Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Alright, Mingyu. Everything looks completely fine.”

Mingyu’s eyes go wide with disbelief. 

“Really? I’m not sick?” Even though he won’t admit it out loud, he may have overreacted, but he’d heard that back pain is sometimes an indicator of issues with the kidneys and he didn’t want to take any chances. 

“Perfectly healthy as far as the tests go. It’s likely nothing more than a strained muscle that will heal with some time and rest. I can prescribe you some pain medication to help you until then, and if it isn’t resolved in a couple of weeks, or you feel it getting worse, come back.” 

Mingyu sighs but nods. Resting isn’t the easiest thing for him to accomplish, but he knows the pain will probably get worse if he doesn’t, so he resigns himself to his fate. He’s preparing himself to stand up from the examination bed, assuming the doctor will write his prescription and he’ll be on his way, when, instead, something in Mingyu’s test results seems to catch the doctor’s eye.

He pauses, his mouth opening and closing a couple times before he actually speaks.

“You’re a beta?” the doctor asks, the question immediately causing Mingyu to grit his teeth. 

“...Yes.”

He knows that it shouldn’t, but the reminder, even this many years down the line, still stings. He knows other betas. He has a ton of beta friends and acquaintances, and it isn’t, by any means, a shameful designation. In fact, a lot of the other betas he knows are actually grateful to be automatically excluded from some of the expectations that come along with alpha and omega designations, feeling more freedom in pursuing friendships and relationships without having to think so much about the… biology of it all. 

That just… isn’t the case with Mingyu. At all. 

It’s unfortunate, and not something that he really talks about, even with his closest friends and family. A lot of them thought he was definitely going to present as an alpha. If actual bets had been placed he’s sure that a lot of them would’ve lost money on it. 

“That’s…” is all the doctor says, after nearly a whole minute of flipping pages back and forth. Mingyu can feel his whole body going tense over the lack of information, which probably isn’t great for his back. 

“What?” 

“Have you ever had to have a full panel run before?”

“Well…” Mingyu has to actually think about that. “Once when I was like 12? I had an allergic reaction and they didn’t know what caused it.”

“So only prior to presentation? Nothing after?” 

It feels like twisting the knife a little. He knows his doctor can’t possibly know any better, but he wants to bitterly ask ‘What presentation?’ because beta presentation is really just the absence of presentation as an alpha or omega. 

As a 23-year-old, mere months away from 24, he finally just called it. Even the latest of late bloomers usually present by 22, and it was honestly delusional of him to think it was still going to happen somehow. 

Mingyu just nods again, unsure of where the doctor is going with this and if he should start worrying again. His doctor looks at one page in particular for what seems like the tenth time, seeming to mentally weigh something before opening his mouth. 

“We would have to run a more specific test to know for sure—”

“To know what?” 

He sighs, bringing the small stack of pages into Mingyu’s view and pointing to one number in particular. But Mingyu didn’t go to med school, so he has no clue what it means. 

“This number usually registers somewhere in the 100s for presented alphas.”

Mingyu looks at the bold printed ‘47’. 

Okay. So he isn’t a presented alpha. He already knew that. Is this doctor trying to hurt his feelings or something? Can he sense this is something Mingyu is deeply insecure about? 

“It’s at zero level for betas after presentation age.”

Mingyu’s eyes begin widening. 

“Wait, so what does—”

“Just a second,” the doctor interjects, flipping to the next page. 

“Okay, uh, same thing here. Omegas will typically show from low to mid-hundreds.” 

Mingyu is showing a 65. 

“... and betas?”

“Zero again. I’ve heard of this before, but I never… Okay, we should probably run that test.”

“Why? What does it mean?” 

The doctor looks at him, contemplating, like he’s not sure what the right answer is. 

“I would prefer to discuss that once we have a definitive test result. If you want to provide another blood sample, I can run it by the lab as soon as possible, and consult with some of the other doctors.”

“Consult?!” 

“It’s okay, Mingyu. Let me clarify that regardless of what the test says, this won’t harm you in any way. At the most, it’ll give you something to think about.”

Mingyu’s anxiety spikes higher than it did when he initially stepped foot in the hospital, but he knows it’ll only continue to climb if he doesn’t figure out what’s going on. 

So he gives the sample and then fidgets restlessly awaiting the results, whatever they may be, and whatever they might mean. After sitting, staring at the wall for a solid 20 minutes, he’s reminded that he owns a phone ( Maybe I can Google this?) when he gets a text from his roommate. 

Jihoon 

Taking you a while. Is everything okay? 

Mingyu

i think so?? doctor had to run an extra test but he assured me that it’s not anything bad

Jihoon

Extra test? They do those when it’s good news? 

He knows Jihoon doesn’t mean to, but the text only serves to rile up his pre-existing anxiety over the situation. As if sensing this, Jihoon sends another text immediately after. 

Jihoon

Should I come? Do you want someone to be there with you? 

Before he can respond, his doctor knocks and reenters the room. 

“The numbers are exactly the same as in the initial panel,” he confirms, though Mingyu still doesn’t know what that’s supposed to indicate. His doctor is looking at him with an expression that makes him want to peel his skin off.

“Okay, can you explain what that means, in the simplest terms possible?” Mingyu requests, trying not to sound annoyed, but come on. This is his life at risk here. 

There’s a pause so intense, Mingyu wouldn’t be surprised if it was lifted straight out of a drama. And then—

“It means you’re not a beta.” 

Mingyu probably looks crazy. But after years and years of feeling like his designation was wrong, like his skin was just a little too tight for his body, he finally feels himself begin to unravel and relax. For a moment, he doesn’t even care to know how any of this is possible or how it works. But he suddenly realizes he has a pretty big question that he still needs answered. 

“Okay, so what am I?” 

“That’s the thing. This isn’t exactly a common condition. It’s why I wanted to retest and consult—”

“What am I?”

“...You get to decide, in a sense.” 

Mingyu stares, unable to comprehend the words that just came out of the doctor’s mouth. 

“Decide,” Mingyu says the word like it’s new to him. It isn’t a question, but the doctor answers it anyway. 

“Your body has both sets of genes, which means you’re still capable of presenting. If you choose that, of course. The flip side is that if you want to maintain your beta presentation it’ll come with some stipulations.” 

“Stipulations?” All of this is so much to take in that Mingyu actually kind of wishes Jihoon was here just to remember everything for him, even if the other more logical side of him knows he’d be mortified if Jihoon was listening to all of the… details. 

“You would have to be placed on an anti-pheromone regimen. Nothing too serious; probably a few injections a year for someone with levels as low as yours but…”

Mingyu leans in like he’s listening to a whispered secret. 

“They would be necessary if you decided to pursue a sexual relationship with anyone who isn’t also a beta.”

The implications of that make Mingyu want to curl up into a ball and die. The doctor continues talking like his whole world isn’t being totally disrupted. 

“If you choose it, your presentation as an alpha or omega will more than likely be decided by your choice of partner. Introduction to their pheromones over the course of a few months of regular sexual activity usually triggers it in these situations.” 

“Is… is that the only way?” Mingyu has to ask, because he had been sincerely hoping that he could just take some pills or get shots or something. He knows that doctors are professionals who have seen and heard it all, but he still can’t help but blush at the conversation. 

“Artificial pheromones can help with the process, but they aren’t strong enough on their own. This isn’t common, so there’s really no telling how everything might work out for you in particular, but we have a couple doctors here who have done work with choice presentation individuals before.” 

Mingyu is still reeling from all of the information being given to him, and suddenly, he’s hit with a concern that he hadn’t considered yet. 

“Won’t it be painful? I’ve read about people who have changed their designations and they always say the second presentation is the worst pain they’ve ever experienced…” 

“The difference here is that this won’t be your second presentation; it’s still the first, just a little late. It might be a little more intense than if you had presented at 18, but any pain should be manageable.” 

Mingyu sighs in relief. It’s exciting…

…But part of him wishes he had never found out so he wouldn’t feel like he had to make a choice. He’d find a partner eventually; stop feeling so weirdly hung up about long-term relationships, and then (it sounds like) nature would’ve taken its course. Would it have been inherently more horrifying to go through without prior knowledge? Yes. But he also wouldn’t be stuck in this situation where he feels like there are right and wrong answers. 

Mingyu swallows the absurd amount of saliva that’s collected in his mouth. 

“Do I… Do I need to make a decision right now? If I want… treatment?” 

“Of course not. You can take all the time you need and return when you’re ready to discuss a path forward.”

Mingyu nods silently.

“I know that this is a lot to take in. You said you didn’t have a partner in your medical questionnaire, but do you have any other support system that you can confide in?”

Mingyu thinks about his family, who was so sure, absolutely positive that he was going to be an alpha. They would probably throw a party if they knew that could still be his future, especially if they knew it’s all up to his own decision. The thought makes him feel sick. 

“My roommate. He’s… He can help me.”

“That’s good. Think about your options, and once you’ve settled on a decision you can make an appointment. No pressure to do so any time soon.”

“Okay… thank you.” 

“No problem, Mingyu. I’m writing that prescription for pain meds for your back. If the pain hasn’t mostly subsided in a week make sure to come back in.”

At that point, Mingyu can do no more than nod before he walks out of the room. When he reaches the outside of the hospital, he is immediately met by Jihoon, sitting on a bench. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Jihoon’s head shoots up from where he was staring at the ground. 

“Ah, contemplating walking in and asking for your room number.” 

Mingyu’s eyes go wide.

“It’s not very comforting to be left on read right after you mentioned doing extra tests,” Jihoon explains. Mingyu whips out his phone and, yeah, there’s his half-typed unsent message. 

“Oh. Sorry, everything really was okay, um… just a lot. Did you take a taxi here? I’m sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have assumed the worst. It’s fine,” Jihoon counters, voice trailing off. He looks a little flustered over his reaction, and while normally Mingyu would take the time to savor the moment, he mostly feels guilty about it. 

“I can drive us back!”

“Are you sure? You’re feeling okay?” 

“My back still kind of hurts, but I’m feeling better. I promise. Let’s go.”

Mingyu gets his meds, and once they’re home he lies down and takes a real nap for the first time in years, exhausted by both his body pain and all of the information he’s been given today. He doesn’t think about any of it, not out of avoidance, but because his brain isn’t capable of processing any of it, drifting off into a semi-comfortable sleep thanks to the pills and a heating pad across his back. 

When Mingyu awakens, it’s to a knock on his bedroom door. He blinks the fog out of his eyes, wondering for a second if the knock actually happened or if it was just a sound from his dream, when the pattern repeats, four knocks right outside his room. 

“Come in,” he answers in a weak voice, clearing his throat to say it again, but the door opens before he can. 

“I was going to order food. Want something? On me?” Jihoon asks without so much as a greeting, but Mingyu doesn’t mind. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Mingyu responds. He really doesn’t mind cooking and feels like he’s been enough of a burden to Jihoon today as it is. 

“I don’t mind,” Jihoon says, pulling out his phone. The ‘You’ve had a rough day’ or something similar is left unsaid as Jihoon taps away both of their orders, and Mingyu doesn’t argue or resist, and instead allows himself to enjoy being taken care of.  

The food arrives fairly quickly and Jihoon brings it to Mingyu’s room where they eat together on the bed, Jihoon promising to change his sheets for him if need be. 

“So, what was wrong?” Jihoon asks in between bites, about five minutes into their shared meal. “Not that you need to share your medical information with me. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” he tacks on quickly, before Mingyu can even think of how to respond. 

“No, no, it’s fine. The doctor said it’s probably just a muscle spasm. It should go away in a few days as long as I rest and don’t do anything more to strain it.” 

Jihoon hums. 

He doesn’t ask any questions, certainly not anything about the extra tests Mingyu had mentioned — the ones that sent Jihoon into a mini tailspin. Jihoon will never ask; it’s just the kind of person he is. He never pries or snoops, and hardly ever asks questions he might deem too invasive, even though their definitions of the word are vastly different. Mingyu is actually still in a minor state of shock at the fact that Jihoon went all the way to the hospital just because he stopped responding to texts. 

Jihoon isn’t devoid of emotions, despite what some (stupid) people think. He’s afraid of overstepping boundaries and making others feel uncomfortable. It’s what Mingyu’s learned after being friends with Jihoon for a couple years, and roommates for almost a year now. 

He’s also an introvert who’s reluctant to flip the script once someone’s gotten to know him as an ‘introvert’: the stereotype of an antisocial shut-in who hates opening up to people. It took Mingyu a few attempts to let Jihoon know that being an introvert doesn’t need to mean completely isolated from everyone else, and that it’s okay if he wants to talk about things with Mingyu. Mingyu loves listening. 

Physical affection — while still not all that common between the two — is at least present in some capacity thanks to Jihoon’s walls coming down as he admitted that he really does enjoy hugs from time to time, a piece of information that Mingyu immediately stored away in his brain and used the moment he thought Jihoon needed it after a long day at work. 

Still, even after a good deal of progress, Mingyu can see the worried little creases in Jihoon’s forehead, ones that won’t dissipate unless he gets answers. Answers from questions he’s not willing to ask out loud. 

“The extra test wasn’t related to my back pain,” Mingyu starts, testing the waters. 

“Oh?” Jihoon acknowledges, but otherwise doesn’t budge beyond that point. Mingyu still hasn’t offered enough to make Jihoon comfortable asking for more. So he tries again. 

“No. When they ran the first ones there was something… weird. So they had to double check it,” Mingyu says, stopping there as he realizes he actually isn’t sure if Jihoon wants to know all the details, deciding he won’t continue to dump this on him if it’s not what he explicitly wants to hear. 

Jihoon’s body gets visibly tense. 

“Are you baiting me or something? Just tell me already,” Jihoon snaps, though his voice is still soft, more of a pouty mumble than an outright command. Mingyu didn’t intend for it to come across that way, but he does find Jihoon’s mild frustration kind of amusing. It’s the exact type of emotion he wouldn’t have felt comfortable expressing with Mingyu even just a few months ago. He giggles for a second, but the humor is pretty quickly drained from his body when he realizes he’ll actually have to explain his situation to another person. 

“It’s not really a small thing…” Mingyu prefaces, giving Jihoon one last out in case he doesn’t want to deal with it. The tension leaves Jihoon, even with the worry still very obvious in his face. 

“You said it wasn’t anything bad.”

“It’s not! I’m not sick, I’m just… not what I thought I was.”

Jihoon stares at him. 

“Mingyu, respectfully, what the hell does that even mean?” 

Mingyu takes a shaky breath. 

“It means I’m not a beta.”

Jihoon seems to need time to fully absorb that, opening his mouth a few times, only to close it without any words coming out. Then, like magic, he sits up straight, with a blase expression. 

“Well, I told you from the beginning that you won the genetic lottery,” Jihoon says. Like it’s not shocking at all. Like it hasn’t turned Mingyu’s whole life upside down. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Just that it’s no surprise that you’re an alpha. I told you that I didn’t believe you were a beta when we first met. You’re a super late bloomer, but I guess it’s better late than never, right?” 

It takes Mingyu a few seconds (and all of his brain cells) to understand that Jihoon has come to a conclusion on his own, a technically incorrect one, but one based on the vague information Mingyu gave. He can’t say that he blames Jihoon for the assumption, but it still makes his chest squeeze when he thinks about what his family would’ve said, how similar their words might’ve been. 

Somehow, he thinks this feels worse, especially knowing Jihoon isn’t in the habit of making assumptions, that he so often refrains from making judgments even when presented with more than adequate information. But Mingyu tries his hardest not to take it personally, to tamp down any kind of negative energy he might be suddenly radiating. Afterall, he can’t deny that the alpha presentation is what he wanted, right? 

How mad can he really be over assumptions made by his friends and family when he himself was displeased with being a beta? He puts aside any bad feelings he has and decides to embrace the assumption as fact, not necessarily correcting Jihoon, figuring no real harm can be done by this half-truth. 

“I’m not one yet, exactly. But I can be,” he explains, navigating the situation in what he thinks will be the least complicated way possible. 

“That explains why I still can’t smell you,” Jihoon mumbles, more to himself than to Mingyu. But Mingyu hears it anyway, and he’s not sure what it says about him that Jihoon sniffing the air leaves him feeling lightheaded. “So, what do you have to do?”

Mingyu blushes. He knows any lie he tells probably won’t be believable, given the way he looks right now, but he tries anyway. 

“Uh, nothing. Still just waiting for it to take over one day. Some time soon, probably,” he stutters, but Jihoon doesn’t look at all skeptical, which makes Mingyu feel more guilty about lying. 

“Man… so you still have to wait on second puberty when you’re already about to be 24? That’s rough.” 

And Mingyu’s brain has been so scattered since his appointment that he legitimately hadn’t thought about that part since asking the doctor about it. Committing to an alpha designation means having to go through his first rut, something that most alphas experience by the age of 18. He’s heard varying experiences from the alphas that he knows personally. Jihoon said that his had been on the more difficult end of the spectrum, turning him into an aggressive, almost angry version of himself that hadn’t really existed prior. They’ve since mellowed out, and they’re usually over and done with in just over a day, but that first had been enough to put Jihoon on high alert for the rest of his life. 

Mingyu would be lying if he said the thought of that happening to him didn’t scare him. He doesn’t want to feel out of control, but he supposes that’s just what presentation entails, to some degree. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Mingyu finally says, after a long, stagnant pause of consideration. “I have you here, and you already know how it all works.” 

“What? Are you signing me up to babysit you when it happens?” 

“‘M not a baby…” 

“Sure you’re not, Mingoo,” Jihoon laughs, ruffling Mingyu’s hair as he stands up from the bed, gathering their takeout containers and walking out, again like Mingyu hasn’t just made a life-altering decision. 

Perhaps he didn’t give himself enough time to truly think through the choice, but at the end of the day, did he ever really have one? Now that he’s confirmed that he’s not a beta, continuing to live as one for the rest of his life sounds like torture. 

In a way, he’s actually kind of grateful that Jihoon’s way of questioning forced him to make a decision quickly, without him having to agonize over it for weeks. He’ll have to thank Jihoon for it, eventually. 

—

The downward spiral begins when Mingyu is out shopping for groceries for the week. 

It’s an innocuous task, and one that Mingyu frequently takes on by himself while Jihoon is still at the studio. It’s precious time that Mingyu spends decompressing, releasing all of his thoughts from the day and leaving them in the grocery store so he can go home and cook with a light and clear mind. That’s how it usually works out. 

Today, Mingyu comes across a young family when he’s walking through the produce section, an unremarkable occurrence in a grocery store of all places, but for some reason, Mingyu focuses in on them like they’re out of place. 

The parents are likely only a couple years older than Mingyu himself, and when that thought specifically crosses his mind, he finds himself overwhelmed by a sudden flurry of emotions, unsure of where they’re coming from or how to handle them. 

But it isn’t just emotions. Mingyu feels physically sick , like he’s imminently about to empty the contents of his stomach next to the apple crates. 

He has to cut his trip short, checking out with the few groceries he managed to gather and making a run for his car. He speeds home, which unfortunately only manages to make him feel even more nauseous, his stomach in nervous knots over his own reckless behavior. 

He bursts through the front door, rushing to put the groceries away, very belatedly realizing that he only has bits and pieces of different meals, but nothing that can come together for dinner tonight. He’ll have to ask Jihoon to pick up vegetables after work. 

When he stands from his ducked position at the fridge, Mingyu’s head swims, black spots appearing in the corners of his vision. He has to lie down on the couch that’s just a little too short to accommodate his whole body, but at this rate, he isn’t going to make it up the stairs. 

—

“-at’s going on? Hey. Mingyu.” 

The words sound like they’re being filtered through layers of cotton, but Mingyu does hear them, and he doesn’t think they’re just a dream. He blinks his eyes open, but just barely, squinting at the blurry figure hunched over him. 

His back hurts. His stomach hurts. His eyes hurt. 

He blinks, but the blinking very quickly turns into him just closing his eyes again. 

“Hey. No, stay awake. Are you okay?” Jihoon asks. Mingyu knows it’s Jihoon, so he opens his eyes, as well as his mouth to speak.

“I forgot to ask you to stop for vegetables…”

“...What?” 

“For dinner. I can’t make dinner. I didn’t get vegetables.”

Jihoon looks at him like he’s bleeding from his eyes. Maybe he is. 

“You’re not making dinner. You’re clearly… What’s wrong? What happened?” Jihoon questions, placing a gentle hand on his forehead. “You feel warm.”

“I was nauseous. I feel better now, but my body hurts. And I’m dizzy.”

“Is that why you passed out on the couch?”

Mingyu nods until he realizes that only makes him feel even more dizzy. 

“I’ll get you some soup,” Jihoon asserts, standing up and going to the kitchen sink, soaking a washcloth in cold water and wringing it out before bringing it to Mingyu, laying it over his forehead. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, meek and small sounding, fully aware of how pathetic it is. 

“For being sick? Don’t be sorry for that, Mingyu. It’s not like it’s your fault.” 

Mingyu knows it’s not his fault, but it does feel like he’s been a bigger inconvenience than usual lately, one thing going wrong after another. 

He eats the soup that Jihoon warms up for him though, all while Jihoon eyes him intently. 

“Do you think something caused it?” he asks after a few seconds. “Was it something you ate?” 

Mingyu recalls the family of four: the two loving parents, their toddler and newborn. He feels his stomach sour again, just a little. 

“I don’t think so. I must’ve just caught something at work. Maybe you shouldn’t be near me right now. I might be contagious,” Mingyu cautions, suddenly very aware of the fact that he could potentially take Jihoon down with him. Jihoon scoffs.

“I’m not just gonna leave you here. I can help you up to your room once you feel up to moving,” Jihoon says, staying where he is but placing a hand on Mingyu’s knee, a blanket of comfort settling over them. 

“Do you ever think about having a family?” 

The words seem to leave Mingyu’s mouth of their own accord; he barely even recognizes that he’s said them until a notably awkward silence begins to linger. Mingyu is going to take the question back, blame it on being fever-delirious, when Jihoon answers, short and without hesitation. 

“Not really.” 

“But you’re an alpha.” 

“Yeah, and?” 

Mingyu shrugs because he doesn’t know how else to counter that without entirely relying on old, outdated ideals. Still, Jihoon must feel compelled to further explain himself because he keeps going. 

“I’m not just gonna… pick some random omega and get them pregnant just because that’s what I’m supposed to do. If I find someone and that’s what they want, then great. But I’m not going to consider myself an abject failure if that’s not how it works out for me. There’s more to life than mating and having kids.” 

Mingyu knows all of that; as a beta he’d had to make his peace with that exact notion to stop himself from completely falling apart. But he’s feeling stubborn. 

“Yeah, I guess…” he mumbles, trailing off like a brat. It doesn’t even elicit an eye roll from Jihoon. 

“Why are you asking me about that?” Jihoon asks, and suddenly Mingyu feels called out, but he doesn’t even know in what way. 

“I don’t know, just… if you had a mate then you would be living with them instead of having to deal with me right now,” he manages to string together. 

“I’m not ‘dealing’ with you, Mingyu. Besides, you cook six nights a week and keep this place spotless. If anything, you’re the one dealing with me .” Jihoon counters, though it isn’t as reassuring to Mingyu as he wishes it was. 

—

Mingyu doesn’t go into work the next day; if he is contagious he doesn’t want to spend eight hours getting all of his coworkers sick, and he’s still not feeling 100% better despite staying hydrated and getting a lot of rest. But being home and doing nothing feels like such a waste of time, and he starts getting restless after just a couple hours of being awake.

He knows he needs to take it easy though, so he resigns himself to doing laundry only. He admittedly doesn’t have much to do himself, but Jihoon has a nearly full laundry basket that he can take care of. 

Walking up the stairs and into Jihoon’s room, however, brings the dizzy feeling back, and he takes a minute to rethink his actions. Maybe physical exertion shouldn’t have been attempted when Jihoon was gone and not due back for several hours. The last thing he needs to be met with upon returning home is Mingyu bleeding out at the bottom of the stairs. 

He gathers himself enough to grab the laundry basket, heading back into his own room to retrieve the few articles of clothing that he needs to wash before cautiously going back down to the main floor. 

It’s as he’s loading everything into the washing machine that he’s hit with that same pang in his stomach from yesterday, except now he kind of feels it in his chest too. He’s about to drop the last of Jihoon’s t-shirts in, when some strange, foreign part of his brain tells him to keep it. He holds onto the fabric with an iron grip, starting the wash cycle with his other hand, and then walks back up to his room with no dizziness or difficulty at all. 

If he were ever asked, he’s not sure he would be able to explain what compels him to toss the shirt under his blankets, but it’s a nondescript black t-shirt. Jihoon probably has a dozen just like it. He won’t miss it. He probably won’t even notice that it’s gone. 

Mingyu’s brain tells him that those are excuses, not justifications, for what he’s done.

He ignores his brain and goes back to the kitchen. 

—

Jihoon knocks on his door when he gets home, but walks in this time instead of waiting for Mingyu to let him in. 

“You were too sick to go into the office today but you weren’t too sick to do all of my laundry?” he asks, voice laced with accusation.

“I didn’t touch any of your bedding. You still have laundry to do,” Mingyu argues, but he can feel himself blushing, so he’s sure the flustered redness is making itself known on his cheeks. 

“But you folded my underwear?” 

Mingyu could drown in the ocean right now. He thinks that water filling up his lungs might hurt less than the burning sting of his face. 

“I move on instinct,” he responds with an indignant pout. “Would you prefer if I had just thrown it all onto your bed for you to deal with?” 

Jihoon laughs at him, mean in a playful, teasing way, and it makes Mingyu whine.

“No, but you don’t have to do all this stuff, Mingoo. If you take time off to rest, you should rest,” Jihoon asserts, approaching Mingyu to pet his hair. 

“Laundry is easy,” Mingyu continues pouting. Jihoon’s nose crinkles.

“Your room smells like me now.”

“Really?” Mingyu asks, incredulous as he tries sniffing the air as subtly as he can, though his beta status has always prevented him from smelling Jihoon’s (or anyone’s) distinct alpha scent. To him, it still only smells like their shared laundry detergent. 

“Yeah,” Jihoon confirms, nose still scrunched up. 

“You’re saying that like it’s a bad scent.” 

“It’s just a lot to take in when it’s in a place I’m not usually expecting it.” 

“Sorry, I’ll make sure to ask for permission next time…” 

“Don’t apologize. Thank you for helping me. Honestly, I had a really long day and it’s nice to have one less thing to do. Really.” 

The words make Mingyu smile, small and shy, but pleased. 

“Should I make something for dinner?” Jihoon asks, finally taking his hand off Mingyu’s head. Mingyu swallows. 

“Dinner is already prepared. I had some things delivered. Everything is in the fridge right now and just needs to go in the oven for an hour…” Mingyu says, trailing off as the barest hint of shame works its way into his demeanor. 

Jihoon just looks at him. 

“What?” Mingyu asks, crossing his arms when it goes on for more than a handful of seconds. 

“Nothing. Thank you for cooking. Even though you should have been resting.” 

“Yah, will you stop with that? I’m fine. I’m even going back to work tomorrow,” Mingyu says, even though he really doesn’t want to. He enjoys his job. He likes his coworkers and hardly ever feels like he has a bad day there. But being home has been nice too. Taking time to get simple chores done and then just being able to breathe has been a bigger, more important reset button than Mingyu thought he needed.

He’s not ready for it to be over, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. 

“I’ll go start the oven and set the table,” he says as an excuse to get out of his room. Setting the table is wholly unnecessary, especially when it’s just the two of them, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t take a little bit of pride in it. 

“I’m gonna shower. Thanks for doing this again,” Jihoon says, stepping back and away from Mingyu’s bed. 

“It’s nothing,” Mingyu insists. Jihoon leaves with a smile and Mingyu finally exhales fully. 

During dinner, Jihoon can’t seem to stop himself from humming in content at each bite, and it’s starting to drive Mingyu insane. 

“You’re acting like you’ve never eaten before in your entire life,” Mingyu finally spits out after the seventh noise that reverberates in Jihoon’s chest. 

“It’s good. You always sell yourself short, Mingyu-ah. You could be a chef,” Jihoon says, intentionally laying it on thick just to get a reaction. He looks away from Mingyu, eyes traveling over to the sink. “And you washed all the dishes. You did way more work than you said you did.” 

“Yeah, I was feeling better; I already said that,” Mingyu mumbles, pushing his own food around on the plate. Jihoon shakes his head fondly. 

“Housewife Mingyu…” he teases. It’s a nickname that some of his college friends had come up with, a comment on his tendency to clean up their shared living spaces. Originally, it wasn’t because he enjoyed those things — the only way he stayed sane living with three other  boys was by keeping things tidy. Eventually, it developed as more of a coping mechanism. Taking care of others felt good, and focusing on a task like cooking or cleaning took his mind off other matters like money or exams. 

The nickname was definitely a joke, but when Jihoon says it, the words settle differently in Mingyu’s chest, less teasing and more like a badge of honor. He preens in the most subtle way he can manage, but Jihoon still notices if the smug smile on his face says anything. 

“I like when things are in order,” Mingyu says with a soft ‘hmph.’ Despite this, Jihoon doesn’t tease him again, just smiles around another bite of food. They eat in a calm quiet for a few minutes, Jihoon toning down his reactions in the meantime. The silence is broken when Jihoon clears his throat with purpose, drawing Mingyu’s attention. 

“There’s a party happening for work on Saturday. Networking thing,” he drops into the stalled conversation, still staring down at his food instead of at Mingyu. Mingyu squints at him anyway.

“You hate networking,” he responds, because that has never been a secret. It was the exact thing that forged their friendship years ago, Mingyu and Jihoon striking up a conversation in a secluded corner of a bustling room, Jihoon no longer willing to pretend that he enjoyed mingling with dozens of strangers. That had been an overcrowded house party, but he feels similarly about these social connection events, even though they’re crucial to him growing as a producer. 

“Don’t remind me… I have a plus one, though. Wanna go?” 

Mingyu considers the offer. Unlike Jihoon, he usually really likes socializing, and he’s been to a few of these events with him, so he’s familiar with the atmosphere and his role there. 

He doesn’t have anything planned for the weekend.

“You’re lucky that I did laundry today,” Mingyu gives as his answer, tamping down a smile when Jihoon directs one at him. 

“So lucky.” 

—

The end of the week approaches both slowly and quickly all at once, and when it’s time for them to leave the apartment, Mingyu feels a little frazzled. 

“So, what’s my mission?” he asks when they’re right outside the venue, only half-joking. Again, he knows his role when it comes to these things. 

“There’s one producer who’s supposed to be here that I really want to talk to. I’m hoping to get in touch with an artist under his label about a potential collaboration. He doesn’t usually come to these kinds of things, especially not with smaller producers, so I think this might be my only shot,” Jihoon explains, all while Mingyu nods every few words. He’s got it. 

“So I ward off anyone who gets in your way.”

Jihoon chokes out a startled laugh. 

“Well, yeah, you could say that, I guess,” he says, still in slight disbelief. It makes Mingyu smile; it isn’t often that he’s able to catch Jihoon so completely off guard. As if sensing just how pleased Mingyu is with himself, Jihoon scrunches up his nose. 

Only a couple minutes after walking in, someone ambushes them with conversation. It’s someone Mingyu already knows, so it’s that much easier to direct their attention away from Jihoon and onto his own inane storytelling, going off on a short tangent as Jihoon escapes, and speaking for another couple of minutes before escaping himself. 

It goes on like this with a few different people; they don’t know everyone here, and not everyone they know stops for more than a simple greeting or wave, which makes Mingyu’s job that much easier. For the most part, he enjoys talking to everyone who stops them for long enough to have a conversation, and it’s not so different from what he would probably end up doing anyway. He’s just a little more vigilant about keeping an eye on Jihoon, making sure that he doesn’t spend too long with any one person so that he can be back at Jihoon’s side when he needs him. 

It’s all going smoothly until, on his way over to Jihoon, Mingyu runs into one of his actual friends and gets sidetracked. Mingyu met Seungkwan at an event similar to this one a little over a year ago, and they almost immediately took to each other, like they’d been childhood best friends — sharing life updates and teasing each other like they’d been together forever. Their friendship is unique to Mingyu, and so it’s no surprise that he momentarily forgets his objective for the sake of catching up. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long! The corporate world is stealing you away from me,” Seungkwan whines as they hug.

“It’s not corporate, I’ve already told you that,” Mingyu defends himself against the slander. He may work in an office, but he wouldn’t survive a day in a corporate job setting, and Seungkwan knows it. 

“Yeah, yeah. Still doesn’t change the fact that we haven’t seen each other in months.” Mingyu considers the circumstances. Jihoon hasn’t attended one of these events in a while, but outside of that, Mingyu was (admittedly) swamped with work, and then the issues with his back started, followed by the shock and disorientation of his doctor’s appointment. Mingyu’s kind of been going through a lot the last couple of months, but Seungkwan doesn’t know any of that. 

“I’ve been a little busy,” Mingyu decides to go with because it’s true but nonspecific enough for now. 

“Well, I can’t pin it all on you because so have I. And… this will probably be the last one of these I’ll be at for a while,” Seungkwan says. His voice lilts, and at first, Mingyu doesn’t know what he’s implying.

But then, he brings a hand down to his belly, subtly cradling it. Even though he’s not really showing, Mingyu knows what that means.

“Oh my god! When? How? I mean, not how , but—”

“Mingyu, calm down. I know what you mean,” Seungkwan laughs as he reassures him. He takes a quick glance around and grabs onto Mingyu’s arm, guiding him over to a slightly quieter, less populated area with small tables, away from the loud music currently playing over the speakers. 

“I… I don’t know,” Seungkwan picks up once they’re seated. “One night, when Hansol and I were… you know … something just came over me. I told him that I wanted a baby.” 

Mingyu’s jaw drops, more in an act of overdramatics than genuine surprise though. He’s known since basically the first time they met that Seungkwan wanted children.

It’s just happening so much sooner than Mingyu ever could’ve anticipated. 

“Of course, saying that during sex, I just assumed he would forget about it and move on, or maybe make fun of me for just saying anything when I’m horny. But when we woke up the next morning, he asked if I stopped taking my birth control and if I had made a doctor’s appointment yet…” 

Mingyu can’t help the squee of delight that leaves him, taking one of Seungkwan’s hands and shaking it in excitement. He goes quiet again, waiting for Seungkwan to continue. 

“Obviously we talked about it in a lot more depth, and it took a few weeks for the birth control to fully wear off, but I am now with child,” Seungkwan declares, rubbing a hand over his belly again. His eye seems to catch something off in the distance, melting at the sight. When Mingyu takes a glance, he knows it’s Hansol, standing off to the side and speaking with an artist he had worked with a few months ago. 

“He’s going to be a great father, I just know it. He can’t stop talking about all of the things they’re going to do together once baby is old enough. He’s so excited.”

“Because it’s exciting! I’m so happy for both of you.” Mingyu knows people his age —  people at his work, or ones he attended school with — who are having children now, but Seungkwan is his first real friend to give him this news and it leaves him feeling warm. 

“Who else have you told?” 

“You’re the only one, aside from our parents. We were being cautious with announcements, but I just had my 20 week scan a few days ago and everything went great. So congrats on being the first to know,” Seungkwan says, a surprised little smile on his face like he also wasn’t necessarily expecting to disclose this information so soon. Mingyu is also surprised because—

“20 weeks?! Already?” he asks, looking back at Seungkwan’s belly, hidden behind a thick sweater, but even without it, he’s likely not showing much. 

“Yah, why are you trying to flatter me?” Seungkwan questions, smacking Mingyu’s arm in jest.

“I’m not! I really wouldn’t have even suspected you were pregnant if you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, thanks for the accidental ego boost, I guess. I’ve been feeling extremely unsexy lately, even though the hormones make it impossible for Hansol to stay off of me for longer than a day.” 

It’s embarrassing, but Mingyu can’t help but feel envious of their relationship. Of course he’s happy for both of them; he’s not a jealous monster. But now he’s plagued with the thoughts of what it might be like to build his own family, to have a partner who loves him unconditionally, someone he’d be happy to have children with. While Mingyu hasn’t been as vocal about his wants, (too embarrassed to admit it as a beta) his friends obviously know that Mingyu is domestic at heart. So, to an extent, Seungkwan probably knows he’s yearning for something like what he and Hansol have, the thought making Mingyu blush. 

He’s a family-oriented romantic, so it’s more than a little discouraging that Mingyu is single and probably years out from the possibility of children himself. 

“Something about you is different,” Seungkwan says, cutting through his quickly darkening train of thought. He takes Mingyu’s significantly larger hand in his, rubbing his soft thumb against it in a circular pattern. It occurs to Mingyu at that moment that it might be inappropriate, given his own situation. Holding hands with a claimed omega when he’s on the path to alpha presentation feels precarious, even though the warmth of Seungkwan’s hand is a very welcome comfort to him. 

Mingyu doesn’t want to let go, so he doesn’t. They’re not living in the past, Mingyu reminds himself; alphas and omegas can be close friends despite what people like his grandparents believe. And if the ‘difference’ that Seungkwan is picking up on is that imminent presentation then Mingyu chooses to keep his mouth shut about it. It’s not like it’s going to happen any time soon, after all. 

“Different?” Mingyu plays dumb. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe Seungkwan is just noticing his new haircut. That’s honestly way more plausible. Seungkwan just nods. 

“I can’t figure out what it is. I noticed it from the moment you walked up to me. It’s driving me insane,” Seungkwan says in frustration, looking at Mingyu with unblinking eyes, as if the answer will manifest itself that way. Mingyu isn’t ready to discuss any of his secondary gender revelations, especially not in public, so he’s hoping that he can manage to just brush it off without too much fuss. 

“I think I’m the same as I’ve always been,” Mingyu tries, cracking a smile that he hopes doesn’t look too suspicious. Seungkwan returns the smile. 

“That’s why it’s so nice to talk to you about these things. Be prepared for teary emotional phone calls as I get closer to my due date, because that’s definitely going to happen.” 

Mingyu nods in approval of the idea. They bask in a few moments of comfortable silence, Mingyu surveying the area when he finally remembers what he’s supposed to be doing. 

“Fuck,” Mingyu whispers to himself, looking around the room more frantically than before, finally spotting Jihoon talking to a woman. 

“What is it?” Seungkwan asks, looking concerned on Mingyu’s behalf. 

“I was supposed to be covering for Jihoon. You know how he is.”

Seungkwan’s eyes follow Mingyu’s path, landing on Jihoon and widening in understanding. 

“You abandoned him,” Seungkwan gasps, pushing him in Jihoon’s direction. “Go on. Rescue him. We can definitely catch up some other time.” Mingyu will absolutely be taking Seungkwan up on that offer; he has the feeling they’ll both be needing each other’s support. 

Mingyu walks up to the pair, still talking, though, as he gets closer he realizes it’s more like the woman is talking while Jihoon nods every few seconds. Jihoon can’t see him from the angle he’s approaching, and while he doesn’t want to startle him, Mingyu doesn’t have much of a choice. 

Mingyu winds his arms around one of Jihoon’s, unsure of his choice the moment he does it, but unwilling to change course. As expected, Jihoon flinches, tensing up but relaxing when he meets Mingyu’s eyes. 

“Sorry, Jihoonie… I got caught up with Seungkwan. He has exciting news. Do you want to go talk to him?” Mingyu asks, the excuse coming to him with ease, Jihoon looking at him like he just saved his life. 

The woman whose identity Mingyu still isn’t sure of, however, glares at him. It’s subtle enough to probably not be noticed by other people in the area, but Mingyu gets the message loud and clear. And yeah, he can acknowledge that what he did was a little rude, but he made a commitment and he would feel way worse about not keeping it. 

And besides, Jihoon would probably want to know about the baby. It’s not like he’s lying about the exciting news. 

“I’ll keep in touch,” Jihoon finally directs to the still-unnamed woman, sounding like the kind of person who actually knows how to network. Mingyu is proud of him. 

“Thank fucking god,” Jihoon mutters under his breath the second they’re out of earshot, Mingyu giggling despite his own shortcoming being the reason behind the curse. 

“Sorry for failing at my job,” Mingyu apologizes once his laugh dies down. 

“Hey, it’s not your job. You’re doing me a favor. Thanks for stepping in when you did,” Jihoon argues, sliding an arm around his waist and squeezing once. 

And Mingyu fucking stutters, trips over his own tongue and chokes a little, but that’s not his fault; he’s sensitive and Jihoon knows it, did it on purpose if the snicker he lets out is any indicator. 

When they’re back in Seungkwan’s presence, Jihoon moves on like nothing even happened, greeting Seungkwan with warmth and talking with him easily. Meanwhile, Mingyu can hear his own heart pounding in his ears. 

“You brought him back here? I thought he was on a mission,” Seungkwan says to get Mingyu’s attention, out of whatever daze he’s in. 

“I panicked!” Mingyu defends himself. “I didn’t know how to get him away from that woman!” 

Seungkwan narrows his eyes at Mingyu. 

“Mingyu said you had news?” Jihoon interjects, drawing Seungkwan’s attention back to him. 

“Oh… did he?” 

“What part of ‘I panicked’ do you not understand? I’m sorry!” 

“You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay,” Jihoon says, waving his hands as if to clear the tension building in the air. 

“I’m just teasing Mingyu. Don’t worry,” Seungkwan dismisses, giving Mingyu one last look before turning back to Jihoon again. “Hansol and I are having a baby.” 

Jihoon’s eyes widen at the unceremonious drop of information. 

“Whoa, really? I just saw him and he—”

“He’s been working really hard to reel in his excitement. He probably wanted to wait and see if it was okay with me first.” 

“Well, congratulations. That’s… wow,” Jihoon manages to say, Seungkwan obviously pleased with his ability to throw him off balance, laughing at his stilted words. 

“And what about you?” Seungkwan asks suddenly. 

Jihoon is unfazed now, though. 

“What about me?” 

“You’re not seeing anyone? You know, since we’re talking about life updates.” 

“No, I’m not seeing anyone. Though I’m sure you already knew that.” 

“Shame… Well, there’s tons of omegas here who would probably love a chance with the hot, talented alpha bachelor…” 

“Careful. Hansol might get jealous if he hears you talking like that,” Jihoon counters in a fruitless attempt to fluster Seungkwan, who just keeps meddling. 

“Why are you so defensive? I’m just acting in your best interest, Jihoon-ah,” Seungkwan whines, really pushing it with the informal address. 

Suddenly, Mingyu starts feeling unwell again, feeling it would be for the best if they didn’t involve Seungkwan in whatever he’s been dealing with for the past couple of weeks. 

“It was great chatting with you, Seungkwan, and I can’t wait to catch up more some time, but Jihoon is busy, so…”

“Right… Off you go. I’m going to try and find Hansol. Maybe we can… leave early.”

Jihoon makes a face and Mingyu attempts to make a similar one, but he’s sure he just looks sad and pathetic. 

“Alright, I’m ready to get back to work,” Mingyu says, lightly slapping his own face to force the feeling out of him. 

“No need,” Jihoon says, seeming distracted by something. It all becomes clear when Mingyu sees a man approaching them. It must be the producer because suddenly, Jihoon looks more nervous than Mingyu’s ever seen him before. The ringing in Mingyu’s ears means that he misses the man’s introduction entirely, but he’s not really involved in the conversation until the man stops to look directly at him. 

“And who is this?” 

Mingyu squeaks instead of saying words, which is maybe the worst thing that he’s ever done in public, including all of the times he’s fallen after tripping over his own feet. It’s totally unbecoming of a person whose future includes alpha presentation. Still, he reaches out to shake the man’s hand, feeling weak and small in the embrace. 

“I’m Mingyu,” he manages to say without any further squeaking. 

The man makes direct eye contact with him. Then he looks back over at Jihoon. 

“He yours?” 

Mingyu and Jihoon both start choking. The producer’s eyes go back and forth between the two of them as if he’s not sure what to make of them. 

` “No. No, he’s- it’s just-” Jihoon stumbles through his words. 

“We’re roommates,” Mingyu clarifies for him, but it doesn’t seem to do much, the man still eyeing them skeptically. 

“Cool,” is all he says in response. He’s still holding onto Mingyu’s hand, squeezing it once before finally letting go. 

Cool ? Why is it cool? What does that even mean? More importantly, why is some stranger’s first impression of Mingyu that he belongs to someone. To Jihoon. As far as the general public is concerned, Mingyu is a beta. And yeah, while there are some alphas who don’t care about all of the secondary gender stuff, a person like Jihoon is practically made for an omega mate. And Mingyu ? Mingyu isn’t even close to being… that.

He decides to make himself scarce, excusing himself to get a drink so Jihoon can start making a decent impression. He sticks to the corner of the room, not even daring to look over in their direction. He ducks his head down to look at his phone and becomes entranced in scrolling his news feed. Minutes go by like that, until—

“Mingyu.” 

“Ah! What?” Mingyu jumps, his drink precariously sloshing around in his cup, but miraculously not out of it. Jihoon blinks at him in surprise. 

“...You okay?” 

“Yes! I’m fine! Why are you here? Don’t you have a deal to seal?” Mingyu knows Jihoon can be really charismatic when he wants to be, but that wasn’t even enough time to make a proper pitch. 

“Nah.” 

“... Nah ? You’ve been talking about this idea for literal months and now that you’ve had the opportunity served directly to you, all you can say is nah ?” 

There’s a few beats of silence before Jihoon breathes in, exhaling with force. 

“Let’s go home.” 

“But Jihoon—”

“I’m tired, Mingyu-ah.”

“Okay… if you say so.” Mingyu decides arguing will get him nowhere. 

They walk outside and get in a taxi, painfully silent the entire ride home, but Mingyu’s unwilling to ask questions in the presence of their driver, despite it not being particularly sensitive information. There’s just something about the way that Jihoon is carrying himself that makes Mingyu feel like cowering in a corner. His mind races the entire car ride. 

They return to the safe space of their apartment, Jihoon unbuttoning his suit jacket, taking it off, then loosening his tie and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. The air is still hanging in a delicate balance, but Mingyu risks asking a question. 

“Why did you just walk out? I know how much you want what’s-her-name to sing your song,” Mingyu says, testing the waters with a shaky voice. 

“I can’t work with that guy. It would be a nightmare. Not worth my sanity,” Jihoon says, in short, succinct sentences, leaving no room for interpretation or additional questions. 

Mingyu still manages to ask one though. 

“Okay… but what’s wrong with him?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

This is one of very few things about Jihoon that Mingyu finds annoying. While he can understand that it’s sometimes difficult for Jihoon to open up, he’s not receptive to this idea that he should just be able to read Jihoon’s mind without any proper communication. 

“Sorry, I don’t have your alpha instincts, or whatever,” Mingyu says, with just the barest hint of sarcasm lacing his tone. Jihoon actually bristles at the words, standing up straighter as he takes a calm breath in, a loud exhale following. 

“Our creative processes are too different. I don’t need him micromanaging my song and then taking half the credit for it just because he owns his own label,” Jihoon says. The bitter taste of judgment seems to flood his mouth, seeping out of the corners as they turn downward in disgust. Mingyu isn’t sure where any of it is coming from — their conversation really wasn’t that long. 

“Isn’t that a harsh assumption to make?” Mingyu asks, but when Jihoon’s face settles into one of restlessness, he knows it was the wrong move to make. 

“Mingyu, it’s over. We’re home and I’m never going to speak to him again, so just drop it, will you?” 

Mingyu can count on one hand the amount of times Jihoon has used that particular tone with him. Really, it’s only been one other time, and that had genuinely been Mingyu’s fault for prodding too much, for pushing Jihoon too far out of his comfort zone too soon after meeting him for the first time. 

This time, Jihoon isn’t making any sense. He’s making assumptions and jumping to conclusions, which isn’t like him at all, and Mingyu just wants to understand why. If something happened and Jihoon is upset because of it, Mingyu wants to know how to help. 

Instead, Mingyu feels cold, like ice water’s been dumped over him, all for asking a question. He can’t even manage a sarcastic response, too afraid that if he opens his mouth his lip will quiver or his voice will break or his eyes will start tearing up. 

So he just walks back to his room, too lost in his thoughts to even close the door, immediately curling up in his bed and wrapping himself up in his blankets. He breathes until he’s sure he won’t start crying, the words ‘unbecoming of an alpha’ going through his mind for the second time that night. 

He’s not sure when, but at some point Jihoon walks into the room, Mingyu only noticing when he sits down on the bed.

“Hey. I’m sorry,” Jihoon says, like he can’t keep it in. 

Mingyu stays silent. Jihoon keeps going. 

“It’s just… meeting your heroes, right? You know what they say about that. I was disappointed but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

Mingyu still says nothing. He says nothing so pointedly that Jihoon moves even closer. And Mingyu wishes he could say that he finds it annoying, but it’s actually incredibly validating to be given so much of Jihoon’s attention, to know that Jihoon doesn’t want to give up when he knows Mingyu is upset. 

He can sense Jihoon hovering, his hand remaining inches away before he finally rests it on Mingyu’s ankle. 

Mingyu can’t help the tiny smile that takes over his face, tucking it below his blanket so that Jihoon can’t see, but it’s too late. Jihoon smiles back and then trails his fingers up until they reach Mingyu’s thigh. 

He squeezes again and Mingyu giggles uncontrollably, the ticklish sensation too much for him to remain stoic. Clearly enjoying the reaction, Jihoon squeezes again and oh. 

Oh no. 

Mingyu kicks at him, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to get him away, to stop touching him, which Jihoon, thankfully, seems to take as part of the playful little battle between the two of them. 

“It-It’s okay,” Mingyu stutters. Jihoon still grabs him one last time, genuinely smiling. 

“Okay, good. I’m gonna order food. You want something?” 

Mingyu can only nod, but Jihoon knows enough of his orders by heart now that he nods back before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

As soon as he’s down the hall, footsteps echoing away into nothing, Mingyu squeezes his legs together, trying his absolute hardest to will away the wetness gathering there. 

He must really need to get laid because getting aroused over a friend (a friend!) touching him (in a completely friendly area!) is too far. 

In the past, the wetness alone would’ve been enough to have Mingyu freezing up in shame. While he’s always known that there was nothing wrong with it, and he’s known that his… genitalia has nothing to do with gender or secondary gender, or really anything about him, as he was thrown into the hell that is adolescence, it quickly became one of his biggest insecurities. Because while he knew it would have no bearing on his presentation, when the years just continued to pass with no signs of a first rut in sight, it just felt like salt in the wound, like he was destined to fail everyone from the beginning. 

He knows it’s ridiculous now, to place so much weight onto familial and societal expectations like that. He didn’t fail anyone just by having certain gene patterns. If anything, his lack of presentation was his family’s fault. And more than anything, this ended up being an artificial pressure that Mingyu placed upon himself. His parents and other family members never expressed disappointment or sadness at Mingyu’s beta status, and so, once he got over the initial feeling of wrongness, he eventually learned to accept it. 

And eventually, Mingyu found himself accepting himself physically as well, feeling more open to sexual relationships with people of all designations and even… enjoying himself. 

And if he was maybe a bit of slut for a year or two, sue him. 

Sex is one of life’s many wonders and if he wasn’t having it, he’d probably be having a breakdown instead. 

Right now, it’s been several months since he’s had any action that wasn’t his own fingers inside him or a pathetic grind against his pillow before bed. 

So, of course, Jihoon getting that close to his… pussy… gave him a physical reaction. Of course his big hand splayed across Mingyu’s thigh incidentally turned him on. It’s only biological. 

He sneaks a hand down the front of his pants, into his underwear, and starts to rub, just coating his fingers in the wetness and mewling at the feeling. He’s still under the blanket, still covered up and hidden, even with the door shut. 

He can get himself off. That’s allowed. 

So the second he justifies it to himself, he starts thinking about all of the things he finds sexy, the things that make him ache with the need to be filled up. He thinks about raspy voices telling him what to do and strong muscles holding him in place, not letting him move an inch. He imagines someone who’s not afraid to be a little rough with him; he’s big and tall, he can take it. 

He can take cock, ride it like a slut, get spanked until he cries, begging to be used, begging for cum until he gets it…

He rubs faster, his fingers getting wetter until the sound is borderline obscene. He wouldn’t be surprised if it could be heard from the other side of the door.

He whines the tiniest little sound, unable to control his vocal cords, fingers drenched in hot slick over the thought of being held down and fucked from behind, forced to submit. 

But suddenly, amidst all of his horniest fantasies, Mingyu thinks about just being held, fully-clothed and cozy in bed, arms encircling his entire frame and making him feel safe and small and secure, caressed softly and spoken to in gentle, sweet whispers. 

Being told that he’s lovely and caring and so so sweet… 

“Mingooooo, come eat,” Jihoon’s voice rings out from downstairs.

Mingyu comes. 

He bites down on his own arm to stop himself from moaning, his fingers wet and slippery with his release. He quickly wipes them against his blanket, knowing he’ll regret it later, but not having the greatest control over his brain at the moment. 

He scrambles out of bed, pulling up and re-buttoning his pants. 

“Coming, Jihoonie!” 

—

The next day, Mingyu and Jihoon go to the gym together. Jihoon asks and Mingyu agrees immediately, knowing that he needs to take the opportunity to get some of this pent-up energy out of his body. 

When they arrive at the gym, Mingyu keeps to himself the whole time, actively working to make sure that he doesn’t cross paths with a sweaty, out-of-breath Jihoon. He doesn’t need any of the weird, unfortunate reminders of last night. As far as Mingyu is concerned, all of that was a dream, none of which actually happened, and he’ll continue to tell himself that. 

He focuses on his lower body for today, stretching to warm up his muscles before hopping on a leg press with a couple plates loaded. He gets through one set easily enough, deciding that he could use more weight to really start feeling that burning sensation in his quads. 

He’s about to stand up, when a guy he doesn’t know approaches the area, looking at Mingyu, then at the machine, then back at Mingyu. 

“I can get that for you,” the man seems to put together without any words from Mingyu, pointing toward the machine. And while Mingyu would normally hate unsolicited help in the gym, if it means less work for him, he supposes he can’t be against it. So he just nods, leaning back against the bench again. 

“How many?”

“Just one. Thanks.”

Inexplicably, the man removes a plate from the machine instead of adding one. Mingyu opens his mouth to correct him when the man speaks up first. 

“I can check your form if you want.”

Mingyu is about to say no, that he’s fine and doesn’t need help, thank you, when Jihoon practically teleports next to him, seemingly appearing out of thin air. 

“Mingyu-ah. Come spot me on the bench,” Jihoon says, not asking. 

“Okay, hyung,” Mingyu replies like it’s instinct. He gets off the leg press machine without so much as a glance at the man who was talking to him, walking behind Jihoon with diligence. They approach the bench, Jihoon immediately loading the bar with plates that frankly scare Mingyu a little. He knows that Jihoon is strong, but this is even 20 pounds heavier than what Mingyu usually lifts, and he knows that they’re just about on par with one another. 

But he doesn’t question Jihoon’s choice aloud, simply watching as he ensures the bar is equally balanced on both sides, before sitting down and sliding onto the bench. He lies back and eyes the bar for a few seconds before making direct eye contact with Mingyu, upside down and towering above him. 

“Ready?” Jihoon asks, even though Mingyu should probably be asking him that. Mingyu nods, breathing in and out. 

Jihoon lifts the bar like it’s nothing to him, breathing deeply but evenly as he bends his elbows, bringing the bar closer to his chest before pushing it back up for one rep. Mingyu dares to look at one of his biceps, bare in the tank top he decided to wear today, and starts feeling legitimately light-headed. 

The rest of Jihoon’s set goes by in a blur, and luckily Mingyu wasn’t needed at all, because he was actually doing a shamefully bad job of spotting. 

“Good job,” Mingyu chokes out, feeling like he’s the one sweating after an intense workout. He leaves the area immediately, not sure if he’d be able to stomach the sight for much longer. 

He heads back to the array of leg machines and decides on just doing squats, getting a few sets done and then finishing with some cardio. Wordlessly, they let the other know that they’re done, going back to the locker room.

And usually, Mingyu doesn’t feel self-conscious or shy about changing in front of others, but today he is, moreso in front of Jihoon than anyone else. 

So he quickly strips and runs to the showers with his stuff, hoping to finish up before Jihoon even steps foot in the area. He’s normally just a little more thorough in his post-gym showers, but he figures that for today, he can get by with just rinsing off the sweat from his skin and hair, promising himself a real shower once he gets home, where there aren’t potential eyes on him. 

Despite the burning feeling on his backside, Mingyu doesn’t falter, rinsing off and then wrapping a towel around his waist. He dresses just as fast, noticing Jihoon’s belongings haphazardly stuffed into his backpack, the tank top that caused him so much mental distress hanging halfway outside of it. Mingyu considers pushing it into the bag and zipping it up, mainly in the name of getting them home just a few seconds faster. 

In fact, he moves to do just that. 

But then, he must get possessed or something, because instead of putting everything away neatly, he takes the tank top and buries it in his own bag, underneath his own sweaty gym clothes. He otherwise leaves Jihoon’s bag as it was, unzipped and messy as he sits on the bench, waiting for Jihoon to return.

He walks back into Mingyu’s vicinity so easily, unwrapping his towel to dry his hair, bare body glistening in its shower-wet glory. Mingyu forces himself to not look any lower than Jihoon’s chest, as he continues toweling off before redressing in his day clothes. 

“Ready to go, Mingyu-ah?” Jihoon asks, briefly ruffling Mingyu’s wet hair. Mingyu shivers but nods, taking Jihoon’s extended hand and pulling himself up into a standing position, shaking out his workout-sore legs. The way he towers over Jihoon, again, feels wrong. 

Jihoon’s shirt in his bag feels worse. 

—

Mingyu reads articles. 

He likes to keep up with a lot of different things. 

It doesn’t always have to be about something that directly relates to him. In fact, sometimes the things he finds most interesting are the things that have nothing to do with him. 

This completely explains why, one day, at 5 pm, after a long work day, Mingyu finds himself reading articles about parenthood. 

And after reading a listicle of tips for expectant mothers, Mingyu has come to the conclusion that he would make an excellent parent. He has all the traits and qualities that would help him through all of the stages, the trials and tribulations of raising a child. 

It just makes sense. 

He’s selfless and kind and understanding and patient. He thinks he’s pretty good at teaching other people how to do things. He knows how to problem-solve and work through things piece by piece. 

According to the articles and blogs and videos, he would be a prime candidate for parenthood. 

And he absolutely loves babies. 

He likes holding them and caring for them and making them laugh, and he knows he would be good at protecting a baby from the scary dangers of the world.

He tells himself that this has nothing to do with Seungkwan, that he hasn’t been influenced in the slightest by seeing his friend’s baby bump, and hearing his excited voice, so full of warmth. 

Or at the love Seungkwan holds for his partner, the soon-to-be father of his child. 

It’s just that Mingyu isn’t getting any younger, and if he wants to have a baby, he really should probably start thinking about it now. Planning for a baby is no small task, and if he wants to do this right, he needs to be ready.

He would make a really good mother…

“Mingyu, have you—” 

Mingyu slams his laptop shut the second Jihoon walks into the room, seeming totally normal and not suspicious. Jihoon raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What, were you watching porn or something? Lock your door next time.”

“No!” Mingyu cries out, mortified at just the thought of Jihoon thinking that, even if it isn’t true. The defensive tone likely does nothing to absolve his guilt though. 

“What was it, then?”

“It wasn’t anything! I wasn’t watching porn!” 

“Okay, Mingyu-ah…” Jihoon says with a smugness that isn’t like him. It’s something Mingyu has only observed recently, and he’s not sure what to make of it. 

“What do you need?” Mingyu asks, anything to get this attention off of him. 

“I was just going to ask if you’ve seen my hoodie anywhere. It’s like it disappeared into thin air,” Jihoon says, returning to business-as-usual. 

Mingyu blushes. 

He blushes so hard that he’s sure it’s obvious to see, his skin probably going deep scarlet. 

“Uh, no,” Mingyu says, his voice breaking just the slightest bit on the last syllable. “But I’ll keep an eye out for it.” 

“It wasn’t in the wash? I could’ve sworn that I threw it in my laundry basket yesterday.” 

“Nope, didn’t see it.”

Jihoon shrugs, not seeming to suspect anything of Mingyu despite his decidedly abnormal behavior. 

“Maybe I left it at work. Guess I’ll check tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your porn.” 

“That’s not!-”

“I don’t need to know all the details,” Jihoon jokes as he walks out of Mingyu’s room. Mingyu locks his door this time, waiting until Jihoon is far enough to not hear the tell-tale clicking. 

Then, quietly and full of shame, he pulls Jihoon’s hoodie out of the closet. He looks at it for a few seconds, heavily considering taking it out to Jihoon and telling him that he found it, that it must have fallen out of the laundry basket after he finished sorting the colors. 

Instead, he can’t seem to stop himself from bringing it up close to his face, inhaling so deep that it burns his lungs, whining at the warmth and longing that it sparks in his belly. 

This isn’t normal. 

Mingyu at least has the sense to know that. 

And yet, he brings the hoodie over to his bed, pulling out the t-shirt and the gym tank top as well and throwing them on the mattress before cuddling up with them, feeling at ease despite the knowledge that he’s definitely crossing some kind of line. 

And Jihoon is a kind person. 

He’s always treated Mingyu with gentleness despite his towering stature and muscular build, and he knows that Jihoon wouldn’t be mad… but he does think that this is the kind of thing that would change the air between the two of them forever. It’s already changed a lot about Mingyu, and Jihoon doesn’t even know it yet. 

Mingyu’s not sure that he ever wants him to know. 

He opens up his laptop again, closing all the tabs about motherhood and pregnancy with a renewed sense of indignity, typing into the fresh search bar a question he fears he already knows the answer to. 

what does it mean if i keep stealing my friend’s clothes? 

The first result takes him to a discussion forum, starting with a question very similar to Mingyu’s own. 

It’s a bad first sign, and the fact that all of the responses have one common thread makes Mingyu feel like he’s seconds away from throwing up. 

lol this is EXACTLY how i found out i was going to present omega. congrats op. 

Is your friend an alpha? Are they more than friendly with you because for your sake, I really hope they are…

you’re nesting! so cute! wishing you the best throughout your presentation 💗

Does your friend know that you’re doing this? What’s their reaction?

is this a real question? you are in love lol

Mingyu feels extra sick now. 

It’s less of a realization and more of a piecing together of a very complicated, twisted-up puzzle. The individual pieces had never felt like they fit quite right: his family’s expectations, the assumptions of strangers, his presentation (or lack thereof). 

The choice. 

Mingyu breathes in, ragged and wheezy and scared, because Mingyu doesn’t want to be an alpha.

 Just the thought of the word is making his stomach turn. 

But he also feels like he can actually breathe now, after years of convincing himself that his family was right, and after weeks of being dishonest with himself. 

His beta designation had been fine at the end of the day, because at least as a beta there weren’t all of these expectations of him. As a beta, he felt no pressure to find a partner and start a new life with them. He didn’t feel like he would always need to be on-guard, defending the people he loves — though he is fiercely protective, just in a slightly different way. 

When the prospect of being an alpha had once again reared its head, Mingyu found himself consumed by the fear that he’d never be able to live up to what was needed of him. 

It’s not him; it never could be. 

Because the truth — likely always lingering around in the dark, sheltered depths of his heart — is that he wants to be an omega. It’s not new, it’s only now that he’s allowed himself to even notice just how much he wants it, ignoring the longing at every opportunity until he literally couldn’t anymore. 

Until the doctor told him that he can have exactly what he wants, the power resting entirely in his hands. And now that it’s clear and obvious, Mingyu can’t imagine living any other way. He’s not sure he would survive it. Now that he knows, he can’t just go back to the way things were. 

And god, it just had to be Jihoon. His roommate. His friend. Arguably, his best friend. 

And Mingyu wants to be railed by him until he sees stars. 

He wants to be knotted and mated and loved. He wants to give Jihoon children. 

Mingyu would be the perfect omega and the perfect mother if Jihoon would just give him a chance, then he could! —

Stop. 

Mingyu takes a shallow breath in, trying desperately to get some oxygen to his brain. 

He’s being insane right now. 

It’s more than obvious that Jihoon doesn’t feel the same way about Mingyu — probably hasn’t even given it a passing thought. Why else would he be so excited about Mingyu being a late-bloomer alpha? He probably can’t even fathom a world in which Mingyu is not only an omega, but specifically his omega. To be completely fair, even Mingyu couldn’t have imagined it a few weeks ago, but now he can’t help but quietly and hopelessly fantasize about it. 

The thoughts start innocently enough, with Jihoon kissing him, calling him his, maybe brushing his fingers across the scarred-over bite marks on Mingyu’s neck… 

But the fantasy very quickly devolves into a horny nightmare, Mingyu’s entire body suddenly overtaken by the idea of Jihoon pushing him to the brink of too much pleasure, of filling him up until his eyes start to flood with tears. 

He imagines Jihoon’s cock, long and thick and coated in shiny precome, Jihoon stroking it as he prepares to push inside Mingyu’s tight, wet pussy. He thinks Jihoon would probably tease him a bit. He would use just the tips of his fingers to make Mingyu even wetter, desperate for something bigger, before finally sliding them in. He would do it for minutes before finally resting the head of his cock at Mingyu’s entrance, still not pushing in, just letting Mingyu know what he could have, until tears ran down Mingyu’s face.

Mingyu would beg, and he knows it. He would cry and whine for Jihoon to just fuck him already, to unravel him until all he can feel, all he can understand is the feeling of Jihoon thrusting into him, squelching, slapping sounds filling the air. 

Mingyu’s mouth starts to water, and his pussy…

He slides his shorts and underwear off, noticing the huge wet spot in the crotch area of both, throwing them carelessly to the floor as his other hand dives between his legs, two fingers sliding between his wet folds in just a matter of seconds, moving in and out with urgency.

He would beg for Jihoon’s come, to be filled up so much that it can’t do anything but leak out, sliding back down his cock as he continues fucking Mingyu through it. Or to be knotted, keeping all of it plugged up inside, hoping that it’ll take, that Mingyu will swell with Jihoon’s babies. 

Mingyu could love and care for their little family, and Jihoon could love them back, keeping them safe and protected. The thought makes him come, but it’s more of a slow, warming burn traveling in his body than one explosion of pleasure, and he teases himself through it, trying to get the most out of the experience as possible. 

He buries his face back into the collection of Jihoon’s clothes. 

They’re in the same apartment, Jihoon just downstairs, and still, Mingyu misses him. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with regret at ever having told Jihoon about his predicament in the first place, at ever letting him think Mingyu might be an alpha. 

Even if he does his best to prove himself as the perfect omega, to show just how good he can be, Jihoon has a perception of Mingyu that’s totally inaccurate, and he has no one to blame but himself. 

The only real way to fix it is by telling the truth, and Mingyu honestly thinks he’d rather die than have to confront the reality he’s created. 

There’s no way Jihoon won’t think he’s absolutely pathetic, and that would honestly be one of the better case scenarios. It’s entirely possible that Jihoon will find a genuine problem in all of this — in Mingyu’s lie, in his behavior, in the way he wants Jihoon… Somehow, Mingyu doesn’t think finding out your roommate has been stealing your sweaty clothes is something that just rolls off your back without further thought. But he really doesn’t know what else to do. 

He gets dressed and calls his doctor. 

—

“Hello, Mingyu. How’s your back?” 

Mingyu blinks, disoriented by the simple question. 

“My back?” he thinks for a moment. “Oh. My back. My back is fine. No more pain. But that’s not why I came in today.” 

“I know, just checking in on all fronts. So, would you like to explain why you scheduled today’s appointment?” 

Truthfully, no. Mingyu doesn’t want to do that. He knows that his reasoning is printed directly on his chart, so why can’t his doctor just be the one to say it out loud? It’s the first time, and Mingyu’s not sure if he can get through it without passing out. 

He swallows the lump in his throat.

“I want to start… omega pheromone treatment,” he says, voice going a little softer at the end like someone else will hear him if he speaks too loud. The doctor gives him a neutral smile, a professional smile that does nothing more than tell Mingyu that he is going to support his choice. 

Mingyu supposes that is his job. 

“Is this your first step in choosing a new designation?” 

Mingyu opens his mouth, but then decides to just nod. 

“Before we begin the process, I just want to reiterate that any final change will likely only come about with exposure to a natural alpha pheromone.” 

As clinical and cold as they are, the words still make Mingyu excited for the future. A future he has constructed entirely in his own head, but a future nonetheless. Mingyu nods again. 

“I… I know. I just need some help. I’m not exactly alpha bait,” Mingyu laughs, awkward, especially when he realizes just how lame that makes him sound. Still, there are no signs of judgment on his doctor’s face. 

“This treatment should help with that. Before we start though, I just want to issue some warnings…” 

The doctor goes on and on about the risk of pheromone injections causing artificial preheat. It’s the same pheromone usually used to induce heats in omegas, so that doesn’t come as a huge shock to Mingyu. He’ll be careful and look out for any signs, and says as much. 

“In rare circumstances, an artificial preheat could be very dangerous. Do you have anyone who you could tell about your regimen so that in the case of an emergency, they would know what was happening and get you to the hospital?” 

Mingyu doesn’t like that question very much. 

But he lies and says he’ll explain everything to his roommate, who will be able to help him if things go awry. His doctor seems pleased with that response, leaving the room to get Mingyu’s first injection. 

“We’ll start with a low dose and see how you fare,” he says, flicking the side of the syringe and putting slight pressure on the plunger. “We can increase the dose as needed.” 

The process is simple and painless, Mingyu not feeling the needle at all when a small bandage is plastered over his bicep. 

Mingyu isn’t sure why he expects to feel completely different after the injection, but he’s a little disappointed when he feels exactly the same as he did an hour prior. But, he doesn’t feel bad, and he supposes that’s really the best first sign he could hope for. 

He still heads home immediately, wanting to see if Jihoon will notice a difference this soon. 

When he gets home, Jihoon is in the kitchen, looking like he’s just starting on dinner. 

Mingyu observes his movements for just a few moments, then he makes his presence known with heavier footfalls. Jihoon looks over his shoulder at Mingyu, all the while Mingyu takes note of the ingredients on the counter, trying to piece together the dish that Jihoon is making. 

“Hey,” is all Jihoon says, focusing his attention back on the chicken breast on the cutting board.

“Hey. Do you want me to finish up here?” Mingyu offers. ‘Finish up’ is a definite understatement. Jihoon looks like he couldn’t have started more than five minutes ago. It’s not like Jihoon is bad at cooking or anything. The food he makes is perfectly fine, but Mingyu knows he doesn’t enjoy doing it. He takes on the responsibility every so often, just because he doesn’t like ‘taking advantage’ of Mingyu’s affinity for the kitchen, but honestly, Mingyu doesn’t mind at all. 

Jihoon blinks like the question has caught him extremely off guard. 

“You don’t need to do that,” he says after a second or two of recovery. 

“I insist,” Mingyu counters, despite still not having a real idea of what Jihoon is even making. He’s sure he’ll make something at least halfway decent once he gets into it. Jihoon puts the knife down and looks at Mingyu. Mingyu’s not sure what it is he’s looking for, but he steps away from the counter and over to the sink to wash his hands. 

“Alright. I’ll go shower, I guess,” Jihoon concedes, still looking at Mingyu with a peculiar expression on his face as he walks upstairs. 

Mingyu loves cooking, that much is true, and Jihoon knows it.

But Mingyu would be lying if there wasn’t some instinctual part of him that made the offer solely to show Jihoon what a good omega he would be. The rational part of his brain cringes at the thought, criticizing him for believing in such an outdated concept, but carries on normally. 

He brings all of the ingredients together into some semblance of a meal and manages to finish just a few minutes after Jihoon finishes his shower, coming back downstairs with wet hair and more comfortable clothing. 

Jihoon comes into the kitchen and peers around Mingyu to see into the pan. 

“Looks better than whatever I would’ve come up with,” he says, mild defeat running through his tone. Mingyu turns around in shock.

“So you didn’t even have a plan? I thought you were following a recipe or something!”

Jihoon just chuckles, squeezing Mingyu’s side and stepping away with a smirk that makes his stomach flip. 

—

Their lives continue on this way for the next few weeks, until Mingyu finds himself getting more and more frustrated every day. 

So he schedules another doctor’s appointment to up his pheromone dose. 

And maybe Mingyu is delusional, the pheromones going straight to his brain, but after two higher doses, he thinks he notices that his hips are a little wider, that his thighs and ass feel a little softer. More desirable. 

Maybe it’s just that he notices Jihoon touching him more, putting hands on his hips when he needs to pass by in a close space, or a hand that slides down his arm when they’re saying bye for the day. 

But even despite all of the touching and all of the things that he wants to identify as signs, Mingyu thinks that he’s reached a point of maturity and understanding where, even if Jihoon doesn’t want him, he thinks he’ll be okay. He believes in his ability to eventually find an alpha who will want him and love him and take care of him, and likewise, someone who Mingyu will be able to fulfill all the roles associated with being an omega. 

He has a (painfully obvious) crush on Jihoon, but he can get over it if he needs to. 

—

It’s been a couple of days since Mingyu had his last injection and everything is normal. He goes to work, talks with his coworkers, comes back home, cooks dinner, and hangs out until it’s time to shower and go to bed, just as he had a majority of his days before starting his treatment. 

Everything is normal until it isn’t. 

It’s during his lunch break that Mingyu’s forehead breaks out in a light sheen of sweat. ‘Not again. Why am I always getting sick?’ Mingyu thinks to himself, as his breathing grows shallow. 

It’s nearing the end of the day, and Mingyu will be able to leave in a little less than an hour. 

But then the sick feeling washes over him with a vengeance, and he knows he won’t be able to stomach being in his cubicle for one more minute. 

He mutters something about clocking out early and making up the time some other day before rushing out of the building and into his car, where he immediately swallows a pain killer with the tiny amount of liquid left in his water bottle. The distance between work and home isn’t too horribly long, and Mingyu thinks his mind is clear enough to get him there safely, and he’s right. 

But the second he passes through the threshold of the apartment, something inside of him shifts, noticeably. 

Instead of walking into his own bedroom, he bursts through the door of Jihoon’s.

Jihoon isn’t home, and probably won’t be for another hour or so, which means there’s absolutely nothing stopping Mingyu from tearing the place apart. He grabs onto anything that might have even the smallest lingering bit of Jihoon’s scent on it, only walking out when his arms are full of soft things: clothes, blankets, pillows. 

He takes all of it back into his own room, laying everything out on the bed lovingly, but also with urgency, the pain in his gut beginning to build and burn. It’s a completely new feeling to him, one akin to the sensation Mingyu imagines a hot fire stoker to the belly would elicit. 

He cries out at the feeling, kicking his legs desperately as the pain seems to intensify, the only remedy being Jihoon’s scent, but even that only seems to take the sharp edge off the feeling. The dull ache is still tearing him apart from the inside out, and suddenly, Mingyu is terrified by what’s happening to him. 

He’s not sure how long he writhes around in pain. It could be just a handful of minutes, but to Mingyu it feels like days, nothing helping, nothing stopping it. 

Muffled sounds briefly break through the pain-induced haze. Then the miserable clouds clear up entirely when Mingyu finally has the mind to realize what the sounds are. 

“Mingyu, you fucking terrorized my room.” 

The door opens, revealing Jihoon. 

And Mingyu cries. 

He cries harder than he has in his entire life, possibly. He can’t even make words with his mouth, just pained whines, hoping and wishing for Jihoon to come closer because he’s all but paralyzed. 

Jihoon takes a sweeping look at the scene before him, at all his belongings scattered on Mingyu’s bed, under his sweaty body, twined between his legs, and pressed up against his face. The observation is very short though, Jihoon racing over to Mingyu’s side the moment he seems to realize something is severely wrong. 

“Hey, you’re sweating a lot. What’s going on?” Jihoon asks, panic evident in his voice, which only serves to make Mingyu feel more panicked, his voice locking up in his throat. He can vaguely hear Jihoon asking if he needs to go back to the hospital. He probably does, but he shakes his head, knowing that leaving the bed would only make him feel worse. 

And now that Jihoon is in the room, the slight hint of his scent wafting into Mingyu’s nose, taking over his brain entirely, all he can think about is sex: Jihoon’s cock, his knot, mating, breeding, please love me please please please love me and fuck me. 

Only he says the last part out loud, babbling and almost incoherent, but definitely still understandable as Jihoon’s burning red ears indicate. He clears his throat a few times before speaking, fixing Mingyu with a facial expression that he really doesn’t like the look of. 

“Mingyu, this… isn’t possible. What are you…” he trails off, but the pieces seem to be slowly coming together in his head, and for the second time, Mingyu really wishes that he had just come clean about presentation because now he doesn’t even have the working brain cells to explain any of it. 

Jihoon may not be on the dating scene, and he hasn’t… been with very many people, but he went to middle school biology class like everyone else did. He knows the symptoms of a preheat. 

Only this isn’t just a preheat. Right now, Mingyu has borderline heat symptoms that his body isn’t capable of handling on a cellular level. He needs to fix this, and fast.

“Nightstand… top drawer,” Mingyu manages to say between pathetic, broken whimpers, gesturing to the bedside table with a weak arm. Seemingly without even thinking about it, Jihoon moves, sliding the drawer open with a worrying amount of force, and taking out a half-empty bottle of lube. Jihoon exhales a shaky breath.

“You’re not thinking straight right now. I can’t–”

“Please…!” Mingyu cries out in desperation, clinging to Jihoon’s arm. “I know what I want. I’ve known for weeks. After the gym… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Jihoon’s entire face is red now, and Mingyu is sure he looks similar, but for a very different reason. 

“...I wanna be your omega,” Mingyu finally adds, a little embarrassed and ashamed now, when it seems Jihoon isn’t going to respond to his confession. Even through his sweaty, fuzzy haze, Mingyu cringes a bit. It’s like all the bad alpha/omega porn online, only Mingyu means it so much. 

“That’s… a lot,” Jihoon says, finally breaking his silence after a few more noticeably heavy breaths. 

It hurts. Because it’s obvious that Jihoon hasn’t thought about any of this the way that Mingyu has. He can’t help the anguished cry that he lets out, louder and from deeper inside him than the ones before, gut-wrenching even to his own ears as his pain intensifies. And on top of that, Mingyu’s not sure he’s ever felt sadder in his entire life. 

Jihoon doesn’t want him. He already knew this — or at least, he probably should have — and yet the realization feels like a blunt knife to the chest, painful in the slowest, most agonizing way possible. 

Jihoon cradles his face and looks even more distressed than before, which is the final straw for Mingyu. 

“Take me to the hospital,” he demands, as strong as his vocal cords can manage. 

“Mingyu, I’m sorry—”

“Take me to the hospital!” Mingyu remembers shouting, right before blacking out. 

—

Mingyu barely remembers being carted into an ambulance, and he certainly doesn’t remember making it to the ICU. Mostly, he remembers the feeling of being unwanted, of rejection and sadness and embarrassment beyond Mingyu’s wildest nightmares. 

When he wakes up his whole body still hurts, but it’s a dull ache compared to the almost stinging burn of before. He has no idea how long he’s been here, or what happened between his bedroom and now, but he still feels just as sad, perhaps even more so now that he’s no longer distracted by the pain of his fake preheat. 

In hindsight, he really should’ve heeded those side effect warnings, but he couldn’t think straight. He just wanted Jihoon. And he wanted Jihoon to see what a good mate he could be: the perfect omega even though he isn’t one yet. 

He looks at his situation in the hospital bed, at the IV that thankfully looks like it’s only attached to fluids. He does notice that his mouth is parched and that rehydration is probably something he’ll be working on for a while. 

Just as he’s thinking it, looking around the room for water that would be easy for him to access, the doctor walks in. His doctor. And he knows that medical professionals have seen close to everything, but he still feels embarrassed by his presence. 

“You’re awake,” he says in a lighthearted tone, but Mingyu sees through it. 

“Hi,” Mingyu responds, voice scratchy and awful.

Without needing to ask for it, the doctor brings Mingyu a small cup of water, holding it up to his mouth for him when he realizes Mingyu’s motor function isn’t so great at the moment. 

“Your high fever dehydrated you quite a bit, so I’ll be bringing you some more water. For now, how are you feeling?”

“Like I was run over by a tank and then the tank launched me into the sun,” Mingyu jokes, despite really not being in a joking mood at all. 

“We’ll definitely get you something for the pain once you’ve eaten. How’s your mental state?” 

When he’s asked like that, flat out, it’s hard not to immediately start tearing up, that awful tense feeling in his throat already starting to build. He exhales to get rid of some of it. 

“I’m fine,” he insists, hoping he won’t ask any follow-up questions.

“That’s good to hear. We’ll need to have some more in-depth discussions about your regimen at a later appointment, but for now, I’m going to get you some things. Are you up to having visitors at the moment?” 

For a split second, Mingyu is terrified that his parents are at the hospital, that he’ll have to explain this whole embarrassing mess to them, but when he dumbly nods, the person the doctor ushers in is Jihoon. 

He looks awful. His clothes and hair are rumpled, and he looks even more sleep-deprived than he usually does, dark circles hanging around his eyes. It speaks to just how fucked Mingyu is that he still thinks he’s the hottest man on the planet.

The door closes softly as the doctor leaves the two of them alone, Jihoon standing an awkward distance away, though Mingyu really doesn’t blame him for that. 

“Thanks for letting me in,” Jihoon says, clearing his throat at both the beginning and end of the sentence. 

“Letting you in?” 

“Yeah, we’re not… so they couldn’t let me in the room without your consent.”

“Oh.” 

Jihoon won’t say it, but it’s obvious even without explanation that he sat in the waiting room the whole time, probably in a very uncomfortable chair for who knows how long, just waiting for Mingyu to regain consciousness. Mingyu wishes that he hadn’t done that because the only thing it accomplishes is making him fall further in love. 

“How… how long…?” 

“Just a little over a day.” 

“Oh… sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Those are kind of the last words that Mingyu wants to hear from Jihoon right now — he’s not sure that he can go through this again. 

“Can we not talk about it? You definitely have the right, and you deserve answers, but I just woke up. I’ve gone through a lot in the past 48 hours,” Mingyu pleads, hoping the desperation will be enough for Jihoon to take pity on him. 

“You definitely have… but so have I.”

“Jihoon—”

“No. Please, let me say this. And then if you never want to hear from me again, I’ll pack my things and leave. I swear.” 

Mingyu takes one more look at his tired eyes, and can’t say no.

“...Okay.” 

“You turn me into a different person,” Jihoon begins, wasting no time at all. Mingyu just looks at him and waits. 

“Even the fact that I’m talking right now is… I never cared about any of this stuff. Fuck societal expectations because I really didn’t care about being an alpha and I hated how much everyone told me that I had to. It’s just not what I wanted for myself. I have my music and my job, and that was everything I could have ever needed. But you…” 

Jihoon looks straight at Mingyu with a face he’s never seen before and his heart flutters in his chest. The heart monitor he’s hooked up to takes notice. 

“First appearances told me that you were definitely an alpha, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you mating some omega. I was so happy when you told me you were a beta, and I had no idea why,” Jihoon says, chuckling in a way that’s more self-deprecating than it is actually humorous. He takes a breath like the rest is going to be even harder for him to get through. Mingyu resists the urge to comfort him, to ask questions, or otherwise lead him off this path he’s clearly determined to go down. He tries to tamp down the giddy optimism crawling up his skin as Jihoon prepares to say more. 

“When you gave me the news a few weeks ago I tried so hard to be supportive, but…” Forget tamping it down, Mingyu’s hope is through the ceiling, flooding the room and running out into the streets. Jihoon breathes again, and then he looks at Mingyu, half hopeful, half terrified. 

“You’re supposed to be mine, right? Like… have you felt like this the whole time? Have you felt this between us?” 

Mingyu can’t breathe. He blinks in response because that’s all he can manage, but he wants so badly to say something, to agree, say yes, that’s exactly how I’ve felt and I’ve been forcing it down for years now. He still just stares. 

“I’m insane. Fuck—” 

“Jihoon—”

“I love you. I didn’t think that I would ever say it out loud. Was sure that you would find someone and move out and start your life with them, and I would just go back to my music and write songs about it until I couldn’t anymore. Guess there’s no going back now.” 

Mingyu remains speechless for a few more seconds. And then the speechlessness turns to stuttering. 

“I don’t- it’s not- I- if you… If you love me, then… Why did you say no? Why did you reject me?” Mingyu asks, finally pulling it together at the last second. 

Jihoon balls up his fists, clenching so hard that Mingyu wouldn’t be surprised if his nails started drawing blood. 

“I’ve read enough heat horror stories. I know that’s not what it actually was, but all I could think about was you hating me for… I didn’t want to take advantage of you. If I had known for sure, I—” Jihoon pauses, blushing, as if Mingyu didn’t already find him cute enough. “I would have helped you. Especially if I knew how bad it was going to get. You scared the fuck out of me, Mingyu.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t—”

“No. I need to apologize because it’s my fault. I was trying so hard to make you want me. The truth is that I’m not an alpha. I have a choice to make, and I’m choosing omega. I lied about it because I thought you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore if you knew. I’m doing pheromone treatments. I was supposed to tell you about it so you’d know to look out for side effects. Sorry.” 

Now it’s Jihoon’s turn to blink at him, clearly shocked at the amount of information. But now that Mingyu has started, he can’t seem to stop, more and more words spilling out of his mouth at an ungodly pace. 

“And I wasn’t lying about wanting you. It wasn’t just ‘heat brain’ or whatever. I’d been fantasizing. Um, explicitly... For weeks at that point. I think all of that along with the pheromones just pushed me over the edge.”

With the admission hanging heavy in the air, they both wait for the other to say something else, caught in a rare awkward silence. Though, Mingyu’s not sure what he expected; he literally just told his best friend that he has indeed been daydreaming about them having sex. 

Riding off the last drops of bravery that he has, Mingyu’s heart pounds in his ears. 

“I know I’m going to be out of commission for a while,” Mingyu starts, trying to relax his tense, painful muscles the best he can. “But you can still kiss me, right?” 

Mingyu doesn’t even have time to overthink the question, as Jihoon makes his way across the room in quick strides, holding onto Mingyu’s face with both hands and leaning down until their lips touch. 

And kissing Jihoon is an experience unlike anything else because Mingyu has never been happier over something that feels so normal and so right. This is how they’re supposed to be. Mingyu is supposed to be Jihoon’s , and he’s supposed to be showered in little kisses every single day for the rest of time. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doctor’s voice cuts in after a brief knock at the door that both of them seemed to ignore. “Mingyu is in stable condition, but we’ll need to do some final check-ins before he can be released.” 

Jihoon nods at the information, but it’s reluctant. Mingyu can tell because one of his hands is in Jihoon’s unrelenting grip, squeezed between his fingers like he’s not about to let go. In reality, he squeezes twice before loosening his hold. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, letting go and then tucking a piece of hair behind Mingyu’s ear, even though it's not really long enough to work. Still, it takes everything in him not to swoon right there in front of his doctor. He’s embarrassed himself enough as it is. “We’re talking about all of this later.” 

“Okay.”

They run a couple quick tests, followed by Mingyu swallowing down a granola bar so he can take his pain meds, and then he gets to see Jihoon again, which is kind of like a pain reliever in its own way. 

They get in a taxi together, and while the energy between the two of them is certainly a bit awkward now, Jihoon does everything that he can to help get Mingyu back to full health. He brings him water and food and tea and his pills when needed, and he rubs Mingyu’s back even after Mingyu tells him he doesn’t have to. 

“But your back hurts,” he had said, like it was a no-brainer. And maybe it was. 

All of Jihoon's things are still in Mingyu's bed (he’s not sure what Jihoon is using for a pillow in the meantime) redoused in fresh alpha pheromones, and that last part wasn’t even at Mingyu’s request. 

Like instinct, after a long day of work, Jihoon came back into Mingyu’s room, taking each item from the bed, including Mingyu’s own belongings, and laid claim to all of them, scenting them thoroughly and returning them all back to Mingyu’s plush nest and finishing with Mingyu himself, rubbing his nose into his wrists and the crook of his neck. 

It’s day four of Mingyu’s recovery — day four of being waited on by Jihoon for his every little whim and desire, of being loved and cared for, and Mingyu really can’t imagine having to go back to work after this. Surely this is what his life is meant to look like. 

They’re cuddled up in bed, and Mingyu could be doing all of his basic tasks himself, but Jihoon seems to be enjoying taking care of him, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to stretch it out just a little longer. 

Jihoon is scenting him again and they’re breathing each other’s air, and Mingyu sighs, letting out a rush of warm air that tickles Jihoon's neck. He squirms a bit, rearranging their bodies so that they're a little further apart, but now fully face to face. That's something that Mingyu's still getting used to; being watched so closely by Jihoon's piercing eyes, like he's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. The scrutiny makes Mingyu blush every time, and he tucks his face down toward Jihoon's chest when it becomes too much for him to handle. 

Jihoon chuckles, running a hand up and down Mingyu's back like he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on him. It's unfair. All Mingyu wants is to do the same to Jihoon, to catch him off guard and make him flustered, but it's hard when Mingyu's brain has already shifted into submissive omega mode. Everything Jihoon does turns him into a mushy, spineless creature and, in turn, everything Mingyu does makes Jihoon bolder and more sure of himself. It's a horrible, endless cycle. 

Mingyu can't get enough of it. 

Suddenly, Jihoon clears his throat to speak.

“You know, I still can't actually smell you,” he begins, deliberately looking away from Mingyu. “Like I can smell your shampoo and your deodorant but not you .” Despite their eyes not meeting, Mingyu can still sense the bit of longing in his tone. And he understands it completely. 

“I can only barely smell you. I think it was the only thing holding me together during the… incident,” Mingyu replies, flustered at the memory. It's mostly true, but there's a part of Mingyu that wonders if Jihoon's scent didn't actually make everything worse, Mingyu growing more and more desperate the longer it settled on his clothes and skin. 

“I'm not actually an omega yet, so… it's honestly surprising that I can smell you at all,” he continues, wondering if such a thing has ever even been documented before, or if he and Jihoon are just special. 

“Right. So how is that supposed to happen, exactly?” 

Mingyu blushes. A lot. His ears are burning and Jihoon is looking at him with teasing, curious eyes. 

“Alpha pheromones…” Mingyu decides to keep it vague, assuming Jihoon can figure it out from there. And maybe he can, but he's certainly not going to give Mingyu the easy way out. 

“So, like what I'm doing right now?” Jihoon asks, and it's obvious from the tone of his voice that it's on purpose, that he's doing what he thinks will annoy Mingyu the most. And despite being aware of that, Mingyu still finds himself getting annoyed, playing right into it. 

“Uh, no, it'll be a little more thorough than that,” Mingyu says, trying not to let his exasperation come through. 

“Thorough how?” Jihoon asks with a smirk. He leans over and kisses Mingyu’s jaw, then down his neck, reaching his collarbone and sucking on the skin until Mingyu inhales a sharp gasp. 

He’ll never admit it out loud, and thankfully there’s no way for Jihoon to know, but it makes Mingyu wet almost instantly, the feeling of Jihoon’s lips and teeth on such a sensitive part of his body, grazing back over to where a tender scent gland might lie once he’s presented. It leaves Mingyu overwhelmed by the idea of possession, of longing to be claimed by his alpha. The current impossibility of that makes Mingyu irritable though. 

“Don’t do this if you aren’t going to commit,” Mingyu says through gritted teeth, just barely stopping a moan from slipping out as Jihoon continues stroking his tongue over the pinkened skin. Jihoon has the audacity to laugh at him again, and Mingyu would be hurt by it if it weren’t for the way he guides one of his hands over Mingyu’s hip, squeezing and making Mingyu even wetter. 

“Commit to what?” Jihoon still teases. When Mingyu whines, Jihoon kisses him to make him quiet. Mingyu forces himself to pull away. 

“I’m going to overheat again and you’re going to feel bad about it,” Mingyu asserts, still whiny, but standing his ground. The doctor had been very clear about his pheromone levels and how they were still high enough to cause another episode if he wasn’t cautious or didn’t… take care of it. As much as he loves Jihoon, he’s not willing to go through that again, so Mingyu needs him to make a choice: stop this in its tracks and let Mingyu take an ice-cold shower, or… commit. 

Jihoon makes his choice. 

“You won’t overheat if you just tell me what you want,” Jihoon starts, words a mere whisper as his hand travels from Mingyu’s hip all the way down to his inner thigh. “Tell me just how badly you want me to fuck your sweet pussy.”

Mingyu whines even louder than before in (horrifyingly) equal amounts of humiliation and horniness, but he really can’t be blamed for the latter. He’s been horny for like five weeks straight and he genuinely thinks that now, pushed so close to the edge, he might die if he doesn’t get Jihoon’s cock inside him within the next two minutes. Before he can start pathetically begging though, Jihoon scoffs at himself. 

“God, I can’t believe I fucking said that,” he mumbles, loud enough for Mingyu to hear, but just barely. He looks at Jihoon with what is probably a very puzzled expression, and, like something out of Mingyu’s best dreams, Jihoon’s cheeks are dusted with pink. It feels nice to know that he’s not in this alone, that he’s also having an effect on Jihoon. 

“Are you absolutely sure that you’re not already releasing pheromones? Because you’re making me act stupid,” Jihoon says, louder this time.

Despite the indirectly crude nature of it, Mingyu warms up at the comment. It all does feel a little out of character for Jihoon, but in the best way possible, like he wants Mingyu so bad that he doesn’t know how to handle it. 

Mingyu decides that it’s his turn to tease Jihoon. Just a bit.

“No pheromones yet… If only somebody could help me with that. Maybe I should go look for someone,” Mingyu says, obviously joking, but it’s also obvious that Jihoon doesn’t find it funny, not in the slightest. 

In less than a second, Jihoon is on him, pinning him down in all of Jihoon’s clothes and blankets and other belongings. Mingyu feels like one of them. And Mingyu is physically larger than Jihoon, but he’s never felt smaller in his entire life, more weak and fragile and breakable, and yet still so safe in Jihoon’s hands. 

“Why would you need someone else?” Jihoon’s voice is gruff in Mingyu’s ear, and his cock is hard against Mingyu’s thigh, grinding down to take some of the edge off. Mingyu keeps pushing. 

“I need someone who can make me the omega I was meant to be… It’ll only work if I find someone who can fuck me so hard that my body has no choice but to submit…” Mingyu trails off, shame hitting him about halfway through his statement, but he sticks to it anyway, knowing that just a little more teasing will probably seal the deal. 

And he’s right. The force with which Jihoon is holding him down doubles, and Mingyu hopes that it leaves some kind of mark, that Jihoon leaves marks everywhere for everyone to see. 

Jihoon breathes in through his nose to bring some oxygen back to his brain, to regain some sanity, but Mingyu can see the way his pupils are blown wide, flitting back and forth between Mingyu’s face and his body. 

“I need to ask this while my brain is still functioning: Do I have your full consent? And don’t joke around because I’m serious when I say that I’m going to fucking take you apart.”

Mingyu shivers as the thought travels to every single one of his nerve endings, thrumming in his chest and electrifying his fingertips. 

“Yes. Yes,” is all Mingyu can manage to say, brain inundated with more desire than he’s ever felt before. The simple response is enough to make Jihoon grab onto his wrists instead, pinning them down on the mattress at the sides of his head. 

“You’re mine.” 

“I’m yours, I’m yours… Make me your omega.” 

Jihoon does everything but completely rip off Mingyu’s clothes, getting him naked faster and more efficiently than Mingyu could before hastily undressing himself as well. When they’re both naked, some of the tension and urgency seems to leave Jihoon’s shoulders, as he takes in Mingyu’s body for longer than just a lingering glance, staring, unblinking like he’s trying to make up for lost time. Jihoon licks his lips as he trails both hands up and down Mingyu’s bare torso, roving over every curve of his muscle, squeezing at the slight soft fleshiness of his hips, watching as the skin fills in the space between his fingers. 

“God, look at you,” Jihoon whispers in awe, his hands going back between Mingyu’s legs and pulling them apart. He still has the mind to tease, to drive Mingyu insane, because instead of touching where Mingyu so desperately needs him, he just continues stroking up and down his thighs, getting excruciatingly close, fingers just barely brushing at the edge of wet heat. 

The teasing, however, only lasts for as long as Mingyu can sit still. The moment he squirms, Jihoon seems to be set back on track, and faster than before. He rubs over Mingyu’s pussy with the flat of his palm, stimulating his clit with just enough pressure to have Mingyu’s breath quicken. 

Jihoon spreads his pussy with two delicate fingers, exposing all of the glistening wetness, and Jihoon licks his lips again like he’s daring for a taste. 

“If you’re this wet now, I can’t imagine what you’ll be like as my omega… leaking hot slick all over my cock.”

“Jihoon!”

“What? You don’t want to think about it? About me making you feel so good that you can’t help but leak all over me?” Jihoon leans in close to whisper. “They would all know. The scent alone would be a dead giveaway. They’d know that I fucked you until you were mine.”

“Please, now. Now…” 

“Needy. Don’t worry… I’ve got you.”

The final word is punctuated by Jihoon sliding his finger in with ease, Mingyu moaning with the motion. And Jihoon smirks, because of course he does. His confidence would be irritating, maybe even a little cringey, if Mingyu weren’t so unbelievably turned on right now. Jihoon could be discussing the history of staplers and Mingyu wouldn’t be any less horny. 

“You’re fucking desperate,” Jihoon points out the obvious, slipping in another finger. “How bad do you want it?”

And Mingyu thinks he’s been pretty clear about that. 

“Need it, please!” Mingyu says anyway, hoping enthusiasm and his pouty face and watery eyes will get him what he wants faster. In the back of his mind, Mingyu notes that when they’re finished he needs to make fun of Jihoon for acting like he wasn’t going to be able to control himself and then pulling this stunt. 

It’ll be laughable, eventually. Right now, it’s just a couple steps removed from torture, Mingyu is convinced. 

“Your pussy is so pretty and pink,” Jihoon compliments him, plunging deeper and deeper as he thrusts his fingers in and out, his other hand massaging Mingyu’s clit once again. 

“...Need more. I’m ready,” Mingyu declares. 

He’s more than ready, for so much more than he’s going to get today. Honestly, he’s thinking about the fact that his doctor said the transition would likely take a couple months and he wants to cry imagining having to wait that long to be a proper omega, the kind that would make Jihoon proud to call him that. He’s ready now. 

He watches with wide eyes as Jihoon takes his cock in his hand, huge and only seeming to grow bigger as he strokes it, and Mingyu salivates. He’s overtaken by how much he wants it in his mouth, but knows it’ll have to wait for a later time because the fleeting wish doesn’t outweigh how much he needs his pussy to be filled. 

Jihoon gathers Mingyu’s slick on his fingers and brings them back to his dick, stroking again and sighing with the feeling until it seems he can’t stand the wait any longer, impatient as he rests the tip right at Mingyu’s entrance. Mingyu somehow manages to get even wetter in anticipation, and he’s sure Jihoon can feel it. Still, he doesn’t push in, not yet, teasing in the exact way Mingyu had fantasized about. 

Mingyu is a second away from whining again, from yelling at Jihoon to get on with it already, until Jihoon pushes his hair back. Mingyu’s hair is pretty short right now, so the movement doesn’t actually do much, but Mingyu loves the feeling of fingers in his hair, short nails scratching against his scalp. 

“You’re so pretty…”

“Oh.”

Mingyu blushes. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but that wasn’t it. 

“Has anyone ever told you that before?” 

Mingyu shakes his head, both sad and embarrassed that, as a soon-to-be-omega, no one’s ever described him as pretty before. He’s gotten countless compliments in his life, but they’ve always been things like ‘hot’ or ‘good-looking.’ Jihoon hums. 

“Guess I’ll have to tell you every day to make up for that,” Jihoon declares, still naked, hard cock still pressed up against Mingyu, and somehow, Mingyu’s tummy is a mess of butterflies. 

It’s then, when he’s caught off guard by unexpected romance, that Jihoon sinks in all at once, bottoming out in one fluid movement. Mingyu moans, grabbing onto Jihoon’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around his waist in an attempt to somehow get him even deeper. 

“You’re really tight. Does it hurt?” Jihoon asks, sounding out of breath. And truth be told, it does hurt a little bit, but in a way that Mingyu knows won’t last for much longer; the slight sting and burn of being stretched, perhaps more than he ever has been. He’s grateful for the concern, but he also kind of wants to giggle at it, at Jihoon for really making it seem like he was going to turn into an unstoppable fuck machine, but is now cradling and caressing Mingyu like he might shatter if he thrusts too hard. 

“Feels good,” Mingyu reassures him. “You’re big.” 

Jihoon glances down to where they’re connected, groaning when he pulls out halfway, his cock covered in Mingyu’s slick. He laughs to himself, dropping his head down to Mingyu’s shoulder, leaving Mingyu confused. 

“Give me a second,” Jihoon interjects before Mingyu can get a word in. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’m gonna come in like two seconds if I don’t focus.”

So Mingyu squeezes around his cock just to fuck with him, earning a pitiful little glare. 

“ That good?” Mingyu asks, boastful for no reason other than to annoy Jihoon.

“What kind of question is that? You know it’s amazing,” Jihoon spits back, slowly easing back in and making Mingyu moan again. 

It’s so much to just have Jihoon inside of him, that Mingyu also wonders how he’s going to hold up once Jihoon actually starts fucking him. 

He doesn’t have to wonder for long, Jihoon pulling out and thrusting back in just a second later, startling yet another moan out of him

“Jihoon, you’re—!” 

“What?”
“Don’t ask what?” 

“Why not? You didn’t finish your sentence.” 

Mingyu covers his face with his hands, and feels like sobbing into them when Jihoon picks up his speed in a steady rhythm that makes the bed creak. 

“I can’t believe that I want you to mate me…” Mingyu complains, though it isn’t all that effective when it’s interrupted by gasps every time Jihoon’s cock brushes up against that sweet spot inside of him. 

Jihoon grabs onto his thighs, pushing them up and back to get an even deeper angle. Mingyu thinks that he might die of pleasure. 

“You can’t believe it? When I have you spread open like this? What would it take to get you to believe it?” Jihoon asks, far too level for Mingyu’s liking. 

“Hhh ahh,” Mingyu responds intelligently. Jihoon pushes his thighs even further back, until they’re pressed up to his chest, and Jihoon moves further on top, readjusting his angle and then fucking Mingyu like he’s working with extremely limited time. 

“If I make you come, will that do it?” Jihoon asks, taking one hand now and using his fingers to play with Mingyu’s clit, thrusting simultaneously until Mingyu starts shedding actual tears, pressure building up in so many areas that he’s afraid he might burst. 

The sound of their sex is getting to Mingyu in a way that he wasn’t expecting, each one of Jihoon’s movements producing a wet squelch that’s somehow both mortifying and sexy at the same time. 

“I’m— I’m,” Mingyu hiccups, completely overwhelmed by Jihoon’s cock and his sweat and his scent and it’s all too much and not enough and exactly what he’s always wanted. 

“What, baby?” Jihoon asks, his words stuttery and cut up too, but with the term of endearment tumbling from his lips like second nature. And Mingyu manages to pull himself together, looking directly into Jihoon’s eyes as he speaks. 

“I’m not gonna come if that’s the best you can do.”

It’s bait, and if Jihoon had any sense left in his head, he would know it. 

Instead, it just works as Mingyu intended. 

Mingyu is suddenly surrounded by Jihoon on all sides, practically smothered by Jihoon’s body as he lies on top of Mingyu, who is still bent in half. He pins Mingyu’s wrists down to the mattress again and fucks Mingyu harder and faster and deeper than before. Sweat builds up around their hairlines as Jihoon gives into an almost animalistic instinct, fucking Mingyu in such a way that he can only assume is effective for breeding. The sounds of their wet skin slapping, of Mingyu’s pussy swallowing Jihoon’s cock over and over again, of the bed frame squeaking like it’s about to fall apart beneath them, all come together to create the most depraved mix of noise Mingyu’s ever heard. 

“Jihoon! Jihoon, my– I’m so…”

“Tell me. Tell me what I’m doing to you.” 

“My pussy… you make it feel so good.”

“Yeah? You like when my cock fills you up?” 

“Yes, I love your cock, alpha…”

That word affects Jihoon like nothing else.

He sinks his teeth into the side of Mingyu’s neck. 

“Ah, alpha!” Mingyu can’t help but repeat when his orgasm hits him, Jihoon pounding through it until Mingyu can feel another one starting to build just moments after the first subsides. The wetness between their hips is like a joke now, puddles of slick streaming down their bodies and soaking the blankets and sheets, which is pretty gross, but honestly, all Mingyu can think about is coming again. 

And about Jihoon coming inside him. 

Summoning an insane amount of strength, Jihoon sits up and pulls Mingyu into his lap, his dripping pussy sliding down Jihoon’s cock with no resistance at all. The new angle makes Mingyu see stars, and despite their position change, Jihoon is still doing 95% of the work, holding Mingyu’s hips firmly in place and planting his own feet on the mattress before thrusting up into Mingyu, hitting his g-spot with blinding accuracy every time. 

Mingyu throws his head back and moans loud enough that they’ll probably end up with noise complaints for the night. 

“Inside… please,” Mingyu begs, growing less and less articulate with every passing second. 

“What inside?” Jihoon asks. At least they’re equally lacking in eloquence. 

“Come… please. Inside me. Need you, alpha, please. I wanna be yours.”

Mingyu didn’t think it was possible for his pussy to feel any wetter. 

Jihoon’s come inside of him is euphoric, warm and filling him up entirely, tiny streams leaking out around Jihoon’s cock, not plugged up with a knot. Mingyu’s emotions are running so high that the thought almost makes him feel sad, until Jihoon pulls him down into a kiss. 

Their lips and tongues are uncoordinated in the way only an amazing orgasm can cause, and Jihoon’s mouth tastes like salt from the sweat still dripping down his face. Mingyu’s thighs tremble with the effort it takes to keep himself upright, collapsing down onto Jihoon with all of his weight.

“Ow.”

“Sorry, my legs were too weak…” 

“Did I fuck the feeling out of them?” 

Mingyu hits him, though that ends up weak too, and he’s embarrassed when Jihoon laughs about it. He hides his face in the bed, subtly wiping off his sweat that won’t seem to disappear. 

“You’re different when you’re horny,” Mingyu says, lifting his head up and hoping to embarrass Jihoon in return because it hasn’t even been close to equal. 

“What do you mean?” Jihoon asks. It doesn’t seem defensive though, just genuinely confused, which only makes it funnier to Mingyu. 

“I never thought that you would be the type to get all riled up when someone calls you alpha.” 

And ‘riled up’ isn’t an exaggeration because even said in a normal, unsexy sentence has Jihoon’s cock twitching where it’s still buried inside Mingyu, another tiny stream of come leaking out of his pussy. 

“It’s not just anyone… it’s you.”

“Aww…”

“Shut up.”

“Am I upsetting my alpha?” 

“You’re not upsetting anyone.” 

“Hmm… okay.” 

Mingyu is still sweating. He knows because it’s starting to burn as it gets into his eyes. He doesn’t have the mind to do much more than continue to wipe at his forehead though, even as his condition grows almost insufferable. 

“Whoa, you’ve gotta give me at least another ten minutes to recover,” Jihoon says out of nowhere, but then his hands firmly latch onto Mingyu’s hips, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s subtly grinding them back down onto Jihoon’s spent cock. 

But even as he realizes that he’s likely torturing Jihoon with overstimulation, he can’t seem to stop on his own accord, only coming to a halt when Jihoon holds onto him even tighter, preventing his bottom half from moving at all. Then Jihoon groans. 

“You’re hot,” Jihoon says, his breath catching in his throat. 

“So are you,” Mingyu returns with a silly wink.

“No, like you’re physically hot. Your skin, your… your pussy.”

Mingyu subconsciously squeezes at the mention, Jihoon groaning again, and finally lifting Mingyu off of him, but god. 

Mingyu doesn’t want that. At all. 

“Your sweat is running like a river. Don’t you feel it?” Jihoon asks, but Mingyu is significantly less equipped to deal with answering questions now. 

“Sweat’s annoying, but I need you,” Mingyu says, feeling the magnetic pull between them start to feel less figurative and more literal. 

He knows he’s sweating, but the sweat is doing its job of cooling him off. He feels okay.

He stays where he is, knowing that’s what his alpha wants, but his body starts to itch with the need to move back on top of or underneath Jihoon. 

His wish comes when Jihoon climbs on top of him, but not to start fucking him again. 

Instead, Jihoon dives down and shoves his face in the crook of Mingyu’s neck, breathing and then shivering almost violently, his whole body shaking. 

“You’re in heat.” 

Mingyu's whole body goes rigid.

There's no way. 

 He’s sweating. He understands the connection between the words, but come on.

“No, I’m not,” Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I’m not insatiable or in pain. I can think clearly. My first heat is going to be awful.”

He knows his doctor said it would be bearable, but he knows late presentation heats tend to be worse, longer and more exhausting. This is later than any omega he knows; a first heat at 24 will be a calendar event for sure. He’ll need to call off work. 

Jihoon’s face is still on his neck. He breathes in again, even deeper this time. 

“You smell like peaches and sugar.” 

“Shut up,” Mingyu says, starting to get a little sensitive about the whole thing. He understands why Jihoon thinks it’s funny, but it’s really not a joke to Mingyu. He’s eager to present, and the brief spark of hope that Jihoon’s words ignite in him feels almost cruel. He knows Jihoon would never want to hurt him, so he’s trying to let him know he should stop before it gets to that point and they both feel bad. 

“You don’t believe me? You seriously don’t feel any different?” Jihoon asks. He doesn’t sound like he’s joking either, no teasing cadence to his voice. Something begins simmering beneath Mingyu’s skin. 

“You can smell me?” Mingyu asks, suddenly shy despite being completely naked and, by all definitions, gross, filled and leaking and covered in a mixture of his and Jihoon’s combined release. The idea that Jihoon can smell him makes his stomach do nervous little flips. 

It’s only then, with Mingyu actively trying to catch the scent of the air around him, that a distinct aroma floods his senses, lighting him up with equal parts affection and excitement. 

Despite sensing something about Jihoon before, his actual scent is something else entirely. It’s earthy, but not in an unpleasant, overwhelming way. Whenever Mingyu would read alpha scent descriptions in romance novels he always thought they sounded kind of gross, like pungent mall kiosk cologne. Even though the scent is everywhere right now, Mingyu isn’t put off by it at all. 

Maybe he’s biased. 

Maybe it’s because he’s in love. 

But he thinks Jihoon has the best scent in the whole world. 

He pulls Jihoon even closer then, putting himself in a similar position, nose right at Jihoon’s scent gland, which makes him laugh in surprise. 

“You too? Believe me now?” he asks, smug as he deserves to be. Mingyu just gives a tiny nod, not even indignant enough to be a brat about it. 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. I wasn’t expecting anything today,” Mingyu explains, muffled as he speaks directly into Jihoon’s shoulder. 

“Oh, so you really were just trying to make me mad with the whole ‘finding someone else’ thing,” Jihoon accuses, but the words are light and playful. 

“Not mad. I just wanted you to hurry up. I was waiting for weeks and you were asking questions instead of just getting inside me…” 

“You were waiting for weeks? I’ve been waiting for like two years. Get over it.” 

Mingyu nips at Jihoon’s neck in retaliation. 

“You’re supposed to take care of me.”

Then, with no warning whatsoever, Jihoon shifts, sliding back into Mingyu’s hot cunt, completely hard again. Mingyu gasps, somehow still feeling the stretch, even after being fucked within an inch of his life. 

“Like this? Is this how you like being taken care of?” Jihoon asks. 

Mingyu nods, but it isn’t frantic like before, just a gentle assurance that Jihoon is doing something right. But that’s just another thing that makes him think. 

“This is nice, but this isn’t what heats are like,” Mingyu says. Even swimming in the newly perceived alpha scent, it’s hard to make sense of it all. 

“You were trying to ride me and didn’t even realize it,” Jihoon reminds him, starting up a slow rhythm, in and out. Mingyu blushes, which is just another thing that seems out of place for a heat, especially a presentation heat. All the forums and movies and novels and dramas always talk about feeling out of control, too desperate and horny for embarrassment, losing verbal filters and any other inhibitions for the sake of breeding. 

Again, it’s biological programming designed for procreation. 

But Mingyu doesn’t feel any of that. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’d be happy, absolutely thrilled, to skip the extremes of a first heat, but not having them just leaves Mingyu feeling like that’s not what’s actually happening. 

Mingyu moans when Jihoon glides over his g-spot again, raw and overwhelming, but he’s still distracted by his own thoughts, his pleasure put on the back burner. 

After everything he’s been through, the unclear status of his designation, it just feels like Mingyu’s a little broken, like he’s technically an omega, but it’s more complicated than that, in a bad way. His symptoms on the day he had to go back to the hospital felt more severe than this, and that wasn’t even real. 

He thinks back to the pregnancy articles and his brain plummets down a deep, dark rabbit hole where he starts to wonder if he’s even fertile. What if he goes back to the hospital and they tell him that he won’t be able to have children? 

All of his dreams feel like they’re in a derailed train, headed directly into a brick wall. 

The only thing that pulls Mingyu back is the smell of smoke, like a raging forest fire. For two seconds, Mingyu is concerned that there is a fire in their building, that they’ll have to rush to get dressed and make it seem like they weren’t just fucking. 

But the lack of alarms and sprinklers going off lets Mingyu know it’s something else. 

The smell is Jihoon. 

“You’re upset,” Jihoon says before Mingyu can ask any questions.

The burning smell is a result of Jihoon feeling upset.

Because he knows that Mingyu is upset. It must be something about his own scent — Mingyu still can’t even perceive it with how strong Jihoon’s is, washing over everything. It’s a little jarring to think that Jihoon will be able to sniff around and get an idea of how Mingyu is feeling now. One thing Mingyu never stopped to consider is how alphas and omegas cope with no sense of secrecy about them when they’re around each other. 

“What’s wrong?” Jihoon asks when Mingyu doesn’t confirm or deny his observation. 

“I asked you if you ever thought about having a family. Do…do you still feel the same way that you did when I asked?” Mingyu poses the new question. Maybe he’ll feel less sad if Jihoon still doesn’t care about ‘getting some omega pregnant.’ Jihoon is still inside him. 

“Mingyu… what are you actually asking me?” 

“Just… if I can’t have babies… would you be disappointed?” 

It feels like ripping the bandaid off, and Jihoon honestly looks bewildered at the question that, to be fair, did kind of come out of nowhere. There’s a long pause where Jihoon seems to carefully consider his next words. 

“Are you worried that you won’t be able to get pregnant?” he finally asks, straight to the point, which Mingyu is grateful for, but hearing it out loud does hurt quite a bit. 

“If this is my heat, then it just doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Maybe my presentation is too late for… all of that,” Mingyu tries to explain rationally, but he can feel tears about to spill out of his eyes. 

“Mingyu, do you want babies?” 

The question doesn’t bode well. Mingyu is sure that his answer is obvious with the way he suddenly can’t stop crying. 

“I just think I would be a good mother. That’s all,” Mingyu half-lies, barely choking back a sob in the middle of it. 

“You will. I promise.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what Jihoon means by that. What he does know is that he has tears sliding down his neck, through his cooled sweat. Mingyu is still hot and Jihoon is still inside him, and he seems to realize it too, thrusting just a little, startling a moan out of Mingyu. 

“Do you trust me?” Jihoon asks, looking down at where his cock is buried in Mingyu’s pussy, then back up into Mingyu’s eyes, almost pleading. 

“Of course I do,” Mingyu responds, unable to even pretend to think about it. There’s no one in the world that Mingyu trusts more. 

“Can you beg for me?” 

And Mingyu knows he just told Jihoon that he trusts him, but really ? 

“Don’t give me that look. I wanna help. Tell me what you want and let me know how much you want it,” Jihoon reiterates, holding the sides of Mingyu’s face and looking at him. He moves his hips until he’s pulled out all but the head of his cock, and Mingyu whines at the lack of fullness. 

“You’re annoying,” Mingyu complains, just to keep some of his pride before he completely gives in. Again. Seriously, Jihoon acts like he hasn’t been begging this whole time. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want. You just have to ask.”

“Put it back in.” 

“Why? Tell me.”

“You’re being such a… ugh. Fine. I want your cock back in me because it feels good. Are you happy now?”

“Are you ?” Jihoon asks at the exact same time he slides back in. 

“Mmhh, yes…” 

He seems pleased by that answer, going back to the same steady rhythm he had a few minutes ago. 

“Good. Tell me more,” he commands, firm and with no room for questions, but still gentle. But Mingyu doesn’t know what Jihoon wants. He wishes he would just tell him so he could do it and they could both be happy. 

Jihoon must be able to read his mind now or something. 

“Do you wanna be a good omega for me? Do you want me to tell you that you’re good?” he asks. And of course Mingyu wants that. That’s all he’s wanted for weeks, and maybe even before that. He’s always been a sucker for praise, and ‘good omega’ is just about the highest praise he thinks he could possibly receive. 

Mingyu nods his head, but Jihoon clicks his tongue at it. 

“Tell me how,” he repeats again. 

“I would take care of you,” Mingyu starts, meek and flustered as he considers his next sentence. “I’ve already proven myself. I can take care of the house; I can cook and clean and do the laundry. And I just like doing those things. It’s not because I think I have to.” 

Jihoon smiles down at him, endeared as he lazily rocks his hips into Mingyu’s. 

“I love when you do all of that stuff, omega,” Jihoon says, straightforward and without hesitation. Mingyu whimpers at the title, feeling more and more off-balance the more Jihoon speaks, and the more he fucks into Mingyu mindlessly. 

“What else?” Jihoon prompts.

And if Jihoon is going to ask, then Mingyu is going to give him answers . 

“Sex whenever my alpha wants,” Mingyu says, resisting the instinct to cringe at the porn-dialogue-essence of it all. “You can use my pussy at the end of a long day. I can be like your own personal sex doll.” 

Jihoon seems to like the sound of that if the way his thrusts speed up is any sign. 

“Yeah? You’d let me bend you over and have my way with you?”

“Yes, alpha…”

“Would you let me come inside every time? Would you let me watch it all drip out? Make a mess of your pussy?” 

It’s the first thing Mingyu disagrees with, instinctually. He wants Jihoon to come inside and he wants it to stay inside, not drip out, wasted on the sheets. 

“Knot,” is all Mingyu can manage to say, whispering under his breath.

“Not what?” Jihoon asks. 

“ No … Want your knot,” Mingyu clarifies, even though he’s pretty sure that Jihoon knew what he meant the first time. 

“Yeah?” 

Jihoon is clearly becoming more and more affected by their dirty talk, by Mingyu’s tight, wet heat sucking him in, and Mingyu thinks he can probably get what he wants, delirious with arousal. 

“Knot me, alpha. Come inside and make sure that I take it all.”

Jihoon practically grunts with effort now, gaining more leverage and getting back to really fucking Mingyu, holding onto his hips as he slams in. 

“Give me a baby, please. Get me pregnant. Breed my pussy, alpha,” Mingyu begs, purposefully over the top to drive Jihoon insane, which works so easily, Mingyu’s actually kind of surprised. 

Jihoon slams his cock into Mingyu over and over again, playing with Mingyu’s clit to make him orgasm, a new wave of pleasure coming over him. He tightens up around Jihoon even more as he rides it out, moaning and flailing around like a live current is running through him, until it all comes to a peak even higher than Mingyu thought possible. 

Jihoon thrusts three times, something bumping up against the stretched lips of Mingyu’s cunt, until it’s all pushed inside and Jihoon comes, pulse after pulse of it filling Mingyu up as he forces his cock even deeper. 

Mingyu barely realizes he’s been moaning ( loudly ) throughout the whole thing, only noticing when it stops. Jihoon takes a hand to the side of Mingyu’s neck, applying slight pressure as he uses his thumb to part Mingyu’s lips, pulling his lower one down. 

“Open,” Jihoon demands, but as he gathers up the saliva in his mouth, he still looks to Mingyu to gauge his reaction. 

Mingyu feels pathetic and dirty for the way he eagerly nods, opening his mouth even wider and closing his eyes as Jihoon’s warm spit lands on his tongue. 

A new sweat breaks out across Mingyu’s forehead. 

He reaches down to tease his clit again, and Jihoon gives another futile thrust, barely moving at all. 

But it feels so good. 

“Now this is your heat,” Jihoon says, his voice rough and gravelly, one hand still on Mingyu’s neck.

Mingyu may feel marginally hornier. Definitely more emotional.

But he’s not sure why Jihoon is so confident about something he’s clearly never had personal experience with. Mingyu’s not sure he’d know an omega heat if it hit him in the face, at this point. 

The thought of sitting on Jihoon’s face briefly takes over Mingyu’s entire brain…

“Look, we can talk about this later. The details are… too formal to discuss when your dick is stuck in me. It’s ridiculous.” 

“No need for discussion. I know you’re in heat because you just triggered my rut.” 

Oh. 

“Well maybe that was just—”

“It wasn’t due for another three months, at least. I usually go for longer between mine. The only thing that could start one this early is… my omega in heat.” 

Mingyu’s probably glowing right now. My omega, my omega, my omega, the words repeat themselves in his head, despite this not even being the first time Jihoon has said them. This is the first time they’ve felt real . Like, married with kids and dogs, real. 

Still, he doesn’t want to get too ahead of himself, terrified of disappointment. 

“How do you even know it’s your rut? You don’t seem different.”

“I literally just spit in your mouth, Mingyu.” 

Mingyu breaks eye contact, looking to the corner of the room as the statement makes his face flush even more than the sex has. 

“I get territorial. Sorry if you hate it and that you had to find out this way,” Jihoon apologizes, though Mingyu senses that he’s not all that sorry. 

“You’re still so calm though, and so am I.”

“We’re sated. My knot hasn’t even gone down yet. Give it another twenty minutes and I’m sure you’ll be grinding on me again.” 

Mingyu pokes at his cheek, giving him an immature little pout. 

“Also, speak for yourself,” Jihoon continues, “You might be calm. I’m personally thinking about that asshole producer and how I want him to go bankrupt and lose his label.”

“You’re still thinking about that? You never even played him your song. He’s not going to steal it and take all the credit for it.”

“That’s not what I was afraid of him stealing.” 

Jihoon stares into his eyes, and Mingyu feels his cock twitch inside him. 

“ Me ?” Mingyu asks in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” 

“He was lingering. Practically undressing you with his eyes. He was going to ask you to go back to his hotel room, I know he was.”

Mingyu can’t help but laugh. 

“So, you’re that kind of alpha.”

“I just admitted I’m territorial. I wasn’t hiding it.”

Jihoon’s voice is argumentative but his face is burning red. Cute. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about any hotshot producer stealing me away. I already have one of my own.”

“ Who ?”

“You, stupid.” 

“Oh.”

Jihoon blushes even more, and Mingyu feels morally obligated to kiss him about it, pecking his lips over every bit of skin they can touch, and ending with an obnoxiously loud kiss to his lips, cartoon kiss sound effect and all. 

“You better write me a song.”

“Oh, I’m already way ahead of you.”