Chapter Text
When the letter from the Ministry of Family Affairs arrives, Jimin doesn’t quite know how to feel. He knows his parents have been waiting for this moment ever since he was born—like most parents with an omega child.
“There are so little alphas left,” his mother would always say, “I shudder to think what would happen to you without the pairing service.”
Jimin, 19 years old and not at all ready to mate and have children yet, thinks the term “enforcement” would be more appropriate than “service”.
It’s true that finding a compatible unmated alpha without governmental help is not unlike trying to find the needle in the proverbial haystack, but Jimin wishes the pairing wouldn’t take place so early. He doesn’t want a family right now, he wants to finish college and work and maybe see a bit of the rest of the world while he’s at it.
The Ministry of Family Affairs doesn’t care about what he wants, though. It cares about birth rates and keeping violent crimes committed by alphas fighting for potential mates to a minimum. As an omega, Jimin plays a key role in these statistics.
With a sigh he tears the letter open. He expects his match to be someone young and inexperienced like himself, possibly male if he gets lucky. The profile of the alpha the ministry has selected for him only ticks one of those boxes.
The alpha is male, as Jimin hoped, but not young at all.
“Min Yoongi, 30 years old,” Jimin reads out loud, as if that makes the numbers on the paper in his hand more plausible somehow. “Compatibility: 98%.”
Jimin stares at the small photo at the top right of the page in disbelief. The picture shows a man with artfully tousled black hair, sharp eyes, and delicate features that remind Jimin more of an omega than an alpha. He looks older than Jimin, but young enough to pass for mid-twenties.
“30 years old,” Jimin says again to himself, “98%.”
He has never heard of an unmated alpha older than 25 or a compatibility higher than 80%. The DNA pool of healthy, available omegas and alphas in South Korea is small—too small for numbers like 98%, or so Jimin has been taught.
He takes another look at the man in the photo. Min Yoongi. Although he doesn’t have the typical face of an alpha, he’s attractive in an almost contradictory sort of way. Jimin skims the profile for more information about him. Unfortunately, the file mostly contains physical data—apparently, he’s only a tiny bit taller than Jimin—and health records. The one thing Jimin learns about him as a person is that he works as a self-employed music producer, which means he’s either filthy rich or dirt poor.
Jimin is intrigued, he must admit. Not that it matters. He has to meet him either way so the ministry can check if the compatibility of their DNA also applies to real life.
Shaking himself out of his surprised stupor, Jimin reads through the rest of the letter to find out the date of the appointment. He doesn’t have nearly as much time left as he would have liked. Only one week until he will face his potential mate.
The week flies by so fast Jimin feels like he dreamed it. His parents and friends are just as bewildered by the age and compatibility percentage of Min Yoongi as Jimin is, though they’re trying their hardest to hide it. They congratulate him and wish him luck, but he can tell by their scents that they don’t quite mean it.
Jimin does his best to brush them off and stay positive even though he isn’t really looking forward to this appointment. To make himself feel better and boost his confidence, he decides to dress up a little, putting on a silky button-up and a bit of light makeup. It works for the most part until he sets foot into the district pairing office, a nondescript high-rise building constructed with tons of glass and metal that is much too sterile and bright for Jimin’s taste.
After he has identified himself at the reception, he is sent to an office in one of the upper floors where he will meet the pairing official as well as Min Yoongi. The pairing official, a middle-aged beta woman in a fashionable suit coat-jeans combination, greets him in front of the office.
“Good morning, Mr. Park. I’m Dr. Moon, and I’ll be attending to your pairing today.”
In Jimin’s opinion, “attending to” is a strange way of phrasing it since the job of people like her normally consists of nothing much but checking paperwork and asking the pair if they consent to courting each other or not, but what does he know?
“Good morning,” he answers, not sure what else to say. He wants to get this over with as fast as possible. Wants to know if this odd pairing the government determined for him is really his mate or not.
“As your compatibility rate is unusually high, I’ll be present for the meeting to monitor your pheromone response to your potential mate and vice versa.” She lifts her right hand to show him the pheromone measuring device she is holding. “This is a necessary safety measure to ensure none of you falls into a hormonal or emotional imbalance.”
Dr. Moon beams at him, but her scent reveals a substantial bout of nerves. Jimin can guess why. When government officials talk about pheromone responses and hormonal imbalances, they actually mean an alpha’s instinctual liability to violent outbursts or an omega’s natural submissive tendencies or, in this case, both.
“Do you have any questions before we go in?”
Jimin shakes his head. Talking about the meeting won’t make it any easier or less weird.
With an encouraging nod, Dr. Moon pulls on the doorhandle and leads him into the room. The second the door opens the heavy scent of smoked wood hits Jimin with an intensity that almost causes him to trip on the way to the table in the middle of the room, where Min Yoongi is sitting. He’s staring straight at Jimin, his gaze just as intense as his scent.
Faintly, Jimin hears how Dr. Moon follows him into the room, closes the door and explains something about the procedure of the pairing interview, but he isn’t really listening. Min Yoongi and his intoxicating scent are quickly taking over all of Jimin’s senses. The alpha doesn’t seem to be faring any better than he is. His eyes are still glued to Jimin, his nostrils flaring with every breath he takes. His jaw has been clenched since Jimin entered the room.
Heat bubbles up in Jimin’s gut. His neck burns with the urge to please the alpha in front of him, to be good. If he’s good enough, the alpha might—
A beeping noise reels Jimin back to reality. Dr. Moon’s measuring device is blaring and blinking red in her hands.
“Your pheromone response has reached a critical point,” she says before either Jimin or Min Yoongi can inquire what all the noise and lights mean. “It’s starting to affect your cognitive functions so I must ask you to take some suppressants now. You may feel slightly nauseous or experience minor headaches, but I think that’s preferable to the alternative, no?”
She sends them both a look that doesn’t leave room for any alternatives. Besides, she’s right. Jimin’s head feels cloudy with the alpha’s scent and his own hormones going haywire. He can barely concentrate on what she’s saying.
Getting paired is one of the most important events in a person’s life, and even if—or rather because—he’s not sure whether he is ready for it or not, he should at least be lucid during the process.
He and Min Yoongi take the suppressants: small white pills that dissolve in the mouth so their ingredients get absorbed faster. It only takes a couple of minutes until the fog sitting in Jimin’s mind begins to lift. Nevertheless, Min Yoongi’s scent rests heavily in his lungs, a thick plume of smoke and desire.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Moon asks, gaze sweeping from Jimin to Min Yoongi and back again.
Jimin has no idea how he’s feeling. He glances at the alpha on the other side of the table, who keeps staring at him, expression tense but otherwise unreadable. Almost of its own accord, Jimin’s body shivers.
“Overwhelmed,” he answers when it becomes apparent that Min Yoongi isn’t inclined to say anything. He just nods in agreement, which irks Jimin a little, to be honest. Even if the whole pairing thing is weird and intense, he should at least try to meet Jimin halfway here. Isn’t that the whole point of the pairing—to find someone to pair up with, your other half or whatever?
Dr. Moon hums in acknowledgment. “Absolutely understandable, given the circumstances. That’s why I strongly advise you to use suppressants whenever you meet from now on until the pairing process is complete and the two of you are mated.” She clears her throat. “If you’re interested in meeting each other again, that is.”
Jimin considers it, taking in the alpha’s dark eyes that haven’t looked away from Jimin once since he set foot in the room. Quite frankly, all the staring is a little unsettling, especially because Min Yoongi hasn’t spoken a single word to him yet, but Jimin still finds himself drawn to him. He doesn’t really understand why—maybe it’s his biology, his genes that have apparently found their perfect match in this strange alpha who won’t even talk to his possible future mate, or maybe it’s simply curiosity.
In the end, he decides that the reasons don’t really matter.
“I’d like that,” Jimin says, sounding a lot steadier and more confident than he feels.
For a split second, Jimin thinks he sees something flash in Min Yoongi’s eyes, but it’s gone again before Jimin can be sure what it is. He still doesn’t say anything. He merely nods again, gaze never leaving Jimin. Jimin’s skin prickles under it.
“Good!” Dr. Moon claps her hands, as if anybody in the room did anything worth celebrating. “Then I suggest we stop here for today. I’m sure both of you are drained from the strong hormonal spike you just experienced. Please get plenty of rest and try to avoid hard physical labor or sports for the rest of the day. Even if you think you’re fine now, your bodies aren’t used to such high hormone and pheromone concentrations, so please be careful.”
Jimin frowns. “But how do we set up another meeting? Will we get each other’s contact info or something?”
“Sorry, but I’m afraid that isn’t possible until both of you have gotten used to each other’s pheromones. The ministry will send you the date of the next appointment, which will take place here again. This isn’t normally done, but with your high compatibility you two are a special case. We just want to make sure everything that happens between you is safe, sane and consensual. I hope you understand.”
“Of course, I understand. Thank you,” Jimin says through another lungful of the alpha’s scent. His neck tingles. He takes one more furtive look at Min Yoongi, who isn’t nodding his agreement this time.
No minute later Dr. Moon escorts Jimin out of the room again, and Jimin can’t make up his mind whether to feel disappointed or relieved.
“He wouldn’t even talk to you?” Taehyung, Jimin’s best friend, exclaims once Jimin has finished recounting his first pairing appointment. He and Jimin’s roommate Jungkook, who’s currently playing something on his Nintendo Switch on the couch and pretending he’s not listening to their conversation, are the only two people apart from Jimin’s parents who know the details about the odd alpha Jimin got paired with. A match with an alpha ten years older and with a compatibility this high is unusual to say the least, and Jimin doesn’t want any campus gossip about him unless it’s related to his grades or dance showcases.
Jimin shakes his head. The longer the events from his first encounter with Min Yoongi keep replaying in his mind the more he is convinced that he should have just said no to a second meeting with him. Everything about it was bizarre, from the overpowering reaction of his body to the alpha’s scent to the man himself.
All of a sudden, Jungkook sits up, casting his console aside. “Maybe it wasn’t that he wouldn’t,” he says, not even acknowledging that he’s been eavesdropping the whole time. “Maybe he couldn’t.”
“Excuse you?” Taehyung wrinkles his nose at Jungkook. “This is a private conversation!”
Jimin ignores him. “What do you mean, ‘he couldn’t’?”
Jungkook gives Taehyung a smug look before he answers. “You’re, like, super compatible, right? It’s possible he couldn’t speak because he was fighting his alpha instincts. When I meet an omega that smells really good, it’s hard to concentrate on anything but the urge to, well, you know. Suppressants help, but with a number like 98%...” He trails off with a shrug.
That makes sense, Jimin supposes, but if that’s true, wouldn’t that just make everything even worse? Jimin doesn’t want a mate who can’t talk to him because he’s too busy trying not to bite and knot him at any given moment.
Taehyung scoffs at Jungkook. “You’re still in puberty, of course you can’t control yourself every time a cute omega walks by, but this guy is 30. Shouldn’t he be way better at it?”
“Fuck you!” Jungkook explodes the way he always does when Taehyung makes digs at his age. It’s a sore topic for him because, technically, Taehyung isn’t wrong. Jungkook is only 17.
Jimin has been appointed the position of his guardian in Seoul until he’s an adult. As a 17-year-old, Jungkook hates that on principle. He moved here from Busan last year for a scholarship at a private high school for performing arts, just like Jimin did when he was 16. The school approached him and asked him to act as his chaperone for the time being. The job came with a decent salary, and as a chronically broke university student Jimin was more than happy to take it.
He didn’t know then that Jungkook was an overly ambitious brat who loathed limits and rules because they usually forced him to rely on the guidance and support of adults. Jungkook, however, doesn’t want support or guidance, like most teenagers. Taehyung loves to tease him about it, as though he wasn’t the exact same at that age.
“Language,” Jimin says automatically before addressing Taehyung, “Stop provoking him, Tae. You’re two years older than him, shouldn’t you be better at controlling yourself too?”
Fortunately, that’s enough to shut him up so Jimin can refocus on the problem at hand.
“Tae has a point, though,” he says to Jungkook, who’s still simmering a little. “I thought older, more experienced alphas don’t have as much trouble dealing with their instincts and stuff. What do you think, Kookie?”
Jungkook, mollified by the fact that he’s being asked for advice, puffs his chest out a little. “It’s probably difficult for him because he’s older. Usually, you mate when you become an adult or not too long after, but this guy is already 30. Who knows when he got his last match? Who knows if he ever got one before you? Finally, the ministry finds him a suitable omega and with such high compatibility too—it must be tough on his senses.”
Jimin falls silent at that. He hasn’t thought about it from this perspective, from Min Yoongi’s perspective. He was only thinking about himself although the alpha’s situation might be a lot worse than his own. In a way, Jimin realizes suddenly, Min Yoongi isn’t his perfect match at all, he is the complete opposite: Jimin isn’t sure he wants to mate yet, whereas the alpha has likely been waiting for that exact moment for almost a decade now.
Taehyung scratches his chin thoughtfully, mustering Jungkook as if he’s seeing him for the first time. “Huh. You’re actually kind of smart, for a fetus.”
Jungkook proceeds to smother him with one of the couch cushions.
One week after his first appointment at the pairing service, Jimin attends his second one. He has been thinking about little else since the last time he was here, but he still hasn’t come to a conclusion on how he feels about all of it. Not to mention how he feels about his possible mate-to-be, Min Yoongi.
This meeting starts much like the first one, except he’s taken suppressants beforehand just like Dr. Moon instructed. Still, the rush he experiences when he steps into the room is so strong it paralyzes him for a moment.
The air is heavy with the smell of fire and wood. His blood pumps through his veins hard and fast, adrenaline making his muscles tremble. He feels like he’s just walked on stage. He isn’t performing right now, though. There is no dress rehearsal, no second chance.
Min Yoongi is sat at the table, almost as if he’s been there the whole past seven days, waiting. He stares at Jimin with his eyes that remind Jimin of storm clouds, dark and charged.
In the periphery of his vision, Jimin registers Dr. Moon checking her pheromone measuring device as he takes his seat opposite the alpha. He expects her to join them at the table, but she stays where she is, standing a couple of feet away, observing them.
“We’ll try something new today,” she announces, tone a bit too chirpy for Jimin to be comfortable. “Since our goal is for you to get used to each other’s pheromones so you can spend time alone together, we will gradually decrease my presence during your meetings. So I will keep a bit of a distance while you try to bear each other’s presence without crossing any lines. Maybe you can chat a bit to get to know each other?”
She directs this last question at Min Yoongi, somehow looking both concerned and hopeful.
The alpha doesn’t look back at her, gaze still pinned on Jimin. He makes a face that Jimin can’t quite decipher. There’s frustration in there, but also something wistful, something bitter. Something like guilt or regret? The expression passes too quickly for Jimin to read it properly.
“We’ll do our best,” Jimin says and gives the alpha his best encouraging smile.
Min Yoongi makes another face and ducks his head a little, like he’s embarrassed. Then a low, rumbly voice says, “Sorry. Must be hard for you.”
Even though the words are a little slurred because the alpha has barely opened his mouth, has given them just enough space to let them out before closing it again, they manage to make the hairs on Jimin’s arms stand on end. He didn’t expect the man to speak today. Part of him didn’t expect the man to ever speak. He needs a few seconds to process this turn of events.
Min Yoongi’s voice is deep and rich, a strange mixture of rough and smooth, honey on the verge of crystalizing. He squeezes it out in a way that seems painful, and yet he says that he’s sorry because this must be hard for Jimin.
Jimin thinks back to what Jungkook said about alphas and self-control and feels once again very selfish and stupid. “It’s hard for the both of us,” he answers because he has never been and never will be good at apologizing.
Min Yoongi, face still downturned, doesn’t respond, so Jimin decides to steer the conversation into a lighter direction.
“We never did proper introductions, did we? How about we start with that?”
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the alpha raises his head again to fix Jimin with another one of his stares. His expression has softened a bit, though he still doesn’t look even remotely relaxed. Jimin takes that as a yes.
“My name is Park Jimin, and I’m 19 as of last October. I’m currently enrolled at the Seoul Institute of the Arts as a contemporary dance major.” He pauses to think of what else to say. Between his university workload and babysitting Jungkook, there isn’t a lot of time left for hobbies or extracurricular activities. Going clubbing once in a while doesn’t count, does it? “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what else to say.”
He rubs his neck, feeling self-conscious. The introduction was his idea, and now his turned out totally lame.
Apparently, Min Yoongi doesn’t really seem to mind that, though. He’s watching Jimin as attentively as ever, like everything Jimin does or says is precious to him.
“Nice to meet you, Park Jimin,” he murmurs, words still slurring together, but at least he’s talking to Jimin now.
Jimin thinks he likes Min Yoongi’s voice, even if he hasn’t heard much of it yet. It’s smoky like his scent and thick like sirup, a confusing combination, much like everything else about him.
“Nice to meet you too, Min Yoongi. Could you tell me a little bit about yourself as well?” Jimin smiles at him again, hoping to coax another sentence or two out of him.
Min Yoongi’s scent spikes, rolling off him in waves and putting all of Jimin’s senses out of commission for a few seconds before it dissipates again. Jimin wonders what would happen if he inhaled the alpha’s scent like this without the suppressants subduing him. Would it overpower him completely like last time? Or would it—?
“Min Yoongi, 30 years old,” the alpha says without warning, hands gripping the edge of the table like it’s some sort of lifeline. “Was born in Daegu and moved here when I was 16. Worked s’me odd jobs before I became a producer.”
He stops. The skin stretching over his knuckles is turning white. His expression becomes pinched, and Jimin doesn’t know whether to feel happy or sad that he’s putting so much effort into talking to Jimin although it’s obviously not easy, possibly even painful, for him.
“Let’s break it off here,” Dr. Moon intervenes, approaching the table.
Jimin startles. He forgot completely that someone else has been in the room with them.
“Thank you,” he says to the alpha, who freezes at that before moving his head up and down in a jarring motion. It looks so strange that it takes Jimin a moment to realize that he’s nodding in response.
“Both of you did a great job.” Dr. Moon’s voice is overly chirpy again, but it sounds much more genuine than it did earlier. “If we continue at this pace, you’ll be able to continue with the normal pairing process in no time.”
Neither Jungkook nor Taehyung (who has “permanently borrowed” a spare key to Jungkook and Jimin’s shared apartment) is home when Jimin comes back from his appointment so there’s no one to grill him about it this time. He wishes there were because the meeting has left him keyed up and jittery. Talking about it might help get all that residue anxiety out of his system. As it is, he paces the apartment, wondering whether Dr. Moon is right or not, whether they really will enter the normal pairing process at some point or not, until an idea hits him.
He fishes his phone out of his pocket and types “Min Yoongi” into the Google search bar.
Perhaps it would speed things up a little if Jimin knew more about the alpha. He might feel more comfortable talking about topics he’s actually interested in, like his work or hobbies, which could also distract him a little from his rioting hormones.
A bit of good old-fashioned social media stalking should give Jimin all the intel he needs to kickstart a proper conversation. As someone who works in the entertainment industry, Min Yoongi should have enough of an online presence to give Jimin some useful information, right?
Wrong.
While Jimin does find an Instagram and a Facebook profile that seem to belong to the alpha, they don’t divulge a whole lot about him. All his posts are work related, usually advertising a single or an artist he has been involved with. To Jimin’s surprise, there are several names he recognizes. Apparently, his possible mate-to-be plays a rather significant role on the pop and hip-hop charts, which is good to know, though not the kind of information Jimin was looking for.
He scrolls through the two accounts, hoping to discover something more helpful, and is rewarded with a single post on Instagram: a photo that dates back to March two years ago. It shows Min Yoongi with greyish-blond hair smiling with his gums showing, squashed in between a tall guy with dimples and a guy with a heart-shaped grin who’s making finger guns at the camera. The caption reads, “someone save me” although the alpha doesn’t look at all as if he needed any saving in the picture. Quite the contrary, he just looks happy. This Min Yoongi has nothing in common with the tense, withdrawn man Jimin has met at the pairing service office.
Briefly, Jimin wonders if he’ll ever get to meet the Min Yoongi of the photograph. The thought makes him sad for some reason.
He closes the app and is about to put his phone away when the display suddenly lights up with a call. Jimin identifies the number as the pairing service.
“Hello,” a familiar female voice greets him after he’s picked up. “This is Dr. Moon.”
“Hello,” Jimin echoes. A feeling of unease creeps up on him. The service office doesn’t usually call, and if it does, it’s one of the secretaries and not the doctors themselves. “What’s, um, what’s up?”
“I have a favor to ask you,” she says in a tone of voice that Jimin can’t parse. “Of course you don’t have to agree, but I think this could help you and Mr. Min. I’d like you to bring a piece of clothing with your scent on it to the next appointment. If both of you exchange clothes, you should get used to each other’s scents and pheromones faster. I have already asked Mr. Min, and he agreed—under the condition that you do too, naturally.”
The idea sounds sensible and terrifying at the same time. Jimin doesn’t dare imagine what will happen once he and that scent are alone in his room, without suppressants to buffer his physical reaction. Still, if that’s what it takes to get on with the whole thing so his life can return to something akin to normal, he’s willing to give it a shot.
“We can try it out.”
“Great! I’m looking forward to your progress!”
Min Yoongi and Jimin’s progress turns out to be non-existent. The instant the alpha gets hold of the shirt with Jimin’s scent on it, a dark noise rumbles out of him, fingers digging deep into the fabric. Jimin isn’t doing much better with the jacket he has received. It feels like the alpha’s scent is engulfing him now, suffocating him gently, sweetly. His mouth drops open, his eyes fall shut. A weak whimper joins Min Yoongi’s growling. It takes Jimin’s addled mind a long moment to realize that he’s the source of it. The knowledge makes him whine even harder, and the alpha’s growl turns into a full-blown snarl.
The noise drives itself into Jimin’s core together with the smoky scent fogging his senses. Jimin licks his lips and draws the jacket closer to his nose. In school he learned that a strong scent belongs to a strong alpha. If that’s true, he can’t wait to find out how strong Min Yoongi is.
He may not be taller than Jimin, but he’s definitely broader. His hands also look big and powerful. How would they feel in his hair, on his skin, around his throat—?
Suddenly, Jimin is jostled out of his reverie. He drags his face away from the jacket, dazed, to see Dr. Moon and two security guards pushing Min Yoongi towards one of the exits. The alpha is snarling more than ever, thrashing against the guards without letting go of Jimin’s shirt. Something within Jimin aches watching him leave, but his slowly-returning rationality reminds him that it’s probably for the better.
Once the door has closed and he’s alone in the room with Dr. Moon, he decides it was absolutely for the better. Not just because of the alpha’s or his own behavior but because of the slick feeling at the back of his pants.
With an embarrassed squeak, Jimin excuses himself and flees back home.
Jimin decides not to mention anything about his last appointment to anyone. What would he even say? That he got wet from smelling an alpha’s jacket while said alpha had to be dragged out of the room because Jimin gave him his shirt?
Even taking all the unusual circumstances into account, that isn’t something he can just say out loud. It’s humiliating enough to know it happened. The memory sticks to him wherever he goes, no matter what he’s doing. It’s especially hard to ignore when he’s in bed and all alone with his thoughts.
Some nights he tiptoes over to the lowest drawer of his wardrobe, where he’s stowed away Min Yoongi’s jacket for the time being, and breathes in the alpha’s scent to check how his body will react. It never fails to set all his nerves alight, kicking his heartbeat into overdrive until Jimin feels like he’s going to burst out of his own skin. It also never fails to make him stupidly, mortifyingly slick.
So he just stuffs the jacket back into the drawer and curses the ministry for putting him in this situation. How the hell is a pairing like this ever going to work out?