries to sound casual, but the thought digs in anyway. What if he’d ended up on a different team? Someone else’s team, someone else’s roommate. The idea makes his stomach twist uncomfortably, even though it’s completely irrelevant now as Yumeki did pick him for his team. 

 “Our team’s good,” Leo says, “We’re like the Avengers. We’ll for sure win.”

“Yeah,” Sangwon agrees. 

There’s a slight change in Leo’s scent, what might have been unnoticeable to someone that doesn’t know him as well, but Sangwon picks up on it easily, a note of displeasure before Leo says, ever so casually, “You and the puppy hit it off a bit.”

“Puppy?” Sangwon repeats, playing dumb. “Which one?” 

“Anxin.” 

“Oh,” Sangwon shrugs, a touch defensive. “Yeah, he seems nice.” 

Which is true. Anxin’s energy is unfiltered in a way that’s nice. Even though he’s an Alpha it doesn’t feel intense, or competitive, maybe it comes from how young he is, how puppy-like he is, or just from the fact that he doesn’t have to worry about his position as much as everyone else. After all, there’s never been a signal song center in produce-planet history that didn’t debut, he’s basically already guaranteed himself a spot by making center for the signal song.

“Sangwonnie,” Leo says, sitting up a bit, a slightly more serious tone on his face, “Just… be careful getting close with Alphas that aren’t me, okay? Even puppies.” 

Sangwon bites at the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to remind Leo that he’s not actually his Alpha, despite how protective of him Leo’s always liked to act, but there’s cameras on them, recording even in the dorms. As he glances up he can see the camera above the beds the red light blinking on. 

Privacy only exists in the bathrooms, the laundry room,and  the stairwell if you’re lucky and quiet. 

Here, every word is a performance, one that can be used against him later.

So Sangwon forces a laugh, one that sounds too rehearsed even to his own ears, “You have to learn to share me at some point, hyung.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

There’s something in Leo’s eyes—just for a fraction of a second, Leo’s eyes flash Alpha red. Sangwon’s pulse speeds up without warning, his inner Omega stirring, instinctively reacting to the Alpha in front of him. 

Suddenly it feels hard to breathe, Sangwon’s lungs tight like little knives being pressed into them, Leo’s scent stronger than it had been a moment before, His fingers itching to move, to do anything, but every muscle freezes under the quiet gravity of Leo’s gaze.

“Leo-hyung, your scent—” Sangwon begins, the words catching in his throat. 

A sharp knock at the door cuts him off before he can finish his sentence, and Sangwon’s head jerks to the open doorway, his body suddenly remembering how to move, as he turns to where Chingyu stands ignorant to the tension in the room.  

“Hyungs!” Chingyu says, “We’re going to the snack room, you guys coming?”

Sangwon straightens automatically, secretly grateful for the interruption. 

“I’m down,” he replies, looking over at Leo, whose eyes are now back to their normal color, “You?”

Leo studies him for a heartbeat longer, unreadable, then smiles easily, as if the flash of dominance never happened. “I wouldn’t mind a treat.”

Chapter Text

Sangwon pads barefoot down the hall, his towel thrown over one shoulder and hair damp from his shower, doing his best to move quietly.

It’s the middle of the night, late enough for every other trainee to be asleep, which is why Sangwon had chosen to this time of night to shower. After his run in with the others yesterday morning in the bathrooms, he’d figured that this was the best time to be in the shared bathroom space without risking any Alpha’s eyes on him. This late at night, with everyone asleep there is a lot less of a chance for anyone to notice that Sangwon’s scent doesn’t smell quite the same way theirs do, or that he’s not as big as they are where it matters most. 

He rounds the corner toward his room, ready to finally get some sleep, but stops suddenly in place at the sight of something on one of the benches in the common area.

Or not… Not something, someone . 

It takes Sangwon a second, stepping closer into the light to realize who it is, his scent hitting Sangwon before Sangwon’s eyes adjust to the darkness enough to make him out, but when it does he calls out—“Anxin?” 

The Alpha is lying on his back with a pillow clutched to his chest, his eyes open, not asleep, clearly not even close. Anxin jerks upright when Sangwon approaches. “Oh! Sangwon-hyung!” 

“You good?” Sangwon asks. 

“Ahh… I…” Anxin sits up fully, ears turning just a little pink as he says, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I mean, yeah,” Sangwon says, gesturing at the bench. “This doesn’t exactly look comfortable. 

“…It’s not.” Anxin admits, rubbing at his neck. He looks a little sheepish, like it’s his fault that the wooden bench is hard.

“Why aren’t you in your room?” 

“Ahhh…” Anxin starts again, he presses his lips together like he’s trying to think of the right words in Korean. For a moment though, Anxin's eyes jump to the camera in the corner of the common room. So that’s it. Something is the matter and he doesn’t want the cameras to know. 

Clearly, Anxin had picked up a few survival skills on the show he had been on before Boys 2 Planet . 

His voice drops to a whisper as he asks, more carefully, “Did your roommate kick you out?” 

Anxin shakes his head quickly, just a little movement, before confessing just as quietly, “Geonwoo-hyung snores.” 

Sangwon lets out a relieved little laugh. Thankful that it’s nothing too serious, that it’s not Geonwoo being mean to Anxin or anything like that. A roommate that snores a bit too loud should be annoying, but not the worst thing in the world. 

And something that Sangwon can sort of fix. 

“You can’t sleep here. We need rest if we’re going to survive Yumeki-hyung’s drills tomorrow,” Sangwon tells him. 

Anxin lets out a small sigh, like he knows Sangwon is right, but clearly still doesn’t want to go back to his room, where admittedly he probably won’t get much sleep either.

Sangwon will probably come to regret this later, but for now, he says, “Look, neither me nor Leo-hyung snore, so why don’t you just crash in our room tonight? You can share my bed.” 

He’d expected Anxin to jump on the offer of a place to stay that’s not this bench, but he still looks hesitant, his fingers twitching a little over his pillow, and his rainwater scent carrying a slightly stale note to it, betraying his uncertainty. 

“Come on, a bed has to be more comfortable than a bench, even a bed that’s being shared.” 

“But won’t that be…” Anxin pauses, before settling on the word, “Difficult?” 

“I mean, maybe a little cramped,” Sangwon offers, “but you’re not that big, we should fit just fine.” 

“Not cramped, I mean—” there’s another pause. Anxin hesitates again, biting down on his lip. Sangwon can practically hear the gears turning in his head. The language barrier clearly does them a bit of a disservice as Anxin tries to find a way to put his thoughts into words. If only the producers had let them keep their phones to use as translators, but of course, Mnet couldn’t make this easier for any of them. Eventually, he gestures between the two of them for a moment. “Because we’re Alphas?” 

Oh, right . 

In hindsight, fair point. 

Two Alphas who aren’t part of the same Pack rarely share beds without bristling at each other. Not the same way two Omegas or two Betas might be able to share without an issue. Alphas are wired differently. Territorial instincts make close quarters a challenge, let alone breathing the same air and curled up together in a bed. 

The irony isn’t lost on Sangwon. That an unmated Omega and an unmated Alpha sharing a bed would be considered even worse by most people's standards. But Anxin doesn’t know he’s an Alpha, and Sangwon’s got a good enough handle on his instincts that it shouldn’t be an issue.

Hopefully. 

“You’ve barely outgrown being a puppy, I promise my inner Alpha’s not gonna get weird about it. As long as you think yours won’t either, sharing a bed with me has to beat this,” Sangwon tells Anxin. “Plus, once we debut, we’ll be Pack anyway. Pack shares beds all the time.”

That seems to do it. The suggestion that they’ll debut together and become Pack is enough to have Anxin nodding, almost eager now. 

“Yeah. Cramped with you. Let’s go,” Anxin says, standing up and grabbing his pillow. 

Sangwon laughs softly as the Alpha falls into step behind him, pillow tucked under one arm like he’s following a big brother home. 

Okay, so maybe inviting an Alpha into his bed at midnight isn’t his best idea, but really, Anxin is harmless, and Sangwon can’t leave him to wake up with a stiff neck and ruin his footwork tomorrow. Honestly, as tired as Anxin looks now, he’ll probably knock out the second they’re in bed.

Nothing to worry about.

They tiptoe into the room, quietly, making sure not to wake Leo as they do so.  The air is still, only the soft sound of Leo’s breathing from his bed across the room. Sangwon eases the door shut, motioning for silence. 

Sangwon keeps his steps soft, his socks making hardly any sound, as he drops onto his mattress, tugging the blanket back, and gesturing for Anxin to join him. 

But Anxin stops suddenly, before crawling onto bed, “Ah—hyung, you still have your scent blocker patch on.”

“Oh,” Sangway whispers, reaching automatically toward his neck, feeling the scent patch he’d promptly applied as soon as he exited the shower earlier. “Forgot about that.”

“You shouldn’t sleep in those. Here—” Anxin says, leaning closer before Sangwon can react. Anxin’s fingers brush Sangwon’s neck as he peels the patch away. It’s such an easy, unthinking motion on Anxin’s part, like helping someone fix their collar, but Sangwon goes completely still under the touch, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, his instincts making him freeze in place as the Alpha removes his scent blocker patch. 

A small noise, not quite a gasp, escapes his lips as it’s pulled off and his hazelnut scent escapes him. 

“Sorry,” Anxin murmurs immediately, his hand retreating fast, like he’s worried he crossed some line. “I shouldn’t have… I just know it’s bad to wear them overnight, they block your skin from breathing.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sangwon says, a beat too slow, his voice coming out a little shakier than he would like, “I—uh… You just caught me off guard. It’s fine. Come here.”

This time when he gently pats the other side of the bed Anxin squeezes onto the bed beside him. Anxin lingers there, just a little closer than necessary, and Sangwon sees the way he breathes in, not even bothering to be subtle about it.

“You have a really nice scent, hyung,” Anxin says, voice quiet like a secret. 

Something tightens in Sangwon’s chest, compliments on his scent are rare. 

His scent is a tricky one, not quite right for the Alpha that he’s pretending to be, a bit too light and sweet, but also not quite an Omega scent either. Not sweet or fruity the way other Omegas scents usually are. He’s always had a bit of a complex about his scent. Then again, Anxin’s scent isn’t very typical Alpha either. 

“Thanks,” Sangwon says carefully, keeping his tone neutral even though his ears feel warm. “Yours is nice too.”

Anxin grins a little, like a kid being praised, and then says, “They told us we don’t have to wear blockers anymore since there aren’t any omegas around.”

Sangwon almost wants to laugh at the irony of that statement. But out loud, he just shrugs, and says, “Yeah. I just… my scent isn’t the most alpha-like. Didn’t want it to be used against me.”

Anxin curls a fraction closer to Sangwon, so eager and open, inhaling lightly again as if trying to take in more and more of Sangwon’s scent. 

“I really like your scent, Sangwon-hyung,” he says, again, and it’s almost disarming how genuine he sounds, and how nice Anxin’s scent smells in return, like fresh rainwater after a storm.

“Okay,” Sangwon says, forcing a little laugh and brushing the moment away before it can stretch too far. “Let’s just go to bed, huh?”

Anxin nods, not looking embarrassed at all, just pleased and still a little sleepy, and they both settle under Sangwon’s blanket. Anxin edges just a little bit closer under the blanket, his voice muffled with drowsiness, and says, “Good night, hyung.” 

“Good night,” Sangwon echoes softly. “Let’s get some rest.”

Maybe it’s the way Anxin’s scent mixes gently with his own, or maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the long day, but that night Sangwon falls asleep faster than he has in weeks.

*

Sangwon wakes to the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder.

Not a soft gentle nudge, but the tight pressure of someone desperately trying to wake him up without making too much sound. Sangwon blinks slowly into consciousness, opening his eyes to meet Leo’s eyes. 

“Whaaa—” Sangwon starts.

Only to freeze as another weight shifts against him, curling close to Sangwon, lips ghosting against the side of his neck, way too close to his scent gland. Sangwon stills, as his brain remembers where he is, what time it is, and who is breathing against his neck. 

He breathes in the scent of rainwater, and realizes why Leo looks like he’s walked in on a scandal. 

“What the fuck?” Leo frantically whispers. “Why is he in your bed?” 

Sangwon shifts just enough to jostle the mattress, immediately aware of the cameras mounted on the far wall. He feels his pulse spike, not because he is guilty, but because this was exactly the kind of shot the editors would love. 

“He couldn’t sleep with his roommate because Geonwoo snores,” Sangwon murmurs, careful to keep his lips barely moving, hopeful quiet enough not to wake Anxin or be picked up by the cameras. “So I said he could stay here with us since neither of us snore.” 

“That doesn’t explain why he’s in bed with you and not on the floor,” Leo says, his voice still a harsh whisper, betraying how much louder he would be if it weren’t for the cameras around. 

“The floor’s not comfy,” Sangwon counters rationally, as if he were discussing line distribution rather than the warmth of a younger trainee tucked against his side. “We need to be in our best condition to practice today. You know how rough yesterday was.”

Leo does not look convinced. 

His dark eyes keep flickering between them, his whole posture screaming unhappy Alpha. Even his scent is sharper and more peppery than usual, rolling off him in unfiltered waves now that he’s irritated. Leo’s scent prickles against Sangwon’s skin, waking him up more effectively than any alarm clock could. 

The scent of displeased Alpha seems to stir Anxin into wakefulness as well, because he shifts from where he’s pressed beside Sangwon, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand as he slowly wakes up. Anxin’s voice is rough with sleep as he says, “Sangwon-hyung, Leo-hyung, is it time to wake up already?”

Sangwon’s heart squeezes a little at how innocently unguarded Anxin looks, a contrast to the strom cloud brewing above him. 

“Yep,” Sangwon says, pushing himself upright and shaking off the haze of sleep before Leo can say anything else. He clapped his hands once, projecting cheerfulness like a pro. “Let’s go practice. Everyone up.” 

Anxin sits up immediately, brightening with that same puppy-like energy that Sangwon had noticed yesterday in the practice room. “Okay, hyung!” he chirps, stretching his arms above his head, such that the hem of his shirt rides up slightly. Sangwon’s eyes slip to the silver of exposed skin for just a moment before looking away quickly. 

“Bathroom first,” Leo mutters, “Then the practice room. Five minutes. Let’s go.” 

*

The storm cloud over Leo hasn’t budged an inch by the time that they make it to the practice room with all the others. If anything, it’s only gotten darker and more concentrated, like a summer sky about to split open and drown everything beneath it. 

Leo has been trying to get Sangwon alone all morning. At first it was subtle, a glance when they’re in the hallway, a faint lift of his chin that clearly says ‘ we need to talk ’. But every time Anxin has been there, practically glued to Sangwon’s side, and cheerfully oblivious to Leo’s not so subtle hints for him to give them some space. Even now, Leo tries to catch his eye again, but Anxin’s presence makes it impossible to have the conversation that Leo clearly wants to have, especially now that they’re surrounded by cameras once more. 

Sangwon’s sure the second they’re in a camera free zone later, Leo will corner him with whatever’s got him in a twist, though remembering how Sangwon woke up, it’s pretty easier to guess what he wants to talk about. 

The thing is… He and Leo don’t fight, like, ever, so even the mild irritation coming in waves off of the Alpha in his scent is enough to set Sangwon’s inner Omega on edge. Even now, sitting in the practice room, the sharp peppery heat of Leo’s pheromones continues to sprinkle at him, making Sangwon’s skin feel too tight. 

Luckily he had remembered to slap on a scent blocker patch of his own, so his own hazelnut scent isn’t betraying his unease, even if Anxin had frowned a little watching him do it and once again expressed how much he likes his scent and how he shouldn’t have to suppress it around the others.

“Looks like you three woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Yoon Min says the second they enter the room, clearly picking up on Leo’s disgruntled mood.

“Oh it was certainly a side of the bed,” Leo says, his mouth curving into a humorless smile.

“Actually, I slept great last night,” Anxin chimes in cheerfully, completely sincere and oblivious. 

“Glad someone did,” Leo says, voice flattened into sarcasm that’s so obvious Sangwon winces. 

But once again, Anxin just beams at him, “Thanks, hyung!” 

Sangwon has to turn away to smother the sound of the laugh that bubbles out of his throat. He coughs into his sleeve to disguise it, but Leo’s narrowed eyes catch him anyway.

“Where the hell did you sleep last night, Anxin?” Geonwoo asks. “You weren’t in our room this morning but you were when I went to sleep last night…” He gestures vaguely toward Sangwon and Leo, still piecing it together. “…but then you—?”

“Ah… I…” Anxin pauses, searching for the right Korean words, before he settles on, “I slept with Sangwon-hyung last night.”

There’s a beat of silence, right before the entire room bursts into laughter. Junseo doubles over against the mirror, and even little Yumeki makes a small politely hidden wheezing sound. 

Anxin’s brow furrows, confused, “What? What did I—?”

“Okay, okay. So the phrase you’re looking for is slept next to Sangwon-hyung or slept in the same bed as Sangwon-hyung. When you say it like I slept with him …” Junseo makes an awkward gesture that sends another ripple of laughter through the gathered group. “…it kind of means something else.”

Sangwon hides his face with both hands, praying the cameras don't catch how red his ears are. He’s sure this is just the type of silly content that they’ll eat up and repackage for the viewers later. After all, who doesn’t love a good embarrassing miscommunication?

“Ohhh,” Anxin says, the dots clearly just connecting themselves in his mind. He flails his hands in protest, his own cheeks flushing as he quickly says, “I didn’t mean that!”

“We know, we know,” Junseo says, trying to calm the laughter down. “But for future reference—first Korean lesson of the day: word choice matters.”

“Wait,” baby Chingyu pipes up, tilting his head. “What’s the difference? Don’t they all mean—”

There’s a collective groan from the older boys before Yoon Min ruffles the kid’s hair. “You’ll learn when you’re older, puppy.”

Sangwon laughs with the rest of them, but his thoughts aren’t really on the joke. 

His inner Omega still hasn’t settled, and his heart beats just a bit too fast, and he can still feel Leo’s gaze sticking like a burr to the side of his neck—not angry exactly, but clearly still wanting to talk .

Sangwon doesn’t dare meet his eyes again. 

Thankfully, he’s saved from any more drawn out embarrassment in front of the cameras as Yumeki claps his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention back to what’s most important. “Alright, alright, enough fooling around. Let’s practice.” 

*

The second they get a moment alone, the dorm bathroom door clicking behind them, Leo turns to him, his voice sharp. “Do you want to be found out?”

Sangwon braces his palms on the edge of the sink, facing his own reflection instead of Leo. “What? No—what are you even saying? Of course, I don’t want to be found out.” 

“Then act like it,” Leo snaps.

“Excuse me!?”

“How do you think it looked this morning, huh?” Leo questions, his voice still sharp. “Me waking up to see you curled up in bed with some Alpha, his nose on your scent gland, smelling your Omega scent.” 

Sangwon flushes not from embarrassment, but from irritation. He twists away from the mirror to finally look at Leo. “He’s not going to notice anything. Anxin’s basically a puppy. He wouldn’t—”

“He’s not a puppy,” Leo cuts him off, “Chingyu is a puppy. Anxin is a recently presented Alpha. Do you know what that means?”

The words “ that he’s got more stamina ” almost slip from Sangwon’s lips, but he bites them back just in time. 

“It means he’s got less control than us experienced Alphas,” Leo continues, “It’s a shock he didn’t figure it out last night considering how you two were—” his jaw clenches, like he couldn’t quite spit the words out—“all cuddled up together?”

“Anxin didn’t notice anything,” Sangwon says, forcing calm into his voice, even as his heart hammers in his chest, “because Anxin thinks I’m a good Alpha hyung looking after him. Nothing more.”

Leo mutters something under his breath, low and sharp. Sangwon catches only the words “good Alpha,” the rest swallowed by anger.

“Oh, come on,” Sangwon says, his own frustration building now. “You’re completely blowing this out of proportion.” 

“ I’m blowing it out of proportion?” Leo lets out a sharp, bitter noise, “You didn’t see how close he was—”

“I don’t need you policing who I fall asleep next to,” Sangwon snaps before he could stop himself. His own voice sounds too loud in the cramped room even to his ears, bouncing off the tile. For a second, he worries that the cameras in the hall will be able to pick up on their conversation. Sangwon’s voice is lower when he speaks, though his upset tone remains. “You’re acting like I’m an idiot—”

“What if he woke up? What if he realized he was curled up next to an Omega?” Leo questions. “You have to know what any Alpha would do in that situation.” 

Sangwon’s stomach twists, half with anger, half with that familiar ache of frustration he’s learned to carry in these situations. “Anxin isn’t that kind of Alpha.”

“You can’t say that for sure,” Leo counters. “You don’t know him.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“No,” Leo admits, “but I know you. I know what type of Alpha you go for. So excuse me for wanting to protect you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Leo’s words sting, a bit more than Sangwon would like to admit, because the truth is he’s not wrong about Sangwon’s usual type. 

Sangwon’s been with his fair share of bad Alphas over the last three years. He’d flirt in clubs, bat his eyes a little, find an Alpha that doesn’t mind an Omega that’s on heat suppressors, that doesn’t like having his scent exposed in public. There’s plenty who prefer that, less of a risk of knocking him up if there’s no heats involved, and less eyes on him if he smells Beta-like more often than not. 

Those Alphas were never good. They’d always treated him like something to win, not someone to keep. Most of his previous relationships with Alphas, lasted a week, maybe two, before the first cracks showed. Sangwon had always told himself it didn’t matter; he doesn’t need permanence, just distraction from time to time, a distraction from all his failed dreams, and there were plenty of Alphas that relished being a distraction . 

But Anxin? Sweet, earnest, stupidly polite Anxin, who thanked staff after their rehearsals were done and offered up his last bottle of water to Sangwon earlier when his own was empty without thinking? He didn’t fit that pattern at all. He’s nothing like the sharp-smiled bastards Sangwon usually prefers to date. 

He’s far too sweet. 

“First off,” Sangwon says, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “I’m not attracted to Anxin.”

Leo tilts his head, eyes narrowing a little as he asks, “You sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sangwon shoots back. “Believe it or not, I know who I’m attracted to.” He starts ticking points off on his fingers, to prove a point. “One: as you just pointed out he’s not my type. Two: I’m not stupid enough to try and flirt with an Alpha when I’m supposed to be an Alpha. And three: even if I was attracted to him, why the hell does it matter to you who I’m into?”

“Because you’re my—” Leo starts, then stops himself, letting out a tightly held breath before he says, “Because it’s my job to keep you safe.” 

The words hang between them like a wall, breaking through the argument’s heat with something colder. For a second, neither of them speak, the silence louder than shouting, Sangwon’s heart still beating too loud in his chest. 

A part of him wants to spit back, to call Leo overbearing, but another part feels that familiar tug of understanding. Leo has carried this chip on his shoulder ever since Trainee A collapsed around them—he’s never stopped looking over Sangwon, even when they’d made their own choices and moved on. 

“You really think I can’t take care of myself?” Sangwon questions, “That I’m some fragile little Omega that needs babysitting?”

“No,” Leo replies, his own tone and scent a bit more muted than it had been a moment before, “I just know you, and if I didn’t speak up, I’d regret it.”

Sangwon sighs.

He doesn’t want to fight with Leo anymore.

And the only way he knows for sure to end this is to put them back in the camera’s view. After all, he knows no matter how upset Leo is, the last thing that either of them wants is to give Mnet something to use to twist a narrative of them fighting or not being as close as they actually are. 

“I’m going to bed,” Sangwon says, pushing past Leo and yanking the bathroom door open.

Behind him, he can hear Leo following, his footfalls quick and angry. But neither of them could say anything now, not out here, there’s too many cameras on the walls. 

Their room feels heavy when they make it inside. Sangwon lays down on his bed, careful to keep his expression neutral for the camera in the corner—no furrowed brow, no twitch of annoyance, just bland idol-training fatigue. 

By the time they click off the lights to sleep, Leo still hasn’t spoken a single word to him since they left the bathroom. It gnaws at him, the way Leo’s upset Alpha pheromones linger in the air, and the sharp way Leo pulls back his sheets, in how he doesn’t look at Sangwon when he climbs into bed. As if the cameras won’t catch that too. As if production won’t notice when their easy camaraderie suddenly goes stiff.

Sangwon hates this. 

He hates fighting with Leo, hates knowing that this is less about Anxin and more about Leo being worried about him—not that Leo will ever admit it—and he hates that if they aren’t careful, the production crew will edit this into some narrative of “team tension” to make them look bad in front of the viewers.

He rolls onto his side, staring at the faint glint of red from the recording light on the camera above them.

“Look,” he says finally, keeping his voice low and even, the kind of tone meant to sound casual if the mics pick it up again. “It won’t happen again. Just… can we be good again?” 

Leo doesn’t look at him, just mutters into his pillow, “It’d better not.”

That flashes heat through Sangwon’s chest, annoyance, quick and bitter. Like he’s a kid being scolded instead of a grown adult, instead of someone who’s spent years knowing how to navigate cameras without blowing up.

Sangwon yanks his own blanket up, turning his back on Leo and telling himself to let it go. He needs to sleep so he can focus on their interim check tomorrow, not Leo’s mood.

But his body won’t cooperate. 

His chest hurts from how fast his heart is still beating, and he can still smell Leo’s sharp pepper scent, that grounding alpha scent that’s been familiar for years, tangled with the bitter edge of their fight. His inner omega is a mess, twitchy and unsettled. 

They’re not supposed to fight. Not like this. They’re supposed to be a team.

And he can’t sleep in the same room as Leo while feeling like there’s a wall between them…

He shifts under the blanket, restless. He starts to say something, but the words gather in his throat and stick there.

“What is it?” Leo says, knowing Sangwon well enough to know he has something he wants to say, even if he’s not sure he’s ready to say it. 

Sangwon swallows, hating how small his voice sounds when he finally says, “I… I can’t sleep if you’re still mad at me.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then a sigh, heavy and tired. 

“I’m not mad,” Leo replies. “Go to bed.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but it feels like being brushed off, like Leo’s just swatting him away with words. 

Sangwon turns over, facing him now in the faint glow of the moonlight. His chest feels tight. This isn’t enough. He doesn’t want a lie to make things easy. He wants to feel it.

“Hyung,” Sangwon says, voice barely above a whisper. His throat feels dry, and his inner omega is already keening for comfort he shouldn’t even be asking for. “If you’re not mad at me, can you scent me?”

The words hang there in the air between them, soft and dangerous. He’s aware of the way the cameras are always watching—even in the dorms, even at night. But right now he doesn’t care. He can’t stand this tension between them anymore.

Hesitantly, he bares his neck, tugging the blanket down an inch, so that he can expose his scent gland. It feels humiliating, almost, very Omega and  too vulnerable. He hates that it makes his chest feel lighter at the same time. He doesn’t quite look at Leo as he adds, quieter still, “Please, hyung.”

For a moment, Leo just stares at him, still and unreadable, and for a second, Sangwon thinks maybe he’s going to refuse, but then Leo sits up, swinging a leg over the gap between their beds to climb onto Sangwon’s mattress. 

The weight of him, the warm Alpha presence closing in, makes Sangwon’s breath hitch.

Sangwon shifts slights to lay on his back, leaving the soft skin of his neck exposed. 

Without a word, Leo climbs over him, moving with that Alpha confidence that has always had a grounding effect on Sangwon. The bed creaks faintly under their combined weight, but Sangwon barely notices, his focus entirely on the way Leo presses against him. Leo’s hand finds the back of Sangwon’s neck, thumb brushing lightly against the tender skin there, and Sangwon shivers, unable to stop the small whine from slipping from his lips.

“Relax,” Leo murmurs, almost to himself, not a command, just a low, grounding sound that vibrates against Sangwon’s ear.

Leo presses closer, the warmth of his chest against Sangwon’s own as he drags the hand lower, his thumb tracing circles along the pulse point at Sangwon’s neck, and the other hand resting lightly on his shoulder, fingers brushing over the curve of his collarbone

“You…” Leo murmurs, voice lower now, as he marks Sangwon in his scent, “You always know how to make me worry.” 

His thumb traces Sangwon’s skin again, and Sangwon can feel the way the tension seeps out of him, replaced by that familiar anchor of safety that only Leo can provide.

Sangwon swallows, the fluttering in his chest threatening to overwhelm him, but he keeps his voice steady, as he replies, “I… I’m sorry, hyung.” 

Leo’s eyes flicker down at him, and for a long moment, he says nothing, just watches, just takes in the sight of Sangwon’s exposed neck, and then, he leans closer, pressing his nose against the curve of Sangwon’s neck, inhaling Sangwon’s hazelnut scent, and marking him with his own lemon pepper scent. 

Sangwon closes his eyes, every muscle relaxing, letting the tension of the fight, the panic, and the uncertainty all seep out through the gentle press of Leo against him. His inner omega hums with calm, the kind of quiet that comes when the world falls away except for the warmth, the scent, and the grounding presence of someone who’s always had his back.

“Better?” Leo murmurs when he’s finally finished marking Sangwon with his scent. 

“Yeah… yeah, thank you,” he whispers, his voice dazed and just a little scent drunk. 

He can’t help but feel relieved in how effortless it feels to trust Leo, how safe, how calm, how right it feels to simply exist here in this moment. Leo’s the closest thing to home he’s felt since leaving the safety of their trainee days. 

He opens his mouth to say something, an apology for earlier, but before he can manage the words, a sharp knock at the door stops him. 

Leo doesn’t even move, “Ignore it.”

“We can’t just ignore someone knocking,” he mutters. wiggling out from under Leo’s hold. The Alpha gets up to follow him a second later with a resigned sigh.

But when Sangwon cracks the door open, he freezes.

Because Anxin is standing there, his eyes wide like he didn’t expect Sangwon to actually open up.

“Hyung,” he whispers, voice soft and a little hoarse from sleep. “Sorry, did I wake you? I just—”

Sangwon glances back over his shoulder. Leo’s got his lips pressed together and he’s back to having a cross expression on his face. When his eyes meet Sangwon’s, there’s a silent ‘ don’t you dare ’ written all over his face.

“It’s fine,” Sangwon says, turning back to Anxin, and pasting on a faint, camera-proof smile even though the only one watching is Anxin. “What’s up?”

“Hyung, can I sleep with you again?”

“Uh…” Sangwon starts, brain scrambling. He can already feel the tension like static pressing down on the room, there’s no way he can let Anxin sleep with him again after he just made peace with Leo over a promise of not letting it happen again.

But Anxin looks like a kicked puppy right now. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Leo says, cutting in smoothly before Sangwon can fumble out an answer.

“Oh…” Anxin says, his voice sounding small and a little hurt.

Leo continues smoothly coming up with an excuse, “Sangwonnie is too polite to say it, but he hurt his back being all cramped up with you last night.” 

“Oh—sorry, hyung!” Anxin says, his expression morphing from sad puppy to worried in a second. “Do you want me to rub your back? I’m really good at getting the kinks out. Here, lay down and let me—”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Sangwon says, forcing a laugh that feels paper-thin. “You can sleep in here. It’s fine, it wasn’t that bad.” 

“Are you sure? I really appreciate it,” Anxin says, ducking his head in gratitude. “I can take the floor if that helps—”

“No,” Sangwon says automatically. He hates the idea of Anxin sleeping on the floor, especially with the interim check tomorrow. “You need a bed. It’s fine. You can share with me again.” 

“No, he can share with me,” Leo says, quickly, a bit too quickly, considering Sangwon’s pretty sure if Leo had it his way they’d be shutting the door in Anxin’s face. “So you don’t hurt your back again, Sangwonnie.” 

There’s a beat of stunned silence. Anxin clearly not having expected that, but then he blinks before beaming like someone just handed him candy.

“Really? Thanks, Leo-hyung!” he says, before he pads over and flops into Leo’s bed without hesitation.

Sangwon can’t help it, the smirk that finds its way onto his lips as he climbs back into his own bed and rolls onto his side to watch as Leo settles down beside Anxin, lying stiff as a board on his back.

He knows Leo is just trying to protect him—or protect them , really—but it still feels a bit over the top. 

Anxin isn’t going to figure anything out. He’s just a sweet, newly-presented alpha who looks up to Sangwon and wants to make friends. The worst thing that’s going to happen is Sangwon waking up with a dead arm again. 

Within seconds, Anxin is asleep again, clearly having tip-toed over here immediately after being awoken by his roommate’s snores, but Leo lays still, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Look at you two,” Sangwon mouths at Leo, amused. “So cute.” 

“Shut up,” Leo quips, his lemon pepper scent twinged with embarrassment. “Just go to bed.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Anxin,” Geonwoo calls casually the second that Sangwon and Anxin enter the practice room, “Did you sleep with Sangwon again last night?”

Sangwon rolls his eyes, already bracing for trouble. He doesn’t even get the chance to glare before Anxin—smiling so innocently, completely oblivious to the loaded phrasing—answers without hesitation. “Nope! I slept with Leo-hyung this time!”

Laughter fills the room not even a second later. Even Geonwoo doubles over, coughing on his own breath, hand slapped over his mouth like he hadn’t expected such a perfect setup to pay off.

Junseo groans through his laughter, trying in vain to correct him. “No, Anxinie. Slept next to. You mean slept next to. ”

Of course, that only makes the laughter louder.

Sangwon bites the inside of his cheek, fighting the curve of his own mouth. 

So close, and yet so far. 

As if on cue, Leo strolls in late, like he was summoned by the sound of his name. “What are you all cackling about?” he asks, his voice flat and his eyes narrowing across the room.

“Nothing,” Geonwoo says, trying and failing to hide his grin. “Just wondering who Anxin’s going to be sleeping with next.”

“Ah,” Leo smirks, “jealous, are you?”

Geonwoo sputters, half-protesting, which sets the group off all over again.

Anxin, sweet to a fault, actually looks guilty. He turns to Geonwoo, wide-eyed and apologetic. 

“Sorry, Geonwoo-hyung,” Anxin says, sounding genuinely guilty. “I want to sleep with you, I really do, but you snore so loud.”

“ Slept next to, ” Junseo repeats, with a slightly defeated voice, “Please, just say slept next to. ”

“Wait, but Anxin-ge, why’d you keep going to Leo and Sangwon’s in the first place?” Chingyu pipes up to ask, “I mean, I get getting away from Geonwoo—”

“Hey!” Geonwoo squawks.

“No offense!” Chingyu shoots back quickly, grinning before turning to Anxin again. “But I thought you and Jiahao-ge were close? Or does he snore too?”

That’s a question that Sangwon had admittedly been asking himself. The first night made sense; Sangwon had found Anxin on the bench, and Anxin clearly hadn’t wanted to wake anyone. 

But Anxin has plenty of C-group friends. He’s always surrounded by them, always laughing and chatting, even this morning at breakfast when three different guys had crowded around his tray like they’d known him for years.

So why hadn’t he just gone to one of them?

Was it only because Sangwon happened to be the one who found him? Because they’re on the same team now?

“No, it’s not that,” Anxin says with a shake of his head. He smiles a disarmingly sweet smile as he adds, “I really like Sangwon-hyung’s scent. It helps me sleep.”

Half the room goes still, eyes flicking straight to Sangwon. He forces a shrug, trying for casual, but his ears burn hot and his fingers twitch toward the edge of his scent-blocker patch like it might give him away.

Anxin’s face falls slightly, realizing the shift in the room in response to his words. He looks between them, suddenly uncertain. “Did… did I say something wrong again?”

Junseo swoops to the rescue before the awkward silence can stretch. 

“No, no,” Junseo says quickly, his voice light. “But maybe—new plan. Yoonmin, you sleep like the dead, right? How about you room with Geonwoo. Then Leo and Anxin can pair up, and Sangwon—” Junseo’s gaze lingers on Sangwon as he hesitates. Too long. Long enough that Sangwon feels the prickle of it, his inner Omega tensing under the weight of an Alpha’s eyes. “Sangwon can room with me.”

Sangwon blinks, caught off guard by the sudden shuffle of roommates. 

How did he end up being the one to move? His first instinct is to protest, eyes darting automatically toward Leo. Surely Leo will step in, come up with some calm, rational excuse the way he always does—But Leo isn’t looking at him. 

Leo hasn’t looked at him once since walking in.

They hadn’t spoken much that morning, not with Anxin glued to his side again, and when it was time for breakfast, Leo had simply disappeared. Now he stays silent, and something in Sangwon’s chest tightens. Was he still mad about last night?

“Sangwon-ah?” Junseo prompts.

Sangwon tears his eyes away from Leo. 

“Yeah… okay,” he says, forcing a bright smile, even though his stomach twists. Being away from Leo makes him uneasy, his Omega prickling at the distance, but what’s he supposed to say? No, actually, I need to stay in the same room because— Because what?

He has no good reason he can admit out loud.

“Great,” Yumeki claps his hands together, cutting through the murmuring. “Now that that’s settled, let’s practice before we run out of time.”

They line up again, but Sangwon catches himself glancing at Leo in the mirror more than once, wondering if he looks as calm as he’s pretending to be.

But still, Leo doesn’t look back. 

*

The interim checks start with the vocal evaluation. 

The two Whiplash teams line up in the practice studio, the vocal masters perched in chairs with clipboards and expressionless faces. When the music starts, Sangwon pushes everything else out of his head—Geonwoo’s pointed questions, Anxin’s comments on his scent, Leo’s cold shoulder—and focuses on pitch, breath, blend.

By the time they finish, the vocal master nods, impressed with their performance. 

“Very clean for forty-eight hours of work,” he says. “You’ve got the structure down already. Keep polishing the harmonies and you’ll be solid.”

The team exhales as one, a few relieved grins, especially when the other Whiplash team doesn’t receive nearly as enthusiastic praise. Sangwon even lets himself smile too, tension easing a fraction.

And then it’s time for the dance check.

“Alright. Full-out, no marking,” their dance master for today, Kinky, says, “Show me what you’ve got.”

They run it once. 

It’s rough, but not bad. Sangwon can feel his lines hitting clean, his timing sharp. At least—he thinks so.

But Kinky is watching with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. This is the first time the dancer master has seen their performance. 

When the track cuts off, he doesn’t say anything about their performance, just says,  “Again.”

So they run it again, sweaty shirts sticking through to their backs, as they throw themselves into the rhythm of performing Whiplash for the second time. 

Though when they finish, all Kinky says is, “One more time.”

Sangwon’s thighs ache by the third round, but he pushes through, forcing energy into every move. The others are starting to flag too, but no one dares complain. Not when the cameras are rolling and this will certainly be aired for everyone to see. 

When the music dies this time, Kinky finally speaks, “Who’s the killing part?”

Sangwon’s stomach drops. If Kinky has to ask—All the eyes in the room swing toward him. His teammates first, and then the other group lined up along the wall, even the Alphas on the rival team appraising him. 

His face burns with embarrassment as he raises his hand ever so hesitantly. 

“I—” his voice comes out smaller than he means. Sangwon clears his throat before continuing, “It’s me.”

“Do it again, just you,” Kinky says flatly.

Sangwon steps forward, his muscles aching, his entire body overflowing with embarrassment, and runs through the killing part alone. The movements that felt powerful in rehearsal suddenly seem awkward under the weight of the silence. 

When he finishes, his chest is heaving, not just from exertion, but from shame. 

“I see…” Kinky says, tilting his head, still clearly unimpressed, “I kept wondering where the killing part was. It didn’t feel like a killing part at all.”

The words slice clean.

Sangwon feels them lodge somewhere in his chest, sharp and cold. He keeps his face carefully blank, but inside he’s crumpling.

“I asked you to do it three times. Each time I expected you to raise the energy. Instead it dropped,” Kinky continues, sweeping his gaze over the whole group now. “No one’s hungry enough. I thought it was supposed to be a group of Alphas , but you perform more like Omegas .”

The criticism is for everyone, but Sangwon only hears the word ‘Omega’ . The flaw is him. He’s the one bringing the team down, not just for not standing out during the killing part, but for what he is. The weight of their failures settles squarely on his shoulders. 

He can feel his teammates shifting beside him, but no one speaks.

Sangwon’s thoughts swirl, blaming himself for dragging them down. If he were stronger, sharper, better, no one would question who the killing part is. If he were an Alpha , like he’s supposed to be.

He thinks of how he was the last one picked for the team. How Leo had practically convinced the others to give him this part, promising the others Sangwon could handle it. Leo believed in him, vouched for him, and now he’s out here making all of them look bad. 

The shame burns hotter than the sweat on his skin. 

He feels small. 

Smaller than he has in a long time. 

Like a trainee again, waiting to be told he’s not good enough.

That there’s no place for him here.

That he was a fool to hope this would be any different from all that’s come before. 

Sangwon drops his gaze to the floor, shamed as Kinky dismisses them and calls the second Whiplash team to perform. He should be paying attention, watching the competition, but he can't look at anyone. 

When the check ends, the dance masters leave the room. No one says much, too aware of the cameras, too aware of how bad it looked to be scolded by Kinky like that. 

Yumeki starts the music up again almost immediately, insisting that they run it again, focusing on making the moves clear, but Sangwon mutters something about grabbing water and slips out of formation. 

He needs space. 

Just a minute to breathe.

There are cubbies along the back wall, shallow wooden rectangles meant for bags and jackets. Too small for anyone to climb into comfortably, but the sight of them makes something in Sangwon’s chest ease. Tight spaces have always soothed him. His Omega instincts hum at the thought of being tucked away where no one can see.

It’s stupid. If anyone notices, it’ll look weird and Omega-like. 

But he can’t bring himself to care.

He crouches and squeezes himself inside, knees to his chest. The wooden edge presses into his shoulders, slightly painful but grounding at the same time. He folds in on himself and lets the noise of rehearsal blur into a dull thrum beyond the wall.

His thoughts loop shamefully. The killing part’s supposed to be unforgettable—but Kinky didn’t even realize it was him. What’s the point of being ranked second if he doesn’t deserve it?

Faces flicker through his mind, of fans who’ve supported him since Trainee A , who waited for him to return, who flooded the comments when they saw his name on the Boys 2 Planet list. They said they still believed in him, and still wanted to see him succeed after everything. They’ve been voting, streaming, fighting for him.

What if they’re wrong?

What if HYBE had been right—that he isn’t fit to debut, that he’ll never be good enough, that he should just give up and go back to being a barista and making lattes. At least then he knew he could get something right.

A shadow falls over the cubby before his thoughts can spiral much further. 

Leo crouches down in front of him, blocking the overhead lights. He’s careful, soft smile for the cameras, voice low enough not to be caught.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Leo says. “We’ve still got time to fix it before the performance.”

Sangwon blinks up at him, throat tight. He wants to believe it, desperately, but he knows the truth. They’d all heard what Kinky said. 

“You don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better,” he mutters. 

“I’m not lying,” Leo tells him, bluntly, “But… I am sorry.” 

Sangwon frowns, “What? Why?”

“Obviously our argument last night messed with your focus, and then Anxin coming into the room on top of that…” Leo grimaces, like the memory of last night still stings. “I’m sorry. I know how seriously you want this, because that’s how badly I want this too. But I don’t want this without you. We’re debuting together, no matter what, and I don’t want to jeopardize that by being upset with each other. Okay? I’ll be chill about you and your puppy. I promise.”

Sangwon looks at Leo for a long moment, really looks at him. The apology knots his stomach. “ It’s not your fault,” he wants to say, but the words don’t quite make it past his lips. 

Maybe if Leo hadn’t scented him last night, hadn’t climbed over him, pressed his throat to his, smoothed the restless edge out of his nerves, Sangwon would still be upset today.

But this failure today has nothing to do with their argument last night. 

This is all him. His own inability. His own weakness.

Still, he forces a small smile, pretending for Leo’s sake that his apology is enough to fix Sangwon’s desolate mood, “Yeah. Okay.”

Leo reaches in and hauls him up easily, pulling him out of the cubby he’d been hiding in and into a quick hug. His cheek presses against the side of Sangwon’s neck, a subtle nudge meant to scent him, but the patch on Sangwon’s neck blocks everything. 

They break apart before the cameras can linger too long.

Back in formation, Yoon Min claps when they see him return. “There we go, now we can practice again.”

“Good job, Leo-hyung,” Chingyu says with an approving nod.

“I told you I’d get it back,” Leo says with a grin. “Well, nobody knows how to cheer up Sangwon better than me.”

Sangwon gives another small smile to the group, which he hopes convinces them that he’s not so stuck in his head anymore, and moves to take his position so that they can run through the song. 

They’re lining up again when Anxin reaches out casually and catches Sangwon’s hand. His thumb brushes over the inside of Sangwon’s wrist, right over his scent gland. It’s nothing obvious, just a light touch, a smile that’s a little too warm for the situation.

To another Alpha, it might read as friendly support, maybe even deference. But for an Omega, it’s something else entirely: practically a command to be soothed, whether he wants it or not. 

“Sangwon-hyung,” Anxin’s voice is pitched low, almost conversational, but the edge of sincerity is impossible to miss. “I missed you.” 

The thumb doesn’t move away. It lingers, strokes once, lazy, like he’s memorizing the spot. Sangwon opens his mouth to make some comment, but Anxin leans closer, lowering his tone further.

“You’re better than you think,” he adds, gaze holding Sangwon’s for a beat too long. “Don’t waste your focus on what the masters said.” 

There’s more than words in the air. A thin thread of calming pheromones unwinds from Anxin’s rainwater scent, not enough to flood the room, not enough for anyone else to really notice, but tuned perfectly for Sangwon. It curls around him like the phantom weight of a hand at his nape, smoothing the spike of nerves he hadn’t realized had crested so high. The shiver that runs through him is subtle, but it settles somewhere deep in his chest, his inner Omega responding to Anxin’s pheromones, even with suppressors steady in his system.

When Anxin pulls his hand back like it’s nothing, Sangwon forces his expression to stay blank, even as his pulse beats suddenly loud in his ears.

“Be careful,” he mutters, just loud enough for Anxin to hear, “Don’t—”

“What?” Anxin just smiles, easy, unbothered. “I’m not doing anything.”

It’s a lie, and they both know it, but somehow it works. The weight in Sangwon’s chest eases, his shoulders loosening despite himself. 

And when they move into formation, Sangwon finds his hand remembering the echo of Anxin’s touch, as if his skin refuses to let it go.

*

By the time practice finally ends, Sangwon feels completely exhausted.

His body aches, his throat is raw, and his thoughts keep looping, with Kinky's voice in his head saying “ didn’t feel like a killing part at all” . Tomorrow they’ll be performing in front of every other team, judging and evaluating each other, and he doesn’t feel like he’s done any better than yesterday. 

If anything, he feels worse, like every hour of practice they’ve done today has just completely chipped away at whatever confidence he has left.

All he wants is sleep. 

A few hours where no one’s watching, where his head isn’t full of beats and lyrics and the sharp echo of disappointment.

“I’m going to grab my stuff,” Yoon Min says, appearing at his side as they arrive at the dorm building. “If you wanna get yours, you can move in and then crash.”

Ah. Right. 

In the mess of his failure to perform the killing part, he’d forgotten the room shuffle from this morning. 

A curl of nerves uncoils low in his stomach. Rooming with Leo is safe—Leo knows his secret, and more than that, Leo feels familiar and comfortable. But if he protests now, it’ll look weird, and the only other option is Anxin crammed staying with Geonwoo, which would be… worse. 

So Sangwon just nods, his lips pressed thin.

He tries not to think about it as he packs, but the unease sticks to him, lingering there when he drags his bag over to his new room. 

The new room smells faintly of Yoon Min’s leathery scent, but it’s cut more distinctly by Junseo’s birchwood scent. Neither scents are overpowering, but noticeable, and Sangwon’s nose twitches in displeasure. His inner Omega doesn’t particularly like either scent. They are not familiar in the way that Leo’s lemon pepper scent is, or comforting in the way Anxin’s rainwater scent is. 

Sangwon sets his bag on the empty bed and once again carefully begins unpacking, arranging all of his things perfectly despite not knowing how long he’s going to be staying in this room. 

He carefully tucks his heat suppressor pills—disguised in a little bottle that he’d taped on a little label to read “allergy meds”—into the nightstand drawer, then buries everything under a layer of folded shirts. His movements feel mechanical, like he’s performing for the ever-present cameras, which in a way he is. 

Junseo comes in when Sangwon is in the middle of unpacking and leans against the door frame, watching Sangwon for a long moment. Sangwon can feel it, the pin-prickle of his attention at the edge of Sangwon’s periphery. It itches something inside Sangwon, his inner Omega not liking the attention of an unfamiliar Alpha so focused on him.

But… that unfamiliar Alpha is going to be his roommate now. So with what Sangwon hopes sounds like a slightly annoyed Alpha -like sigh, he looks up from his unpacking to look at Junseo and ask, “What is it?” 

He’s not sure what he expected Junseo to say, but it was certainly not the words—“Are you and Leo together?”

“No…” Sangwon pauses, tilting his head a little in confusion, “I’m rooming with you now, remember? We switched?” 

“Not like that,” Junseo says, “I mean… together like the way an alpha and an omega are.”

Sangwon freezes at Junseo’s words, panic spiking so fast through him that it feels like ice in his veins, locking him in place. His ears are roaring with the rush of his own heartbeat, way too loud for how his body feels frozen, the word ‘ omega’ looping on repeat in his mind. 

There are cameras. All around them all the time. Cameras watching right now as Junseo just so casually asks the question that can cost Sangwon everything. He can’t let anything show. He can’t—he won’t .

“What?” His voice comes out sharper than he means, brittle and too quick, like glass about to crack. “I… I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

But he does. 

Fuck, he does.

The word pounds in his skull like a drum, a neverending reprise of ‘ omega, omega, omega ’. Sangwon’s mind scrambles, every instinct screaming at him to run, to deny, to shrink until he’s nothing more than a speck on the ground. 

His mouth is desert-dry. 

He swallows, but it doesn’t help.

He can feel the tremor starting in his fingers, that faint, telltale shake that always betrays him when he’s cornered. He jams his hands deep into his pockets, hoping no one notices, hoping it looks casual instead of desperate to the cameras. 

“I’m not an omega,” he says finally. The words scrape their way out of his throat, heavy and stiff, like they’ve been dragged through barbed wire. He pitches his voice lower, steadier, hoping it sounds confused rather than terrified. Every syllable feels foreign, false, too slow and too fast at the same time. He forces his lips into what he hopes is a puzzled frown, not the edge of a grimace. Adding, “And neither is Leo-hyung,” for good measure. 

Hoping he sounds convincing.

But Junseo doesn’t look skeptical, his brow just furrows like Sangwon had misunderstood him completely.

“No, no, no. I know that,” Junseo says, waving his hand a little dismissively, “I mean—two Alphas can be intimate in the same way. It’s uncommon, but not unheard of.”

This time, Sangwon is the one whose face scrunches in confusion, some of the initial panic in his chest easing, replaced by complete and total misunderstanding of what Junseo means. 

“I know two Alphas can be together,” Sangwon says quickly, trying to keep his voice light, conversational, “My parents are both Alphas.”

“Yeah, but two male Alphas, I mean.” 

Vaguely, Sangwon remembers their introduction stages—how one of the mentors, Kany, had recognized Junseo right away. Some web drama about Alpha on Alpha love, apparently. Sangwon hadn’t ever heard of it before, AL romance isn’t normally his cup of tea when it came to what dramas he chose to watch, but he understands the general concept. 

Junseo tilts his head, really examining Sangwon now, like he was trying to peer through him. Then, gently, he adds, “This is a safe space, Sangwon-ah.”

Safe space . The words almost make him laugh. His eyes flicker automatically to the corners of the room, where the camera blinks, silent and constantly recording them. Safe? Yeah, right. Not with the production company recording everything to edit later. He doesn’t say that out loud though. 

He just turns back to Junseo and asks, “Wait… is that why you wanted me to room with you? Because you think Leo-hyung and I are—?”

“I know you two are really close,” Junseo cuts in, not missing a beat. “You cover your own scent so thoroughly with scent blockers, but every morning you come to practice reeking of his.”

Sangwon bites down on the inside of his cheek as the memory of Leo scenting him last night flashes bright in his mind. Even showering this morning hadn’t been enough to get Leo’s scent off, not with how thorough the Alpha had been. 

Though now that Junseo brings it up, he can only imagine how last night would have looked to anyone that didn’t know them. Leo climbing onto his bed, pressing him down just enough to pin him there, his voice quiet and dragging his cheek against Sangwon’s own, covering Sangwon in his scent. Leo’s probably scented him a hundred times by this point, if not more, it’s always felt so natural, so safe to be wrapped up in Leo’s scent.

But… Last night Leo’s weight above him had felt… different. Intimate in a way Sangwon doesn’t want to pick apart. Heat prickles at the base of his skull, and Sangwon does his best to focus on folding a hoodie, smoothing out every edge. 

“We’re not like that. We’re just—” He gestures vaguely, unsure of how to explain the bond brought on by years of shared training rooms, shared meals, shared silences. “We were pack pre-presentation, so our inner Alphas are close. It’s not like that .”

Junseo hums, a sound that somehow manages to feel like both agreement and doubt at once. 

“You know there’s nothing wrong with an Alpha being attracted to another Alpha,” Junseo tells him. “And sure, maybe it’s just because you’re close, but it’s clear Leo’s scenting you like someone scents someone they view as theirs. So maybe you’re not attracted to alphas, but he might be…?” 

Sangwon hesitates midfold as he considers what Junseo is implying. The idea is absurd. 

Leo is like a brother to him, a training partner, the guy who barks at him to drink water after vocal lessons and always encourages him wherever he starts to doubt himself. So what if Leo’s scent was a little bit possessive when it covered Sangwon, that’s just because they’re a pack , or they once were… 

“That’s ridiculous,” Sangwon says finally, forcing out a laugh. Though it sounds thin. “If Leo’s doing that, it’s because he views us as a pack. I’m like a little brother to him. He looks after me, that’s all. Leo-hyung’s not attracted to other alphas.”

Junseo’s eyes narrow slightly, catching what Sangwon isn’t saying. “But you are?”

“No, I—I mean—I—” Sangwon stumbles over his own words, heat rushing uncomfortably to his ears. 

Because it’s true. He is attracted to alphas. He always has been. Men or women, it doesn’t matter as long as they’re an Alpha. The strength, the confidence, the edge of danger that sang in their presence. 

Not in the way two Alphas might be attracted to each other, but in the traditional way, as an Omega. 

“I told you we’re not like that,” he just insists. 

Junseo hums again, that same maddeningly unreadable sound.

“Look, I’m being honest okay, whether you believe me or not,” Sangwon says, a bit snippy now. “Our company made everyone in our trainee group become a pack prepresenation, and when we presented… it just made us close.”

Close was such a shallow word for it.

There weren’t enough words in the universe to explain the closeness between him and Leo. 

Sangwon keeps talking, but his thoughts slip backwards, back to those early trainee years, back before everything got complicated. The hierarchy exercises the company put them through, the way their handlers drilled into them how to sync their breathing, to share resources, to move like one unit even before any of them had presented. And Leo… Leo had been the leader of their little pack, their all Alpha pack.

But then Sangwon had presented wrong and messed everything up. 

He and Leo had always been close—beyond close, almost fused at the seams from so many shared hours in cramped practice rooms. And then after his first heat… After Leo helped him through his heat, Sangwon had found himself being drawn to Leo in a whole new way that felt like more than just friendship. His inner Omega constantly tugged him towards Leo, needing the Alpha's approval. 

And when Leo left the pack later on… it had damaged his inner Omega. It wasn’t just sadness— but rather a kind of hollow ache that ripped through his inner Omega, shredding all its anchors. He’d forgiven Leo ages ago, of course he had, things were so much more complicated than they had seemed at the time, Leo was just jumping off a sinking ship quicker than Sangwon had managed to. And it wasn’t like Leo could’ve known what that separation would do to him—he’d pointedly never told Leo how bad it had affected his inner Omega once they reconnected. 

“Even though we’re not a pack anymore,” Sangwon continues, shoving those thoughts down and not saying any of that out loud to Junseo, “My inner alpha still views him as part of my pack. And I know he feels the same. You get it, don’t you? You’ve been in groups before, packs before. Doesn’t your inner Alpha still care for them?”

He glances up at Junseo. If anyone would understand, it’d be him—a seasoned idol, with years of experience, on his third shot at debut. 

Surely he’d been through more than one pack bond forming and breaking.

“Yeah,” Junseo said slowly. “But none of my packmates ever looked at me the way Leo looks at you and had it mean nothing.” 

“You should write novels with that imagination.” 

“Or Anxin, for that matter. I don’t know what spell you’ve put on him,” Junseo adds after a moment. “What did he say this morning? Something about your scent? For someone not attracted to Alphas, you sure have a way of drawing their attention, don’t you?” 

Something in Sangwon stirs at the reminder of how Anxin had complimented his scent. It had been terribly embarrassing, but his inner Omega had liked that. 

Junseo looks pointedly toward Sangwon’s scent blocker patch. 

“What is your scent, anyway? I know you keep your patch on even though we don’t need them anymore, so clearly you have a complex about it.”

“I don’t have a complex about it,” Sangwon shoots back too quickly, too defensive.

Junseo raises a brow, waiting, his lips curling up into a far too knowing smirk. 

Stubbornly, Sangwon yanks the patch off. Immediately, the hazelnut edge of his scent bleeds into the room, cozy and rich, curling into the air until it mingles faintly with Junseo’s own sharper birchwood scent. 

Junseo moves close to Sangwon, leaning in and breathing his scent in with open curiosity. Sangwon instinctively bristles, which at least probably looks satisfyingly Alpha-like from the outside. But inside, it’s different. He feels wrong . 

He doesn’t mind when Leo buries his nose against his throat, and he didn’t even mind when Anxin inhaled around him a little too long while they were curled up in bed together. With the two of them he felt safe, but this… feels wrong . His inner Omega screaming at him that Junseo shouldn’t be this close to him, shouldn’t be inhaling his scent so close to the source. 

“Anxin was right,” Junseo says finally, pulling back. “It’s a nice scent.”

“It’s just… not very Alpha-like,” Sangwon mutters, the words tumbling out without thought.

Junseo laughs a little at that. “So that’s your issue. You know, Sangwon-ah, Alphas come in all shapes and sizes—and with all kinds of scents. I mean, look at Seowon, who would’ve guessed he’s an Alpha .”

Sangwon supposes that’s a fair point. And Seowon wasn’t the only one, there were plenty of other trainees still on the show that Sangwon never would have been able to tell from just looking at them that they were Alphas. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you should keep the patches off. And if anyone gives you shit for your scent… you just come let your Junseo-hyung know who is bothering you, and I’ll give them a talking-to,” Junseo tells him. He pauses for a moment, looking Sangwon over again, before adding, “Though I’m sure there’d be two others in line before me to do that.”

Two others.

 Leo and Anxin.

Chapter Text

“How’d you sleep?” Leo asks the second Sangwon sits down on the bleachers next to him. 

Sangwon hesitates at the question.  

The truth is that he slept badly, tossing and turning, replaying Junseo’s voice over and over in his head—his question of whether he and Leo were 'together, the way an alpha and an omega are’.  

He should feel relieved that his first spike of panic had been wrong, that Junseo hadn’t actually guessed he’s an Omega, but the question Junseo asked had still managed to lodge its way under his skin, bothering him all night. The thought that Junseo might think Leo liked him like that, as if Leo could ever—no. It’s ridiculous. 

Junseo doesn’t get it. 

He and Leo are friends, best friends, closer than anyone, but in a way no one else would understand. If platonic True Mates were a thing he and Leo would be that, fate tying them together, not in the traditional way like an Alpha and an Omega , even though that’s what they very much are, but… in a different way. 

Like fate had drawn the lines differently just for them to be by each other’s side. 

For a brief moment, Sangwon considers telling Leo what Junseo had said last night, and ask Leo if he ever considered anything like that , but he thinks better of it, biting down on the inside of his cheek so that the words don’t spill out. Leo would just worry about the fact that Junseo had picked up that something was off about their bond, and that if he noticed this, he might eventually connect the dots and realize that Sangwon isn’t as Alpha as he’d like to seem.

It’s bad enough that there’s already two people out there who know his secret.

Leo, of course, will guard his secret like it’s his own. 

But Junil—Sangwon’s eyes scan the gathered groups to where Junil is with his Rising Sun team. They haven’t spoken once in all the time they’ve been here, both too busy and not close enough for anything more than quick greetings. Junil had left Trainee A quite early on, but he’d still been there when Sangwon’s presentation had gone wrong. And now, just thinking about it, his stomach twists tight with dread. 

Secrets are fragile things.

“Sangwonnie,” Leo’s voice cuts in, snapping fingers in front of his face. “I asked you a question.”

“Oh, sorry,” Sangwon says, coming back to himself and pushing all of those thoughts out of his mind for now. He needs to focus on the peer evaluations and doing well, not wondering about what ifs. 

Leo huffs a little, amused mostly, unaware of Sangwon’s inner turmoil. “I’m going to take that as not good.” 

“No, not, it wasn’t… I didn’t sleep too badly,” Sangwon says finally, forcing the words into something that sounds believable even though his mouth feels terribly dry and his pulse is still jumpy. “Junseo-hyung is… nice.”

“That’s good,” Leo says. For a moment, Sangwon almost relaxes, until Leo’s gaze flicks to Sangwon’s neck, and the exposed skin there. “You forgot your patch.” 

“Yeah, I…” Sangwon pauses, bringing his hand up to cover his scent gland as his eyes lock onto the camera crew down below. Currently, the cameras aren’t pointed at them, but one can never be truly safe around here. He has to think carefully, has to weigh each word before it leaves his mouth, to make sure not to give himself away, “I talked with Junseo-hyung last night, and he said I shouldn’t be so self-conscious about my scent not being as Alpha as others. Especially when there are plenty of other Alphas here with sweeter scents than mine.”

He hears the stiffness in his voice, but it’s the best he can do. 

Leo thankfully understands him, as he always does, he’s able to strip the words down to what they really mean. To understand that it’s actually more suspicious to keep hiding his scent and to cling to the scent blocking patch like a shield. 

If he’s too careful, he’ll only draw more attention.

Leo’s expression softens slightly, then he glances away, murmuring, “Well, I’m glad it’s that and not…” he trails off.

“Not what?”

“Not just that you stopped wearing them because your puppy complimented your scent yesterday,” Leo’s mouth quirks, amused. 

His puppy . 

Sangwon can’t help it; his eyes scan the gym, searching. He finds Anxin easily, chatting with some of C group’s members a few rows over. Sangwon can’t understand what they’re saying, but whatever it is causes Anxin to laugh loud enough that Sangwon can hear it all the way from over there. 

As if sensing his eyes on him, Anxin turns slightly, looking over Sangwon’s way. Their eyes catch for half a second across the gym, and Anxin smiles, says something quick to his friends, and excuses himself to come over to where the rest of the Whiplash team is gathered, slipping between rows with easy familiarity, and then, of course, settling right onto the bleachers behind Sangwon. 

Sangwon’s inner Omega buzzes slightly with an awareness of just how close Anxin is to him as the first group goes up to take the center of the gym floor as their stage. 

He does his best to stay focused as the Plot Twist teams go first, he takes notes carefully, scribbling down who catches his eye, who misses a beat, who he thinks is the most standout member and who he thinks is holding the group back. 

Somewhere between Plot Twist team one and team two, Sangwon’s shoulder start to ache. He rolls them back a few times in an attempt to ease the stiffness, barely registering the movement himself. That is, until hands land on his shoulders, thumbs pressing down into the knots of muscle there. 

Sangwon jolts at the touch, twisting a little to look back at Anxin and ask, “What are you doing?”

“Is your back hurting again?” Anxin asks as his thumbs knead along the line of Sangwon’s shoulder blades, pressing in with just the right amount of pressure, as if this is completely normal behavior.

“I—” His first instinct is to deny it, but the truth is his back does ache, and he can already feel the dull tension easing a little under Anxin’s hands. 

“Let me take care of you,” Anxin says, voice a soft contrast to the way his hands continue working at Sangwon’s shoulders. “Since it’s my fault you’re hurting.”

His fault ? Sangwon’s brows furrow in confusion for a moment before he remembers that “back pain” was the excuse Leo gave two nights ago for why Anxin couldn’t share his bed. Still, he nods, granting permission, and turns his focus back to the stage. 

Or at least, tries to. Anxin’s touch is distracting. Sangwon’s pen hovers uselessly over his notepad, his eyes watching the other teams but never quite processing what he’s seeing.

When Anxin finishes, instead of withdrawing, he gently nudges Sangwon to rest back against him. 

“Lean on me, it’s fine,” Anxin tells him. 

And, against his better judgement, Sangwon does, just a little, his shoulders settling back until he feels the solid warmth of Anxin behind him. Once he leans against the Alpha, Anxin drapes his arms over the edge of Sangwon’s shoulders, a casual cage, his rainwater scent is faint, but noticeably laced with soothing pheromones. 

Anxin is always touchy, as if no one ever taught him boundaries. Like pressing close, closing distance, was simply his default. Normally, a position like this would be far too intimate for an Alpha and Omega who aren’t courting, but as far as Anxin knows, Sangwon is an Alpha too. And besides—all the C group Alphas seem handsy with each other by nature, so maybe this just feels normal to him.

Leo shifts subtly beside them. He doesn’t speak, but Sangwon feels the weight of his awareness. The citrus snap of Leo’s lemon pepper scent cuts through the air, edged with displeasure. Subtle enough that others might mistake it for stress over the performances, but Sangwon knows better. 

He knows Leo better than anyone else.

Leo is protective and watchful, and clearly unwilling to fully trust Anxin even after sharing a room these past few nights.

“Sangwon-hyung,” Anxin murmurs, close enough that Sangwon feels the brush of breath against his ear. “You’re not wearing your patch today.”

Sangwon stills. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of his own scent, of whether it might be giving him away or not. He’s about to tell Anxin the same thing he told Leo earlier, that Junseo had encouraged him not to wear it, but he doesn’t manage to get the words out.

Not before Anxin leans in closer, his cheek brushing Sangwon’s, the soft graze marking Sangwon, ever so faintly, with rainwater, as he adds, “You smell so nice.”

“Don’t say things like that,” he mutters, sharper than he intends, but his face feels hot.

Anxin only laughs under his breath, undeterred. His thumbs sweep over Sangwon’s neck once more, fingers ghosting across the edge of his scent gland like it’s nothing at all.

Sangwon shifts, leaning forward to escape Anxin’s grasp and sit stiff-backed and flustered, just as the next group finishes their performance. Sangwon claps automatically along with the rest of the room, though his thoughts are miles away, wondering if anyone else noticed how much Anxin’s compliment got to him. 

By the time the Whiplash team is called, his stomach is knotted with nerves. 

He does his best to forget about everything else and lose himself in the rhythm of performing, in the stomp of his sneakers against the polished floor, in the pull of music through his body. He’s always loved dancing, the one constant in his life for as long as he can remember, the one thing always guaranteed to bring him joy.

As he dances, he does his best to remember what Kinky had told him yesterday, to stand out, to take up space, to shine. He tries. He isn’t sure if he does it right, but he tries.

When they finish, applause floods the gym, and the tight coil in his chest loosens just a little.

For a moment, everything feels like it’s going to be okay. 

*

Sangwon is still buzzing with leftover adrenaline as they make their way back into the practice room. 

His chest feels light, his body still carrying the echo of the stage—or well, the gym floor. 

But at that moment, it felt like a stage to him. 

He thinks that they did well, all the other teams seemed impressed by them. 

He isn’t sure if he shone exactly the way he wanted to, but the crowd cheered, the team felt together, and that has to count for something. Sangwon feels almost eager to hear the other team’s feedback as he takes his spot on the floor with the others and stretches out his legs, the tension in his back pleasantly loosened from Anxin’s earlier shoulder rub. 

“The way this works,” Junseo explains, “is each group gave us feedback, writing down who they thought our strongest and weakest members were. I’ll read each one out, starting with the strongest first, and then we can talk about it.”

Sangwon nods along, this is just routine, nothing to be nervous about.

“Strongest is Anxinie,” Junseo says, reading off the first paper “They said his singing was solid, and his voice really suits the song.”

Everyone turns to congratulate Anxin, and Sangwon joins in too, smiling a little at how happy Anxin looks to be praised. 

But Sangwon’s glow falters a little as they continue to go on.

As again and again, page after page, Junseo says, “Anxinie,” and “Anxinie” and “Anxinie.” 

Of course they’d praise Anxin. His voice is beautiful, and warm in a way that draws attention. It makes sense. But a part of him prickles with jealousy. He tells himself it doesn’t matter. That he shouldn’t expect to be singled out when they all worked hard, but the repetition chips at him with merciless precision. 

Not once does another name appear. 

Not Leo. 

Not Geonwoo. 

Not his own name.

He feels guilty as soon as the thought comes to him. Anxin deserves the praise, and Anxin’s been nothing but kind to him, it isn’t fair to Anxin to feel so jealous. Sangwon tries his best to keep his face neutral, to clap along with everyone else as Anxin is praised again.

Until Junseo flips to the next page, continuing without pause, “Best is Anxin again. This team says that he really stood out, and even though his part wasn’t the killing part, he turned it into one.”

Sangwon’s practiced smile falters before he can catch it. He swears he can feel the way the oxygen leaves his chest in a rush.

That was supposed to be his job. His killing part.

He remembers Kinky’s advice from yesterday, about needing to stand out, and he had tried, reaching for that spark in his movements when they were performing earlier. 

He had thought it was enough. 

He had thought, maybe, someone saw him.

But no. 

His stomach twists, sharp and sour. He can’t lift his eyes. If he does, he knows he’ll see Anxin sitting there, relaxed and smiling, maybe even blushing at all the compliments, and it’ll be unbearable. 

He tries to steady his breathing, but it won’t come right. 

His body is too aware—of the heat in his face, of his palms damp against his thighs, of the tremor starting in his hands. He shoves his hands under his legs, trapping them there so no one will see them shake. 

Junseo keeps reading, oblivious, his tone the same, but to Sangwon, every syllable sounds louder, sharper, until it’s all he can hear: “Anxin, Anxin, Anxin.”

His thoughts begin to spiral. If no one noticed him here, if even when he is trying his hardest he still fades into the background, then what’s the point? What if this is all he’ll ever be, the kid who works hard but never quite makes enough of an impression? That’s never quite good enough?

The high from before is gone, replaced by a cold shame pressing against his ribs. He knows his scent is probably giving him away, his hazelnut twinged with notes of his upset, but he can’t even bring himself to try and reign it in. 

Junseo clears his throat, the notes in his hands shuffling again, slower this time. His expression shifts, more cautious, more careful. “Now for the weakest member,” he says, and there’s this pause, like he wants to soften the blow before it lands. His voice comes out gentler than it had been before, “I just want to remind everyone, even if the other teams call you the weakest, that doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed before the performances. It just shows us where we need to improve, right?”

The words should feel reassuring. 

But there’s something about the way Junseo says them, in the deliberate kindness of his tone, that makes Sangwon’s chest tighten.

He knows.

Even before Junseo looks down at the first page, Sangwon knows what’s coming. 

He feels it in his stomach, cold and heavy, like the drop before a fall.

And then, Junseo starts reading. “Weakest member: Sangwon. Didn’t meet the expectation.”

The syllables are soft, careful, but they hurt all the same. 

He stares at the floor, his lips pressed into a tight line, trying his best to hold himself together. 

“Weakest member,” Junseo says, turning to the next page, “Sangwon. Wasn’t strong enough. Didn’t realize he was supposed to be the killing part.”

Sangwon’s eyes burn. Those are almost the same words Kinky had used yesterday. Almost the same phrasing. He thought he had gotten past that sting, but here it is again, multiplied, echoed by strangers.

Not strong enough.

Not Alpha enough.

Junseo keeps going, reluctant, but steady. Just as it had been with Anxin, the words don’t change, over and over again, all nine other teams say the same person for weakest member. 

Sangwon has never hated the sound of his own name as much as he does in this moment. 

Somewhere between the second to last and last time his name is read off as the weakest , he catches Leo’s scent in the air, faint and undeniably edged with sympathy. He’s projecting his pheromones across the space between them, trying to comfort Sangwon. Somehow, though, that just makes Sangwon feel worse.

He doesn’t dare look at Leo, unable to bear the thought of seeing pity in his eyes, but when he risks a glance sideways towards where Junseo is, he catches something worse, a flicker of guilt on Anxin’s face from where he sits next to Junseo. As if Anxin feels responsible for shining too brightly while Sangwon was left in shadow.

Sangwon’s stomach twists. 

He wants to tell them it’s not their fault, that it’s him, it’s always him . Too quiet, too unsure, too… Omega. 

But his throat won’t open.

All he can do is sit there, shrinking smaller and smaller as Junseo reads the last note like a death sentence. 

He hears the words in his head, louder than Junseo’s voice now, “Not strong enough. Not alpha enough. Not—”

He scrambles up from the floor before Junseo can finish his sentence. Seven pairs of eyes follow Sangwon’s movements, pity and guilt, and it’s all too much. Sangwon’s voice comes out rough, betraying the tremor he’s trying to hide, as he says, “I—I need to go to the bathroom.”

Sangwon doesn’t wait for Junseo’s nod or anyone’s reaction. He just heads for the door, heart hammering in his chest, even as he can feel their eyes on his back. 

He shoves through the door and out into the hall before any of them can follow him.

The bathroom is the only place in the training facility left without cameras, the only place he can fall apart without someone cataloguing it, recording it, storing it as evidence of his weakness. He can see a camera crew trailing him already, wanting to get the shot of him falling apart, but he won’t give them the show they’re so desperate for.

Sangwon stumbles inside of the bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

The second he is alone, he lets himself give in to the painful weight pressing down upon him. He gasps, palms braced on the sink, bending over like he’s been punched as he struggles to remember how to breathe. 

“What am I even doing here?” Sangwon asks his reflection. 

His reflection doesn’t answer him, not with words at least, his reflection wavers in the mirror as his vision blurs, his waterline stinging with tears that overflow, leaving Sangwon powerless to stop them. 

A thought hits him hard as the tears spill down; that he shouldn’t be here.

He was never supposed to be here. An Omega on an Alpha ’s show, no wonder he looks weak to all of them. He never should have let himself believe that he could do this. 

Leo had been wrong in convincing him he could have a second chance, that maybe this time he’d be enough. In making Sangwon believe that maybe if he worked hard enough, pushed himself enough, endured enough, he could keep up with the others.

But he isn’t keeping up.

He isn’t enough. 

He’s failing.

Again.

The thought twists in his stomach, bile crawling up the back of his throat and making him sick. 

Leo had trusted him, had believed in him enough to go and find him and drag him back into all of this. 

And here he is, wasting it, proving everyone else right, that Sangwon isn’t cut out for this, that he isn’t cut out to stand on any stage, that he isn’t cut out to be an idol.

His hands shake as he grips the edge of the sink harder, knuckles whitening.

Everyone else had found a way forward. Yorch, Jihoon, Woochan—all of them already debuting, standing on stages with lights and fans and music that belonged to them. Justin is thriving at SM, a whole new future unfolding at his feet. Even James had mentioned big news was coming last time they talked. 

And Sangwon?

Nothing.

Three years of nothing . 

Just a string of failures. 

Just a hollow almost, again and again. 

Just the dead silence of a group chat that had once been his everything, his phone lighting up only rarely now with news of someone else’s success while he remains in exactly the same place that he’s been since December of 2022. 

Tears burns hot, rolling down his cheeks and he tries to breathe through it, but each inhale hitches, sharp and stuttering, catching on the lump in his throat. His reflection stares back at him as he falls—red eyes, wet lashes, skin blotchy, trembling like he’s nineteen again, humiliated and small, being told that it was all over, to pack his bags and be out of the company dorms by eight pm. 

His chest heaves, the panic wrapping tighter around him. The fear that he’ll never make it, never measure up, that he’ll always be the weakest in the room. 

His hands slip from the sink, pressing to his face, trying to shut out his reflection, trying to shut out the thoughts, but they plague him anyway. He presses his forehead to the cool mirror, desperate for something to ground him, something to hold onto as the guilt consumes him.

Because this isn’t just his failure anymore. 

It isn’t just his life he is sabotaging.

He’s dragging Leo down with him.

Leo deserves someone strong beside him, someone capable. 

Not Sangwon. 

Not this trembling, broken mess of an Omega. 

His chest clenches painfully, the traitorous thought slipping to the forefront of his mind, that if he weren’t here, Leo would be better off. 

Everyone would be better off without him. 

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be dragging everyone else down. Anxin was praised by every single team, while Sangwon was the one they all marked as weakest. He can’t keep pretending he deserves the killing part when the truth is so obvious to everyone but him.

He tells himself that he should give the part up. That he should go to the others and tell them he can’t do it. That Anxin deserves it more.

Better to step aside now than humiliate himself further. 

But the thought of giving it up, of going out there, and telling everyone that they’d made a mistake with him, makes a fresh wave of tears spill down his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, but the tears don’t stop. His ragged sobs echo too loudly in the tiled bathroom, bouncing back at him until it feels unbearable. A part of him worries the camera crew outside might hear, but even that fear isn’t enough to make him stop crying. 

At least, until the bathroom door creaks open. 

Sangwon jerks upright so violently his elbow smacks against the sink. A hissed curse escapes him as panic claws up his chest—this was supposed to be the only place the cameras couldn’t follow. 

The one corner of the building where he could come apart without anyone seeing him shatter. 

But the figure in the doorway isn’t some member of the production crew. It’s one of the other trainees. It takes Sangwon a second to recognize him through the blur of his wet eyes: Jiayang, from the other Whiplash team. He doesn’t know Jiayang well, all Sangwon knows is that he and Anxin seem to be friends.

And that right now Jiayang is frozen in place, staring at Sangwon. 

Sangwon rips his gaze away, forcing himself to face the mirror instead. His reflection is a wreck, his eyes swollen, his skin blotchy, and his lips bitten raw. The exact image of weakness he cannot afford to be seen as.

Frantically, Sangwon scrubs at his cheeks with his sleeve, the coarse fabric scraping damp skin to the point of hurting, before bending to splash cold water over his face. Anything to erase the evidence. To make it like this never happened.

He can’t be seen like this. Not by anyone, but especially not by someone from the opposing team. If the others all already think he’s the weakest, what will they decide once they hear of how he was sobbing in a bathroom? 

He’ll be a joke. Less than nothing.

Jiayang takes a tentative step inside. He doesn’t say anything—maybe because his Korean is limited or maybe because he doesn’t know what to say—but the silence stretches unbearably. Shame and embarrassment curl up inside of Sangwon. 

He keeps his head down, pretending to fuss with the water, as if splashing his face again will make him look normal.

But Jiayang doesn’t go towards the stalls or the urinals, instead, he walks over to the sinks near where Sangwon is. Out of the corner of his eye, Sangwon watches as Jiayang opens his duffle bag in small, careful movements, like he’s trying not to spook Sangwon. After rummaging for a moment, he pulls out a compact of powder. 

Jiayang holds it out towards Sangwon hesitantly, before saying in halting, broken Korean, “For… eyes.”

Sangwon blinks at the powder being handed his way like a peace offering. 

His voice comes out shredded, cracking down the middle like he’s fifteen again, and his hand trembles when he takes the compact and says, “Thank you.” 

Quickly, Sangwon dabs the powder on, clumsy but desperate. 

Anything to dull the redness, hide the wreckage around his eyes, to paste himself back together into something that doesn’t scream failure. 

When he hands the compact back, Jiayang meets his eyes briefly, just long enough to give him a small, almost shy smile. Then, softly, in the same broken Korean, asks, “Better now?”

Sangwon’s eyes flick back to the mirror. He still looks like a mess, still looks like he’s been crying, but he supposes it is better than he’d looked a moment before. 

“Yeah, much better, thank you.” 

*

When Sangwon comes back into the practice room, the others are scattered about, some stretching or sipping water, while others are still going over the notes the other teams left for them. 

Sangwon can feel the weight of their gazes briefly lift towards him, then away again. He swallows  hard and forces his steps to stay steady as he moves over to where Junseo and Yumeki are looking over the notes. 

Junseo looks up as he approaches, that soft pitying look on his face again as he says, “Sangwon-ah, you came back.” 

“Yeah, I… can we talk?” Sangwon asks, his voice still far shakier than he’d like. He directs the question to both Junseo and Yumeki, but he catches Leo’s eye as he says it, and Leo quickly escapes from whatever conversation he’d been having with Geonwoo to follow the three of them over to the corner of the room and away from the others.

Though not away from everyone . The camera crew edges closer, clearly wanting to catch this moment on camera. The thought of it, that all of his pain will be repacked into a neat little story for the viewers later, makes Sangwon feel sick to his stomach, but if their team is going to succeed, then they need to have this discussion sooner rather than later. 

Once they all sit down together, Sangwon says,  “I’m sorry for earlier. For walking out. I… wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t mean to drag the mood down.” Junseo opens his mouth, probably to try and comfort him, but Sangwon rushes on, words tumbling too quickly. “I just want to say I’m grateful that everyone else got praised. You all worked hard. You deserve it. But as the killing part member… I was really disappointed in myself. Every single team said the same thing. They all saw the same thing Kinky saw yesterday, how weak I am. I think maybe—” his throat feels like it’s going to close up and trap the words in there, but he does his best to force the words out. “Maybe I should give up the killing part. Anxin was mentioned again and again, everyone noticed how strong he is, and so I think I should give it to him. I think it would be better for the team.”

He braces himself for their agreement, as much as it will hurt, as it already does hurt, he knows it’s for the best. 

But before he could spiral further, Yumeki cuts in calmly to say, “I never thought the killing part member needed to change.”

Sangwon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” 

“You’re the killing part,” Yumeki says, looking him directly in the eyes. “We all chose you for that. We all still believe in you. The evaluations don’t change that. I have faith in you. We have faith in you. I just hope you’ll have faith in yourself too.”

The words hit him squarely in the chest, squeezing down on his lungs like a vice, a messy knot of relief and shame tangling together inside of him. He searches Yumeki’s face, trying to see if there is any hint of hesitation, of this just being something that Yumeki is saying for the camera’s sake, but Yumeki looks calm, almost matter-of-fact in his conviction.

“Are you sure? Really?” Sangwon asks, his voice small. “I mean… I’m happy to give the part up if that’s what’s best. I don’t want to drag everyone down because of me. Because I’m not good enough.”

This time it’s Junseo that speaks up, “We’ve got a week until the performances. That’s plenty of time. And now that we know what we need to work on, we’ll get it right by then, okay? We’ll just keep practicing. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect right now. That’s what practice is for.”

Something fragile loosens just a little at their casual reassurances. The panic from before doesn’t quite vanish—it still pulses, a low thrum under his ribs—but it’s ebbed enough for him to be able to breathe again. 

Sangwon nods, his head bowed, gripping his own wrist so tightly his knuckles have gone white. “…Okay,” he whispers, “Thank you.”

Junseo gives a short, encouraging nod, and Yumeki claps him lightly on the shoulder, the touch brief but grounding, before they both stand up and call the team back in order to try practice again. 

Through all of it, Leo hadn’t said much. But when Sangwon finally glances toward him, Leo’s expression makes his breath catch. The Alpha’s eyes are fixed on him, his worry plain and unguarded, as if he’d been holding himself back from interfering just now only because he trusted Sangwon needed to say these things out loud first.

“Hyung—”

“Let’s talk later,” Leo says quickly, cutting Sangwon off, his head tilting a little towards the camera.

Sangwon nods in agreement, later , and lets Leo help him up to his feet. 

While Yumeki goes off to search for wherever Chingyu had disappeared to during their break so that they can start again, Sangwon drifts towards the far side of the room where a few chairs have been neatly lined up, clearly angled towards the practice space. It’s a clear set-up, a camera-ready corner where a struggling trainee can get a moment alone for the storyboards the editors are already sketching in their minds.

It’s bait for him.

He knows.

And yet, still, he lowers himself into one of the seats, his whole body slumping like a deflated balloon.

It doesn’t take long before someone joins him.

Anxin slips into the chair beside him, his pleasant rainwater scent giving away his approach. Sangwon doesn’t need to look up to know how it will read: the bright-eyed rookie Alpha approaching his discouraged hyung, eager to comfort him. Anxin will come across as sweet and supportive, and the viewers will eat it up.

“Sangwon-hyung, I’m glad you kept the part,” Anxin says softly, his expression open and kind, the cameras love that kind of innocence. Though his rainwater scent carries notes of his sincerity as he adds, “It really suits you, and I… I didn’t want to take it away from you.”

When Sangwon finally meets his eyes, the young Alpha is smiling, gentle and genuine.

“Thanks, Anxinie,” Sangwon murmurs.

Anxin grins, and then a teasing spark flickers in his expression. Sangwon can see the exact moment he decides to play it up for the cameras, shifting the narrative away from Sangwon’s gloom as best he can. 

“ Sangwonnie-hyung !” Anxin puffs his cheeks out in exaggerated aegyo, his voice high and whiny. “Seriously! Don’t be sad! If you’re sad, then we’ll all be sad!”

A tiny, shaky laugh escapes Sangwon despite the knot in his chest, his shoulders trembling as the sound slips free. For just a moment, it almost feels like breathing again.

Sangwon smiles, practiced and perfect for the camera. “Fine, fine, can’t have the whole team crying because of me.”

Chapter Text

The rest of rehearsal passes a little bit better, his timing had been off on the first run-through, but no one seemed to notice as sharply as he did. The team had kept moving, kept adjusting, and by the time the crew finally releases them for the night, Sangwon doesn’t feel nearly as terrible as he had felt earlier in the day. 

Most of the boys scatter towards their dorm rooms, ready to crash after the long day, but Sangwon still feels too keyed up and jittery to even think about sleeping. 

He needs to walk off this funk, so he heads towards one of the walking paths surrounding the dorm building, not too surprised when a second later, someone steps into his shadow, following one step behind him. 

For a while, they walk together in silence. His legs ache from rehearsal, and his mind won’t stop replaying the peer evaluations, the words that had been said about Anxin being the best, and the repeated reminders that he’d been the weakest.

Leo’s silence is patient, but there’s a weight behind it that pricks at Sangwon’s nerves, like he can sense what’s being unsaid. It terrifies Sangwon a little, how Leo knows him so well. 

“You don’t have to walk with me,” Sangwon says, after a long moment, “I’m fine, really.”

“I don’t mind,” Leo says, keeping step behind him. “The fresh air is nice.” 

Sangwon presses his lips together as he keeps walking. “Seriously, you should rest.” 

“Sangwon-ah… Talk to me.” 

“It’s nothing,” Sangwon insists, hoping Leo will drop the subject. “I’m just tired.”

“You don’t have to lie,” he says as he stops walking, grabbing onto Sangwon’s sleeve so that he has to stop and look at Leo. “Not to me , never to me.” 

Leo’s normally calm gaze feels far too heavy at this moment, and his words make Sangwon feel cornered. Sangwon’s eyes drop to the sideway as he shakes Leo’s hold off, desperate to avoid the Alpha’s scrutiny. 

Every rational part of him knows it’s childish to act like this, that surely after everything they’ve been through together, he knows Leo wouldn’t abandon him now, but it doesn’t stop his hands from shaking, it doesn’t stop the lump in his throat, nor does it stop him from feeling like he’s just barely holding himself together as he asks, “Do you regret this?”

“Regret what?” 

“Me.”

Leo looks confused, his brows furrowing a little.

And Sangwon rushes to explain, “I mean, bringing me here, and training together. I’m not… I’m not good enough. Everyone says I’m the weakest. What if I don’t just ruin this for me but for you too and—”

“You’re not weak,” Leo cuts in sharply, cutting off Sangwon’s spiral. “They’re wrong.” 

Sangwon shakes his head, a bitter laugh spilling out before he can stop it. “How can they all be wrong? You heard what all the other teams wrote down. Every single one of them said the same thing, that I’m the weakest.”

“I don’t care what they wrote,” Leo replies, “Because they’re wrong.”

“Leo—”

“And even if they were right, which they’re not ,” Leo continues, “I would never regret you, not for a second. I’m not here in spite of you, I'm here because of you.”

“Because of me?” Sangwon asks, caught off guard. Surely he misheard. 

“I’ve always wanted this to be you by my side,” Leo tells him, reaching out to take Sangwon’s hand, “Always.”

Sangwon’s heart clenches in his chest hard enough to hurt. He doesn’t know what to do with all that, with how serious Leo sounds. He’s never been good at reading between the lines, but something’s humming underneath Leo’s words, something that feels heavier than just friendship, the weight of all the years pressing upon them. 

“You can’t say stuff like that,” Sangwon mutters eventually. 

“Why not? It’s true.” Leo’s mouth curves, soft, a little smug in a way that makes Sangwon’s stomach twist. “You think I came here to show off for strangers? No.” Leo shakes his head, “I came here for you. So if you need extra practice, we do it together. If you need someone to sit with you while you memorize choreo till three in the morning, I’m there. If you fall behind, I’ll slow down and stay with you.” 

The lump in Sangwon’s throat swells. He wants to say thank you, but it feels too small for what Leo’s offering. 

“I just don’t get it,” he says instead, voice cracking. “Why would you—why me? You could team up with anyone. You’d shine no matter what.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Leo steps closer, close enough that Sangwon can feel his body heat even through the night air. “I shine because you’re there. You pull it out of me, you always have.”

The words hit too deep. Sangwon laughs awkwardly, because what else is he supposed to do when Leo says things like this? 

Leo keeps talking, his voice low now, “I meant what I said before. We’re either debuting together, or not at all. If it’s not you with me , then I don’t want it.”

“That’s stupid,” Sangwon says quickly, “You’ve worked too hard to throw it away.”

“You’re my pack. You’re mine,” Leo cuts him off. 

The words “you’re mine” echo a little too loudly in Sangwon’s head, but he shoves it down before he can dwell on it, chalking it up to Leo’s dramatic streak. That’s just how Leo talks, as if every promise is life or death.

“If it’s not you and me together at the end, I don’t want to be in this group at all. We can just go back to our company and debut as, I don’t know…” Leo pauses for a second, considering, before he settles on, “The male version of Irene & Seulgi.”

Sangwon laughs despite himself at the image of that.

“You get to be Irene,” Leo adds, “because you’re the pretty one, Sangwonnie.”

“But what if I want to be Seulgi?” Sangwon shoots back, lips twitch. 

“Too late, I already called dibs.” 

Sangwon huffs out a breath that’s halfway to a laugh, but his chest feels too tight for it to land right. “You’re ridiculous.”

*

The next few days pass in a blur of sore muscles and long hours.  Every morning, Sangwon wakes with an ache running from his calves to his shoulders, but he forces himself to move through it, to eat, shower, take his suppressants, practice, and repeat.

In the studio mirror, the difference is slow but visible. His lines are cleaner now; he catches himself on timing slips before someone else has to point it out. And whenever fatigue and insecurity presses too heavily on him, Anxin always seems to materialize out of nowhere, as if Anxin is about to read his mind and tell whenever Sangwon is feeling down on himself.

Sometimes it’s just to offer him a bottle of water, other times it’s to do aegyo until finally Sangwon laughs and forgets whatever is bothering him. 

And every night after the others head back to the dorms, Sangwon and Leo stay behind, taking a little bit of extra time to practice and make sure that everything is going well. 

By the third night of extra practice, the routine finally starts to settle into Sangwon’s bones like that’s where it belongs. 

The practice room is peaceful when it’s nearly empty, all the laughter and chatter long gone, only the sound of his sneakers against the floor and Leo’s voice singing all the other parts of Whiplash over and over again to help him keep pace filling the space. 

“Let’s go through it just one last time,” Leo says, in a kind of tone that leaves no room for argument.

Sangwon nods, swallowing down his exhaustion. 

He tells himself it’s just muscle memory he’s chasing, but truthfully it’s more than that. Staying here with Leo when no one else is around feels like before, when they were training together, side by side until midnight, pushing each other past breaking points neither of them would ever admit to.

Sangwon runs through the part again, hitting each note right as he moves, slotting into his position with the ghosts of everyone else around him in his mind. But somewhere right before the second verse, something goes wrong, his feet knock together as he goes to move position and Sangwon lurches forward. 

However, before he can hit the ground, Leo is there, a hand shooting out to stabilize Sangwon. The contact is brief, casual even, but his inner Omega reacts a little at the feeling of Leo’s hand on his chest, holding him steady, and his scent colors with embarrassment. 

Leo didn’t even seem to think about it, he’d just moved, reacting the way a good Alpha should.

“Sorry,” Sangwon straightens, forcing a laugh. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.” 

The Alpha’s expression softens, “We can be done for the day then.” 

“No, no,” Sangwon shakes his head. “I want to get it right, I just…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong, but everything seems to be going wrong tonight. 

Leo seems to sense what he’s not saying. 

“You’re close. Just keep your weight lower. Here—” He says as he steps behind Sangwon, guiding him into place with a light touch at his waist, adjusting his posture until he’s in the right position. The Alpha is steady behind him, his scent sharpening in concentration and dominance as he guides Sangwon through the moves with his hands. 

As Leo moves him around, a brief thought flickers to the front of Sangwon’s mind. What it would be like to have that attention on him in other ways. To be the Omega that Leo looks after, not just in practice, but in everything. 

He can’t help but think that whoever will one day get to be Leo’s mate will be the luckiest Omega in the world, to have such an attentive and protective Alpha as theirs . 

But as soon as he thinks it, Sangwon forces the thought away, forcing himself to focus on what matters, determined to get this run through of the dance right so that they can call it a night. 

They run the song just one more time before Leo finally calls it. “That’s enough, any more and you’ll just burn out your stamina.”

Sangwon drops to the floor, back against the mirror, his chest heaving. 

“I’m still behind everyone else,” Sangwon mutters, feeling a little defeated. 

“Not really,” Leo says, handing a bottle of water over to Sangwon before slumping down beside him. “You’re doing better than you think. Way better than you were before.”

Sangwon laughs, not really believing him. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” Leo says immediately, “You’ve improved more than anyone else in the last few days. Your moves look cleaner, and sharper, you’re doing good. Look,” Leo stands and grabs the team’s tablet from the corner where they keep it for practice reviews, pressing it into Sangwon’s hands. “Take this back to the dorms tonight, and watch yourself.”

“What? Why?” 

“So you can see what I see,” Leo says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And what all of our fans are going to see in a few days. You’re good, Sangwon. Stop doubting yourself.”

For a second, Sangwon just stares at him. Leo isn’t smiling, but his eyes are warm, steady—protective in that way again, like he’s not just Leo-the-teammate or Leo-his-best-friend right now, but Leo-the-Alpha that refuses to let him talk himself down.

Sangwon swallows hard, breaking eye contact and tugging the tablet to his chest. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll try.” 

*

The All Star snack room is thankfully empty this late at night. Sangwon props the team tablet up against a cup to play the footage as he fills up the electric kettle and sets about making himself some late night ramen. 

Watching the footage, he can admit that Leo had been right, he is getting better, but he’s still just not good enough. Not standing out and shining in the way the killing part member should. As he watches the recorded version of himself dance, all he can see are his flaws. His shoulder is a hair too high on count three, there’s a transition that should feel liquid but still looks stiff in his body, and even the moments where he hits everything dead on, something still doesn’t look right. 

Yumeki had given him advice earlier in the day that had stuck with Sangwon during his late night practice with Leo. “ You’re doing everything almost perfectly, Sangwon. But it’s too clear that you’re trying to be perfect. You don’t look confident like an idol, you look like a child afraid to color outside of the lines” . 

He can’t help but think as he watches his own performance how right Yumeki was, he looks like he’s part of a dance cover crew about to go busking rather than someone on the verge of finally debuting. 

The thought digs inside of his chest like a rose thorn. Every sharp hit and clean sweep just looks… generic. He’s doing everything right, but it’s still not enough to stand out.

The door creaks open and Sangwon jolts, reaching out to pause the recording playing on the table. 

“Sorry,” he says automatically, half-turning, assuming it’s whoever’s rooming next to the snack room, coming to berate him for making so much noise this late at night, “I can turn it down—”

The words die in his throat when he sees who it is standing there. 

It’s Anxin. 

“Hey, Anxinie,” Sangwon says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite stick. “Are you hungry? I’m just using the kettle, but I’ll be done in a sec and you can have it after.”

“I didn’t come here for ramen,” Anxin replies. 

“Oh okay, cool,” Sangwon says, reaching for the kettle to pour the hot water onto his bowl of instant ramen, “Well, all the other snacks are free.”

“No, no, hyung, you misunderstand.” Anxin steps fully inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. “I came for you.”

“What?” 

“Xinlong-ge said when he walked by earlier that you were in here looking sad, so…” He gestures at Sangwon like the explanation is obvious. “Here I am to cheer you up.” 

“Ah,” Sangwon can’t help the little awkward laugh that slips out. 

Anxin has been acting like his personal cheerleader these past few days. 

Like clockwork, whenever Sangwon started getting in his head, there Anxin would appear with some ridiculous aegyo, keeping the bit up until Sangwon finally cracked a smile. He’s been clingy too, always brushing shoulders or looping an arm around Sangwon in practice, scenting the air faintly with calm, rainwater-soft pheromones. 

It’s sweet, a little embarrassing, yes, but clearly meant to be helpful, and Sangwon doesn’t have the heart to tell him to knock it off.

But tonight, with the quiet pressing down and his failures playing on repeat in front of him, Sangwon doesn’t want comfort. He wants to stew in it, to be pathetic for just a little while without someone telling him it’s fine. 

He picks up his noodles and carries them to one of the corner tables, setting the tablet beside them with a dull clack.

“Really, I’m fine,” he mutters. “You don’t have to—”

“What are you watching?” Anxin asks, cutting him off. 

Sangwon bites the inside of his cheek before admitting, “Our practice, earlier,” he thumbs the screen awake and scrubs through the footage to get to the beginning of the clip again. “Just… checking something.”

When he hits play to restart the video, Anxin leans over his shoulder, close enough that Sangwon feels the faint weight of his chin brushing against him, so that he can watch.

Sangwon’s eyes fix on the screen. Leo had been right that his moves are fine and that he’s finally hitting the right marks, but Yumeki had been right too; he doesn't look comfortable in the choreography. He looks weak. 

The weakest of them all. 

When the video ends, Sangwon exhales through his nose, already forming a list of corrections to obsess over. 

Anxin’s voice cuts before he can, “You did really good, hyung.”

“I don’t know if I would call that good ,” Sangwon counters.

But Anxin doesn’t stop. “I don’t get why you’re always so harsh on yourself. I think you’re amazing.”

The words land somewhere uncomfortably warm in Sangwon’s chest. He turns his head slightly, ready to dismiss it again with a quick, self-deprecating laugh, to say something—anything—but he freezes.

Their faces are barely a breath apart when he turns, far too close for comfort. 

Sangwon can see the tiny curve of Anxin’s lashes, the way his pupils catch the light, how if he leans forward, just a little, the space between them would dissolve.

And still, Anxin doesn’t move back. He just stays there, steady, looking at him with a kind of unguarded sincerity that Sangwon isn’t prepared for.

For a heartbeat, Sangwon forgets how to breathe.

His body reacts before his mind can catch up. That deep, instinctive part of him, his inner Omega stirs, uncoiling low in his stomach like someone lit a match there. Heat floods his system as he breathes in Anxin’s fresh rainwater scent this close up. 

“Sangwon-hyung,” Anxin says softly, voice almost reverent, “you’re so talented. And so pretty. You have to know everyone watching that stage is going to fall for you.”

Sangwon swallows, his throat dry. He should laugh it off, or roll his eyes, or say something about how that’s ridiculous, how he’s just doing his job, how there are flashier dancers out there who deserve the attention. 

But the words don’t come.

“I know I am,” Anxin adds, barely louder than a whisper.

That somehow breaks the spell. 

Sangwon’s chair screeches against the tile as he bolts upright, nearly tipping himself over in his rush to stand and put space between him and Anxin. His heart lurches in his chest, hammering against his ribs so hard it almost hurts. 

Anxin blinks up at him, confusion flickering across his face, edged with something almost wounded, he clearly hadn’t expected Sangwon to pull away like that.

Guilt slams into Sangwon, sharp and twisting, because it isn’t Anxin’s fault. It isn’t even about him. Anxin probably just thinks he’s being encouraging, doing the same thing he’s done all week, being Sangwon’s personal cheerleader with silly faces and soft words and that constant thread of reassurance. He doesn’t know what his presence does to the instincts Sangwon has been working so hard to suppress. 

“I—I need—bed. I’m going to bed. It’s late,” Sangwon stammers, his voice higher than he wants it to be. He snatches up the tablet so fast it almost slips from his hand. 

He can’t even look at Anxin properly as he hurries to the door, feet moving all too quickly. 

“Sangwon-hyung?”

The sound of his name stops him in his tracks against his better judgment. 

He shouldn’t turn around. 

He knows he shouldn’t. 

And yet he does, wide-eyed and stiff, bracing himself for whatever it is that Anxin is going to say.

But Anxin just looks at him with a soft, and mostly confused expression as he says,  “Don’t forget your ramen, hyung.”

For a split second, Sangwon just stands there, still caught in the web of his own spiraling thoughts, heartbeat thrumming in his ears. 

Then he huffs out something that might almost pass for a laugh if it weren’t so shaky, and snatches the cup of ramen off the table without looking at Anxin before all but fleeing the room. 

*

The sound of a fog horn-like alarm splits through the dorm at an hour no sane human should have to see. Staff voices followed, shouting for everyone to get up, get dressed, and get outside now .

Sangwon drags himself out of bed like his bones were full of wet sand, his whole body aches from days of extra practice, and he feels sick to his stomach on top of that. 

He’d doubled up on heat suppressants last night after his run in with Anxin in the snack room. 

He hadn’t known what else to do, his body had been humming with a strange, low thrum of Omega awareness that he’d been working so hard to suppress, triggered by the way Anxin had ever so casually draped himself over Sangwon’s shoulders in the snack room. 

Once he’d retreated to his room last night, he’d been able to come to his senses, aware enough that he had been making a big deal out of nothing, his inner Omega reacting all weird to what clearly had just been meant as friendly support from Anxin.

It was probably the exhaustion getting to him, making the suppressants less effective. That, or the fact that he was still having to take a rut suppressor in front of staff every morning. Surely one of those two things could explain the weird way his inner Omega had reacted. Sangwon makes a mental note to ask the pharmacist about it the next time he goes to get a refill. Maybe he could phrase it as a hypothetical, and ask if his Omega accidentally took one of his rut suppressors by mistake, what could happen? 

Sangwon tries not to think about how sick his stomach feels as he shoves on a track jacket and joins the line of half-asleep trainees out into the courtyard. The cameras are already rolling as they start to jog laps, and Sangwon forces himself to straighten up and look less like death for the footage.

In no time at all, Leo appears at his side, slowing down from his position in the front of the pack so that they can be running side by side. 

“Morning.”

Sangwon grunts something that might’ve been a greeting, his stomach already cramping on the second lap. 

“This is torture,” he mutters. 

“Better hope they don’t use that in the episode,” Leo snorts. 

After a few laps around the courtyard, the trainees are shepherded into the gym for the Produce-Planet classic: Sports Day . 

Sangwon supposes, in hindsight, he should have expected this was coming.

It’s a relief, in some ways. No drills, no choreography, just a chance to blow off steam in front of the cameras. If he ignores the churn of unease in his stomach, it almost feels like fun.

They cycle through game after game, the noise bouncing off the walls of the gym. Sangwon sticks close to Leo for most of it and for a while, he almost forgets the restless, too-tight feeling left over from last night. 

Almost.

It’s about halfway through the day when he notices that he hasn’t seen Anxin near him, or the rest of their Whiplash team for that matter, at all. Not once. With eighty trainees running around the gym, he supposes it makes sense, after all, Anxin is usually glued to his C-group friends whenever they’re given the space to be together. 

When Sangwon catches sight of Anxin across the court, laughing at something Kaiwen is saying, his stomach twists sharply, and he knows it has nothing to do with his suppressants.

During one of the event swaps, Sangwon takes his chance. Anxin is standing alone for a moment, towel slung around his neck. Sangwon crosses the court to where Anxin is.

“Hey,” he says. “You guys killed that round. Nice job.”

Anxin smiles politely, with the same usual level of brightness, but there’s something a bit more distant about him, the Alpha already looking over Sangwon’s shoulder to where one of his C Group friends is even as he says,  “Thanks, hyung, But I… I should go, my team’s getting called up.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

As if Sangwon was nobody important, as if they weren’t friends at all, but rather Sangwon was just some random K Group trainee that Anxin knew of in passing. 

Sangwon stands there for a beat too long, watching Anxin retreat to the safety of his friends from C Group, before finally making himself turn away and head to the bleachers where Leo is waiting with an extra water bottle for him. 

He drops down beside Leo, drinking from the extra water bottle, but the water does nothing to alleviate the lump in his throat. 

“Hey,” Sangwon says, his fingers fiddling nervously with the cap of the water bottle, “Did Anxin… say anything about me last night? When he got back to your room?”

“Should he have?” Leo asks. 

Which is pointedly not an answer to Sangwon’s question. 

“Maybe,” Sangwon admits reluctantly, his eyes still drawn across the court to where Anxin is as he explains.

He can’t help but think about last night. About how close they’d been, close enough to count the dark fringe of Anxin’s lashes, close enough to feel something slip in his chest he didn’t want to name. And now nothing but coldness. 

“We ran into each other in the snack room,” Sangwon explains, “Things got kind of awkward, and now he won’t talk to me, so…” 

Leo doesn’t say anything in reply for a long moment, and when Sangwon finally looks away from Anxin, there’s a sort of hesitant look on the Alpha’s face. 

“Nothing,” Sangwon says quickly. “Forget it.”

“Hmmm,” Leo draws the sound out deliberately, eyes sliding toward the court as if considering whether he should even indulge this. “I might know when Anxinie is avoiding you, but I promised I’d keep his secret.”

That gets Sangwon’s attention all at once. “Tell me.” 

“Ah ah ah, a promise is a promise,” Leo insists, though his lips quirk up playfully and there’s a teasing note to his lemon pepper scent, “What kind of hyung would I be if I gave away all of the puppy’s secrets after promising not to.” 

He knows this game.

Leo wants to make it work for it.

So Sangwon tilts his head, his lashes lowering. His scent sweetens just a little, like the first hint of sugar in tea. 

“Hyung,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper, “please tell me.”

Leo’s mouth presses into a line. He’s not immune, not really, even though he’s clearly trying to act like Sangwon’s sign of submission doesn’t affect him at all. 

“Mm?” Leo drawls, smirking faintly. “Is that how you ask me?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s heat there too, some part of him is clearly satisfied at having Sangwon ask.

Sangwon swallows, cheeks flushing as he leans a little closer. So that he’s whispering in Leo’s ear as he says, “Please, Alpha, tell me” 

Leo inhales sharply at Sangwon’s words, pupils darken as his eyes flick over Sangwon’s flushed face like he wants to drink him in. The smirk that spreads across his face is triumphant and sharp in a distinctly Alpha-like way. 

“There we go,” Leo says, the satisfaction in his tone unmistakable, before he shrugs ever so casually, and says, as if it’s no big deal at all, “If you must know, Anxinie came back yesterday after your little incident , and had a talk with me. It seems I was right before.”

“About what?”  

“That the puppy had a bit of a crush on you.”

The word had echoes in Sangwon’s mind.

Had, past tense. 

Leo continues, clearly watching Sangwon’s reaction too closely, as he speaks, “He asked me, since you and I are so close, if there was any chance you were… one of those Alphas that likes other Alphas.”

Sangwon can’t help the small noise of surprise from slipping from his lips. Maybe his inner Omega hadn’t been wrong to react the way it did last night, if Anxin’s inner Alpha had been broadcasting intent and attraction.

But still—Anxin? Thinking that about him? It seems ridiculous, and yet… 

“I told him you’re not, because you aren’t ,” Leo goes on smoothly, sounding just a little too satisfied with himself. “I let him down easy for you. Don’t worry, he got over it.”

“Oh, huh.”

“I mean, it’s for the best right,” Leo adds, turning away from Sangwon to look over to where Anxin is chatting up his C Group friends, “After all, you’re not really his type.” 

Sangwon forces a weak laugh, nodding, though inside he’s not so sure. 

He does sort of like Anxin, but not… he’s not stupid. Anxin’s pretty, sure, and under normal circumstances Sangwon might have entertained the thought of it. But young Alphas have been known to fixate on people without meaning anything by it, newly presented instincts misfire all the time—friendship can be mistaken for affection and admiration mistaken for something deeper.

Plus, if Anxin is an Alpha drawn to other Alphas, then Leo’s right. Sangwon is not his type at all.

“Actually,” Sangwon says, tilting his head slightly, “it’s funny. Junseo asked me something similar about you.”

Leo’s head snaps around, eyebrows rising just a fraction too high. 

“Wait—what?” 

There’s a quick flash in his eyes, a microsecond of surprise, like he’s caught off guard.

“A few days ago,” Sangwon explains, “Junseo asked if you and I were a thing. He said the way you scent me made him think you were an Alpha who likes Alphas.”

Leo freezes just a fraction longer this time, for a breath, his easy, teasing facade slips—his smile falters, eyes tightening minutely, like he’s weighing what to say in response to that, but then the practiced mask clicks back in. His shoulders relax, and the smirk returns, casual and smooth.

“That’s absurd,” Leo says, with a dismissive laugh. “I don’t like Alphas.” 

“I know, right? That’s what I told him!”

Chapter Text

“Rut suppressors! Everyone don’t forget to take your rut suppressors,” one of the production staff calls the moment they step into the training facility. 

The Mnet staff has been diligent about making sure everyone takes them, a side effect of running a show where 80—or well, 79—Alphas are competing for a debut spot. So it isn’t all that surprising to be greeted with a table full of paper cups each with a pill inside, but something in Sangwon’s stomach churns at the thought of taking the rut suppressant. 

He shouldn’t be taking them, he doesn’t need to take them at all, considering he’s an Omega, not an Alpha, and yet… It’s not like he has a choice. 

Under the watchful eye of the staff, Sangwon grabs one of the cups and takes the pill inside, swallowing it down without hesitation. 

Beside him, Chingyu reaches for one of the cups, but Yumeki is quick to block his hand before he can grab one. 

“Not you, Chingyu-yah,” Yumeki says firmly. 

“Huh? Why not?” Chingyu asks, a picture of faux-innocence. 

“You know, taking rut suppressors won’t actually make you present any sooner,” Junseo tells him. “I don’t know who started that rumor, but—” 

“Hyunjun said he heard it from a friend who—” 

“I don’t want to know,” Junseo cuts him off. 

Yumeki is gentler with the pup. “Rut suppressors can be dangerous if you take them before you present, they can have bad effects on your inner Alpha.” 

“Or inner Omega,” Junseo chimes in. 

There’s something about the way he says it, one could almost believe he was just teasing Chingyu with the way the pup gets flustered in response, hurriedly insisting that he is a future Alpha, but Junseo’s eyes glance over subtly in Sangwon’s direction for just half a second too long.

And that half a second is enough to make Sangwon’s heart stop.

There’s no way Junseo knows…

Right? 

The only people that know on Boys 2 Planet are him and Leo, and… Junil, technically, but… 

“Hey! Don’t say that,” Chingyu says, getting louder as he defends himself, “They already tested me! I’m gonna present Alpha, you’ll see!” 

“I don’t know,” Sangwon says, joining in on the teasing, if only to give himself a cover, “You seem pretty Beta-like to me!” 

Chingyu splutters, chasing after him as Sangwon heads to the practice room. 

Despite the light mood among the team brought on by teasing their maknae, Sangwon’s stomach can’t help but feel sour as he gets settled into the practice room. The same way it has for days. Ever since that night with Anxin in the snack room, Sangwon has been taking double the dose of heat suppressors every morning just to make sure that his body never reacts like that again, but… It’s already bad enough mixing heat and rut suppressors, but an extra dose of heat suppressors on top of that has left him on the verge of being sick each morning. 

Lately everything’s felt like too much.

The music is too loud.

The lights are too bright.

And his stomach feels like it’s eating itself from the inside out. 

Things only get worse as practice begins.

He’s doing better at the dance, standing out more and more, and in the mirror he looks fine, if he ignores the way his body feels feverish and the sort of hollow look around his eyes from too many sleepless nights. His stomach clenches hard when he spins, and each inhale feels like he’s breathing through sand. 

He barely keeps it together long enough to run through the dance a couple times. 

When Junseo calls for the team to take a short break, Sangwon relishes the opportunity to just sit down. His head is buzzing faintly and he squeezes his eyes shut to block out the studio lights. Blindly, he tries to grab his water bottle, but even after he grabs it, he can’t get it open, his fingers trembling far too much to twist the cap. 

Sangwon curses under his breath, tossing the water bottle back down. 

“Hey,” Leo’s voice comes, soft and concerned a second later, and Sangwon blinks open his eyes just in time to watch Leo easily open his water bottle before handing it over. It’s only once he’s done that Leo says, “You don’t need to be nervous, Sangwon, your dance looked good.” 

“I…” Sangwon tries to focus, to force a smile, but the bottle wobbles again in his hand. He brings it to his lips to take a sip before saying, “I’m not nervous.” 

“You sure?”

Sangwon nods, nerves are definitely not the problem today. 

The Alpha leans forward, brushing Sangwon’s hair away from his head, and not so subtly breathing in Sangwon’s scent. Once he does, Leo frowns. 

“Your scent is… off.” 

Sangwon grimaces. That’s the last thing he wants to hear, especially when he’s pretty sure the reason he’s feeling so sick is related to his inner Omega. Sangwon pulls in a deep breath, hoping to cover up his distress, but the air drags rough and acrid down his throat, and his stomach suddenly flips.

“I think—” Sangwon pauses, his stomach cramping again, one hand hurriedly pressing to his mouth as he says, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Shit, okay, bathroom, now” Leo curses. In an instant, he’s on his feet, tugging Sangwon up with all that Alpha strength of his. “We’ll be right back,” he snaps toward the others before steering Sangwon toward the door, one hand firm on his shoulder.

The bright fluorescent lights in the hallway only make his nausea worse, and it’s truly a miracle that he makes it all the way before his stomach turns over. 

Sangwon crouches on the floor of the bathroom stall, one hand braced against the cool porcelain, while the other is pressed desperately against his stomach as it clenches. His throat burns with the sour aftertaste of bile. Behind him, Leo rests his hand between Sangwon’s shoulder blades, rubbing slow circles as if he’s trying to coax him through the nausea, as he emits soothing pheromones. 

Sangwon squeezes his eyes shut, panting. 

“Do you think you caught something?” Leo asks gently as his hand continues to rub Sangwon’s back. 

He wants to answer, but his tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, and words are far too much for him to manage. He leans forward and spits again, but nothing comes up this time other than sour saliva.

“Breathe, Sangwonie. Just breathe,” Leo tells him, “In and out with me.” 

Sangwon tries to follow Leo’s guidance, but his lungs ache with every breath and each inhale only manages to suck more and more of Leo’s lemon pepper scent in. His inner Omega reacts to the scent far too fast, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. Sangwon hurries to stand if only to put some space between him and that scent, but his knees wobble as soon as he goes to stand. 

“Hey,” Leo says quickly, standing up to catch Sangwon before he falls. Leo shifts closer, his arm sliding around Sangwon’s side. “Careful.”

Sangwon tries his best to hold himself up, but his body folds, dizzy and weak, collapsing sideways against Leo’s chest. Leo holds him there, steady and solid, his hand still rubbing Sangwon’s back in careful, soothing motions. 

“I’m sorry,” Sangwon mumbles, his head lolling against Leo’s shoulder, “I feel… awful.”

“It’s okay,” Leo replies “Don’t apologize. Just… let me help, okay?”

That comforting lemon pepper surrounds him now, filling his nose, he’s too close now to Leo’s scent gland to resist breathing it in, even if his inner Omega makes him flush a little more at the scent of protective Alpha so close to him. Sangwon lets his eyes close, as for just a moment, he lets himself lean fully into it, into Leo.

Leo shifts, lowering them both back down so Sangwon is sitting against the cool wall, his own body caged close for support. It’s then that Leo presses his palm lightly against Sangwon’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the sweat damp strands of Sangwon’s hair aside. “Like a fever. Or like…” Leo trails off.

But Sangwon knows the word he won’t say all too easily. Like heat. 

Sangwon’s stomach clenches, not from nausea this time, but from fear.

No. 

No, it can’t be heat. 

Surely not with all the suppressants he’s been taking. 

But still, his inner Omega stirs, desperate and restless, because it’s an Alpha holding him, close enough that Sangwon can feel the beat of Leo’s heartbeat through his chest. His scent receptors act against his will, drinking in that lemon pepper scent like water.

His body aches to yield to it. 

To yield to the Alpha holding him.

To give himself to Leo and—No!

He refuses to even consider that possibility, doing all that he can to cling to his rational mind. 

“I can’t be in heat,” Sangwon whispers the last word shamefully, even though there’s no cameras around to pick up on what he’s saying. There’s still a lingering sense of fear that someone could figure it out.

“Are you sure?” Leo asks cautiously. 

He nods before explaining, “I’ve been doubling up on heat suppressants. Just for a few days. I thought it would help—I’ve been feeling off—but I—with the rut suppressants too, it just—” He pauses, his chest heaving, dizzy with the weight of admitting it out loud. “I think the combination made me sick.” 

Leo draws back just enough to look Sangwon in the eye, his concern so clear that it makes Sangwon’s chest ache. 

“Doubling up?” Leo echoes. “Isn’t it dangerous to take more than one a day?”  

“I had to,” Sangwon rushes to explain. “My inner Omega’s been weird for the last few days and I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“Define the last few days?”

“Since sports day,” Sangwon admits hesitantly. 

He sees it, the moment Leo presses his lips together, Sangwon can see the wheels turning in his head as Leo manages together what it is that Sangwon is too reluctant to admit out loud. Which was what had been the tipping point for his inner Omega acting this way, or well, who. 

Thankfully, Leo doesn’t press him for more answers. Instead, Leo’s expression softens, the contemplative look on his face melting back into concern. He reaches up and cups the side of Sangwon’s neck, thumb brushing against Sangwon’s scent gland. 

“God, Sangwonie,” he murmurs. “No wonder you’re sick.”

Sangwon can’t bring himself to meet Leo’s eyes. 

And still… he leans a fraction more into Leo’s hand, against his better judgment, his inner Omega craving the Alpha’s touch, even as shame burns through him. 

“Okay,” Leo says, his tone allowing no argument, “We’re getting you back to the dorms. You need to rest for the day.”

“But—practice—” Sangwon’s stomach twists, nerves making his pulse stutter, “We can’t fall behind, we—”

“No.” Leo cuts him off, “Let hyung handle this, okay? I’ll explain everything to our team and the staff. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.”

The words thud against Sangwon’s chest, heavy in ways he doesn’t want to examine. Leo’s always been so good at taking care of him, so overprotective, maybe it’s the Alpha in him or maybe it’s just because he’s Leo, but Sangwon can’t help but feel a little relieved at how steady Leo sounds. 

“You just sit here a minute,” Leo adds gently, standing up now, “And try not to throw up again, okay?”

Sangwon manages a jerky nod, though even as he does so, he has to press the back of his hand hard against his mouth, fighting the urge to gag as his stomach rolls again.

*

By the time that they make it back to the dorms, Sangwon’s stomach still hasn’t even slightly settled, and every step he takes feels unsteady, like he could hit the floor any second. He drops down onto the couch in the common room, curling forward, palms pressed against his knees.

Leo crouches in front of him, his dark eyes assessing Sangwon for a moment, before he says, “You’re going to sleep in my room tonight,” adding, “This isn’t up for discussion,” before Sangwon can protest.

Still, he tries, “Hyung, I—”

“I need to keep an eye on you.” Leo says, cutting him off, his voice firm in the way it always is when he won’t let Sangwon wriggle out of something. “Especially in case you…” He trails off. 

The sentence hangs there unfinished, but Sangwon doesn’t need him to finish it.

He means in case Sangwon goes into heat.

Sangwon’s breath stutters. Just the thought of it makes him want to throw up again. If he goes into heat here, surrounded by cameras and mics and nearly eighty Alphas in the building… He can already see the headlines, the way Mnet would cut him out like he never existed.

“Hyung…” He starts, but he’s shaking too much to make the rest of what he needs to say come out. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leo says, reaching out to rest a hand lightly on Sangwon’s knee, steadying. His thumb rubs once, reassuring. “Don’t panic. I’ll protect you. Nothing will happen.”

Sangwon’s chest aches. He wants to believe him, wants so badly to let those words be true.

If the other Alpha trainees found out that there was an Omega going into heat in their dorm room… He knows Leo would try to protect him, but that's just one Alpha against all of them. The odds weren’t in their favor. 

“And, worst case,” Leo adds, voice steady, despite the fact that Sangwon can pick up worried notes in his scent, “if something does happen, and you have to leave? I’ll leave too.” 

Leo says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like leaving behind the competition, the dream they’ve been clawing for, wouldn’t matter if it meant Sangwon wasn’t alone.

The guilt rushes quickly, so much heavier than the nausea. 

He doesn’t deserve that kind of promise. 

He doesn’t deserve Leo putting him first. Not when it’s Sangwon’s own fault, mixing pills, lying by omission, trying to survive this show on falsified paperwork. He wants to shake his head, to say don’t, to tell Leo not to risk anything for him. But his throat is tight and his voice won’t come.

“No more arguments,” Leo says, then he stands, offering a hand. “Come on, let’s get you some rest.”

Sangwon takes his hand and lets Leo tug him up. His legs wobble a little, but Leo steadies him all the way down the hall, and when they reach the room, Leo guides him inside to lay down upon his bed. 

Sangwon hesitates at the edge of the mattress, wanting to protest again, but Leo’s expression allows no room to argue and Sangwon is tired. The sheets smell distinctly of lemon-pepper, Leo’s scent is layered over the fabric, grounding him as he settles beneath the covers.

A moment later, the mattress dips, and Leo slides in behind him, his arm looping casually around Sangwon’s middle, tugging him close so that they’re basically spooning.

His body feels too hot, too unsteady, pressed against Alpha-solid warmth. His inner Omega keens at the comfort, at the steady weight of protection curled around him, but his mind screams just as loud.

“What—”

 “Shh… Let me cuddle you until you feel better,” he says, quietly adding in a whisper that’s just for Sangwon, “My inner Alpha won’t rest until I know you’re okay. So please, let me do this for you, and for me.” 

He supposes he can’t argue with that.

So Sangwon lets himself relax into the hold, closing his eyes and trying to will his sickness into fading away. 

He won’t admit it out loud, but it is nice like this, the solid presence of the Alpha behind him soothes him and makes his inner Omega melt. Leo doesn’t just curl around him, he fits around him, holding Sangwon snugly. It’s the kind of closeness Sangwon hasn’t had in years, not since trainee dorm days when he could still pass this kind of affection off as ordinary pack-bonding.

His body remembers the comfort instantly. He tells himself it’s fine, that it’s just like old times, packmates keeping close when someone’s not well. But with the steady press of Alpha warmth at his back, the grounding rhythm of Leo’s breathing against his spine feels good. 

Too good.

Because when Leo shifts slightly, his nose accidentally brushing the curve of Sangwon’s neck, lips ghosting right over his scent gland, Sangwon’s inner Omega jolts like he’s been shocked. 

Heat sparks under his skin, his body reacting against his will, instinctively responding to the feel of Alpha behind him. There’s a sort of dampness to his scent that arises before he can stop it, though shame and guilt follows immediately after as his rational brain grapples with how inappropriate it is for him to start slicking up when Leo’s trying to comfort him. 

And what’s worse is that he’s sure Leo can smell the change.

“Are you…” Leo starts, then trails off, the rest of his sentence going unfinished. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Sangwon whispers, mortified, “I think it’s from the medication, I can’t control it, but it’s not… that. Sorry.”

Leo hums, accepting the answer, rubbing small circles on Sangwon’s stomach with his hand to try and soothe him, as he says, “You don’t have to apologize, just get some rest now.” 

Sangwon nods once even as body betrays him, but thankfully a moment later, when his eyes slip shut, sleep overwhelms him. 

*

For a moment, Sangwon isn’t sure what pulls him up from sleep, the ache in his stomach or the low murmur of voices. He keeps his eyes shut for a moment when he realizes that Leo, who is still curled around him, warm and solid at his back, is speaking.

“…he’s allergic to the standard rut suppressors,” Leo says in a voice quiet but steady. “So he’s been using his own pills, but two doses of rut suppressors every day? It’s been making him sicker and sicker. Today it just finally hit the point.”

“Why didn’t he say anything to the staff before?” A voice asks. It takes Sangwon a minute to recognize the voice as Anxin’s, the faint scent of rainwater in the air more of a clue than anything else. 

“He told me before he’d talked to the staff, but apparently not clearly enough for them to understand the seriousness of the situation”

“Do we need to—”

“I’ve handled it.” 

Gratitude hums faintly in Sangwon’s chest as he listens to Leo’s cover story. He’s not surprised Leo came up with some excuse for his sickness, he’s protective like that, clever like that. Sangwon bets he’s already told production the same excuse, shutting down any scrutiny before it could land directly on Sangwon. 

Anxin hums again, quieter, then, “But… are you sure it’s nothing more serious? He’s looked—”

“It’s under control,” Leo cuts in. There’s a small silence, filled only by Leo’s steady breathing against Sangwon’s back. Then Leo says, gentler but in a tone that makes it less of a suggestion and more of an order, “Maybe it would be best if you sleep in Sangwon’s room with Junseo tonight, Anxinie.”

“What? Why?” 

“Sangwon is already so sick,” Leo explains, “And it was hard enough convincing him to sleep here, and… considering how you two have been tense for the last few days, I don’t know if he’d be comfortable waking up to see you here.”

The pheromones of Anxin’s rainwater scent shift in the air, tinged darker with something hurt. Sangwon’s stomach aches as he breathes in Anxin’s scent, part nausea, part something else entirely. Sangwon doesn’t even have to open his eyes to picture the way Anxin must look like a kicked puppy. 

Sangwon’s heart aches with guilt, though he does his best to suppress the feeling so it doesn’t bleed through his scent and give away that he’s awake.

He does like Anxin. Not in a way he can act on, not here, not when Anxin thinks he’s an Alpha and they’re both trapped inside Boys 2 Planet’s watchful walls. But he likes him enough that Sangwon doesn’t wants him hurt, he doesn’t want Anxin standing there, drowning in guilt, scent curling so miserably because Leo chose to bare his teeth on Sangwon’s behalf.

He knows what Leo is doing. He recognizes the sharp edge of it for what it is. It’s Leo’s whole intimidating Alpha thing, the shield he pulls up whenever anyone gets too close to him. Leo’s protecting him, but that only makes Sangwon feel worse. 

He shifts faintly as the guilt consumes him, just enough that the blanket rustles, he hopes that it will go unnoticed.

But as attentive as he is, Leo doesn’t miss it. 

His hand presses firmly against Sangwon’s stomach, steadying him, but his words are for Anxin. “See? He’s already reacting to your scent.”

“Oh…” Anxin’s voice falters, cracking just slightly, his rainwater scent thinning with remorse. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I’ll just grab some pajamas and go. I’m sorry.”

Sangwon’s heart hurts. 

He wants to tell Anxin it isn’t his fault, that his scent isn’t making him sick, that he likes him (maybe too much, really), but none of those words can come out. He keeps his eyes shut, breath shallow, pretending to sleep because he doesn’t know what to say to Leo .  

Doesn’t know how to say thank you for protecting him while also hating how sharp his words were and how much it hurt Anxin. 

So he says nothing, even after the door clicks shut and Anxin leaves, committed to the act of pretending to be asleep. 

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of Sangwon’s own unsteady breathing and the faint thrum of his heartbeat in his ears. Then, Leo shifts behind him, the arm around Sangwon’s waist loosening just enough for Leo to tug the blanket higher, smoothing it carefully over Sangwon’s chest and shoulders. 

“You’re burning up again,” Leo murmurs, so quiet it feels like the words weren’t meant for anyone at all. “What am I going to do with you? Always trying to take everything on yourself until you collapse, when you should be letting your Alpha take care of you.” 

The weight of the words settles deep inside Sangwon, heavier than his guilt, heavier than the sickness still turning in his stomach. He doesn’t move, doesn’t risk letting it slip that he isn’t actually asleep.

There’s a pause, long enough that Sangwon thinks Leo is done speaking. 

Then, Leo speaks again, so softly that Sangwon almost doesn’t hear it. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you have any idea what you mean to me.”

Chapter Text

“Why didn’t you tell us you were allergic to the rut suppressors?” One of the PDs scolds the next morning, his clipboard snapping shut with an irritated clap. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that could’ve been? If you’d gone into rut right here—”

“I’m sorry, PD-nim,” Sangwon interrupts quickly, bowing his head. 

His stomach still hurts a little, the lingering effect of the false heat his body had tortured him with last night still making him feel a bit queasy. A false heat was a lot better than a real one, as at least, it could be passed off as a fever and a bad allergic reaction, but it still took a lot out of him. He may not have been begging to be bred like a normal Omega in heat would be, but his body had still burned up with fever and ached with cramps all night. 

“I didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” Sangwon adds, committing to the story that Leo had told the production staff that Sangwon was allergic to the standard rut suppressors. “Or make the other trainees think I was getting special treatment.” 

“It is a big deal,” another staff member insists, “An allergy isn’t special treatment, Sangwon-ah.”

Their concern blurs into background noise. 

Sangwon bows again and again, murmuring apologies, but inside his head his thoughts are somewhere else entirely. 

Not on rut. 

Not on his pretend allergies. 

Not even last night’s fever.

Instead, words whispered last night when Sangwon had been thought to be asleep loop in his mind, “Sometimes I wonder if you have any idea what you mean to me”. The words echo in his head, no matter how much he tries to shove them away. 

The problem is—he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Leo has always been steady, always protective, always the first to shield him without question, and Sangwon’s always felt safe with him but that… That had sounded less like a protective hyung and more like… An Alpha.

And Leo is an Alpha, but it’s different. 

Last night Leo had called himself Sangwon’s Alpha, when he’d thought Sangwon couldn’t hear, but he had heard and now… Sangwon glances towards where Leo is on the other side of the room, safe from the scoldings of the PDs, and yet still keeping a watchful eye on Sangwon. He can’t help but wonder what exactly Leo meant by all of that last night.

But there’s no way to ask him, not without admitting that he hadn’t been asleep at all. 

Sangwon rubs at the scent gland inside his wrist absently, as he’s finally freed from the talking with the PDs, they finally let up with a stern reminder to take only his prescribed pills today, and goes to join the rest of his team in their practice space. 

The room is already buzzing with the two Whiplash teams getting ready to practice, a familiar blend of scents mingles in the air, sweat and nerves and eagerness clashing into the usual storm. 

But Sangwon’s nose seems sharper this morning, maybe an after effect of his false heat. So it's impossible not to notice something off about one of the scents in the room.

Anxin’s rainwater scent is usually crisp and light, Sangwon’s always found it a bit comforting. But today it seems heavier, dampened, like rain falling through polluted air, something saddened coiling at the edge of it. 

Sangwon’s inner Omega stirs faintly at the ache threaded through Anxin’s scent. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s his entering the room that caused Anxin’s scent to shift, but he looks anyway, catching a glimpse of Sangwon in the mirror. 

His posture is fine and his movements precise as he practices his part of the dance in the mirror, to anyone else he probably looks normal, but Sangwon knows better. Anxin’s scent gives away his grief. 

Sangwon tears his gaze away before Anxin can catch him staring, forcing himself into line with the others as practice begins. And when Yumeki claps them into focus, Sangwon throws himself into the movement with more determination than usual.

But his head isn’t where it should be.

One half of his mind is focused on Leo. 

Normally he finds it grounding, the subtle brush of Leo’s hands on his back or his wrist, guiding him through steps he already knows. And he’d chalk it up to Leo being thorough, he is the type to want to be perfect in everything. But today, with those words he whispered last night still caught in Sangwon’s ears, every touch feels heavier than before. 

The other half of his mind is still caught up in Anxin. 

In the saddened notes in the rainwater that clings to him through every beat of the music. Sangwon’s chest tightens whenever Anxin drifts too close, guilt gnawing deeper because he knows that he’s part of the reason Anxin smells like that today.

The combination of the two tears at his focus though the rest of practice. 

*

By the time practice ends for the day and Sangwon finally is able to go back to the dorms, all he wants to do is sleep. 

His body is exhausted and still shaky, not quite right after the fever of last night. For the most part, everyone chalked his off-ness up to lingering sickness, which is true enough. A small blessing. Though he swore more than a few times he caught Junseo looking at him with a contemplative look on his face. 

Which is partly why Sangwon wants to be asleep before his roommate gets back to their room. 

At least, that had been his plan, until he steps into his room and breathes in, and that same horribly guilty feeling from before comes rushing back. 

He should have expected Anxin’s scent to be lingering in the room, after all, Anxin had slept here last night, in Sangwon’s bed. Sangwon’s bed sheets are neatly tucked in, but Anxin’s scent is heavy on them, carrying those same sad notes that Sangwon had picked up all through practice. His inner Omega aches at the heaviness of Anxin’s scent, at the knowledge that someone he cares for was hurting because of him.

His fingers curl against his palm, nails biting into his skin, as he thinks about how Anxin must have felt so shut out, so unwanted, last night, after how Leo had basically forced him out of the room with his words. 

Sangwon swallows hard, setting his bag down quietly, before moving to strip the sheets from the bed, piling them up in his arms as if washing away the evidence might somehow wash away his guilt. 

However, before he can make his way to the laundry room, the door creaks open again and Junseo steps inside. Junseo glances at the bundle of sheets and then at Sangwon’s face before he says, “Sangwon-ah, can we talk for a second?” 

As much as Sangwon had been hoping to avoid this conversation, he knows there’s no fighting it now, so he nods a little and says, “What’s up?”

“Did you and Anxin get into a fight recently? ”

“Why do you ask?” Sangwon counters stiffly, holding the sheets full of Anxin’s scent tightly against his chest. 

“He seems off lately,” Junseo muses, his voice still so very casual. “And you two are usually, like, joined at the hip, but you’ve barely said two words to each other the last two days of practice.”

Sangwon bites the inside of his cheek hard, avoiding Junseo’s gaze. 

How is he supposed to explain this? That Anxin was interested in him, less than platonically, and had admittedly probably subconsciously been drawn in by Sangwon’s inner Omega? And that he hadn’t been able to tell Anxin that, and so instead Leo covered for him by saying that Sangwon wasn’t interested in Alphas, clearly breaking sweet little Anxin’s heart in the process?

His chest aches. 

It’s stupid. 

He knows it’s stupid.

He knows that there’s no other way for this to have ended, but a part of him feels guilty for still wanting that closeness from Anxin, even though he knows there’s no way their story could have a happy ending. 

“We didn’t exactly fight,” Sangwon eventually replies, reluctantly adding, “It’s complicated.”

Junseo hums a little at that, contemplatively, before adding, “He was crying a lot last night.” 

The image of Anxin, shoulders hunched somewhere in the dark, stifling his sobs, makes something inside Sangwon crack. He presses his lips together, fighting the sting in his eyes.

He looks down at the sheets again. Crying. No wonder Anxin’s scent was so heavy on the sheets, no wonder every inhale dragged guilt deeper and deeper into Sangwon’s lungs. 

“Sangwon-ah? What happened between you two?” 

Sangwon doesn’t answer. 

He can’t. 

His chest aches with the reality that Anxin deserves someone who can return his affection openly, who can meet him as an equal alpha. And that Sangwon can’t be what he needs. 

“I’m here, you know,” Junseo offers kindly in response to Sangwon’s silence, “If you need to talk, or if you want someone to mediate between you and Anxin. Whatever it is.”

Sangwon’s heart aches as he stares at the sheets in his arms and blurts before he can stop himself: “Junseo-hyung, what would you do if someone liked you, but you didn’t feel the same? You just… saw them as a friend, and even if you didn’t, you weren’t compatible.”

A part of him isn’t sure even as he says the words if he’s talking about Anxin, or Leo, or both. 

Junseo considers his question carefully though and is silent for a long moment before replying, “That depends on if the problem with liking them back is because they’re your friend… or because you think you’re not compatible.”

Sangwon freezes. His grip on the sheets tightens until the fabric wrinkles beneath his fingers. He doesn’t answer, not right away. 

Because the truth is—it’s both.

It’s Leo that comes to mind first, inevitably. Last night’s words still echoing, the way Leo had whispered it into the dark when he thought Sangwon was asleep, his tone so tender it almost hurt, calling himself Sangwon’s Alpha. 

But surely, surely Leo had only meant it as a pack, as the Pack Alpha of their little pack of two. 

Not like that. 

Not as a claim, not as a bond. Leo had turned him down years ago, hadn’t he? Right after Sangwon presented, when he’d desperately confessed his feelings to the Alpha after Leo helped him through his first heat. 

Leo doesn’t have feelings for him. He never has.

But then there’s Anxin. 

Who does.

A part of him, an honest and shameful part, likes Anxin back. If they’d met outside of Boys 2 Planet, maybe he wouldn’t mind giving him a chance. Anxin is a good and kind Alpha. 

But Anxin’s crush is for the wrong person. 

He likes Alphas, not Omegas.

Not what Sangwon really is. 

And that makes the whole thing impossible, no matter what he feels.

“You know, we discussed this before” Junseo says after a pause, “But there are Alphas who like other Alphas, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes, but I’m not one of those Alphas,” Sangwon says, forcing a bitter little laugh.

Junseo presses his lips together, thoughtful, weighing words he won’t say, as he looks Sangwon over for a long moment, before sighing and saying, “You’ll never know if you like something if you don’t try it.”

“This is different,” Sangwon says, “I know it won’t work.” 

“Maybe it’s not that it won’t work, Sangwon-ah,” Junseo counters, “Maybe you just don’t want to admit you want it to.”

Sangwon turns away, gathering the stripped sheets into a tight bundle, his movements clipped and tense. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, not with Junseo, not right now. So he hefts the sheets into his arms, heading for the laundry room just to escape the conversation. 

“If you’re really sure you don’t feel the same way,” Junseo calls out as Sangwon turns to go, “then just tell him that. I think he’s worried he made you uncomfortable, and he’s hurting because he’s losing a friend and a crush at the same time. If you’re not uncomfortable, then tell him you still want to be friends, and if you are… Just put him out of his misery, okay, Sangwon-ah?” 

His heart still aches at the thought of Anxin crying alone last night, of his scent heavy with hurt and longing, thinking that he’s made Sangwon uncomfortable with his feelings when the opposite is true. 

Junseo’s right. 

At the very least, Anxin deserves to know Sangwon isn’t pulling away because he’s disgusted or afraid.

“…Yeah,” Sangwon says finally, voice soft and rough. “I’ll… I’ll do that.”

Then, without meeting Junseo’s eyes, he slips out into the hall, heading toward the laundry room.

The laundry room is thankfully empty, and Sangwon busies himself with setting down his sheets and getting them ready to go into the washer so that he can wash that sad rainwater scent away. 

He presses a hand to his chest as his stomach twists again, part nausea, part guilt, and part longing.

Sangwon takes a deep breath as puts the sheet into the machine and starts the wash, the hum of the cycle oddly comforting. For a moment, he stands there listening to the sound of the washer running, letting the gentle rhythm of it drown out all of the terrible things that he’s feeling. He focuses on breathing, counting slowly, trying to let the guilt settle without consuming him. 

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t register the sound of the laundry room door opening until a shadow moves across the floor and a familiar dark cherry scent burns at his nose. 

Sangwon turns and looks over at Junil.

For a moment, it’s like the years fold in on themselves. His mind takes him back there again to when they shared trainee dorms, practice rooms, and whispered confessions of exhaustion and fear that they wouldn't make it. Junil left before the end, just like Leo had, but that shared history lingers. 

Junil is the only person other than Leo here that knows the truth about him, and from the look on his face, that’s exactly the reason why Junil has found him here. 

“Hey, Sangwon-hyung” Junil says, ever so casually, like they’re just teammates again. “I heard you were sick?”

“Yeah, I… I’m doing better now,” Sangwon replies. “Thank you for checking on me, Junil-ah.” 

Junil gives him a small smile, but there’s an undeniable cloying edge to his dark cherry scent, “You know, it’s funny, someone said that you got sick because you’re allergic to the rut suppressants they give us, but that can’t be right, can it?”

“People like to talk,” Sangwon says, hoping he sounds sufficiently casual. 

Junil lets out a small hum of agreement before he asks, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Convince the PD’s that you’re actually an Alpha.”

Sangwon swears his heart stops in his chest, fear coloring his hazelnut scent at once, as he stands there with Junil’s eyes on him and his secret spilling out of Junil’s lips. 

Suddenly, Sangwon feels hyper aware of the fact that the laundry room is one of the only places other than the bathroom where there aren’t any cameras. He’s lucky that Junil had decided to track him down while he was in here and not in his dorm room. 

Still, even without the cameras, Sangwon is careful, saying words that they both know aren’t true. “I am an Alpha. All my paperwork says so. Legally, I’m an Alpha.”

“But not where it really matters,” Junil says, his eyes flicking down Sangwon’s body. 

A chill prickles the back of Sangwon’s neck. 

His inner Omega tensing at the way this Alpha is looking at him. 

This Alpha whom he once considered a friend and certainly now still considers a casual acquaintance. Not someone who he would have thought would try to use his secret against him, but… It’s every man for themselves here, and only eight debut spots. 

“I just don’t get it,” Junil says, shaking his head lightly, almost to himself. “After all these years, you still haven’t changed the paperwork?”

Sangwon swallows hard. He had wanted to at first. But the reality was not so simple, he’d have to take it to court, expose HYBE for forging his designation, and undergo a full invasive medical exam to prove he’s really an Omega. That alone was enough to make his skin crawl.

And the court battle? Against HYBE, with their near bottomless lawyer funds and ways of always spinning PR to work to their advantage? They’d paint him as the liar, or worse, they’d claim it had been his idea all along. He could see the situation so clearly in his mind, standing there, accused, powerless, paying the price for their fabrication.

As a civilian, wrong paperwork doesn’t matter all that much. 

But as an idol? It matters more, which is why he’d originally planned to use Boys 2 Planet to let the truth leak out in his own way. But now…

“You can’t tell anyone,” Sangwon says suddenly, his voice tight. “Please, Junil.”

Junil blinks, caught off guard, his brows lifting slightly. “I don’t know if—”

“I’m serious,” Sangwon says, sharper now, his desperation spilling over. “I’ll do anything, just, please promise me you won’t say anything.”

Sangwon watches Junil for a long moment, the way his lips part like he’s going to speak before he stops and seems to consider something. 

“When you say anything, do you mean—”

“Whatever you want. I don’t care,” Sangwon says, “Just promise me, Junil, that you won’t tell anyone.”

“Relax, hyung,” Junil says with a small smile, “I won’t tell anyone, but in exchange…” He pauses, weighing the idea, before he shrugs. “I don’t know what yet, but you owe me a favor one day, okay?”

Sangwon lets out a breath of relief, 

“Thank you, Junil-ah.” 

“Don’t worry, Sangwon-hyung. Your secret’s safe with me.”

*

The days blur together as the performance creeps closer, practice swallowing everything else. Sangwon barely has room to think about the favor he owes Junil, or how Anxin’s been so distant ever since that night, or even what exactly Leo meant when he whispered those words in the dark. 

There’s no time for it, no time for anything but the practice room, the music, and repeating his dance moves until they're perfect and his body aches.

And then, almost before he realizes, the performance is nearly here. 

Just the dress rehearsal today, and then tomorrow, showtime.

The stage feels special, standing here under the rehearsal lights. 

He’s been waiting years for this. 

Not just performing in a practice room, not filming for an evaluation, but being onstage again.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine the screams from the crowd. 

And then the music starts, the Whiplash team moves like they’ve been rehearsing in their sleep. Sangwon hits all of his marks, voice tight but strong. They do good.

For the most part. 

Until during the bridge, Anxin’s voice cracks, and for a split second, everyone falters. It’s not catastrophic, but it’s enough to set things off ever so slightly. Enough that the final chorus feels rushed, sloppy around the edges. When the music stops, the silence that follows is brutal, it’s clear that their mistakes hadn’t gotten past their mentors' watchful eyes. 

The mentors don’t go easy on them. 

Notes are thrown out rapid-fire, lectures about timing, breath control, and stage presence. Sangwon nods along as they critique him, but his focus isn’t really on what the mentors are saying.

It’s on Anxin, standing stiff and silent at the edge of the formation, his gaze locked on the floor, that rainwater scent of his pouring out with waves of hurt and shame, while he stands there frozen. 

The moment they’re dismissed, Anxin slips out so fast it’s like he’s vanishing. 

Sangwon hesitates only a second before going after him, ignoring whatever question Leo calls his way as he hurries to catch up with Anxin, weaving through the halls, following the faint trace of rainwater scent that’s gone sour with anxiety.

When he finds Anxin, he’s in a bathroom, standing in front of one of the sinks and visibly struggling to breathe. 

“Anxinie?” Sangwon says softly, gentle as if he’s approaching a wounded animal. 

Anxin’s head snaps his way, and the look on his face makes Sangwon’s chest ache. It’s so much more devastating that the small hurt look that’s been on his face for days. Anxin’s eyes are red, brimming with tears that he’s clearly trying not to let fall. 

“Sorry,” Sangwon says quickly. “I’m probably not the person you want to comfort you right now, but… I’m here. If you need to talk, or yell, or cry, or—whatever.”

Anxin doesn’t answer. 

He just stands there looking at Sangwon, trembling ever so slightly. 

So Sangwon does what he always does best, he keeps talking, the words tripping over each other as they spill out of his mouth. “You did so well today. You always do well. I know things didn’t go perfectly but… Anxinie, you only ever mess up in front of the mentors, and I don’t know if it’s because of something they said or just pressure or whatever, but I know you won’t mess up on stage tomorrow. Maybe you can rest your voice tonight, drink some lemon water or honey tea, but you’re so good, Anxin, you’re one of the best, it’s all going to go well, because we have you, I promise—”

“...Sangwon-hyung?”

Anxin’s soft interruption cuts through his stream of words. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I hug you?”

The question is so small, so unexpected, that it catches Sangwon off guard.

But he recovers quickly enough to reply, “Of course.” 

As soon as permission is given, Anxin steps forward and folds himself against Sangwon’s body. This close to Anxin, Sangwon can smell his rainwater scent even more clearly, can sense how it’s clinging to him, damp and sad.

Sangwon remembers that Anxin likes his scent. So he lets his own scent flow, rich hazelnut sweetness filling the air, warm and grounding, projecting his soothing pheromones to comfort the Alpha. 

Anxin makes a soft sound, almost a whimper, and presses his cheek against Sangwon’s shoulder while Sangwon strokes a soothing hand down his back.

“It’s okay,” Sangwon murmurs. “You’re okay. We’ll be okay tomorrow.”

Anxin doesn’t answer, but his arms tighten around Sangwon’s waist, clinging harder to him

For a long moment, Sangwon just holds him, their hazelnut and rainwater scents mingling in the bathroom, the stress of their upcoming performance momentarily forgotten. 

Until he feels something change. Anxin, who had spent the last few minutes relaxing in Sangwon’s hold, suddenly goes tense, his muscles locking up under Sangwon’s palms. 

“Anxinie?” Sangwon asks softly.

“Sorry,” Anxin blurts, just before he pulls back enough to escape Sangwon’s hold. “I shouldn’t… I should be asking you to comfort me. That’s selfish. I know you don’t—” He stops, swallows hard. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Sangwon-hyung.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” Sangwon says quickly, gently. “Whatever you need to feel better, it’s okay.” 

“Yeah, but…” Anxin starts, before looking away from Sangwon. His hesitance is clear in his posture, in the way his scent goes back to carrying those sad and guilty notes, as it has near constantly for the last few days. 

Junseo’s words from the other night suddenly come back into Sangwon’s mind. He supposes this isn’t the most ideal time for this discussion, but they have to have it at some point, right? 

“It’s okay, Anxinie, I know,” Sangwon tells him gently. 

Anxin flinches a little at that, as he echoes, “You know?” 

“I mean, Leo told me what you two talked about that night,” Sangwon says. 

He doesn’t need to say which night.

He’s sure Anxin’s been thinking about it as much as he has.  

“I asked him not to,” Anxin mutters, his rainwater scent spiking sharp with embarrassment as a flush crawls its way up his cheeks. 

“I kind of… forced it out of him,” Sangwon admits. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no, I’m so sorry, Sangwon-hyung, “ Anxin says, his voice rushed and his face crumpling with guilt. “I misunderstood, but Leo-hyung explained it all to me. I know now that you were just being friendly with me—that you didn’t mean anything by it.” 

Sangwon watches Anxin with a lump in his throat. The worst part is that Anxin hadn’t misunderstood, not really. Sangwon hadn’t just been friendly, but that… That had been a mistake, a line he shouldn’t have let himself cross, even subconsciously.

After all, look where it had gotten them. 

“And I’m sorry, I know it’s wrong, but I like you, so much.” Anxin’s gaze drops, his shoulders rounding like he’s bracing for rejection. “If I can only be your friend, that’s okay.”

“Anxin—”

“But… if you don’t want to be my friend anymore,” Anxin continues. “Not when you know I like Alphas… I… I’ll understand.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable, Anxin, I promise,” Sangwon tells him. “My parents are both alphas. Well, male and female alpha duo, but still… I’m not against Alpha-Alpha relationships, I just…”

“Oh,” Anxin says, his head tilting a little, a slightly confused expression on his face, as he asks, “Do you mean you care about primary gender more than secondary gender?”

“No, primary gender isn’t important to me,” Sangwon replies.

“But…” Anxin frowns faintly. “You don’t like male alphas?”

Sangwon feels the irony sting deep. 

If only Anxin knew how much Anxin really is his type.

Sangwon is bisexual, he likes men and women, what really matters to him is secondary gender. 

He likes alphas.

He always has. 

And yet here he is, pretending not to be attracted to Alphas when in reality his problem is the opposite.

Sangwon hesitates, just for a breath too long.

“Can I ask you something?” Anxin says, quietly, in response to Sangwon’s hesitation.

“Yeah?”

“Would it make any difference,” Anxin says carefully, “if I was willing to be the… more submissive alpha?”

“The more submissive alpha?” Sangwon repeats slightly confused. 

“I don’t know the word in Korean, but, ah…” Anxin’s ears go pink. He makes a small circle with one hand and pokes a finger through it with the other, mortified but determined to explain himself as best he can. “The more submissive alpha.”

“Oh.”

Sangwon stares, stunned for a second too long.

Anxin rushes to clarify, his voice squeaking a little as he forces the words out in a rush, “Because I don’t mind. I would actually like that. If you wanted to treat me like an Omega or a Beta—that’s okay.”

Sangwon feels something hollow and ironic twist inside him as the reality sets in, that what Anxin wants is an alpha to top him, to take charge—and Sangwon is so very not that. 

They’re mismatched in the worst possible way, which is a shame because Anxin is sweet, good-natured, nothing like the stereotypical alpha, and Sangwon really does like him.

He wishes there was a universe where he could give Anxin a proper chance. 

But if Anxin knew Sangwon was an Omega… he probably wouldn’t want this at all.

“I’m sorry,” Sangwon says, his voice soft but final. “It doesn’t.”

Anxin goes quiet, hurt flickering across his face, his rainwater scent going damp and sad again. 

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I asked. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry I—”

“Anxin,” Sangwon cuts him off, “You’re a good alpha. I know whoever you end up with will be lucky to have you. But I…” His chest hurts like his heart is breaking as he forces the words out, “I’m not the Alpha that you’re looking for.”

Anxin swallows, gaze dropping. After a moment, he nods. “Can we still be friends, at least?”

“Of course,” Sangwon says without hesitation. “You’ll always be my friend.”

Sangwon’s chest feels heavy. He wishes, stupidly and selfishly, for another universe, the one where this could’ve worked, where he didn’t have to lie to protect them both.

Anxin gives him a small, shaky smile, even though his scent still trembles with lingering hurt, and says, “Thanks, hyung.”

Sangwon tries to smile back.

It almost feels real. 

“You’re welcome, Anxinie.”

Chapter Text

He should be asleep. 

Everyone else is, or at least the entire All Star dorm is quiet enough that it feels like they are. 

Tomorrow is their first round of performances; everything they’ve spent in the practice room has been leading to that stage. 

He needs rest. 

His body aches for it. 

But Sangwon’s mind won’t stop going through the same refrains that it’s been stuck on for the last few days. An endless loop in his head of Leo’s voice late at night when he’d thought Sangwon was too asleep to hear, “Sometimes I wonder if you have any idea what you mean to me” intermixed with Anxin’s voice, “I would actually like that. If you wanted to treat me like an Omega or a Beta—that’s okay” as he’d offered to mold himself into whatever Sangwon wanted, even going against his Alpha nature if that was what it took.

Sangwon groans, dragging the blanket over his face. He flips over, and then back again and again. He presses his face into the pillow. But nothing helps. 

His thoughts chase each other in circles, guilt and longing and confusion all tangled up into a knot that makes his head hurt too much for the sweet embrace of sleep to take him.

From the other bed, Junseo’s voice cuts through the dark, “Sangwon-ah. Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying,” Sangwon groans back, his voice muffled by fabric.

“Is it nerves? Or…” 

“Or,” Sangwon echoes, the single word heavy.

There’s a beat of silence before Junseo speaks again, quieter this time, “The offer to talk is still here. If it’ll help you sleep, so that you feel good for tomorrow.”

Sangwon hesitates, staring into the darkness. 

He doesn’t really want to talk to Junseo about it, he can’t even properly, not without admitting the secrets that he has to keep close to his chest if he still wants a chance at debut. But… Junseo had offered him advice before, advice that he took, which is how he ended up here, so he supposes there’s no harm telling him about what happened earlier after their dress rehearsal. 

“Anxin and I talked today,” Sangwon tells Junseo. “I took your advice and turned him down gently. And I feel bad, but…”

“But you regret it?” 

“…A little,” Sangwon admits, the words spilling out before he can stop them. “But even if I wanted to return his feelings… this isn’t the time or the place, you know? I’m not here to—” he cuts himself off, biting down on the words “find an Alpha”, replacing them quickly with, “—to date. I’m here to debut.”

Junseo hums a little in acknowledgement before he says, “Then you did the right thing turning him down.” 

“Yeah… I guess…” Sangwon replies. “Doesn’t stop me from feeling like shit though.” 

“Well,” Junseo says, “once we finish performing tomorrow, the PDs said we have a couple of weeks of break for filming for the elimination. So maybe… during the break, self-reflect a little, and figure out what you want.”

Sangwon presses his lips together. 

What does he want? He doesn’t even know anymore. Leo’s voice and Anxin’s voice, they both blur in his head until he can’t tell which one of them is to blame for the ache in his chest. 

The only thing he knows for sure that he wants is to debut. 

Everything else, every complicated emotion, can come after his debut is secured 

“In the meantime, try to sleep, Sangwon-ah,” Junseo says in response to Sangwon’s silence. “We have to perform tomorrow, and I need our center in the best shape possible, and that means you need your beauty sleep.”

Despite himself, Sangwon laughs quietly into the dark, “Yeah, thanks, hyung, will do.”

*

The time of their performance arrives all too soon. 

The dressing room is crowded with stylists, makeup artists, racks of clothes, curling irons and hairdryers humming, voices overlapping as everyone is fussed over at once, getting the final touches done so they’ll all look perfect on stage. 

Sangwon sits in front of the mirror, hands folded tight in his lap, while the stylist combs through his hair with quick, practiced motions. 

His reflection staring back at him looks… different. 

He doesn’t just look like a trainee anymore. His face glows under the bright bulbs of the make up mirror, and the eyeliner framing his eyes makes him look sharper, older, and more sure of himself. 

For the first time, he looks like a real idol.

The thought makes his chest ache.

Over the last few years he’s had to watch so many friends stand in this exact spot before, dressed up, polished, ready to debut. He’s sent congratulatory texts, bought them flowers, cheered them on as they walked forward into a life that left him behind. 

After years of failed promises and canceled projects, he’d let his own hope slip away. He told himself it was over. He told himself he was fine with that.

But now… now it’s here. 

It’s his turn.

“Ahhh, don’t cry, Sangwon-ssi! You’ll mess up your makeup.” The makeup artist clicks her tongue and presses a tissue under his eye, before the tears that Sangwon hadn’t even realized were building there could roll down his cheek and ruin her hard work. 

He laughs weakly, but the burn behind his eyes only grows stronger, his vision blurring even as the stylist gently dabs his tears away.

Leo, a few seats away, twists in his chair, still halfway under the hands of his own stylist. His eyes catch Sangwon’s in the mirror, his brows drawing together as he soundlessly mouthes, “Everything okay?” 

Sangwon nods, forces his lips into a thin smile, and mouths back, “Mostly.”

He doesn’t need to explain. 

Leo knows. 

Leo was there, for years of shared struggle, endless training, and nights spent believing they were finally going to debut only for the company to pull the rug out from under them at the last moment. Leo knows what it means for both of them to be here now, seated side by side, preparing to step on a stage that will finally belong to them.

It isn’t official. 

He isn’t a debuted idol yet. 

But for the first time, it feels like the future doesn’t feel like something slipping away—and debut feels like something he can actually achieve. 

“Ah, Sangwon-ssi!” The makeup artist fusses again, dabbing gently beneath his eyes. “Please no more crying!”

Before he can reply and offer her another apology, Leo pushes up from his chair, his own makeup artist squawking at him to sit back down. But Leo just ignores her, crossing the short distance between them in three quick steps until he’s right there by Sangwon’s side. Sangwon startles as Leo takes his wrist gently, thumb brushing against the sensitive skin where his scent gland is, soothing calm rolling over him as Leo’s lemon pepper pheromones wrap tightly around him. 

“You’re going to do amazing,” Leo says, his voice quiet, meant just for Sangwon. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Sangwon murmurs back, meeting his eyes.

“You look nervous.”

“I’m not,” Sangwon insists, the words breaking a little as they leave his chest. “They’re happy tears. I never thought I’d make it this far, and now it’s really happening and I just—” his voice cracks over the words, another tear spilling over, but this time it’s Leo’s fingers on his cheek that stops the tear in its tracks. 

“Sangwonie… Don’t cry right now,” Leo tells him, “Save those tears for when the whole world is cheering for you.”

The corner of Sangwon’s mouth lifts at Leo’s words, a small but genuine smile appearing on his lips. Quickly, he rubs at his eyes with the tissue the makeup artist still holds, pulling himself back together.

“You really think the whole world will cheer for me?”

“If they don’t, then I’ll just cheer loud enough for all of them.”

*

He makes it through everything.

Through the endless waiting, the other groups’ performances, the loud cheers rising and falling in waves that make his pulse thrum in his throat. His leg bounces where he sits, the cameras on them to record their reactions to the other teams, the minutes dragging on and on with every nerve in his body wired tight with anticipation.

And then, finally, after what feels like forever, it’s their turn.

When they gather at the side of the stage, Anxin turns, his grin bright under the lights. 

“Fighting, Sangwon-hyung,” he says, his eyes locking on Sangwon like he’s sending him strength.

“Fighting. Good luck, let’s do our best.” Sangwon smiles back, thankful that his voice holds steady even though his heart is quivering in his chest with anticipation for their stage. 

And then they’re walking up, one by one, onto the stage.

The lights are blinding at first, hot on his skin, but when his eyes adjust he sees the crowd.

People are everywhere, their voices rising, screaming so loud that it feels like a wave rushing toward him. Sangwon catches flashes of banners with his name on them, his face blown up in fanmade slogans, and he does his best to wave to every one of his supporters that he can before their stage begins. 

It hits him all at once as he looks out at the crowd, that overwhelming feeling of happiness again. He thought he’d lost this chance forever. For years, he’d buried his dream of debuting deep down inside himself, telling himself it wasn’t meant to be. 

But here he is. 

People are looking at him and cheering for him.

They are why Sangwon has endured all of this. Why he’s pretending to be something he’s not and why he’s risked everything by shouldering the weight of an Alpha title that isn’t really his.

It’s for this. 

For the chance to debut. 

For the chance to stand on more stages like this one.

Every bruise, every sacrifice, every sleepless night, it all comes down to this spotlight and this moment. 

Even if he gets eliminated in the days to come, even if this stage is the only one he ever stands on, it will still be worth it. 

Because he made it here, even just once.

That thought stays with him as the music starts.

Sangwon breathes in, steadying himself, and then lets it all out through his body. 

Every note he sings, every hit of the choreography, all of it is fueled by everything he feels. He doesn’t hold anything back, not his joy, his desperation, or his gratitude. He performs not just for himself but for the crowd, for the people who believed in him, for the ones holding his name on banners, for those that waited for him all this time. 

Suddenly, dancing feels as easy as breathing, every beat sweeps him higher until he feels like he’s floating on it, carried by the rhythm of the music and the unshakable truth that this is what he was always meant to do.

That feeling lingers even when it’s over, and the song ends and the light dims. As Sangwon makes his way off stage, he feels dizzy, not from exhaustion but from exhilaration. His whole body is still trembling with the rush of it.

The second they’re offstage, he throws himself into Leo’s arms, chest heaving, relieved, happy laughter bubbling out of him.

“Thank you,” Sangwon breathes, clutching him like he’ll fall if he lets go.

“Mhm?” Leo hums as he steadies Sangwon, one hand pressing firm between his shoulder blades. “For what?”

“For not letting me give up on this.”

Sangwon didn’t think anything could get better than standing under those lights, hearing his name screamed from the crowd, letting himself shine in a way he’s dreamed about since he was a kid.

The high of it carries him through the rest of the day, and he’s still feeling a little floaty when they gather again for final results.

His heart beats loud in his chest, his body buzzing as he watches scores appear on the screen, doing math in the head, trying to see a possibility of them coming out on top. 

And then the winners are announced and—“Whiplash Team 1!”

His team’s name is called, announced as the winners. 

For a second, Sangwon just stares, uncomprehending, his mouth slightly parted. His brain stutters on the words, refusing to process, because it’s more than just a mission win and benefit points (though those are certainly nice too). It’s a chance to get to do actual idol things. The winners are going on M Countdown and filming a Studio Choom. 

In a way, it’s practice for their debut. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s rambling until he sees the other members grinning at him. He’s blurting out something about how thankful he is, how happy, how much it means, his voice tripping over itself in a mess of gratitude and joy, all of it spilling out of him at once.

Until one of his teammates cuts in to ask, “Why’s he acting like we just won Rookie of the Year?”

The others laugh, but Sangwon can’t help it. 

His chest is too full, his heart overflowing, to him, it does feel that big. 

Nothing could possibly touch this high. 

By the time they return to the dorms, Sangwon is still glowing, a grin plastered on his face, his whole body loose with happiness. 

He doesn’t even protest when Junseo suddenly claps his hands and declares, “Celebration for Team Whiplash, happening in our room tonight! A friend of mine snuck in some alcohol so we can celebrate properly!”

There’s a chorus of “oooh” and laughter, and Sangwon immediately nods. “Yes! Okay!” 

He feels like he could say yes to anything right now, that’s how happy he is to have won their first mission. 

Sangwon showers quickly, scrubbing off the layers of makeup from his face and the sticky residue of hairspray from his hair. When he emerges, post-shower, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead, his room has already been transformed. There’s a hand written victory sign hung up on the wall, and someone has had the foresight to cover up the camera in the room. They’ll probably get scolded for that later, but right now Sangwon can’t bring himself to care right now. Not when he breathes in and smells their delicious victory dinner, and his stomach already rumbles in anticipation of the celebration they’re about to have. 

Yumeki ordered in food for them—fried chicken, kimbap, tteokbokki—all in plastic bags spread open across the floor. A twelve-pack of beer sits in the middle of it all, and off to the side, a sizable bag of candy is dramatically set down in front of Chingyu. 

“Sorry, you’re a baby,” Geonwoo teases, and the whole room bursts into laughter.

Sangwon slides onto the floor between them, still warm from the shower, his heart still flying. The smell makes Sangwon’s stomach rumble, so he busies himself making a plate before he grabs one of the beers, popping the tab and taking a long first sip. 

For once, it doesn’t matter that he’s tired, or that soon the next round will start up again.

Tonight, they’ve won. 

Tonight, he feels like a real idol.

And so tonight, he’s going to celebrate. 

He ends up wedged between Anxin and Yoon Min on his bed. 

Anxin leans easily against him as they eat, pressed shoulder to shoulder. Anxin’s chatting with the others with his usual playful tone. For the first time in days, Anxin feels like the Anxin that Sangwon knows best—the one who laughs too loudly, who nudges him when he says something funny, who pulls him in for a casual touch without hesitation.

Sangwon hadn’t realized how much he missed this until now. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol humming in his veins, but he feels fuzzy sitting next to Anxin like this, comfortable and properly friendly. Maybe Junseo had been right and rejecting Anxin had been for the best, if only to get the Alpha back to normal. 

Sangwon leans back against the wall of his bed, the beer can cold in his hand, his gaze drifting across the room. He spots Leo slipping a peach ring from Chingyu’s stash, the candy disappearing between his lips.

Leo doesn’t drink, he never has. He hates alcohol, hates smoking too. Sangwon remembers the one time they’d talked about it: Leo’s mouth twisting in distaste as he explained how smoke clings to skin and clothes, how drinking makes people lose control. And now neither of those particularly appealed to the Alpha.

Candy, though, Leo seems perfectly content with. For just a second, their eyes meet while Leo’s stealing another one of Chingyu’s treats, and Leo offers him a small, unguarded smile before turning back to whatever story Chingyu is acting out.

Warmth unfurls in Sangwon’s chest, the beer making him feel fuzzier and happier. 

Across the room, Geonwoo raises his half-empty can and says, “Let’s make this more fun. Truth or Drink.”

“Whats that?” Anxin asks, his head tilting to the side curiously. 

“It’s like Truth or Dare,” Geonwoo explains, “but if you don’t want to answer the truth, you have to drink.”

Immediately, Chingyu perks up excitedly, “I get to drink!!”

“No, no,” Yumeki scolds, wagging a finger at him. “You can’t drink. You always have to tell the truth.”

“That’s not fair,” Chingyu groans dramatically and collapses back against his pillow. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Leo offers, still chewing on his stolen candy, “I’m not drinking either.”

“It doesn’t really, hyung,” Chingyu replies from his position on the bed as the circle rearranges slightly and the game begins. 

Yumeki gets volunteered to start, half because he’s the responsible one, and half because he looks like he’s already been planning a question. 

He folds his legs under himself and tilts his head, scanning the group until his eyes land on Junseo.

“Junseo-yah,” Yumeki says with mock seriousness, “tell us the truth. Did you or did you not fall asleep during vocal practice last week?”

“That was a power nap, it doesn’t count!” Junseo insists with a groan while the whole room laughs. 

Then it’s Junseo’s turn to pick next. He glances around the room, letting the silence drag out for a long moment before he turns to Chingyu, “Baby Chingyu, tell us whose you’re favorite hyung? And remember it’ll hurt hyung’s feelings if you don’t tell me.” 

“Sorry, Junseo-hyung,” Chingyu says, with an exaggerated apologetic look on his face, “but it’s Yumeki-hyung, of course!”

“Of course,” Yumeki echoes, reaching across to ruffle the pup's hair.  

Chingyu smirks, clearly pleased to have gotten some attention from his favorite hyung, before setting his sights on Geonwoo with a mischievous look. “Okay, my turn. Geonwoo-hyung, have you ever picked your nose during practice?”

A chorus of groans spills across the rooms with Anxin muttering, “Gross.” 

“I mean, hasn’t everyone picked their nose at least once,” Geonwoo replies with a shrug. 

“Not me,” Chingyu says, tapping his nose, “This baby is for tissues only.” 

“You know, Geonwoo-hyung, maybe that’s why you snore so much,” Anxin teases. 

“You little brat,” Geonwoo mutters. His gaze slides to Anxin, who’s still half leaning against Sangwon. A smirk styles on Geonwoo’s lips right before he asks, “Anxinie, have you ever been intimate with an omega before?” 

The air in the room shifts slightly when the question is asked, the night being pushed into dangerous territory even as Yumeki scolds Geonwoo. “Yah! Don’t ask that in front of Chingyu, are you insane? He’s a baby!” 

Chingyu makes a noise of protest. “I can handle it! I’m going to be an Alpha soon too!” But Yumeki is already wagging a finger in Geonwoo’s face, glaring.

Sangwon, though, doesn’t join the commotion. His focus is locked in on the way Anxin has gone stiff beside him, the subtle undercurrent of his rainwater scent betraying his discomfort. 

For the first time that night, Anxin’s easy smile has disappeared.  

Anxin shifts his weight ever so slightly, wiggling a little bit of distance between his body and Sangwon’s before he answers Geonwoo’s question, “Not with an omega.”

Sangwon’s heart gives a painful little twist at the hesitance in Anxin’s tone. Guilt hits him. It’s no doubt his fault that Anxin’s so anxious to admit his preference for Alphas—after all, the last time he put himself out there for another ‘Alpha’, Sangwon turned him down. 

“Ohhh? Then what? A beta?” Geonwoo presses Anxin for answers. “Or an alpha?”

Anxin, though, doesn’t say another word. He just brings his beer can to his lips and drinks, pointedly avoiding everyone’s eyes.

When Anxin finishes his drink, he fidgets his fingers together in his lap before hesitantly asking, “It’s my turn to ask a question now, right?” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” 

Anxin turns his head, his eyes landing squarely on Leo across the circle, and asks, “Leo-hyung, is there someone you’re interested in… romantically?”

The question seems mostly harmless, but Sangwon knows better, there’s something purposeful about it, Anxin’s trying to draw something out of Leo.

And Leo… Leo is unreadable. 

Sangwon sits there, nervously watching as Leo finishes sucking on another piece of sour candy, his lips tinted faint pink from the sugar, before he nods. 

“Yes,” Leo says, “There’s an omega I’ve liked for a while.”

The room goes wild begging to speculate. 

But Sangwon can’t move. His heart is pounding in his ears, drowning out the noise of the others around them. He’s frozen with the memory of that night, of Leo’s voice low in the dark when he thought Sangwon was asleep. “Sometimes I wonder if you have any idea what you mean to me.” The words repeat in his head now, overlapping with Leo’s calm admission of there being an omega that he’s liked for a while. 

Sangwon’s mouth goes dry. He stares at Leo, searching for something, some flicker of a sign of who he’s talking about, but Leo gives away nothing. Not even when Chingyu gasps, clapping his hands together like this is the best twist in any drama, or while Geonwoo’s already firing off questions, “Who is it? Do we know them?” 

But Leo doesn’t budge. 

He just sits there, his steady expression not giving another away as he reaches out to snag another piece of Chingyu’s candy haul and says, “It’s not your turn to ask a question, Geonwoo.”

There’s a collective groan as everyone realizes he’s not going to give them what they want.

“My turn, right?” Leo’s eyes sweep the circle before landing on Sangwon. “Sangwonie. Who’s your favorite hyung?”

“Hey, you stole my question,” Junseo protests. 

Sangwon’s throat tightens, and he wants to laugh at how innocent it is, how easy it should be to answer, how it should feel like nothing. But Leo is watching him, waiting, and Sangwon feels a chill running up his spine at the attention the Alpha is giving him.

“You know it’s you,” he answers easily.

A chorus of boos explodes instantly. 

Geonwoo throws a balled-up plastic bag at Leo, “Yah, that’s a waste of a question!”

“He just wanted an ego boost,” Yoon Min adds with a groan. 

Leo just smiles, small and satisfied, because that was the answer he wanted all along.

And Sangwon feels the air tighten in his chest as Leo looks at him with that smug little look. He doesn’t know if it’s the beer making his face flush or Leo’s attention. 

Eventually, the circle quiets and it’s Sangwon’s turn. 

His beer can feels too warm in his hands, the condensation dripping onto his fingers as he considers who to pick. He can choose. He supposes it would be most fair to ask Yoon Min something since nobody’s asked him a question yet, though he does mildly like the idea of asking Geonwoo something that will make him squirm considering this whole game was his terrible idea. 

But before he can decide on what to ask, Geonwoo jumps in, saying, “Sangwon, you have to ask Leo about his Omega!”

“Come on, hyung, don’t waste your question!” Chingyu chimes in. 

Everyone else makes similar noises of agreement. 

Sangwon forces a laugh, even as his insides twist. They don’t know what they’re asking of him, don’t know that his chest is still buzzing with Leo’s earlier words, the suspicion curling tight in his ribs, that the Omega Leo was talking about might just be him. 

The thought is terrifying enough that he doesn't want to confirm it, doesn’t want to risk things changing between them if he asks, but all their eyes are on him. 

And Leo’s too, calm and almost expectant, like he’s waiting for Sangwon to ask. 

“Okay,” he says, wetting his lips, “Without saying a name… can you give us a hint of how you know them?”

For a long moment, it seems like Leo won’t answer, then carefully, he replies, “They’re someone I trained with before.”

The room is suddenly full of voices, everyone talking at once. 

“Wait—what?!” Geonwoo blurts, nearly spilling his drink.

“So another HYBE trainee then?” Yoon Min says, putting the dots together. 

“Wait, but Trainee A were all Alphas, right?” Anxin says, brows knitting together as he shoots a quick glance at Sangwon. “So who else trained with you two? 

Suddenly the name of nearly every Omega that’s trained at Hybe gets tossed out in a quick fashion. 

“Chaewon-sunbaenim?” Yoon Min throws out first. “She was already in the building for Le Sserafim around then, right? Or what about Sakura? She came through HYBE too, didn’t she?”

“Or Minji,” Junseo adds quickly, leaning forward, as he ticks off. “Danielle?” 

“No way a pretty girl like that goes for Leo,” Geonwoo cuts in, laughing. 

“What about guys? Nicholas is an Omega, right?” Junseo says, ticking names off on his fingers. “He was definitely there.”

Chingyu’s eyes go round as he blurts, “What if it’s Sunoo-sunbaenim?”

That sets everyone off again, laughter spilling across the circle.

“Enhypen’s Sunoo?!” Geonwoo practically doubles over. “Now that would make sense. He’s practically the epitome of Omega.” 

“Or Heeseung,” Yumeki teases, “but he’s older, so I’m not so sure.” 

“Yeah, maybe Harua,” Yoon Min agrees, “That’s Leo’s type for sure—young and pretty.”

The circle dissolves into overlapping laughter and wild speculation, like they’re cracking the code to some great mystery.

Through it all, Sangwon stays frozen, his smile plastered on too tight. 

The timelines don’t really match up with Enhypen or Le Sserafim, sure, both were around the building, but Leo never really trained with them, not the way Sangwon had. The &Team members they had interacted with a little bit more, but… For Leo to still hold a torch for them, it had to be someone he was still in contact with. 

Which begs the question of who else fits the role.

Who else other than himself.

Leo doesn’t answer any of the group's prodding, he just sits there, composed, his lips tugged into a small, smug curve.

Finally, he reaches for the bag of sour candies, plucking one out with an unnerving level of calm, before he pops it between his teeth, chewing as if nothing is amiss. “Anyway, look at that. It’s my turn again.”

The group groans, voices overlapping and full of protests. 

“You can’t just leave it like that!” 

“Leo-hyung, that’s unfair!”

But Leo only shrugs, unbothered. Leo’s gaze slides around the group before landing on Anxin.

“It’s my turn, right?” He says, almost idly.

Anxin arches a brow, like he’s already aware that he’s about to be targeted. “Yeah, hyung. Go ahead.”

“Anxinie… is there someone that you like?” Leo asks, returning the same question Anxin had asked back at him.

The group perks up again, the same way they had when Leo had been asked the same question.

But it feels different now.

More charged because Leo already knows the answer to that question just as Sangwon does. 

That the person Anxin liked had turned him down just the day before, and that Sangwon is that person.

Sangwon holds his breath, curious as to what Anxin will say, but Anxin doesn’t give any of them an answer, he just raises his beer can back up to his lips, drinking in a long swallow. 

“Yahhh, boring!” Geonwoo protests.

“He drank again?” Yumeki questions. 

“That means yes! There is someone!” Chingyu shouts. 

Sangwon forces himself to laugh weakly along with the others, but inside, his stomach twists, feeling guilty. 

Because Leo doesn’t smile, doesn’t tease like the others. He just watches Anxin with an unreadable expression, then glances briefly toward Sangwon before popping another candy into his mouth.

“Yah, you guys are acting like we’re on some variety show,” Junseo says, clicking his tongue. “The game’s over.”

“No, wait, I want to ask one more question before we stop,” Anxin says quickly, “It’s my turn, right?

“Okay, fine, but just one more and then the game’s over,” Junseo says. 

“Leo-hyung…” Anxin says, fingers tapping nervously against his drink. His voice is barely above a whisper. “Can you… tell us the name of the Omega you like?”

Sangwon freezes, chest tightening, pulse hammering in his ears, a knot of panic curling low in his stomach as he waits to hear what Leo will say. 

After all, Leo can’t avoid answering this one—not without drinking, and he doesn’t drink. But… he would never just give Sangwon’s secret away, not here, not under the guise of a game. So if it is Sangwon… then Leo will deflect. If it’s not… he’ll answer.

The silence stretches. 

Sangwon can feel his heart thudding against his ribs, as he waits until finally Leo rolls his eyes, a faint hint of impatience tugging at his expression, before he says, “Aish so annoying.”

“Either answer the question or drink,” Geonwoo quips. “That’s the rule.” 

“Fine,” Leo sighs, “If you must know, it’s Sunoo.” 

The room bursts into chatter immediately, people nudging and laughing, congratulating Anxin for asking the question they’d all been wanting to know the answer to. 

But Sangwon barely hears it. His body feels heavy, as though it’s sunk into the bed beneath him. His mind is stuck on the name.

Sunoo.

He lets the name roll through his thoughts. 

Of course—Sunoo is exactly the kind of Omega who would fit Leo’s type.

Sangwon exhales slowly, a tangled mixture of shame and relief settling in his chest. Shame for having read too much into that whispered confession nights ago, for letting himself hope, even for a moment, that Leo might see him that way—a foolish hope, since Leo had already turned him down years before.

And yet, relief blooms at the same time, relief that it isn’t him, because he doesn’t know what he would do if Leo actually had feelings for him, or what it would mean for their friendship. 

Now he doesn’t have to know. 

Whatever Leo had said the night before meant nothing more than that they were a pack.

Just Pack. Always. 

Chapter Text

Now that Round One is completed, they’re officially on break.

The boys sit in rows, slouched in folding chairs, bodies exhausted after weeks of constant filming. The cameras are off for once—this is just staff and contestants—and the air feels less tense without the invisible pressure of being watched.

“You’ll be off until eliminations, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” the PD explains. “Rules still apply.”

Sangwon leans back, arms folded loosely over his chest, as he listens. His head hurts, a pounding pulse beneath his skull, his body pushing him for having drank too much beer last night and not enough water. 

He does his best despite the headache to focus on what the PD at the front is saying. “That means no spoilers, no slips. No posting on social media until the broadcast catches up. You all signed a contract to protect the sanctity of this show. If rules are broken, you will be removed from the show and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. That said, you’re permitted to attend fan events—cafés, gatherings—so long as you don’t spoil the unaired episodes or say anything negative about your fellow competitors.”

There’s a ripple of relief through the room, a few contestants whispering to each other. Everyone wants to see their fans in real time, proof that the show is reaching people. 

“For the most part, July will be your break month,” the PD explains. “While the show airs and fans vote, you’ll each have scattered schedules: MCountdown, Studio Choom, some promotional events. Details will be forwarded to your companies a few days before. Other than that, use the free time as you see fit.” 

Sangwon perks up a little at the mention of MCountdown and Studio Choom, the rewards that his team had earned. A quick glance at his Whiplash teammates shows smiles on their faces too, all proud of themselves for having been the first round winners. Even if that means that compared to everyone else, their break month won’t be nearly as empty. 

“Dorms are closed until you return,” the PD continues. “If you live in Seoul, you’re welcome to go home. Those of you who live overseas must remain in Korea. If your company hasn’t arranged housing, staff will help you find a place to stay. Any other questions?”

A few voices speak up at once, voicing concerns about travel, curfews, and rehearsal schedules. The staff answer them smoothly.

Sangwon doesn’t need to ask any questions, he already knows where he’ll be.

He and Leo have their own apartment together provided by their company. Which means their rooms, and the peace of not having to worry about cameras or mics, watching and recording his every move. Sangwon feels lighter at the thought of finally having some privacy and not having to constantly pretend to be something that he’s not. 

“One more thing,” the PD says, when he’s finished answering all the questions of people needing assistance with accommodations. The PD’s eyes scan the room before settling on where Sangwon is sitting. “As many of you know, last week one of your fellow contestants nearly went into rut.”

Sangwon bites down on the inside of his cheek at the mention of his incident. The PD may have been vague and not called him out by name, but Sangwon catches a number of people glancing his way at the mention, some subtle, some less so. 

The irony isn’t lost on him that it wasn’t rut he had nearly gone into at all. 

“So it is our strong recommendation that any alpha who is overdue for rut, or due expecting rut during filming, discontinue suppressants and go through rut during this break,” the PD explains.  “That way, there will be no chance of further incidents on set. Do you all understand?” 

A murmur ripples through the group, low but audible, some of the other Alphas shifting in their seats at the idea of all but forcing a rut to make sure there aren’t complications later. 

“That is all,” the PD concludes briskly. “You’re dismissed.”

At the sound of their dismissal, everyone stands up nearly at once, eager to be out of here and buzzing with the promise of freedom.

Sangwon exhales, rolling his shoulders back, as he picks up his bag, quite liking the idea of getting to spend nearly a month away from cameras. A whole month where he doesn’t have to hide what he is, doesn’t have to measure every word or every twitch of his scent. 

Just him and Leo in their own space. 

He can almost taste the relief.

Sangwon and Leo collect their phones from the PDs together. The weight of the phone in his hand feels suddenly strange after weeks of being cut off. 

“It’s going to be so nice,” Sangwon says to Leo as they step into the hall. His voice is lighter than it’s been in weeks. “Our own beds, our own rooms, no cameras in our faces.”

“No alarms every morning,” Leo adds with a smile, the Alpha clearly already fantasizing about a day of sleeping in. 

“Exactly,” Sangwon laughs. “I feel like I could sleep for three days straight.” 

They’re nearly to the exit when a voice cuts through the din of their conversation, “Sangwon-hyung!”

Sangwon turns at the sound of his name to where Anxin is standing a few steps back in the hall, waving him down. Anxin is bright-eyed despite the long morning meeting, with a grin that lights up his whole face. 

Seeing Anxin makes Sangwon think back to the night before, the party the Whiplash team threw after their victorious stage, drinks shared in a room with the camera lenses smothered by towels so they wouldn’t get caught. Honestly, it was a wonder that the staff hadn’t barged in to scold them for hiding surveillance and drinking in the dorms. But perhaps they hadn’t even noticed. 

For those hours, he felt good. Even their game of truth or drink hadn’t been too terrible. Sangwon had gotten off relatively easy compared to Anxin. A part of Sangwon had worried about Anxin. The young Alpha had been tense after Leo had asked him his question, but shortly after the game had ended, Anxin had gone back to his usual self, lingering close to Sangwon for the rest of the night.

And now, he’s grinning again, much happier, not like the quiet and distant Anxin that Sangwon had seen the last few days leading up to their performance, much more like himself.  

“Sangwon-hyung, Leo-hyung,” Anxin says, catching up to them, “Now that we have our phones back, can we exchange contacts? So we can message during the break?”

“Of course, Anxinie,” Sangwon says, offering his phone up so that Anxin can type in his contact info and vice versa. 

Anxin beams so wide it practically crinkles his whole face when Sangwon returns his phone to him. Then his gaze darts to Leo. “Leo-hyung, you too please?”

“Sure, I guess,” Leo says with a shrug. He fiddles with his phone for a second and then trades phones with Anxin to swap their contact info. 

Sangwon watches for a second as Anxin pauses holding Leo’s phone for a moment too long, looking at something on his screen with a slightly confused look on his face, before finally inputting his contact info. 

“My company is putting us up in a house in Seoul,” Anxin explains, quick words tumbling in not-so-perfect Korean, but Sangwon gets what he’s trying to say. “Me, Jiahao-ge, and Kaiwen-ge, we’ll be together. There’s a room for Hyunjun too, but he said he’ll probably stay with his family, depending on things, but—” Anxin pauses, searching for the word, then brightens again. “But maybe during the break, we could all hang out! And if we drink too much and you need somewhere to sleep, Hyunjun’s room will be open!”

“Yeah,” Sangwon says, and he means it. “That sounds fun.”

“Great!” Anxin practically beams as he trades phones back with Leo before hurrying back toward his cluster of C Group boys. The group that Anxin had been walking with before all clap a little for Anxin when he returns, teasing him, and something in Mandarin is said that makes the young Alpha’s face go beet red. 

“The puppy’s crush is so obvious,” Leo says, letting out a quiet laugh. “Even after you’ve turned him down, he doesn’t give up, does he?”

Sangwon’s mind flickers back to last night, at how Leo had turned the spotlight on Anxin with his question, “Is there someone you like?” It had been unfair, putting Anxin on the spot like that when both he and Leo and even Junseo knew the answer.  

He gets that Leo had just been turning Anxin’s question back on him, but it had still left a sour taste in Sangwon’s mouth. He didn’t like being teased. 

“He asked for your number too, hyung,” Sangwon points out. “Maybe it’s you he has a crush on.”

“I doubt that,” Leo laughs. 

“You’re more his type than I am,” Sangwon points out. 

Leo hums in response, not disagreeing but not agreeing either. “Come on. Let’s go home. I’m tired.” 

*

“Home sweet home,” Sangwon announces, almost giddy, as he kicks off his shoes dramatically.  “Oh my god, I missed this.”

The ride from the filming location to their apartment had thankfully been quick, and the manager that had come to pick them up only said that they’d have a meeting at the company sometime next week, but that until then they were free to rest and relax. 

Which is exactly what Sangwon intends to do. 

Sangwon throws his arms out like he’s addressing a crowd, even though it’s just him and Leo here, and adds, “No cameras! No Alphas! No non-stop practice! Just one month of rest and relaxation!”

Leo shuts the door behind them, dropping his bag down with a dull thud, his mouth quirking in a smirk, as he adds, “Also no food in the fridge.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sangwon groans. “That too.”

“I’ll order us groceries and cook once they get here,” Leo says, already pulling his phone out. His voice is calm, dependable, like always. “You can go crash in your bed until food time.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Sangwon says, rubbing at his eyes. His body is admittedly pretty heavy with exhaustion. He hadn’t really gotten any sleep last night, their celebration having gone into the early hours of the morning. “I’m going to nap.”

“Sleep well, Sangwonie.”

Sangwon nods, making a beeline down the hall, and pushes into his room.

The space that greets him is neat and orderly, just the way he left it. 

His scent still lingers faintly in the air, but it’s gone a little flat and stale. Sangwon reaches up and peels the scent blocker patch from his neck, letting it fall onto the dresser. His scent gland prickles with relief at the exposure. As he unpacks, he lets the tight grip he normally holds on his scent loosen so that it spills into the room, reclaiming it.

Sangwon’s never been much of a nester, not really. Maybe it’s a side effect of spending years stuffing down his Omega instincts, learning to carry himself more like an Alpha so that people would take him seriously. He doesn’t pile blankets or hoard soft things like other Omegas do, but he does like things put just so—clothes folded, books lined up, desk cleared. 

When he and Leo had first moved in together it had been a point of tension, as Sangwon had insisted that everything had a particular place in their home, and that if Leo was to move something from his place he would need to put it right exactly back. In a way, he considers it his own form of nesting, a happy orderly home just felt far more appealing than a pile of stolen clothes on the bed. 

Which is why even though his head still throbs faintly from the drinks last night, and his body aches from weeks of nonstop practice, he still takes care to perfectly unpack everything before he flops down onto his bed. 

Sangwon lets out a long exhale before pressing his face into his pillow. His scent soaks deeper into the sheets, replacing the stale notes with something warmer, and distinctly him. 

He lets his eyes slip closed and within a second, sleep takes him. 

*

When Sangwon wakes, the room is dimly lit, he must have slept longer than he thought. For a moment he lies there blinking, disoriented by how heavy and dreamless his sleep had been.

And then the smell hits him.

It’s savory and rich, with the faint hint of garlic and soy sauce simmering in the air. His stomach growls loudly, as if insisting upon him getting up and investigating that smell. Sangwon groans as he drags himself upright, scrubbing at his hair.

He should probably shower, but that’s a problem for later, for after his belly is full of Leo’s cooking. 

When Sangwon arrives in the kitchen, Leo’s back is turned to him, the Alpha stirring a pan with the same efficiency that he carries into nearly everything he does. The fridge door hangs open, crammed with neatly stacked containers and labeled groceries, of course Leo’s already stocked everything. 

Their little dining table has been set with two pairs of chopsticks, two bowls, nothing fancy, but still clearly ready for him. 

“You let me sleep in too late,” Sangwon says, rubbing his eyes as he catches sight of the kitchen clock. 

“Figured you could use the rest,” Leo replies, not looking away from what he’s cooking. “I was going to wake you up when dinner was finished.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, no,” Leo turns, playfully pointing a spatula at him. “Sit yourself down and relax. The fridge is stocked if you need anything before dinner, Sangwonie, but I’m nearly done now.” 

Sangwon hums, doing as he’s told and sliding into one of the chairs at their kitchen table. He props his chin on his hand and watches Leo cook. Typically, cooking is more of an Omega’s job than an Alpha’s job, but out of the two of them Leo is the better cook, so he normally takes charge. There’s something a little domestic about Leo like this, moving around the kitchen with steam curling up from the pan and carrying the smell of perfectly seared meat. Leo’s cooked rice, meat, and vegetables, it all smells heavenly. Better than any catered box meal they’ve been forced to scarf down between rehearsals. 

Soon enough, a generously portioned plate of food is set down in front of him. 

Leo sits across from him with his own, but Sangwon catches the way he pauses, just slightly, as if waiting for his reaction.

“Looks amazing,” Sangwon says, genuinely meaning it. “Thank you, hyung.” 

“It’ll taste better,” Leo shrugs, stabbing his chopsticks into his food, but there’s a pleased smile on his face as he adds, “Eat before it gets cold.”

So Sangwon does. They eat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds are the click of chopsticks, and for the first time in weeks, Sangwon doesn’t feel like he has to perform, he can just relax and enjoy a nice dinner. 

It’s Leo who eventually breaks the silence, his voice is steady, but it carries an undercurrent that makes Sangwon glance up. “Have you looked yourself up online since we got back?”

“No,” Sangwon says carefully. The question makes his stomach drop. His chopsticks pause midair, his appetite suddenly gone. “Should I?”

Almost instantly, his brain begins to spiral, wondering what they’re saying about him. Did people notice how stiff his lines were? Did he look awkward doing the killing part, too unsure of himself to hold the spotlight? Or worse—are they picking apart the way he doesn’t seem Alpha enough, the way his body never quite carries the same weight as the others? He can already imagine the comments: wrong choice for the killing part, he’s too soft, he’s boring, anyone else would’ve been better.

His free hand reaches almost automatically for his phone where it sits on the table, his thumb hovering over the screen. 

If he just checks—if he just sees for himself—“No. Hey—don’t do that,” Leo reaches out to stop him before he can grab his phone. 

The sharp edge of Leo’s voice makes Sangwon go still.

When Sangwon looks up, Leo’s expression has tightened, his mouth pressed flat, his shoulders rigid like he’s holding something back. 

“I’m just saying that I did, I only read a little, but…” Leo says after a beat, his tone colder now. “I regret it, so it’s best if we just don’t look anymore, okay?”

Sangwon’s fingers itch with the urge to check anyway despite Leo’s warning, but maybe later, when Leo’s not around, so the Alpha won’t worry about him. 

For now, he focuses on the way Leo still looks tense, softly asking, “Hyung… what did they say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

It’s said dismissively, but the edge to it makes Sangwon feel sad. 

He shifts in his chair, releasing soothing pheromones through his scent, warmth, comfort, and a quiet apology in the air, hoping to soothe Leo. But Leo only stiffens further, his eyes fixed on his plate.

The silence stretches too long once more, though now Sangwon hardly has the appetite to eat.

After a few more long quiet minutes of dinner, Leo exhales, setting his chopsticks down with a soft clack.

“That reminds me,” Leo says, almost too casually. “I’m thinking of going off my rut suppressors over the break.”

“Oh?” The single syllable feels inadequate, far too small to hold the sudden weight that drops between them.

“I’ve been in a weird headspace lately,” Leo explains, “My inner Alpha keeps getting all tense, especially when—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening before he shakes his head, clearly choosing not to finish that sentence. “Anyway. I did the math. I should’ve gone into rut about two weeks ago. I think that if I go off the suppressants now and get it over with, I’ll be fine once we go back.”

“Yeah… that makes sense.” 

Sangwon sets his chopsticks down, absently tapping them against the edge of his plate as he thinks of options. 

He can’t deny that Leo’s been tense these last few weeks, quick to bristle, weirdly off whenever Sangwon spent too much time with other people, especially Anxin. If Leo’s overdue for a rut, that would explain it. Alphas on suppressants too long tend to grow restless, short-fused, coiled tight beneath their skin. Omegas, by contrast, go the other way—hollow, drained, dulled at the edges. A state Sangwon has long since learned to live with.

“I can ask my mom if I can stay with them while you’re rutting, or—” His mind flickers back to Anxin’s chatter earlier about the spare room in his company’s rental. “Or maybe I could crash with a friend for a bit.”

“Actually… I was thinking you should probably do the same.”

“I’m not on rut suppressants, though,” Sangwon says, head tilting in confusion.

“No, I mean—” Leo hesitates, then finishes more carefully, “Your heat suppressants.”

Sangwon’s pulse kicks up, heat rising in his chest. His mind scrambles, every instinct screaming to deflect. Unlike Leo, who only started taking suppressants for the sake of the show, Sangwon has lived with them almost from the moment he presented.

It’s been four years. Four years in which, by all counts, he should have gone through a dozen heats. 

But he hasn’t.

He’s only had three.

The first had been the day that he presented: terrifying, disorienting, his body feeling like a stranger. Leo had been there, his steady hands and steady voice keeping Sangwon anchored, stopping him from shattering apart. He’d taken Sangwon through his heat as an act of service, of friendship, rather than intimacy, but it had left Sangwon’s inner Omega confused. The shame he’d felt afterwards, asking Leo if they could ever do that again only for the Alpha to turn him down, had lingered with Sangwon for a long time afterwards.

Especially when his second heat had come shortly after Leo had left HYBE. He’d missed his dose in the chaos and heartbreak and he hadn’t even noticed until it was too late. The heat hit him badly, and he’d refused to have anyone help him. He’d spent days alone, curled on the floor of the dorm bathroom, sweating, sobbing, begging for a relief that never came.

And the third was just last year. His ex had coaxed him off the suppressants with promises of intimacy, of care, of spending his heat properly with an Alpha for once. For those few nights of his heat, Sangwon had let himself believe, but then his heat had broken and his ex had called things off the next day, saying Sangwon’s neediness during his heat had been too overwhelming. 

Three heats in four years.

And all of them had been terrible in a way.

Sangwon’s throat feels tight, as he replies, “I… I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Sangwon stares down at his plate, lips pressed tight. 

The words won’t come out. 

“You nearly went into heat while we were filming, Sangwonie, wouldn’t it be better to do it here than run the risk of it happening there?” Leo presses, “I don’t trust all those Alphas. I would’ve done my best to protect you, but there are more of them than there are me. If I hadn’t been able to—”

“It didn’t happen,” Sangwon cuts in quickly, his voice shaking a little at the implication, “It was a false heat, not a real one. I’m fine. I’ll just up my suppressant dosage.”

“Upping your suppressant dosage is exactly what got us here,” Leo reminds him. 

“I’ll talk to the pharmacist, okay? Maybe they can change the suppressants I’m on to something stronger,” Sangwon says, forcing a shrug, though his hand trembles slightly on the chopsticks. “And who knows, maybe we’ll get back, and I’ll be eliminated. Then it won’t even matter.”

“Or,” Leo says deliberately, “you could just stop taking them during the break and go through your heat. This way if you miss a dose, or anything slips, you won’t be in danger. Then you’ve got three months before another one even risks being triggered again. That puts us in October. The show will be over by then and if you have another heat you can do so privately with no cameras and no stress.”

Sangwon stares down at his food, appetite gone. His chest feels tight, like something heavy is pressing into it. It’s ironic, Leo’s implication that going through some future heat would be stress free, while the very idea of going into heat now stresses him out beyond comparison. 

In October… If they debut… He’ll still have to keep up the act, keep his secret, and that means more years without heats, or risking exposure and being kicked from whatever future group they end up in. 

No, it’s better to just have no heats at all.

Plus—“I haven’t had a heat in over a year. That’s not the same as your rut being a couple weeks late,” Sangwon explains, “Heats… when you put them off for so long, they come back worse. They’re intense. Without an Alpha, it would be unbearable.”

“But with an alpha, it wouldn’t be bad?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Sangwon laughs weakly, though it dies in his throat. “But it’s not like I can just check into a clinic and be assigned a heat partner. If that ever leaked, it would ruin me. Even a casual hookup is too risky right now. If anyone found out I wasn’t an Alpha—”

“Then maybe don’t look for a stranger,” Leo interrupts him to suggest, “Maybe ask an alpha who already knows.”

Sangwon blinks, the suggestion landing heavier than it should. His mind flicks through names automatically: Jihoon, James, Woochan—their schedules are packed. He could never ask them to shoulder this. Yorch, maybe, if he weren’t in the middle of promotions.

Junil though… Junil’s free, same as him and Leo. But the memory of that night in the laundry room comes to mind at once, Junil’s smirk and his warning that Sangwon would “owe him” something in the future. The thought of spending his heat tangled up with that makes his inner Omega curl tight with unease.

Still, who else does he have?

“I guess I could ask Junil,” he murmurs hesitantly. “He should be on break too.”

“I wasn’t talking about Junil,” Leo says, briskly. 

Sangwon looks up, heart in his throat. “Then… who?”

“I was talking about another Alpha,” Leo says. “One who already knows your secret, who isn’t busy, and who is also thinking about going into rut.”

The words hang heavy in the small apartment, thicker than the steam rising from their dinner.

Sangwon blinks at him, confused for a second. “Another… alpha,” he repeats softly, trying to connect the dots of what Leo means. 

His mind races. Who else fits that description? Not Junil—Leo already ruled him out. Not Jihoon, James, Woochan, Yorch—they’re all out of the question. 

The circle of alphas who know about him is so small it could fit on one hand. 

Sangwon’s brows knit together, the pieces refusing to align. “One who already knows…” he echoes. “One who isn’t busy…”

His stomach lurches. Every possibility is stripped away until only one name remains left in his mind. 

Someone who already knows? Leo.

Who isn’t busy, who has no risk of exposure? Leo.

Who’s on the edge of his rut, right now, sitting across the table from him? Leo.

The realization leaves his pulse hammering so hard that it echoes in his ears. 

“Wait. Do you mean… you?”

Chapter Text

“Wait. Do you mean… you?”

“If you’d like.”

Sangwon swears his heart stops in his chest as Leo’s words hang in the air around him. He feels caught between the primal pulse of his Omega instincts and the sharp sting of his rational mind.

It would be so easy to say yes. 

To rationalize that Leo is right, and that going through his heat during their off period would make their return less risky. To spend his heat properly with an Alpha that cares for him, maybe not in the same way that another Alpha-Omega set might care for each other, but as a pack. 

His inner Omega thrums at the thought, clawing at him with a strong despite to spend his heat with not just any Alpha but this alpha, the one who once held him steady through his very first heat, the one who knows his secrets and never seemed to mind that Sangwon isn’t as traditionally Omega as another Omega might be. 

The fantasy develops in his mind before he can stop it—he thinks about how Leo’s scent would be thick with rut, his body pressed close, his strong hands steadying Sangwon through the worst of his heat, calling Sangwon his Omega. 

And then, just as fast, he slams a wall down on the thought.

Because that isn’t reality.

The reality is Leo would just be doing this as an act of service and friendship not romance. 

After all, Leo had rejected him years ago, made it very clear that he only viewed Sangwon as a friend and that he had only helped Sangwon through his first heat because it had been that or letting Sangwon suffer alone. And while Leo may not have ever loved him, Leo has always cared about him and would never want him to suffer. Plus, Leo’s got a crush on someone else, the sort of bright and traditional Omega that an Alpha like Leo deserves. 

Not a damaged Omega like Sangwon, who’s been suppressing his nature into silence for years.

If he crossed that line now, spent his heat with Leo, and let himself give into his Omega instincts, who knows if his inner Omega would react the same way it had years ago, by reading too much into what is nothing more than an act of friendship on the Alpha’s part. 

If so he could risk ruining the only thing that matters more than his debut: his friendship with Leo.

And Leo is worth more to him than one desperate heat.

“I…” His voice cracks. Sangwon swallows hard, the lump in his throat thick as stone. He forces his gaze down to his untouched plate, fingers clenching around his chopsticks until his knuckles ache. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, hyung.”

“Why not?” Leo asks, a faint but noticeable frown on his lips. 

Sangwon just shakes his head, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest that he wouldn’t be surprised if Leo could hear it. He can’t say all the reasons out loud, can’t confess the tangle of hope and hurt twisted inside him. 

So instead he latches onto the excuse that feels safe, the one that hides the real ache. “I can’t go into heat, it’s been too long, over a year. That can’t be good for my body to just… drop everything now. The last time I was in heat went so badly that I was sick for weeks afterwards, and if you were rutting at the same time, that could be dangerous.”

He doesn’t look up. If he does, he’s afraid the sight of Leo’s eyes will shatter his resolve completely.

The silence stretches for a long moment, heavy with Sangwon’s words.  

His inner omega claws at him, begging him to take back his words, to give in, to let himself have what it wants. But Sangwon presses his teeth into his cheek until the sting cuts through the haze, holding himself steady.

His friendship is more important.

It has to be.

“Then I’ll hold off going off my rut suppressors until after your heat,” Leo says, as if it’s as simple as that. “That way I’ll be in more control of my inner Alpha.”

“It’s not just that, I—”

“Sangwon, you know it’ll be worse if something happens when we’re on the show,” Leo says, folding his arms across his chest. His scent is steady and calm on the surface, but there’s an edge under it—something restrained, like he’s forcing control. “With the cameras, the other Alphas, the pressure—if your suppressors fail again, it won’t be private or safe. At least here, with me, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

He knows Leo isn’t wrong, knows there’s logic in what Leo is saying, but logic doesn’t quiet the storm inside him, logic doesn’t fix the ache of wanting something he can’t let himself have.

“I’m not saying this for me,” Leo continues, his gaze steady, “I’m saying it for you. You’d be safer, Sangwonie, if you just let me—”

“I said no,” Sangwon cuts him off, the words sharper than he intends for them to be. 

Instantly, Sangwon regrets it.

Because he sees so clearly the way Leo’s expression flickers, hurt flashing across his face before he quickly schools it away, his shoulders stiffening, and his scent faltering, dampened down to almost nothing.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Sangwon stares at his half-eaten meal, shame crawling up his spine. He wants to take the words back, he wants to explain that he’s not angry at Leo, that he’s angry at himself, at the mess of feelings he can’t untangle, at the fact that he knows his inner Omega won’t be able to act casually around Leo if they spend his heat together. 

But his tongue won’t move.

Leo’s chair scrapes against the floor as he moves to stand. Sangwon watches as Leo carefully gathers the dishes, and carries them to the sink. 

For a long time, the faint sound of Leo doing the dishes is the only noise in the room. 

And then finally, Leo breaks the silence, as he says, “Sorry…. I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable, I just… I was just trying to help,” Leo sighs softly. “But you’re right. It’s a dumb idea.”

The words land like stones pressing upon Sangwon’s chest, guilt eating him alive at the thought of Leo thinking that that was the reason why Sangwon turned him down, rather than Sangwon’s own traitorous inner Omega. 

He opens his mouth, closes it again, the apology burning at the back of his throat, his omega instincts ache to reach out, to soothe and to fix this. 

“Leo, I—” he starts, his voice unsteady.

But Leo doesn’t turn around. 

And he doesn’t let Sangwon finish.

“Good night, Sangwon,” Leo says, before he disappears down the hall, his door shutting softly a moment later.

The silence that follows is worse than any argument could have been.

Sangwon sits frozen in his chair, guilt curdling in his stomach, his appetite now completely gone. 

He moves through the motions of cleaning up his own plate, like he’s in a trance.

The feeling follows him through the rest of the evening. 

Guilt eating away at him as he showers, and then finishes straightening up his room. 

It’s still there hours later when he’s laying in bed, scrolling through videos on his phone and trying to convince himself not to look himself up online and see what people are saying about him.

Sangwon lies flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. 

He should be able to sleep, but his mind won’t stop moving.

It keeps circling back to Leo.

To the sound of his voice in the kitchen, calm and steady and rational as he explained things, to the wounded look on his face when Sangwon snapped at him, to the way he’d gone so quiet after, like someone had turned down the light in him.

Sangwon presses the heel of his palm against his eyes, swallowing down the sharp pang in his chest. 

Leo wasn’t trying to pressure him. 

He was just trying to help. 

Just like he always does.

That’s the problem.

Because the more Sangwon tells himself they’re just friends, the more his body betrays him. His Omega instincts won’t listen to reason. They whisper that Leo isn’t just any Alpha—he’s his Alpha, the one who’s always looked out for him, who knows him better than anyone else. The one who once held him through his first heat, steady and gentle, when Sangwon thought he would break apart.

The memory sparks in his mind, and his imagination runs ahead of him, faster than he can stop it.

He can see it so clearly, how nice it would be to spend his heat with Leo. 

The thought sends a flush racing under Sangwon’s skin, his chest tightening. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push it away, but the harder he fights it, the more vivid the idea becomes.

What if he’d said yes? What if Leo had meant it, because he wanted him, not just out of duty, not just to keep him safe, but because he wanted Sangwon in return?

The fantasy grows bolder. In his mind he can picture it so clearly, Leo above him, his lemon pepper scent wrapping around Sangwon, Leo murmuring against his skin, calling him his Omega, and taking him in the way that only an Alpha can. 

Sangwon shivers, a soft whimper slips past his lips before he can catch it. His body responds without his permission, heat curling low in his stomach, slick dampening him. 

It’s too much, too vivid, too easy to imagine. 

His hand drifts lower, on his stomach, tentatively considering giving in to what his inner Omega desires, to that curl of want in his stomach. 

And then his phone buzzes. 

A notification from Leo flickers across his phone, and the guilt crashes in.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Leo this way. 

They’re friends. 

That’s all they can be. 

That’s what Leo wants. 

After all, he's already got someone else who his heart is set on, some other, better Omega. 

Sangwon clicks on the notification, frowning a little at the brisk and formal tone of Leo’s message, ‘I meant to tell you earlier but since I already accidentally skipped my suppressant this morning, I won’t be taking one tomorrow, it’s probably best to stay with your family tomorrow. So you’re not around when I go into rut’. 

He stares at the message until the words blur, guilt pressing like a stone against his rib cage, his fingers hover over the keyboard, deleting three drafts before finally typing the simplest thing he can manage, ‘Got it. I’ll head to my mom’s tomorrow then.’ A moment later, he sends a second message, ‘Take care of yourself, okay?’, before he can second-guess it.

Then Sangwon sets the phone down on his chest, and stares up at the ceiling in the dark to wait for a reply. He stays up as long as he can, checking his phone every few minutes, for a reply, for anything that says Leo is still on the other side of the silence.

But no reply ever comes.

And eventually sleep takes him. 

*

He’s had this dream too many times to count.

At first it’s only warmth, sinking into his skin like sunlight after hours in the cold, but then the warmth sharpens into shape, and he knows exactly where he is. The cramped bunkbed of their HYBE trainee dorm, with the curtains drawn tight, and the rest of the boys long since ushered out at Leo’s command.

His skin feels fevered, each shift of his body dragging slick heat through him, making him whimper into the pillow.

And Leo is there. 

Always Leo.

Even in the dream, Sangwon smells him—Leo’s sharp lemon pepper pheromones cutting through the haze of his first heat. The edges of memory blur, soft and dreamlike, but the core of it remains the same: Leo kneeling by the bed, his expression carefully calm while Sangwon’s world collapses around him. 

He hadn’t been ready. 

He hadn’t even known it was possible. 

Sangwon was supposed to go into rut like the other Alphas, supposed to feel hunger and drive, not this slick pooling between his thighs, fever blistering his skin, a desperate, terrifying ache curling in his gut. It had been wrong, all wrong, his body betraying him with needs he didn’t understand and couldn’t stop.

He claws at the sheets, gasping like he’s drowning, terrified of himself.

And Leo, always steady, smoothes a hand through his damp hair, anchoring him through the storm of his heat. “You’re okay, Sangwonie. I’ve got you.”

Sangwon whimpers, reaching for him with trembling fingers, and the Leo in his dream grants him his unspoken desire, climbing onto the narrow mattress, fitting his larger frame into the space above Sangwon. Leo’s hand cups the back of Sangwon’s neck, thumb brushing lightly against overheated skin, against his newly activated scent gland. 

The touch is too much and not enough, all at the same time. His body consumed with a suddenly desperate need to be touched, to be filled, while colliding with the terror of what it means.

“I can’t—please, it hurts, hyung please,” he whimpers, not even sure fully what he’s asking for. 

But Leo had understood then, and he understands now. “It’s okay, Sangwonie, I won’t let you get hurt, I’ll be gentle.” 

The dream bends, and Leo is already guiding him through, like memory has been cut down to its essence. Settling into the moment where it happens, Leo’s body pressing close, his voice low and coaxing Sangwon to give into instinct and let Leo guide him. 

Leo’s teeth scrape against the side of his throat as his head moves down, leaving a phantom spark in their wake. Their bodies move together in that too-small bed, rhythm less than perfect and clumsy but somehow just what he needs, a tether pulling Sangwon through the fire of his first heat.

And under it all, the unbearable sweetness, is Leo. 

That the alpha steadying him, holding him, is the same boy he’d whispered secrets with during long practice nights, the one who’d always been a step ahead of him in everything, and still always turned back to wait for Sangwon to catch up. 

“You’re safe,” dream-Leo says again, his voice hoarse, his forehead pressed to Sangwon’s temple, as he moves to press himself right there where Sangwon needs him the most, “I’ve got you, Sangwonie.” 

Sangwon clings to him, his hands fisting in Leo’s shirt, mouth pressing desperate, broken sounds into the hollow of Leo’s throat. His body burns with want and desire. 

He whimpers at the memory of the sharp sting of being stretched for the first time, drowned out by Leo’s constant shushing, his steady rhythm, as he gently says, “Breathe with me, Sangwonie. That’s it. You’re doing so good.”

“Hurts,” Sangwon whispers, small and raw, aching as his body tries to adjust to something he never thought it would need.

“I know. I know,” Leo soothes, his voice as gentle as his hands. “But it won’t always. Just stay with me.”

And then—warmth and fullness, something clicking into place that made the fever burning up his body ebb into something a bit more bearable. Their bodies moving together, frantic and slow all at once, instincts clashing with inexperience.

Dream-Sangwon clutches at Leo, his nails dragging over Leo’s back, and Leo groans, low and rough, but his hips never falter. “That’s it, Sangwonie, I’ve got you.”

And then—like dreams do—the memory shifts. 

The sheets blur, the space stretches wider, until there’s someone else there.

Sangwon blinks through the haze as his dream reforms and there’s someone new kneeling at the bedside the same way Leo had at the start of his dream. His smile is soft, uncertain, dark eyes watching the two of them move together.

His scent doesn’t linger in the dream the way Leo’s lemon pepper scent does, but Sangwon can feel that he’s there, pressing close. 

“Leo-hyung,” dream-Anxin whispers, voice thick with want. “He needs more.”

In his dream, Leo doesn’t react startled or defensive to Anxin’s sudden appearance, he just continues moving inside of Sangwon with slow, grounding thrusts,  before glancing over to where the other Alpha is. “Then help me take care of our Omega.” 

The words slam into Sangwon, his dream self keening at the sound of them. 

Our Omega.

Anxin crawls closer, his hands trembling as they hover before settling on Sangwon’s thighs. His touch is tentative at first, hesitant, but dream-Leo takes Anxin’s hand, placing it higher, right where Sangwon’s body is aching to be touched. 

And then it’s both of them—Leo steady and sure, Anxin hesitant but eager, their pheromones mixing heavy in the air, drowning Sangwon in Alpha warmth. 

Leo is above him, his broad hands holding Sangwon steady, his thrusts strong but careful. While Anxin curls beside him, touching him tentatively at first, then growing braver, sliding his palms over Sangwon’s cock, working him to the edge. 

Sangwon whimpers, unable to tell if the sounds are pulled from memory or a new fantasy. His dream self doesn’t care—he only knows that his body is slick, burning, and greedy for every ounce of Alpha attention that he is being given.

“You’re so good, Sangwonie,” dream-Leo says. 

“So perfect for us,” dream-Anxin agrees. 

Sangwon trembles between them, his body burns, his mind spins, but it’s not just the neediness of his heat anymore. 

It’s the sensation of being wanted. 

Being held. 

Being theirs.

Sangwon feels strung out between them, stretched beyond himself—his body crying for more, his mind drowning in the fantasy of two Alphas wrapped around him.

It’s dizzying. 

Dream logic twists again. 

One moment, Anxin is pressed to his side, clumsy kisses trailing down his throat while his hand works Sangwon’s cock; the next, he’s behind him, reaching forward to pull Leo closer.

Sangwon tips his head back against Anxin’s shoulder, whines spilling unchecked from his mouth as his body rocks between them. His inner Omega thrills at it—the warmth of both Alphas around him, claiming him, seeing him.

He’s never been more filled, more seen, more theirs.

Then Anxin shifts, leaning forward over Sangwon so that his lips brush Leo’s jaw and Leo turns into it, mouth catching Anxin’s in a kiss.

For a heartbeat Sangwon stares, blank with shock.

Leo kissing Anxin.

No.

No, that can’t—

The thought barely forms before the dream splinters.

Pleasure snaps, the edges of the world peeling away, everything lurches white-hot, collapsing in on itself—

And Sangwon jerks awake with a gasp, his chest heaving like he’s ran a mile. 

His sheets are damp, tangled around his legs. His thighs are slick, the sheets under him completely ruined. He doesn’t need to touch himself to know exactly what he’s lying in—his body is drenched in release, and the sharp musk of his own Omega pheromones fill the air.

For a long moment, he can’t move. 

He lies there, staring at the ceiling, his breath shaky, guilt and longing tangling up inside of him. 

It wasn’t real. He repeats it to himself, heart pounding. It wasn’t real, it was just a dream.

And yet… He can still feel the phantom weight of Leo inside him, still hear their voices echoing in his head.

A choked noise slips out as Sangwon buries his face into his pillow, half in shame, half in desperate, unfulfilled want. 

He’s never dreamed like that before. Sure, he’s dreamed of his first heat plenty of times, but never with such clarity, never with such raw need. 

He knows exactly why it happened, though, the moment he forces himself to breathe properly, he catches it.

Leo’s pheromones are everywhere.

They saturate the walls, the air, the sheets, undoubtedly seeping out of him like a flood now that his rut has been triggered. Sangwon can’t move without inhaling them, without his body recognizing the scent, without his inner Omega keening at him with the suggestion to go to his Alpha. 

Sangwon presses the heel of his hand hard against his eyes, willing the instinct down, but it only makes him hurt more. 

He can’t stay here surrounded by Leo’s pheromones. 

He fumbles blindly for the pill bottle on his nightstand, hands trembling, and shakes out one suppressant and then another, swallowing them dry, just to be safe. His throat burns with the bitter taste, but he forces it down. It won’t erase the dream, won’t silence the need clawing through his body, but maybe it’ll give him enough control to think things through.

To make it out of here safely. 

Sangwon drags himself out of bed and stumbles into the bathroom. 

He grimaces as he looks in the mirror and catches sight of his own expression. He looks like a wreck—his hair is plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed, neck marked red from sleep-tossed friction. 

Disgust at himself and his Omega nature curls in his gut as he adverts his eyes from the scene in the mirror and stripping quickly before he steps into the shower, twisting the dial cold until the water shocks the breath out of him. Then Sangwon scrubs hard, doing his best to wash away the dream of heat, the shame, the way his body had responded to Leo even in his dreams, and the way Anxin’s face had slipped into his dream too.

By the time he finally feels clean and his skin is red from the harshness of his hands, he’s shaking all over again, but his head feels a little clearer, the suppressant finally beginning to settle him down. 

Sangwon braces his palms against the shower wall as he tries to be rational and consider his options. 

He can’t stay here. 

Not while Leo’s rut is bleeding through the walls of their apartment like this. 

Not while his own body is betraying him, and when a single dream has already nearly pushed him to the brink of heat. 

He’ll go to a clinic first thing—get stronger suppressants, something that’ll smother this before it turns into something worse, and he’ll find somewhere else to stay, maybe reach out to his mom or… or to Anxin, after all, the young Alpha had offered to let Sangwon crash with him and his labelmates if he ever needed.

Anywhere but here. 

Anywhere but under Leo’s rut pheromones.

*

“Prescription pick-up,” Sangwon says, as he turns over the fake Omega ID card that his older sister had gotten for him years ago, ‘for emergencies only’ with her information on it, so that he could pretend whatever he was picking up at the pharmacy was for her and not him. “For my sister.”

He does his best to look steady, and like just another customer running an errand, not an Omega with his body still burning a bit too brightly from a dream he tried and failed to scrub out of his memory. The scent blocker patch that he’d put on before leaving isn’t strong enough to even fully cover his scent. 

The pharmacist, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes but a sharp edge to her tone, scans the ID, then scans him. “Just her usual heat suppressants?”

“Maybe, she, uh—she’s been having a hard time with hers,” Sangwon explains. “She said they weren’t working as well anymore, so she asked me to pick up something stronger if possible.”

The pharmacist hums, her fingers tapping briskly across the keyboard, as she pulls up Sangwon’s sister’s medical record, “We can adjust the dosage, yes, but stronger suppressants come with harsher side effects. Does she have a history of migraines, nausea, irregular cycles?”

Migraines, not really, he’s had the occasional headache from exhaustion, but nausea has been more present lately for sure, and his cycle is definitely irregular. 

“She’s had some nausea recently,” Sangwon explains, “But uh… We think that’s because she accidentally mixed up my rut suppressors with her heat suppressors and ended up taking doses of both for a few days.” 

“Mixing rut and heat suppressants is dangerous,” the pharmacist replies, “They work on different hormone pathways, forcing both at once can cause organ stress, even collapse. It’s not recommended, nor necessary, nobody can go into both heat and rut, if she was mixing up her doses someone should have stopped her sooner.” 

Shame burns in his chest, but he nods as if he’s listening on someone else’s behalf. 

“Right, of course,” Sangwon agrees. “I’ll tell her to be more careful in the future.”

“Good, now as far as her current suppressors go—”

“Actually,” Sangwon cuts in, “Can I ask something else? Just… hypothetically.”

“Go on.” 

“If she was on suppressants,” he starts slowly, carefully neutral, “And she’s been taking them regularly, but still… had what seemed like a false heat last week, just for a couple hours, and then it stopped suddenly. None of the leaking slick heat parts, just the fever and nausea.” 

The pharmacist’s brows furrow a little.

Sangwon does his best to ignore her look of suspicion as he presses on, “And then this morning, she starts feeling like maybe another one’s coming, proper pre-heat symptoms this time. Even though she’s been on the suppressants the whole time.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but Sangwon feels that she’s studying him too closely, like she’s already parsed the truth from his stumbling words. 

Still, she hums lightly, playing along,  “Hypothetically, of course.”

“Yes,” Sangwon insists, heat prickling at the back of his neck. “Hypothetically. If that happened… would it mean the suppressants aren’t working anymore? Or could it be—like—the rut pheromones from someone close by interfering?”

“Was someone in the same house as this person, in rut?” 

“Yeah my, uh—her roommate.” 

“It’s possible,” the pharmacist replies, “Rut pheromones are powerful. They can destabilize weaker suppressants, especially if the Omega’s body has already built up tolerance for their suppressants over time. What you’re describing—a short, false heat followed by the real one breaking through—that usually means the medication isn’t strong enough anymore.”

Sangwon nods tightly. “I thought so.”

“What your sister needs is a reevaluation,” the pharmacist replies, “So that a new baseline can be formed, rather than a quick fix. I can recommend a clinic that specializes in Omega services if you’d like?”

“No, it’s okay,” Sangwon says, shaking his head. “I’ll just take her usual then.” 

The pharmacist studies him for a long moment, and then she turns, pulling open a drawer behind her. When she returns, she sets not only the stronger suppressants on the counter, but a slim glass vial filled with clear liquid.

“What’s that?” Sangwon acts. 

“Emergency Heat Inhibitor,” she explains, “It’s fast-acting, and most effective if taken during pre-heat, but it can still be used up to an hour into a full heat. One dose will shut everything down before it peaks.” She hesitates a beat, then adds, “But it’s not something to take lightly. If you misjudge the timing and you’re not actually in pre-heat, it can overload your system. The suppressant shock might drop your blood pressure, make you dizzy—worst case, scenario, you could faint. That’s why it’s usually only prescribed alongside supervision. So only use it if you’re certain. Understand?”

His eyes widen slightly at her warning, “Oh, I—I don’t think that’s necessary. My sister, she—”

“I can smell you through your patch,” the pharmacist cuts him off gently, “You’re clearly flushed and already running hot. So either take this and keep yourself safe, or allow me to give you the number of an Omega services clinic.” 

He drops his gaze, his throat tight.

If the pharmacist could so easily pick up on his Omega nature, who knows who else would be able to, especially if he went on like this any longer. 

“You don’t have to admit anything to me,” she continues, her voice a little softer. “I don’t care about the details, but take this with you. If your sister’s condition worsens, she’ll need it.” 

It’s clear she’s humoring his story, but her eyes say that she knows all too well who this conversation is really about. 

Sangwon swallows, murmurs a quiet thank you, and takes the bag of medication from her and tucks it into his backpack. His whole face burns with humiliation as he leaves the pharmacy. 

He hurries and ducks into the nearest cafe and makes a beeline for the bathroom and locks the door behind him. His hands tremble a little as he fishes the vial from the bag.

It’s a small vial and deceptively simple, just a slip of glass capped with rubber and a syringe tucked beside it. The pharmacist’s voice echoes in his head with the reassurance that one dose will shut this down before it peaks, as long as he uses it during his pre-heat. 

And this feels like pre-heat. 

His body is clammy, shirt sticking faintly to his back. The slick he thought he’d already spent an hour cleaning away is starting to dampen again, shame and fear curling low in his gut. Clearly, that’s pre-heat. 

So without hesitating any further, Sangwon pushes the needle through the seal, drawing up the liquid, and hesitates only a second before pressing it into his thigh. The sting of the inhibitor is sharp at first, but then within minutes, the buzzing edge under his skin starts to dull. 

The tightness in his chest fades completely. Sangwon exhales shakily, shoulders slumping in relief, but tinged with something hollow. 

Sangwon caps the syringe, slips it back into the paper bag from the pharmacy along with his suppressants, and tucks the box deep into his bag. He’ll throw it away later, where no one will see. For now, though, he pulls out his phone, scrolls down to Anxin’s number, and presses call. 

It rings twice before Anxin picks up.

“Sangwon-hyung?”

“Hi, Anxinie,” Sangwon says, “Are you home right now?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Could I… crash at your place for a while?"

“Of course,” Anxin answers immediately, “Is everything okay?” 

He hesitates, teeth catching his lip. He doesn’t want to admit the truth, that Leo’s rut pheromones had been so strong that they’d nearly throw him into heat. 

So instead he goes for something close enough to the truth, 

“Yeah, I… Leo and I got into an argument last night and I just need some space from him for a few days, if that’s okay?” 

“Of course, hyung! You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks, Anxinie.” 

Chapter Text

In all honesty, he probably should’ve taken the pharmacist up on her offer for the number of an Omega clinic. Or at the very least, gone to his sister’s place. As an Omega who didn’t have to hide her nature, she might’ve had better advice. But she’d probably just say the same thing anyway: go to the clinic, let a doctor check him over properly.

And that getting out is a risk he isn’t willing to take.

Still, walking straight into a house full of Alphas isn’t exactly the smartest move when his head feels feverish and his skin clammy under his jacket. He almost talks himself out of it twice before finally arriving at the address Anxin sent him, but in the end he ends up there all the same. 

Sangwon knocks, and the door swings open almost immediately. Kaiwen stands there wide-eyed for a beat.

Sangwon is pretty sure they’ve spoken exactly once before. 

Not even a real conversation—just Kaiwen poking his head into a practice room to ask, “Where’s Anxin?” in clipped, heavily accented Korean.

He’s not even sure Kaiwen’s Korean is strong enough for him to explain why he’s here. Still, he opens his mouth to try, only for Kaiwen to beat him to it.

“Ohhhh, ah! Hello,” Kaiwen says brightly in that same thick accent. Then, without missing a beat, he cranes his head back and shouts something rapid-fire in Mandarin down the hall, Sangwon’s name punctuating the middle of it. The tone is unmistakably teasing, sing-song, like a joke shared at someone else’s expense.

There’s quick footsteps following his shout, and a short moment later Anxin appears, skidding to the door with a flush on his face. 

“Sangwon-hyung! You made it!” Anxin greets him. The Alpha’s rainwater scent spikes sharp with embarrassment as he shoots Kaiwen a look, muttering something in Mandarin that earns a laugh from Kaiwen, before he steps aside quickly, ushering Sangwon in.

“Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Sangwon murmurs, as he steps over the threshold into the apartment and goes to take off his shoes. 

As he does so, Kaiwen and Anxin continue to talk to each other. Sangwon can’t follow the words, but he can understand the tones well enough: between Kaiwen’s amused smirk, Anxin’s pink cheeks, and the little twist of embarrassment in his scent, it’s all too easy to connect the dots. Briefly, he can’t help but remember what Leo said yesterday when Anxin had come to ask for their numbers, about Anxin’s little crush and the way their friends were continuing to tease him.

Sangwon feels a bit bad for him. He’d turned Anxin down gently, and they’d agreed to be friends, but of course the others would tease—it’s what boys do, especially when someone wears his heart so openly like Anxin does. The young Alpha looks so properly flustered now as he guides Sangwon into the living room, and ignores responding to whatever Kaiwen quips at him as he goes. 

The living room is full of Alphas, more than just the ones that he thought were living here. Their scents mix together, assaulting his senses as he looks around at the gathered group, who are all loudly playing their video game. There’s Jiahao and Xinlong on the floor, sharing a bowl of snacks, while Suren is stretched on the couch with Zihao beside him, all of them in the middle of some conversation about the video game playing on screen, a conversation that trails into silence when Sangwon appears in the doorway, all four sets of eyes turning to him. 

“Ah—” Sangwon says, hurrying to bow politely. “Sorry to intrude.”

“It’s fine,” Anxin insists, “We’re just hanging out, the more the merrier!” 

But even with Anxin’s gentle reassurance, Sangwon can still feel eyes on him, as conversation picks back up again immediately in Mandarin. It’s fluid and fast, punctuated with laughter, impossible for him to follow. 

He isn’t used to being the only Korean speaker, or no, that’s not technically right, the only non-Mandarin speaker around, here in his foggy state with his body humming wrong, it feels like a fish out of water. And he wonders if this is how Anxin felt all the times they were talking and hanging out with the Whiplash team. Like there’s a barrier he can’t quite cross, even if everyone is smiling and seemingly welcoming. 

“Are you sure it’s okay that I stay here?” Sangwon asks after a moment, turning to Anxin. “If not, it’s fine, I can call my mom or my sisters and stay with them. I just thought… you said you had a spare room, and—”

“Oh, yeah, we do,” Anxin says quickly, “Well, Xinlong-ge and Zihao-ge are here now but they’re not staying, just hanging out, and Suren-ge will probably go home with them, so…” Anxin gestures a little to where Zihao is currently all but sitting on Suren’s lap, “So yeah…You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you need!” 

“I—” Sangwon starts and then stops as his vision blurs ever so slightly, his eyes watery suddenly. He reaches up to rub the bleariness from his eyes as he says, “Thanks. Really.”

Anxin makes a soft noise of acknowledgement, his rainwater scent colored with concern and the still lingering hint of embarrassment as he says, “You said you and Leo-hyung got into a fight?”

“We had a disagreement,” Sangwon corrects quickly. “Not a fight, not really, not anything serious, but I need some space. His pheromones are all intense, and it kind of messed up my inner Alpha.”

That was putting it lightly. 

He can still feel the echo of how he had woken up this morning, crawling beneath his skin, the way the dream had taken him under, the way his body won’t settle even now. Even with the inhibitor the lingering pulse of it is there, beneath the sluggish and cold feeling overtaking him now. 

He considers saying more, explaining that Leo’s in rut, and that’s why he had to leave. It could be excused easily enough, after all, some Alphas in close proximity can trigger each other’s ruts. But that isn’t his secret to spill.

So instead, he swallows the words, and instead says, “Honestly, I might be fine to go back tomorrow, but…”

“You can stay as long as you need,” Anxin says once more. No hesitation this time. His cheeks are still a little pink, but his voice is steady, warm.

“Thank you, Anxinie,” he replies, genuinely meaning it.

And Anxin lights up at his thanks, flashing Sangwon one of his adorably dimpled smiles. 

Anxin’s smile is soft enough that the rest of the room melts into a hum at the edges, Mandarin chatter sliding around him like warm water. For a second they stand in their own bubble, two people in the middle of a crowd.

Until the moment is broken as Xinlong speaks up—”You two want to join us?’

“Oh I—” Sangwon hurriedly turns, looking away from Anxin. “What?” 

“We’re just playing video games,” Xinlong explains, gesturing to the console and the piles of snacks. “If you want, you can join the next round.”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

Sangwon glances for a seat. 

Zihao and Suren share the small couch, laughing at something on the screen; there’s one open spot next to them, or he could sit on the floor near the food. In the end he settles on the floor, not wanting to disturb whatever is going on between those too.

However, as he starts to move, the world lurches sideways, dizziness overwhelming him. 

Sangwon takes one step and stumbles, nearly falling to the ground, but Anxin’s hand is already on his arm before he can fall, holding him steady.

“Sangwon-hyung, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just… My head hurts a little, I wasn’t focusing,” Sangwon stumbles through an explanation that he hopes Anxin believes. 

“Okay,” Anxin says quickly, then he says something sharp and serious sounding in Mandarin that makes the group laugh.

When the others speak up, their tone is teasing once more, and Sangwon watches as Zihao overdramatically vacates, making room for Sangwon and Anxin; before he drops down to the floor in front of Suren and stretches back against his knees with the casual intimacy that’s uncommon to see in two Alphas.

“Here, sit with me, Sangwon-hyung,” Anxin says, gently guiding Sangwon over to the couch. 

Anxin’s rainwater scent cozies around him when Sangwon sits down on the couch next to Anxin. 

Sangwon watches as they start up the game again. As he watches, Zihao explains the mechanics of the game in Korean for Sangwon’s benefit, punctuating sentences with laughter as Jiahao loses another life. Sangwon watches the action happen rather than playing; he isn’t in the mood to think through button combos, his head too woolly. 

He watches for a few rounds before a chill overtakes him, a deep, bone-chilling cold that can’t quite be explained by the air conditioning. Sangwon tries his best not to shiver or noticeably react, but he must anyway, because a second later Anxin reaches up and pulls a blanket off the back of the couch. Then before Sangwon has time to protest, Anxin settles the fabric across their laps. 

Once he’s done so, Anxin’s arm slings over the back of the couch, behind Sangwon’s shoulders, and Sangwon lets his head drop against his arm, drawn towards the heat radiating off the Alpha. 

For a few breaths he feels like they’re in that soft bubble, until Anxin’s arm shifts, brushing against the scent blocker at the back of his neck, and then Anxin is moving, drawing his arm back a little so that he can trace his finger tips over the edge of the scent blocker patch. 

“Can I take it off you, hyung?” Anxin asks, the question is mostly casual, but there’s something shy in the way he looks at Sangwon’s neck.

Sangwon’s first thought is to say no. Even though he’s sure everyone here knows his scent by now and none of them have questioned whether it was Alpha enough, a part of him still worries that they’ll somehow be able to pick up on the signs through his scent. 

But… he’d taken the inhibitor at the pharmacy, and it’s clearly kicked in by now, the coldness he’s feeling is clearly one of those side effects that the pharmacist mentioned. If the inhibitor is doing its job, then letting his scent out here is harmless, just another way to breathe.

He nods, just a little, granting Anxin permission. 

Anxin’s fingers move the second he is allowed to, his fingers gently peeling at the patch at Sangwon’s neck. He goes slowly, careful with the adhesive, but even so, Sangwon cannot help the small hitch of breath that escapes him as Anxin unsticks the patch from his neck. His hazelnut scent floods out from his now-uncovered scent gland a second later, carrying notes of his own embarrassment and appreciation. 

“Hyung, you smell so good,” Anxin says, not loud enough to be performative but loud enough that a few of the guys glance over. 

“Ahh, thank you, Anxinie,” Sangwon replies, politely, as the Alpha’s fingers now trace Sangwon’s exposed scent gland. 

Anxin’s fingers linger for a moment, tracing over the newly bared gland like he’s soothing the sting where the adhesive tugged. It’s absentminded, thoughtless—but Sangwon’s body doesn’t care, his inner Omega reacting to the feeling of an Alpha touching his scent gland before he can stop himself. His breath hitches, shoulders twitching as a shiver rolls through him, and an involuntary whimper escapes his lips. 

On the screen, Jiahao’s character dies suddenly and he spins, speaking indignantly in Mandarin. 

Anxin splutters, holding both of his hands up, waving the little patch around as he says something quickly back in reply. 

“What’s going on?” Sangwon asks, looking between the duo confused.

“Nothing,” Anxin says quickly, before going back to sharply bickering with Jiahao in Mandarin. 

Suren, deciding to translate, leans towards Sangwon and says in Korean, “He asked if Xin put the blanket on you so you two could get naughty under the—”

“Don’t listen to him,” Anxin says quickly, leaning over Sangwon to try and cover up Suren’s mouth. 

Suren dodges Anxin’s hands, but smirks a little as he turns back to his game. 

“Don’t listen to any of them,” Anxin says, retreating back to his side of the couch. His ears are so red Sangwon wonders if they’re burning. “They’re just being jerks.”

Sangwon lets out a soft chuckle, smoothing the hem of the blanket over his lap. “It’s okay, Anxinie. I know you’d never actually do something like that.”

“Oh, hyung, you really don’t know what Xin would do if given the chance,” Suren says with a laugh, turning to Zihao to ask, “What was it he said the other day…?”

“Ohhh, you mean when he said he wanted Sangwon-hyung to ride his—”

The rest of the word never makes it out. 

A throw pillow slams into Zihao’s chest with such force he actually wheezes, clutching it dramatically as the room erupts in laughter.

“Shut up!” Anxin yelps, already scrambling for another pillow as his face goes crimson. He switches quickly into Mandarin, the words spilling out of him as he desperately begs for the others to stop teasing him. 

Finally, the other Alphas seem to give in to Anxin’s begging for their silence, and then Anxin settles back beside Sangwon on the couch. Anxin is burning a little warm beside him, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to his forehead, his body heat radiating so strongly that Sangwon almost aches from the contrast, because his own body feels freezing cold. The chill is in his bones now, a deep kind of cold that no blanket can touch, and without thinking, he presses closer to Anxin, shoulder brushing his arm, drawing in the little comfort he can. 

The Alpha doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm tighter around Sangwon, pulling him in. 

For a few minutes, he lets the warmth of Anxin's arm and the weight of the blanket keep him anchored, watching the others play their video game in relative peace. 

Eventually, the next round of the game begins, and someone hands a controller to Anxin, who takes it with a little embarrassed laugh, his arms wrapping fully around Sangwon so that he can play without letting go of him. 

Anxin’s fingers are clumsy on the buttons, and he fumbles almost immediately, his character dying before he even gets too far into the round. 

The group groans, voices overlapping in Mandarin. Sangwon tries to join in, and he does his best to cheer Anxin on, murmuring encouragements in Korean that the younger Alpha probably only half-understands, but Anxin smiles anyway when the next round begins. 

When another controller is offered his way, Sangwon shakes his head quickly. He can’t imagine focusing on the screen, not when his vision keeps swimming, edges going fuzzy, his eyes watery. His chest tightens as another cold shiver takes him, and this time his body leans without permission, head tipping until it rests lightly on Anxin’s shoulder.

“Hyung? You okay?” Anxin asks, voice careful.

“Yeahhh,” Sangwon breathes out, though it sounds weak even to his own ears. Not believable at all, “I’m just tired, I think.”

Anxin reaches up and touches his forehead, the brush of his warm fingers startling, Sangwon jolting at the touch. His skin is cool to the touch, so Anxin doesn’t worry. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?” Anxin asks softly when he takes his hand back. 

His mind instantly flashes with the memory of the dream he had last night, of both Leo and Anxin both at his side, soothing him, helping him through his heat with steady hands and gentle voices. It had been too much. Too close to something he can’t ever have. 

He can’t say any of that out loud to Anxin. 

He can’t confess that the reason he looks so hollow is because of a fantasy brought on by Leo’s rut pheromones, a fantasy that involves Anxin. 

So instead he just hums, hesitantly, and says, “Not really.” 

“Do you want to lay down in the guest room?” Anxin offers, “Or my room?”

The thought of getting up, moving, being alone in a cold unfamiliar bed feels unbearable. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to lose the warmth of the Alpha beside him. 

“No,” Sangwon says softly, his eyes slipping shut as he cuddles against Anxin, “I’m… comfy here, with you as my space heater.” 

“Well…” Anxin clears his throat, a little flustered, “you can lean on me if you want to sleep, hyung.” 

Something inside Sangwon eases at the permission, and he nods faintly. “Thank you, Anxinie.”

He lets his weight sink a little more, head finding its place on Anxin’s shoulder. 

The room is full of voices—Jiahao teasing someone loudly, Zihao laughing at his own joke, Suren’s deep murmur threading through the chatter—and even though Sangwon doesn’t understand most of the Mandarin, it’s strangely soothing. 

The rise and fall of their tones washes over him like the sea, mixing with the notes of Anxin’s rainwater scent. 

Sangwon lets it surround him, lulling him, pulling him deeper into quiet.

The last thing he remembers is Anxin shifting just slightly, careful not to disturb him, drawing the blanket a little tighter up around him. 

And then he’s asleep.

*

He’s cold.

So cold.

He swears he’s never been this cold before in his life. 

It feels like his blood has turned to ice.

Like every vein is frozen solid.

Like movement itself is agony. 

He can’t open his eyes. He knows he’s awake, he can feel the air scraping into his lungs, but he can’t break through the dark cold fog that hangs heavy over his body.

There’s a voice he can hear distantly, strained and desperate. 

“Sangwon-hyung! Wake up. Please—please wake up!”

Anxin.

In the freezing dreamscape, Sangwon tries to push closer, tries to reach for the sound of his voice, but his body won’t obey. 

His limbs are heavy, unresponsive.

His chest feels weighted down, like he’s trapped under icy water.

He breathes in, shaky and rough, and the icy water floods his lungs, pressing down upon him.

The harder he tries to push for the surface, the further away it feels. 

He gasps, but it’s all water, choking in. His body convulses in and out of the dream, struggling to breathe.

A hand shakes his arm. 

He wants to respond, to reach back, but nothing moves. 

His muscles don’t obey.

The voices blur, words in Mandarin, panicked, too fast for him to follow, but the tone is sharp with fear.

He tries to open his mouth to answer, to tell them he’s okay, but the water surges in again, biting cold, filling him until his lungs burn.

Then—another presence. 

This one is stronger, pressing close, an Alpha’s authority flooding over him, grounding him. Xinlong’s voice, heavy and commanding, speaking in a tone that demands obedience as his hand presses firm against his chest, “Breathe, Sangwon-ssi. You need to breathe.”

“Hyung, please!” Anxin’s voice cracks, high and scared.

There’s something about the desperation in Anxin’s tone that gives him the ability to push through the ice, just a little, just enough. 

He throws every scrap of willpower into opening his eyes.

For a second, it works.

The bright lights burn at his eyes, but he forces them to stay open as the brightly colored shapes swarming in his vision begin to coalesce into familiar faces. 

Anxin’s face, pale and drawn tight with fear. 

Xinlong right there beside him, steadying him, his hand still pressing on Sangwon’s chest. 

Zihao with a phone out, thumb hovering like he’s one second away from pressing call.

“Sangwon-hyung—oh, thank god,” Anxin’s voice breaks, and then suddenly Sangwon is wrapped up in his arms. “I was so scared—you were sleeping, but then you were shaking, and gasping, your lips turned blue—and Zihao-ge was about to call the hospital, but—”

“No,” Sangwon’s voice scrapes out raw from his painfully dry throat, “No… hospital.”

“I still think we should—” Zihao starts.

“No hospital,” Sangwon cuts him off to repeat again. 

“Why not? You’re clearly sick, Sangwon-ssi,” Xinlong questions. “If you can tell us what’s going on we won’t call the hospital but otherwise…”

“No,” Sangwon says again, shaking his head. 

But the movement is too much. 

The voices are too many, too close, and he’s so, so cold. 

He can barely think. 

Barely hear.

“No hospital,” Sangwon insists with all the energy he can muster, “Call Leo.” 

And then his eyes slip shut again. 

“No—no, no, don’t go back to sleep, Sangwon-hyung, please!” 

Anxin’s voice is desperate, trembling, pleading right against his ear, his arms holding Sangwon steady.

Sangwon lets himself melt into Anxin’s hold. 

Anxin is warm. 

Solid. 

Safe. 

Sangwon turns in towards him instinctively, soaking in that rainwater scent, as his eyelids drag shut again.

“Please, Sangwon-hyung! Stay awake just a little longer!” 

But Sangwon can’t fight it. 

His body leans, his head finding the place against Anxin’s neck where his rainwater scent is the strongest. He breathes in, deep, greedy, and lets it fill the hollow ache inside him.

Just for a second. 

Just for one second more.

And then—

The cold surges back. 

And everything fades away into silence.

Chapter Text

Cold.

So cold. 

Every beat of his heart makes his chest ache. 

His body is heavy, his mind fogged, but he knows he isn’t asleep. 

Not really.

And yet, Sangwon drifts.

One moment he’s in the middle of an icy rainstorm, skin soaking wet, shivering so hard it rattles his bones. 

The next—there’s a touch of warmth. Strong arms gathering him up, lifting him. He tries to open his eyes but his eyelids are frozen shut, the world around him reduced to muttered voices he can’t decipher. 

A distinctly protective Alpha cuts through the fog of his mind, wrapping around him, coaxing him toward safety, towards warmth. 

But then he’s gone again.

Pulled under.

Cold.

So very cold. 

He is drowning. 

His chest seizes as if filled with water, lungs burning as he kicks for the surface he can’t find. 

His hands claw upward but the weight of the dream drags him down, down, down.

Through it he can hear a voice again—distant, and muffled, but there—Anxin’s voice, thick with panic, breaks against the icy dark —“Leo-hyung, please call me back as soon as you can. It’s really important.”

Vaguely, he feels the press of another body against his own.

Skin to skin contact, warmth just a hint of it. 

He arches pressing back into the warmth, needing something to revive his frozen heart. 

But the warmth edges back just a little and then the rainstorm returns, endless sheets of cold water hammering him into the ground. 

In his mind, he staggers again, slipping, feeling the flood rushing over him.

Another flicker. 

Anxin’s voice is so shaky and—”Please, Leo-hyung, I’m sorry to keep calling, but please call me back as soon as you can. Sangwon-hyung is here and he’s sick, but he won’t let us call the hospital and I’m scared, I—”

The words cut off as the current yanks him under again.

His ears are muffled by the water rushing in, his chest burning with the effort to try and breathe. 

He wants to reach the surface, wants to push toward the voice calling for him, but his limbs won’t obey. 

The cold is unbearable.

Pheromones wash over him, thick and soothing, and he gasps desperately, trying to drink them in, to anchor himself.

For a heartbeat, he surfaces.

Anxin’s scent, heavy with rainwater, presses against every part of him, urging him to stay. 

“Sangwon-hyung!”  

He blinks for a second, he can see Anxin swarming in his vision, and then he closes his eyes and the ice closes in again.

Darkness swallows him whole.

It feels like an eternity of treading cold water before he hears Anxin’s voice again, shaking and frantic, “Oh, thank god. Hyung, you need to come here and—”

There’s a pause, the sound of static, filling his ears.  

“What do you mean you’re—” A sharp inhale. “Oh.”

The phone must be on speaker, because ever so faintly, another voice threads through the cold that’s consuming him. 

A voice Sangwon knows as well as his own heartbeat.

Leo.

His chest aches, his frozen lungs seizing up, as he gasps. 

“Tell me what’s happening?” 

Anxin’s words spill out of his lips, fast and scared, “He’s so cold. He keeps slipping in and out of consciousness. He refuses the hospital, he told us to call you instead, but I don’t know what to do—”

“Don’t take him to the hospital.” 

“Is he having some sort of allergic reaction? I don’t understand—”

Sangwon tries to catch the rest of what Anxin says but it all blurs, the words muffled like cotton stuffed in his ears. 

The voices fade, swallowed by the roar of water in his head.

The cold claws deeper.

He tries again to reach out for that little hint of warmth.

But the warmth is gone, torn from him. 

Like a cocoon ripped open before he can properly metamorphose, the weight that kept him tethered to reality lifting away.

Sangwon whines, a soft broken sound that escapes his throat without permission. His body arches toward the missing heat, desperate, instinct clawing at him even as the icy dream drags him further under.

A hand strokes through his hair, warm and careful. 

Warm.

He needs that warmth. 

“I’ll be right back, hyung. I just need to check your bag, okay?”

Sangwon wants to cling to him, to keep that warmth pressed close, but he can’t move.

He can’t form words. 

His body doesn’t obey. 

Anxin goes, and the silence echoes.

Cold seeps back in immediately, crawling under his skin, pulling him down. 

He’s about to slip under once more when Leo’s voice finds him through the freezing fog. “I’m going to have to tell him, Sangwon-ah.”

Sangwon tries to answer, but nothing comes. 

His throat sticks, his tongue won’t move, his whole body feels locked in ice. 

The words remain trapped, aching against the inside of his chest.

No. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t be there to keep you safe,” Leo continues, his voice tight and pained. “But you trust Anxinie, right? He’s a good puppy.”

No. 

No. 

No. 

The dream takes him again.

The storm worsens. 

The rain is coming down heavier now, the water deeper. 

In his mind he staggers through flooded streets, barefoot and freezing, every breath stolen by the current. 

Voices rise and fall around him, distorted, warping through the haze, “If Sangwon-hyung wouldn’t want you to tell me, then don’t tell me—”

The words stab through the storm, but then they’re gone.

He’s back under.

Cold.

Colder.

The flood rushes higher, pulling him under again, his lungs screaming, burning with lack of air. 

He thrashes, but it’s useless. 

His vision blurs, the world reduced to black water and silence.

And then—

Air.

Sweet and warm air suddenly fills his lungs. 

It surges in steady, dragging him from the bottom of the dream. 

His body jolts, chest expanding against the weight crushing it . He breathes in greedily, desperate for more of that air to fill his lungs. Alongside it comes pheromones. 

Rain-washed, grounding, cool like the drizzle after a summer heat, not the frostbite of winter.

He gasps.

His eyes flutter open, vision blurry, shapes shifting before they settle.

Again, Anxin is there.

Anxin’s mouth is pressed against his, feeding Sangwon his breath, flooding his body with pheromones. 

Not a kiss. 

Not really. 

But for a second, it feels like one.

And Sangwon, too desperate, too hungry for the warmth, kisses back. 

Just a little. 

Just the faintest brush, lips moving against the ones pressed to him, aching for more of that grounding scent. 

The fog lifts. 

His head clears, if only slightly.

His chest rises, air flowing freer.

After a moment, Anxin pulls back, his lips wet with their shared spit, his eyes wild with a mix of fear and determination. 

“Hyung—don’t go back to sleep again,” Anxin nearly begs. “Please.”

Sangwon’s lashes flutter, heavy with exhaustion, and for a moment his eyes close again, blinking away the word. 

Darkness tugs at him, but before it can drag him under fully, warmth presses back against his mouth.

The Alpha is there again, his mouth sealed to Sangwon’s, a steady breath flooding his lungs with healing Alpha pheromones. Sangwon breathes in greedily, his body finally willing to move, as his hands come up to hold the Alpha close to him, pressing his lips back against the Anxin’s, desperate for more of Anxin’s soothing pheromones. 

They remain there for a few more minutes, Anxin’s lips against his, his pheromones flooding Sangwon’s system, until finally Sangwon’s eyes open and stay open. 

The dizziness is still there, but less all-consuming.

“Why…” Sangwon asks when Anxin pulls back again. His voice comes out hoarse and cracked as he asks, “Why are you kissing me, Anxinie?”

Anxin’s face flushes as he replies, “Leo-hyung told me to.”

The words catch him off guard.

“What? He told you to kiss me?” 

“Well, not exactly,” Anxin admits quickly, still flustered. His hands twist in his lap, as he pulls back leaning away from Sangwon. “You were so cold, and you didn’t let us call the hospital, and you kept passing out, so—I called Leo-hyung, like you said. And he said…” Anxin’s voice wavers as he pauses, hesitant, eyes flicking away from Sangwon. 

Sangwon’s chest tightens sharply. 

The memory of his dream surges up; Leo’s voice, apologetic as he said, “I’m going to have to tell him.”

Did he?

If Anxin knows that he’s an Omega then—

A spike of panic cuts through him, quick and slicing, he knows it must spill out in his hazelnut scent, but he doesn’t have the strength nor the energy to stop it. His fingers curl tight into the blanket as he braces himself for the worst. 

But then Anxin continues, his voice carefully calm as he says, “Leo-hyung told me your allergies are really bad, that’s why you have special rut suppressors. And I went and checked your bag—” his ears flush darker, sheepishly looking back at Sangwon, “It looks like the pharmacy gave you the wrong medication by mistake. Heat medicine instead of rut medicine. Which is probably why you had such a bad reaction… Right?”

Sangwon’s breath snags. 

The excuse lands with terrifying neatness. 

Relief crashes through him, Leo has covered for him again. Maybe his attempts to force out the word ‘No’ had been heard, or Leo just knew him well enough to know that he’d want his secret kept.

Either way, he’ll have to thank Leo later. 

The lie fits, wrapping neatly over his truth like gauze. After all, who knows what kind of effect heat medication would have had on him if he really was an Alpha, surely the sudden drop in his body’s temperature could be explained by that, along with everything else. 

“Right,” Sangwon agrees. “Yeah, that must be it… I uh… I didn’t realize.” 

Anxin nods a little in agreement, “So Leo-hyung said the best way to shock your body out of it would be to flood your system with my pheromones, and just scenting you wasn’t working. But I looked it up and the internet said that for O—” Anxin stops, and his hand fidgets against his thigh, nervous. “—People experiencing drop, that sometimes breathing pheromones directly into their lungs could help them feel better, so I—”

“So you kissed me.”

“It’s not like that, hyung,” Anxin blurts quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that—I wasn’t trying to do anything inappropriate!”

Sangwon’s gaze lingers on him. Anxin’s face still so thoroughly flushed, eyes wide and defensive. The Alpha looks so young in this moment, caught between duty and desire, between panic and tenderness.

He thinks about the press of Anxin’s lips, the way the Alpha’s pheromones had filled his lungs, making him able to breathe again. And… About how nice it had felt to have Anxin’s lips against his own. 

He lets out a shaky breath, wrapping his arms protectively around himself.

Anxin shifts beside him, catching the movement, his brows furrowing, concerned, “Are you still cold, Sangwon-hyung?”

Sangwon nods, his body is still trembling, but it’s different now—less violent, softened by the Alpha’s nearness. 

“Yeah…” he admits, “A little.”

“Here then, let me,” Anxin shifts a little on the mattress.

For a second Sangwon tenses, thinking Anxin is going to kiss him again, but Anxin just rearranges them, awkward but carefully, tugging Sangwon closer until they’re tucked chest-to-back. The Alpha’s warmth seeps into his skin, arms protectively wrapped around him. 

Sangwon doesn’t resist, can’t resist the warmth coming off of Anxin. 

He tries not to think too much about how easily his Omega body leans into the Alpha’s touch, how desperately his inner Omega aches for more of Anxin's pheromones. Instead, he tries to relax as he listens to the steady feeling of Anxin’s breathing against his spine.

One of Anxin’s arms upwraps from his briefly to grab his iPad, unlocking it and setting it on the side of the bed, propped up a little so Sangwon can see the screen. 

“Here, hyung,” Anxin murmurs, “Let’s watch something. It’ll help keep you awake.”

“Okay,” Sangwon agrees, and Anxin cues up some music videos for them to watch, the sound loud enough to deter the urge to sleep but not so harsh that it hurts his ears. 

Sangwon’s eyes sting a little at the light, but grateful for something concrete to fix on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Anxin’s phone light up. The Alpha hurries to grab it and with a few quick taps of his thumb, lines of Mandarin fill the screen across the screen. Once he finishes sending his message, Sangwon hears the soft shutter sound. 

Sangwon twists to look at Anxin, a little startled. “Did you just take a picture of me?” 

“For Leo-hyung,” Anxin explains as he tilts the phone as if to show him. “To prove you’re awake.” 

“Oh…” 

“He said if anything happened to you while you were with me, he’d have me charged for your murder. So, um—” The Alpha lets out a nervous laugh, “Photo evidence, that you’re alive.” 

Anxin smiles like it’s a joke.

But Sangwon knows Leo well enough to know that he probably meant it. 

“Guess I should try not to die then.”

“Yes, please,” Anxin replies. “I’m way too pretty to do prison time.” 

*

It takes a while, but eventually, Sangwon doesn’t feel even slightly cold anymore.

If anything, he almost feels a little too warm.

Though he blames that on the fact that Anxin is still curled up around him on the bed, the Alpha’s body radiating heat under the four different blankets Anxin had covered them in.

Sangwon wiggles a little, shimming one blanket down to alleviate some of the heat. Doing his best to try not to take up Anxin. 

But thankfully, Anxin is out cold. His breathing is steady and soft, but his face is pale with exhaustion. It’s clear that Anxin had pushed himself too far, pouring out pheromones again and again just to steady him, and now was reaping the cost of that in the form of complete exhaustion.

Sangwon lingers there for a minute longer, pressed against his personal space heater, before eventually he gives up and slips out from under the cover. 

Quietly he sneaks from the room and heads into the kitchen, in search of some water to alleviate the pain of his painfully dry throat.  

He’s halfway through his first swallow when—Footsteps.

Sangwon jumps, the water he’d been drinking spilling down his chin, as Jiahao steps into the doorway.

For a second, the Alpha pauses when he sees him, his posture straight, his gaze lingering far longer than it should on Sangwon, and on the faint tremble of his fingers around the glass as he carefully lowers it to the counter.

“You need to be careful, Sangwon-ah,” Jiahao says, his voice low and accented as he steps around Sangwon to grab a towel, gently dabbing at the water Sangwon had spilled. 

“Sorry, I—Anxinie’s asleep and I was thirsty so—“

“It’s fine,” Jiahao reassures him, shaking his head. His dark eyes flick briefly to Sangwon’s throat, then away again. “Just be careful and… don’t push yourself, especially when your condition is so—” He hesitates, like choosing the word matters a bit too much. “—fragile.”

“I’m doing better now,” he tells Jiahao with a smile that he hopes is convincing.

Jiahao doesn’t smile back. Instead, he says, “Anxin cares about you. Don’t make him worry about you anymore.” 

Something in his tone makes Sangwon’s stomach twist, though he can’t quite put his finger on why. He swallows and nods, trying to make light of it as he huffs a soft laugh and says, “I’ll do my best.”

Jiahao studies him another beat, then lets out a quiet hum that could be agreement—or something else entirely.

“You should let Xin rest a little.”

“I was planning on it,” Sangwon reassures him. Well aware that Anxin needs his rest after overextending his inner Alpha to help heal him up.

Jiahao hums again, “Zihao, Suren, and Xinlong went home once it was clear you were stable. So it’s just Kaiwen and I, but I’ll probably order food later if you want to join us.” 

Sangwon forces a small nod, his fingers tight around the glass. “Yeah… That sounds good. I just—need to make a phone call first. But then… After, okay?”

Jiahao studies him for another long second. Then he nods, expression smoothing out, and turns toward the living room, “Okay.”

Sangwon lingers in the kitchen a moment longer after Jiahao leaves, finishing his glass of water before stepping out into their front door onto the stoop.

For a long moment his thumb hovering over Leo’s contact. Sangwon doesn’t even really expect him to answer. 

Leo is rutting. 

Leo should be lost to that all consuming Alpha need, and be completely unreachable.

And yet, when he finally does hit the call button, the line clicks through almost immediately.

“Sangwonie?” Leo’s voice is rough, jagged at the edges, deepened by rut.

Sangwon stills, at the obvious sounds of Leo still in the throes of rut in the background. His mind flashes with a picture of Leo in rut before he can stop it; he imagines Leo, sweat-soaked and moving, grinding into sheets or against a pillow, desperate and restless. He can almost hear it in the background, the shift of weight, a low sound swallowed too fast. 

It was all too similar to the dream he had the night before.

Heat pools low in his belly all too quickly, though that feeling is drowned out almost immediately by guilt, as his breath stutters and he tells Leo, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, Sangwonie?” Leo exhales through the phone, heavy. “Nearly dying on me, or walking yourself into a house full of Alphas when you knew I wouldn’t be able to come rescue you if anything had happened?”

Sangwon grimaces. It sounds worse when Leo puts it that way, “…Both.”

A faint growl escapes Leo, the shifting sounds of movement in the background, before he speaks in a tight, clipped voice. “I thought you were going to your parents.”

“Yeah. I—” He falters. No excuse is good enough. It wasn’t like he’d purposely misled Leo. He had thought about going to stay with his parents, he’d just… He’d wanted to see Anxin.

Which is very much not the right answer to tell Leo while he’s in rut. 

“I changed my mind,” he eventually settles on.

Which is mostly true.

“I see,” Leo replies tersely. 

Sangwon sighs. He’s pretty sure there’s nothing he can say here that will make Leo less unhappy with him, only things that will make him more unhappy. 

So instead of offering any more explanations he just says, “Leo-hyung?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for not telling Anxin my secret.”

On the other end, Leo makes a small sound. 

Not agreement. Not quite denial. 

“Just don’t do anything that dumb again. Okay? No more double-dosing.”

“Yeah,” Sangwon whispers, gripping the phone tight. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”

There’s another low grunt in the background. 

The kind he shouldn’t recognize but does. 

When Leo speaks again, his voice is a lot steadier than before, “I’ll message you when my rut’s done so you can come home.”

And he hangs up the phone without waiting for Sangwon to say anything further.

Sangwon stares at the ‘call ended’ screen for far too long.

“Cool,” he mutters to no one, his voice thin. “Yeah. Okay.”

He lingers outside a moment longer, steadying himself, before finally going back in.

When he does, Jiahao is leaning in the doorway to the living room, arms folded. His eyes flicker over Sangwon, carefully observing him before he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Sangwon says, forcing a small smile and tucking his phone into his pocket. “All good.”

Chapter Text

When Sangwon and Jiahao wander into the living room, Kaiwen is already sprawled on the sofa with takeout boxes open around him, the smell of steaming rice dishes and soup filling the air with warmth.

Kaiwen has the remote, flipping through apps until he lands on some Chinese drama. 

The language is a blur to Sangwon, the melodic Mandarin words unfamiliar to him, but after a few quick taps on the settings, Jiahao makes sure the Korean subtitles flicker across the bottom of the screen before settling back with his own food.

It’s not an invitation, exactly, but Sangwon makes himself a plate and settles in for a relaxing evening. 

Jiahao and Kaiwen fall quickly into conversation in Mandarin, only glancing at Sangwon only now and then. They don’t bother to try to rope him in, and Sangwon doesn’t push to join. Honestly, it’s strangely comfortable that way, not having to join in on any conversations or play a part, just able to sit and relax. He sits at the edge of the couch, chopsticks in hand, quietly picking through his share of rice and egg while the others laugh at something in Mandarin that he doesn’t understand.

Sangwon finds his shoulders easing down for the first time all day. 

After he’s halfway through his plate, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Sangwon unlocks it, thumb hesitating before opening his messages, and scrolling down to his older sister’s contact. Once he’s in their conversation chain, he types, ‘Noona, will you come with me to the doctor tomorrow?’ 

His chest feels tight as he hits send. 

He knows she will ask questions, and she will want to know why he suddenly needs to go, but as much as Sangwon would like to avoid a trip to the doctor’s office, clearly something had gone wrong, and the only way to for sure get an answer was to let his doctor check him out. 

He’d been sure that he was in pre-heat before when he’d taken the inhibitor the pharmacist gave to him, but… That hadn’t felt like a normal reaction, with his body temperature dropping to dangerous levels and his lungs struggling to breathe… Though, then again, he’d never taken an inhibitor before, so perhaps it was. 

Either way, it’s worth a trip.

His older sister has always gone with him to these things, ever since he first presented and HYBE forged his paperwork. As an Omega herself nobody would question why she was in an Omega doctor’s office, and with her there as his cover in the waiting room Sangwon could claim to be an Alpha just attending the appointment out of support for his Omega sister. It was workable enough.

And thankfully his usual doctor understood the situation and had always been willing to prescribe his suppressants under her name. 

The phone buzzes in his hand again, his sister’s contact info flashing across the screen along with her message, ‘Did something happen?’

Sangwon bites down on his lips, hesitating as he types back, ‘Medication’s been hitting me wrong. Yesterday was… bad. I think the pharmacy mixed something up.’

‘I’ll call first thing and make an emergency appointment’, Jiwon types back. 

‘Thank you’ Sangwon replies, ‘I’ll text you the address of where to pick me up from in the morning’

Jiwon’s reply comes instantly, her concern clear even in the few words she’d typed, ‘Why aren’t you at home?’ 

‘Leo’s in rut’ he types back. ‘I’m staying with some friends from b2p’.

‘Alpha friends?’ Jiwon asks. ‘Sangwon-ah that’s dangerous! I can come pick you up right now. Send me the address now!’ 

He doesn’t answer her, not when the answer is obvious considering the producers had eliminated everyone else who wasn’t an Alpha. He knows she’s just being protective, the same way Leo had been on his phone when he’d tried to apologize. 

Sangwon’s gaze drifts instead toward Jiahao and Kaiwen, to the easy way they lean toward one another, the quiet familiarity of Alphas in their own space. 

He doesn’t really know them.

Other than that they’re friends of Anxin’s. 

His stomach flips, who knows how they would have reacted if things had gone a different way, if the inhibitor had failed and thrown him into heat instead of dropping his body temperature. An anxious feeling spikes inside of Sangwon, and it slips out of his control before he can stop it, souring his hazelnut scent.

Jiahao looks up immediately. 

His eyes narrowing, his whole posture adjusting, and then the air shifts, Jiahao’s rose blossom scent gets stronger as warm, grounding pheromones sweep across the room, clearly released in an attempt to soothe him. 

“Are you feeling sick again, Sangwon-ssi?” Jiahao asks carefully, reaching over to lay a gentle hand on Sangwon’s leg. 

“Ahhh,” Sangwon hesitates, unsure how to answer, caught in the corner of Jiahao’s steady gaze.

But before he can finish his sentence, there’s movement, and Kaiwen’s head snaps towards the doorway suddenly. Sangwon twists, following his gaze to where Anxin stands in the doorway. His hair is a mess, his shirt rumpled, and he’s clearly just pulled from sleep. However, Anxin’s eyes go straight to Sangwon as if checking him over, before they flick sharply to Jiahao. 

A string of Mandarin spills out of Anxin at once, sharper than his usual tone, edged enough that the tension in the room tightens immediately. Sangwon doesn’t understand the words, but he doesn’t need to, not when he hears his own name spoken more than once and can read the tension radiating off the Alpha. 

Anxin crosses the small space of the room and wedges himself between Jiahao and Sangwon, all but forcing the older Alpha’s hand off of Sangwon. 

Jiahao doesn’t back down at first. 

His voice comes just as low, firm and direct Mandarin directed at Anxin.

But before he can even finish his sentence, Anxin snaps something back, sharper, like a dog baring its teeth.

Sangwon shifts uncomfortably, hands tightening around his phone in his lap, at the tense conversation he doesn’t understand

He can only catch the rhythm of their voices, Jiahao steady but firm, whereas Anxin’s voice is fast and heated. Sangwon’s name keeps resurfacing in the syllables. 

“What—” Sangwon starts, but then stops himself, unsure of what he even wants to ask.

Somehow it’s Kaiwen who understands him, the younger Alpha’s hands raising a little in a calming gesture, and his voice speaking soft and very hesitant Korean, “Your scent… Xin worry.”

Of course.

Earlier with Anxin holding him close, scenting him, and dragging him back to life—it must have scrambled something deep in Anxin’s Alpha instincts. And now the touch of distress in his scent had triggered those instincts again. 

“Anxinnie, I’m fine,” Sangwon says, reaching out for Anxin’s hand as he insists, “Jiahao-ssi didn’t do anything.”

Anxin glances at him, and the sharpness eases a fraction, even though his shoulders stay tense and his body is still angled protectively toward Sangwon, as if he’s not completely convinced that Sangwon really is fine. 

At Sangwon’s attempt at peace, Jiahao exhales through his nose and scoots back a little, his palms open in a gesture of retreat. He says something softer this time, his tone meant to placate more than fight back. 

Anxin doesn’t snap anything back this time, just nods his head a little before dropping onto the couch beside Sangwon. His shoulder brushes against Sangwon’s, his body angled so he’s still half-blocking the line of sight from the others.

The air is thick with Anxin’s protective pheromones.

Even when Kaiwen presses a bowl of dinner into his hands, Anxin doesn’t fully unwind. He stays tense through the first few bites, until finally his exhaustion wins out, his posture slumping a little as he leans against Sangwon. Still trying to be protective, but clearly still suffering from the effects of having overworked his inner Alpha. 

Sangwon studies him in the flicker of the TV light—the tired set of his eyes, the faint tension in his jaw—and asks, “What were you saying to Jiahao-ssi just now?” 

Anxin flushes, ducking his head to look down at his bowl, as he pushes rice around the bowl with his chopsticks. 

“Nothing important. Just…” Anxin pauses, then blurts quickly, “I think my inner Alpha freaked out when you weren’t in bed, and your scent smelt distressed and I…” His words trail, sheepish. “I promised Leo-hyung I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” 

“You kept your promise, I’m fine,” Sangwon says, as he touches Anxin’s arm lightly, threading the smallest hint of reassurance into his hazelnut scent “Really, Anxiniee, And… don’t worry about me,I already asked my sister to take me to the doctor tomorrow to make sure that everything is okay.”

Anxin looks at him, his brow furrowing a little, “I thought you didn’t want to go to the doctor? You told me before—”

“I didn’t want to go to some random hospital,” Sangwon says quickly. “I have a doctor already that knows about my uh… my allergies, and will be able to help.” 

Anxin smiles a little at that, relief flickering across his face at once. His shoulders sag a little, and the sharp edge of his scent softens as if something uncoiled inside him.

“Good.” 

*

Sangwon wakes slowly, drawn out of sleep by the steady rhythm of another person’s breathing. 

Warmth is everywhere, heavy and close, wrapping him in a cocoon that smells faintly of cool rain and of Anxin. 

They’re tangled together beneath the covers, Anxin’s arm snug around his waist while his nose is tucked into Sangwon’s hair, breathing him in. 

Despite the fact that there was a perfectly good guest room just down the hall, Anxin had been insistent last night that Sangwon sleep in the same bed as him so that he could monitor his condition. The young Alpha had gotten increasingly more and more protective over him as the evening had worn on. Even going so far as to snap at Kaiwen at one point when the Alpha had accidentally brushed hands with Sangwon while they’d both been reaching for more food. 

When Jiahao had tried to protest about it being inappropriate, even offering to make up the guest room bed for Sangwon, Anxin had gotten all tense again, so Sangwon had agreed to share his bed again. 

After all, Sangwon was certain that if he had slept in the guest room, Anxin would have been stationed outside of the door all night. 

Sanghwon can feel Anxin’s heartbeat through the press of their bodies, it grounds him in a way. As does the way Anxin’s rainwater scent lingers in the air, clean and soothing, still threaded with that protective edge. It sinks into Sangwon’s skin, into his bones, and the thought curls shamefully in his mind—that Anxin smells so good.

It’s too easy to imagine staying like this. 

To imagine nuzzling closer, letting himself press into the solid heat of Anxin’s chest until nothing exists outside this small space, except for the two of them. For a second, he lets himself imagine that they’re cuddling in bed together as an Alpha and an Omega, but… Anxin would probably recoil if he knew the truth, that Sangwon isn’t the Alpha he thinks he is. 

Sangwon twists a little in bed, studying Anxin in the low morning light. He knows he shouldn’t linger in these thoughts, but they rise up anyway, relentless as his eyes sweep over the sharp lines of Anxin’s jaw, the curve of his lips, as he dwells in the feeling of Anxin’s warm palm pressed against Sangwon’s stomach.

Anxin is a good Alpha. 

Protective and steady. 

Loyal enough to scent him all night, even when it left him exhausted. 

The kind of alpha who makes Sangwon’s carefully built walls falter, haunting him with the bitter knowledge of what he can’t have.

Sangwon exhales slowly. As nice as it would be to continue to linger in bed, he can’t stay here. His sister will be by soon, ready to take him to the doctor. 

Sangwon shifts carefully, testing how far he can slide toward the edge of the bed without waking the Alpha pressed against his back. The last thing he wants is to startle Anxin awake after how much he pushed himself last night. Anxin could use his rest, and if Sangwon can carefully make his escape without saying goodbye, that’s all the better. 

But the second he eases out from under Anxin’s arm, the Alpha’s hand darts out to grab a hold of Sangwon, trapping him in place with a steady and firm grip. 

“Sangwon-hyung?” Anxin says, his voice rough with sleep. Anxin’s eyes are half-lidded, hair sticking up in every direction, but he looks very awake now that he realizes Sangwon is trying to leave. “Where are you going?”

“My sister’s coming,” Sangwon says softly. His voice is calm, but inside he feels that flicker of guilt at having been caught trying to make his escape. “I told you yesterday, remember? She’s taking me to the doctor, and then I’ll… probably stay with her until Leo-hyung’s rut is over.”

He doesn’t add the part about Jiwon’s reaction over the phone last night, the series of messages that she’d spammed him with once he stopped answering her, about how dangerous it was for him to be staying in a house full of unfamiliar Alphas. Even when Sangwon had reminded her that he was currently on a survival show filled with unfamiliar Alphas, she hadn’t taken it any better, and already made it clear that she would not be letting him come back here and that he would stay with her until Leo’s rut was over.  

Anxin blinks slowly, processing Sangwon’s words before he finally loosens his hold on the Omega.

“Okay,” Anxin murmurs as he sits up, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. “I’ll get ready too. I should greet your sister when she comes.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to make a good impression,” Anxin interrupts gently, climbing out of bed, padding toward the dresser, and pulling on a sweatshirt. His movements are quick, a little too brisk, like he’s trying to cover up for how tired he still is.

Sangwon watches, lips pressing into a thin line, as he watches Anxin get dressed. 

Part of him wants to tell Anxin to go back to bed, to rest, to stop carrying responsibility that doesn’t belong to him, but another part of him—the selfish part—can’t help but be moved by the fact that Anxin wants to meet his sister. 

After a moment, Sangwon joins Anxin in getting dressed, and together they make it to the kitchen where Anxin pulls out some food for them to have for breakfast, quietly biding the time until Jiwon messages him ‘I’m here’.

When Sangwon heads towards the door to go, Anxin is hot on his heels. 

Outside, Jiwon’s car is idling at the curb. She’s out of the driver’s seat as soon as they step out the door, eyes scanning him with the sharp, assessing look that only an older sister can manage, checking over for signs that he’s doing worse than he’d previously led her to believe. 

“Morning, Jiwon-noona,” he says softly. 

“Morning, Sangwonie,” Her expression softens just slightly before her eyes slide past him to Anxin, who lingers a step behind. “And who’s this?”

“Hello,” Anxin says, bowing politely. His Korean is careful but smooth, the kind he uses when he’s talking to the mentors or staff, all formal and such,  “I’m Zhou Anxin. Sangwon-hyung and I are on Boys 2 Planet together.” 

“That’s right, I recognize you now,” Jiwon replies, looking Anxin over. “Thank you for looking after my brother.”

“Of course,” Anxin says, ducking his head modestly. “He’s… very important to me.”

The words very important echo a little in his head, and burn warmly in Sangwon’s chest, but he clears his throat and steps toward the car, “Noona, we should get going—”

However, before he can make his escape, Anxin reaches out for him, stopping him in his tracks. When Sangwon turns to look at the Alpha, there’s a slightly worried expression on Anxin’s face. 

“Keep me updated on what the doctors say, hyung,” Anxin murmurs.

“Will do,” Sangwon replies. 

“Thank you,” Anxin says with a smile before pulling Sangwon into a hug. Anxin’s hug is warm and nice, the Alpha rubbing his cheek a little against Sangwon’s as he hugs him to mark him with his scent. A small whine escapes his lips, as in inner Omega instinctively reacts to the Alpha laying his mark on him. 

Though when they pull apart, he can’t help but flush, hoping that his sister hadn’t been able to pick up on any of that. 

“I’ll message you tonight and let you know how it goes,” Sangwon says quickly, stepping away from Anxin and hurrying towards the car.

Anxin waves at him as he goes, and Sangwon waves back quickly with one more lingering glance before he slides into the passenger seat of Jiwon’s car. 

Jiwon has the decency to wait until they’ve pulled away from the house to say, “You two seem close.” 

“Yeah…” Sangwon replies hesitantly, “Anxinie’s nice.” 

“Anxinie,” she echoes, a strange twist to her tone. “Sangwon-ah, I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to spend the night in a house full of Alphas you barely know. Do you realize how dangerous that is for an unmated Omega like you?”

Sangwon exhales slowly, turning his face toward the window. 

“I live with an alpha,” he points out. “You know that, right?”

“Yes,” Jiwon replies smoothly, “But I’m not worried about you and Leo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that if Leo were attracted to you, he would have done something by now,” she replies. “You’ve lived together for so long, an unmated Alpha and an unmated Omega under the same roof like that, unsupervised. If there was even a spark of attraction, you’d both have caved to instinct by now. Our parents have been expecting you two to announce you were mates for months now, honestly, when you made us all go out to dinner to announce you were going on that show, Eomma called me and told me to be prepared for this to be the big announcement that he’d finally give you the mating bite.” Jiwon sighs, shaking her head. “But clearly that hasn’t happened.”

“That’s not—” Sangwon begins, but Jiwon cuts him off.

“Whereas that Alpha,” she says pointedly, “Is already acting like you’re his. The way he touched you, the way he scented you in front of me—tell me that isn’t possessive.”

Sangwon presses his lips together, his heart hammering in a way he doesn’t want to admit. 

His mind flashes to memories of yesterday—from Anxin’s arms around him in bed as they slept cuddled up together to his mouth pressed to his own, rainwater scent flooding his lungs until Sangwon could finally breathe. 

“Anxinie doesn’t—” He stops himself from finishing the sentence with ‘like me like that’, because Axnin does. That’s the worst part, he’s made his crush on Sangwon very clear over and over again. But he’d also confessed that he likes Alpha, that he likes being the submissive one, and as much as Sangwon pretends to be an Alpha for the rest of the world, if he ever had a mate of his own, he’d want it to be someone who treats him as he really is. Who respects the part of himself he’s spent so many years having to hide. “We’re not compatible, noona.” 

“What do you mean not compatible?” 

“He’s not into Omegas,” Sangwon tells her. “He likes Alphas. He only likes me because he thinks I’m an Alpha.” 

“He told you that? That he doesn’t like Omegas?” 

“Well… No, not in so many words,” Sangwon replies. “But he told me that he does like Alphas, and that he wouldn’t mind uh…” Sangwon looks away from the window, mumbling, “Being the more submissive Alpha.” 

Jiwon hums, the sound skeptical, almost pitying. “And have you considered he only told you that because he thinks you’re an Alpha?”

“That’s not—no, he—” Sangwon sputters.

“Bisexuality exists, Sangwon-ah,” Jiwon teases. 

Sure, maybe, but not Anxin. 

Anxin had made his type very clear. 

So Sangwon just shakes his head, “You’re imagining things.”

“I’m not,” she counters easily.

“Noona—” 

“You’ll see it soon enough,” Jiwon says, “And when I’m right, I’ll be a good sister, and won’t rub it in that I told you so.” 

“You’ve been watching too many dramas, noona, not everything is a love story.” 

Chapter Text

Sangwon tugs the hood of his sweater further up over his head, his fingers trembling just slightly as he adjusts the mask across the lower half of his face to make sure that his appearance is obscured. 

Technically speaking, he doesn’t need to go this far—no one in this clinic should care if they recognize him, not here. And even if they did, him being here isn’t incriminating in and of itself. It isn’t like this place is exclusively for Omegas. It’s a reproductive health clinic, one that serves all subgenders. 

And even if it were an Omega-only clinic, he could come up with some sort of excuse. He could say he was just here for Jiwon, looking after his older sister the way a good “Alpha” would. That would make sense to anyone, Alphas escort their Omega siblings all the time, it’s part of being a pack. 

But still… That thought does little to ease his nerves. 

Sangwon sits in the waiting room, his chair angled just slightly away from the woman across from him who keeps sneaking glances at him, as his knee bounces hard enough to make the metal legs of the chair rattle against the tile. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to force it still, but his body doesn’t listen to him. 

The scent blocker patch he slapped onto his scent gland in the car is supposed to mask everything, keep his pheromones from betraying him, and it does that to be fair, but it doesn’t silence the nervous thrum in his chest. 

Jiwon, thankfully, doesn’t try to talk to him in the waiting room. She simply sits beside him, her sweet iris scent weaving calm into the air between them. 

When the nurse finally calls them back, Sangwon nearly leaps to his feet, more than ready to get out of the crowded waiting room. 

The nurse that takes them to their room is brisk, gesturing toward the patient's bed so that he can climb upon it and she can begin her preliminary assessment of him. Sangwon sits still and good while she slips the thermometer into place, wraps the cuff around his arm, clicks her penlight across his eyes.

“Your temperature is normal. Blood pressure slightly elevated,” the nurse says, scribbling on her chart. “Now, what brings you in today?”

“I’ve been having… issues with my suppressants,” Sangwon forces the words out, his throat suddenly dry. He glances once at Jiwon before adding, “I think I might need to change the doses.”

“Define issues,” the nurse asks without looking up, typing his information into her tablet. 

“They… they haven’t been working properly,” Sangwon says, furrowing his brow a little, not wanting to get into all the details with anyone other than his doctor, “And yesterday, I had a… bad drop, after I took an inhibitor.”

“An inhibitor?” She pauses, looking up with a confused expression on her face. “But it says here that you’re…” Her voice trails off. She scrolls a little before frowning, then clicks off at the tablet she’s holding. “Hm… That’s strange. Your file is… locked down.”

“Yeah. I have a… complicated medical status,” Sangwon says with a shrug.

“Alright…” The nurse hums, still looking at the screen, with a confused expression. “I’ll have your doctor come in shortly to review this with you.”

He exhales a slow sigh of relief as the nurse leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. 

As he waits for the doctor to arrive, Sangwon’s eyes flick towards the walls. They’re plastered with posters—infographics of Omega reproductive health, cross-section diagrams of scent glands, charts about suppressant usage and heat cycles. On the counter is a neat stack of pamphlets, each with bright stock photos of smiling couples, slogans about family planning, fertility care, and ‘taking charge of your heat cycle’. 

He stares at them for a long moment. Sangwon can’t help but wonder: what would it be like living in a world where he didn’t have to hide? Where his paperwork wasn’t falsified, and his medical file wasn’t locked down? Or… an Omega who didn’t have to feel ashamed of his true nature being found out? He imagines it for one dangerous second, living his life freely, being loved freely for who he actually is. The thought stings more than he’d like to admit. 

His sister’s words from the car creep back in, unwelcome, what she’d said about him and Leo, about how strange it is—an unmated Omega and Alpha living together the way they do.

But no one other than their families ever think twice about the fact that he and Leo live together, because everyone thinks they’re both Alphas. Even their company thinks so…

Doctor Choi steps into the room after a moment, and Sangwon does his best to bury the insecure thought that had been creeping in as he turns his attention to the doctor. 

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Jiwon greets the doctor. 

“Of course,” Dr. Choi answers. He slides into the chair opposite them and opens the chart on his tablet. His version of Sangwon’s file is not restricted in the way that the nurse’s had been. “Now, Sangwon-ssi, Your sister told me some details over the phone, but could you give me the complete situation for the record?”

“Last night I— I believe I experienced an Omega drop. I was with some friends—”

“Alpha friends?” Jiwon adds, “If that makes any difference. There were three of them, right?”

“Well, there had been six when I dropped, but I don’t think that had anything to do with it,” He explains, glancing a little nervously at his sister’s disapproving expression, “Three live there, the other three left after I dropped…” Sangwon grimaces a little as he forces the rest of the explanation out,  “While we were hanging out, I started getting really cold and tired. So I took a nap on the couch while the others were still hanging out, but once I fell asleep I couldn’t be woken. Or well, I could but I couldn’t stay up for very long, and I was really cold, and it was hard to breathe until…”

“Until?” Dr. Choi prompts. 

Sangwon flushes a little as he explains, “One of the alphas used mouth-to-mouth to breathe pheromones into my lungs until I woke up.”

The sentence sounds worse out loud than it had in his head. 

But the doctor doesn’t judge; his expression remains perfectly clinical the whole time as he asks, “And you believe your suppressants caused this?” 

“Well… I’d been double-dosing for the last few weeks, and—” Sangwon pauses, trying to find the right words, before settling on, “my roommate went into rut yesterday morning and I woke up on the verge of what I thought was pre-heat, so I got an inhibitor from the pharmacy. Then I dropped, so I guess I wasn’t actually in pre-heat.”

“Can you describe your symptoms before you took the inhibitor?”

“I woke up really aroused after having a dream about—” he trails off, because even in a clinic like this, explaining what his dream was about feels like too much. Especially with his older sister sitting in the room. He hopes Dr. Choi can read through the lines. “Yeah, I guess, I thought it was my roommate’s rut pheromones messing with my head, but even after I left the house, my body kept slicking up. I also felt really warm and flushed, and my scent gland was extra sensitive.” 

“I see,” Dr. Choi notes that down. “And that’s why you doubled your suppressants?”

“Well, no, It’s complicated,” Sangwon tells him. “I’m kind of on a show right now that’s all for Alphas, so they’ve been having us take rut suppressants, because they think I’m an Alpha. I think they were cancelling each other out. I had an uh… an incident with one of the other Alphas on the show and that led to me getting slick when I shouldn’t have been able to produce slick due to the suppressants I’m on. So I started double-dosing. But I think the mix of the two led me to have a false heat and then—” he chokes the sentence off as Jiwon’s expression pinches tight. 

She looks worried enough that Sangwon cuts the extra detail short. 

He probably should have warned her how long he’d been doing all of this before they’d gotten in front of a doctor, but he had been afraid that her suggestion given his health would be for him to pull out of Boys 2 Planet, and he can’t do that.

Not now.

This is his last shot, he has to see it through, even if he has to continue to hide himself. 

“Anyway, we’re on break now,” Sangwon continues. “And so my roommate got off rut suppressants and then yesterday happened. I think I just needed a stronger dose of suppressants, or—”

“Sangwon-ssi,” the doctor interrupts gently. “May I ask a few pointed questions for the sake of your health?”

He nods his head hesitantly.

“The Alpha who triggered your body reacting before you doubled up your suppressants—was that by chance the same Alpha whose rut triggered you yesterday morning?” Dr. Choi asks.

“No,” Sangwon says quickly, “But…”

“But?” Dr. Choi prompts gently.

Sangwon bites down on his lip until he tastes blood, and when he speaks his voice comes quieter, reluctantly admitting, “I’m not sure if it’s relevant, but it was the Alpha who I was with when I dropped, and he was also the one whose pheromones brought me out of the drop.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Choi says, his fingers tapping once against the tablet. After a long moment, Dr. Choi looks back up. “I will need to take some blood to be sure, but I believe you may have been correct about being in pre-heat when you used the inhibitor.”

“But then… why did I drop?” Sangwon frowns, confused. 

“Sangwon-ssi, may I ask, when was the last time you had a proper heat?” Dr. Choi says, instead of answering his question. 

“…Over a year ago.”

“And you’ve been on suppressants the whole time?”

Sangwon nods. After all, the only way an Omega goes that long without heat is suppressants or pregnancy, and he certainly isn’t pregnant.

“And the suppressants—you said you were taking your usual heat suppressants and then doubled them? While also being given rut suppressants as part of the show?”

“Yeah… I thought they would cancel each other out.”

“It seems that mixing them caused a dysregulated response,” Dr. Choi explains.

“Oh.”  

“Sangwon-ssi, are you sexually active?”

He’s sure there’s some relevance to the question, this is a fertility clinic after all, but he can’t help but flush as he admits, “I’ve been uhh… self-intimate, but not regularly sexually with a partner, not since my last heat over a year ago. “

“The last time you were self-intimate, did your body produce slick?”

“Due to my suppressants, I shouldn’t slick at all. So I’ve only been stimulating my—” His ears burn red with embarrassment as he gestures vaguely down,  “Just… external, you know?” 

Choi’s brow tightens, not with judgment but with concern. “Have you taken any other medications? Illicit drugs?”

“Only the suppressants,” Sangwon says. “And the emergency inhibitor.” 

“All right, well then to start, we’re going to need to do some blood work to check hormone levels for FSH, LH, estradiol, testosterone, and prolactin. As well as being able to see if you have the indicators to show whether or not you were in pre-heat yesterday,” Dr. Choi explains.  “After that I would like to take an ultrasound of the pelvis region to check the structural integrity of your womb. Along with a swab of your scent gland secretions. I need to assess the glandular tissue, mucosal health, and make sure there’s no scarring or damage from misuse of medications. Abusing suppressants can blunt gland function and, in long-term misuse, can threaten fertility.”

“Fertility?” 

“Scarring or chronic atrophy from long-term suppression is not uncommon, in those that abuse suppressants by taking more than the recommended amount,” Dr. Choi tells him. “Given what you’ve described, we need to be thorough. However, if you are honest in the regards to how long you’ve been upping your doses, there hopefully won’t be any serious damage.” 

Sangwon nods, hesitant but resigned to all the tests, before asking, “Will that tell us what happened yesterday?” 

“If your blood test indicates that you were in pre-heat yesterday, then the inhibitor would have stopped your heat,” Dr. Choi tells him. “Which means you should be clear from another heat until your next cycle — approximately ninety days.”

“Right, and with new suppressants I—”

“Sangwon-ssi,” Choi cuts in firmly, “I cannot in good faith prescribe you more suppressants. Considering the situation you’ve described and your self-admitted suppressant abuse, it would be medically unsafe to prescribe you any sort of suppressants until you’ve gone through a natural heat. After that, if you still wish to resume suppressants, we can discuss options.”

“But—”

“Sangwon-ah,” Jiwon interjects, her voice firm with sisterly authority. “Listen to the doctor. Do you really want to keep going like this and become infertile?”

Sangwon’s throat feels tight.

He’s never thought much about pups or  about the future. It’s always been impossible—not when he’s had to keep pretending to be Alpha, not when his whole life has been built on the lie that he is an Alpha. But the idea of losing the option forever makes something inside him ache. 

Still, the thought of having a heat after so long—without an alpha—sends fear stabbing through him. 

“But having a heat after so long… It would be… incredibly painful,” Sangwon says, “Right?” 

“You’re correct,” Dr. Choi agrees, “I believe this is in part why your body reacted so badly to the inhibitor. The compound had to work overtime to prevent what would have been a year’s worth of overdue heats hitting you all at once.”

Sangwon’s stomach twists.

“As for your next heat,” Choi continues, “my recommendation is to spend it with an Alpha. If possible, the Alpha whose pheromones were able to pull you out of drop.”

“What?” Sangwon asks, startled. “Why him?” 

“If this Alpha’s pheromones were able to overpower your suppressants before and bring you out of such a severe drop, it suggests you and he have high pheromone compatibility,” Dr. Choi explains. “That would allow him to better assist you during heat, regulate your cycles, and—if you do ever decide to have children—increase your chance of reproduction.”

“Oh!” Sangwon flushes hot, blood rushing to face at the doctor's suggestion. 

Dr. Choi either doesn’t notice Sangwon’s reaction, or is polite enough to pretend not to, as he stands, moving to prepare the tray for samples, “I’ll start with the blood tests and scent gland swabbing now.”

Sangwon sits stiffly while the doctor slides the needle in, and fills three vials with his blood, one after the other. When it’s over, Dr. Choi carefully swabs his scent gland. 

“I’ll drop these samples off at the lab. They’ll call you in a few days with the results,” Dr. Choi tells him. “When I return, I’ll bring the ultrasound machine.”

As soon as Dr. Choi steps out of the room and the door shuts behind him, Jiwon rounds on Sangwon the moment they’re alone.

“That Alpha that walked you out to the car,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “That’s the Alpha that—”

“Yes,” Sangwon cuts in, “But it’s not like that.”

“Not like that?” Jiwon’s voice sharpens with disbelief. “You mean to tell me that the Alpha that made a whole show of scenting you in front of me if the same one whose pheromones dragged you back from omega drop, and you’re standing here saying it’s not like that?”

Sangwon presses his lips together, unwilling to answer her question. 

“You should’ve told me how bad it was on Boys Planet. All of this—double dosing, mixing medications, fainting—” Jiwon shakes her head. “Sangwon, you should drop from the show. It isn’t safe for you to be there as it is, but going back and being surrounded by all those Alphas, while not on suppressants—”

“I have… ninety days before my heat should be due. If I make it to the end, that’ll be right after the finale. I’ll be fine. And then—” he pauses, searching for some sort of answer for what will come in the future, but coming up with nothing that feels even remotely reasonable, “Then I’ll figure out what to do with my heat and get back on suppressants. I just…”

“Sangwonie,” Jiwon says softly, her anger shading into worry, “you shouldn’t have to hide like this.”

His throat constricts. He wishes he didn’t have to, but the universe isn’t that kind to him. 

 “I don’t have a choice. You know changing my paperwork would mean answering why it was wrong. Either I pay the fine for falsifying my designation records, or I take HYBE to court, and I can’t afford either,” Sangwon reminds her. “Maybe though… if I can debut. After I debut, I’ll have money. I could afford it then.”

“We could look into a loan,” Jiwon offers. “Our parents would help. Nobody likes watching you hurt yourself like this. You could damage your body permanently.”

“I know,” he replies, “But I don’t have a choice.”

“Don’t you want to be with an Alpha properly one day?” Jiwon asks. 

“Please stop.” 

He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to picture a life that he can’t have. 

The silence that follows is heavy, and remains unbroken until Dr. Choi returns, pushing a compact ultrasound machine on a cart. 

“All right, Sangwon-ssi,” he says gently. “I’ll need to check the condition of your womb now. This will be quick.”

Sangwon nods. Though his hands tremble slightly as he lifts the hem of his shirt and unbuttons his pants, tugging them down just enough to bare the flat of his stomach. 

The doctor squeezes clear gel onto his abdomen. He flinches a little at the coolness of the gel, but other than that it’s painless as the doctor glides the probe across his skin. Sangwon watches the black-and-white image blooming on the monitor for some sign of whatever the doctor is looking for. 

“Everything looks in working order,” Dr. Choi says after a few minutes of watching,  “The tissue is healthy, there’s no sign of scarring or atrophy, structurally your reproductive system is intact.”

The tension in Sangwon’s chest loosens at Dr. Choi’s words, as relief floods him so strongly that his eyes start to sting. 

“I’ll be in touch once your blood results are back,” Dr. Choi adds, as he wipes the gel away and passes him a towel to finish cleaning up.

“Thank you,” Sangwon tells the doctor as he hurries to button his pants again and pull himself together, clinging to the small relief that he hadn’t damaged his body too severely with all this mess. 

“You’re welcome,” Dr. Choi tells him. “And Sangwon-ssi?”

“Yes?”

“Do try to take care of yourself.” 

*

True to what he told Leo on the phone, after his doctor's appointment, Sangwon ends up staying with his parents. 

As soon as they step inside, his mother is there at the door, fussing over him like he’s still a child who scraped his knees on the playground, rather than a full grown man. Her hands smooth over his arms, scent marking him with her honeyed amber Alpha scent as she checks him over. Her strong Alpha presence helps to settle him a little.

“What did the doctors say?” his mother asks. 

Sangwon stiffens, mumbling, “...I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jiwon, however, has no issues talking about it.

“The doctor said that needs to stop double-dosing on suppressants and go through his heat naturally,” Jiwon supplies matter-of-factly, sliding off her shoes and padding toward the kitchen. 

Sangwon glares at her retreating back, his whole body heating. 

His mother’s eyes immediately soften, full of sympathy, “Oh, sweetheart. I can prepare some things for your heat if you’re going to have it here.”

“No, I—I should be good,” Sangwon says, shaking his head quickly. “The doctor thinks I’ll be fine for the next ninety days. And even if not… I wouldn’t want to have it here. I’d want to have it at my apartment, but I can’t do that now because…” Sangwon bites the inside of his cheek, he doesn’t really want to explain. 

“Leo is in rut,” Jiwon finishes for him from the kitchen doorway, “That’s what probably set Sangwon’s heat off.”

“Ahhhh,” their mother hums, not having much experience with heats herself other than through her two Omega children. “It’s surprising that Leo didn’t ask you to spend his rut with him, the two of you have always been so close, normally an Alpha prefers the company of someone familiar during their ruts.” 

“Well, he did,” Sangwon admits quietly, eyes darting away. “But I said no, and—”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Jiwon cuts in. 

“Ohhh,” his mother says, her face lighting up. “I’m going to call his mother right now—I told her it was going to be soon—ohh, she’ll be thrilled to hear it was close.”

“Eomma! I told him no though!”

“Why in the world would you do that?” she asks, half-exasperated, half-heartbroken.

“Because Leo didn’t mean it like that,” tells her. ““He just… we’re just friends. We’re pack. Not… not mates. He just thought it would be good for us to spend my heat and his rut together platonically.”

His mother opens her mouth again, ready with another wave of protest, but Sangwon can’t stand to hear it. 

“Eomma,” he says, before she can start,  “I’m tired. I’ve had a long day at the doctors and I just want to take a nap before lunch. Is that okay? We can talk about this later?” 

Her face softens instantly, all that sharpness smoothing into worry again, as she rubs his arm like she used to when he was a child to mark him with more of her soothing scent, “Alright, sweetheart. Get some rest. I’ll wake you when lunch is ready.”

Sangwon nods, retreating quickly down the hall toward his old bedroom. 

The space feels smaller than he remembers, like the walls have inched closer in the years since he last really lived here. 

The posters he once taped up as a child are long gone, stripped away when he moved into the Bighit trainee dorms at fifteen. He’d come back here after leaving there, but only for a few months before he’d scavenged together enough to get an apartment of his own. There had been something suffocating about living in his family’s pack home after spending so long on his own. 

The strange part is that after all those years, the trainee dorms had felt more like a pack home than this one. That’s where he grew up, where his body and voice shifted, where the shape of who he is now was carved out. Losing that had hurt more than moving out of this room ever had. 

As Sangwon lays down on his bed, his phone buzzes in his pocket, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

A message from Leo awaits him, ‘Your sister told me you went to the doctor’s. Everything okay?’

Sangwon presses his lips together as he reads the message. He’ll have to have a word with his sister later about messaging Leo behind his back, especially when the Alpha is in the middle of his rut. 

In the meantime, he just types back, ‘Yeah I’m fine. I’ll explain more once your rut is done.’

He thinks that’ll be the end of it, but his phone lights a second later with an incoming call. Sangwon answers quickly, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Is your rut done already?” Sangwon blurts, before Leo even says hello.

On the other end, Leo’s breath is ragged, strained, very much sounding like someone whose rut is not done.  

“No,” Leo answers, there’s a pause, and then he adds, “Are you staying with your parents now?”

“Yeah.” 

“Prove it.”

Sangwon huffs, rolling his eyes,  “Seriously?”

“Excuse me for having trust issues,” Leo huffs, “When last time you said you were with your parents you weren’t actually.” 

Technically he’d never said he was at his parents place yesterday.

Just that he was going to stay with them, and then well… He’d changed his mind. 

But he doesn’t want to try and debate Leo on the technicalities when Leo is still rutting.

So instead, he just lifts his phone away from his ear and swipes to the camera app. He stretches out across his bed and snaps a photo of himself lying back on the pillow, looking up at the lens. Then another with a slightly different tilt of his head, and another after that with his arm thrown lazily above him, hair mussed against the sheets. 

He sends them all to Leo, before putting the phone back to his ear, and saying “There’s your proof.” 

There’s some shuffling through the speaker, Leo pulling the phone away from his own face to check—before he lets out a noise that’s half groan, half curse. “Fuck,” Leo mumbles. Then, hurriedly, corrects himself, “I mean… good.” His voice dips, a command laced beneath the rasp, “Be a good boy and stay there until I’m done. No more hanging out with other Alphas, got it?”

Sangwon can’t help but huff out a small laugh, rolling his eyes, as he dutifully replies, “Yes, Alpha.”

The line goes quiet except for Leo’s breathing, then—“Fuck, Lee Sangwon. You’re a menace, aren’t you?”

That makes Sangwon laugh harder, “I’ll talk to you later. Message me the second it’s clear to come home.” He hangs up before Leo can argue.

For a long moment, he just stares at the dark screen, his chest feeling tight with an emotion that he can’t quite put his finger on. Then he flicks back into his camera roll, scrolling through the shots he took for proof. They’re casual, but there’s something about the way he looks—cheeks pink, eyes too soft—that makes him linger.

A new notification pings at the top of the screen, another message, but this one from Anxin, ‘Did everything go okay?’

‘All good now. Staying with my parents on house arrest.’ Sangwon replies, before he attaches the same photos he took for Leo as proof that he’s fine and hits send before he can second-guess it.

Anxin’s reply comes alarmingly fast, heart reacting to each picture, before he types back ‘You’re so pretty, hyung. Thank you for the pictures. I miss you being here.’

Sangwon’s cheeks flush at the honesty in Anxin’s message. He types out the words ‘I miss you too’, but hesitates for a second too long. 

Slowly, he presses backspace until the message disappears.