Chapter Text
The first time it happens no one is around to see.
Jimin wakes up on the floor of the bathroom to someone banging on the door, muffled voices coming from the other side.
He pushes himself up, wincing as a splitting headache makes itself known. He remembers being in the studio, having just finished his shoot, when an alpha he didn’t know had come in, bee-lining for one of the other models and taking her into his arms. Their scents had blossomed immediately, fierce and bright and very, very strong. No one else seemed bothered by it, but Jimin had gotten lightheaded almost immediately. He has always been sensitive to the scents of other wolves, but today it seems like it was worse than others. He headed to the bathroom, intent on taking a few minutes to himself in the privacy only a locked door could provide, and he had made it inside before everything went dark.
And now here he was, stretched out on the bathroom floor while bruises blossomed on his tan skin from a fall he had apparently taken.
He opens the door and flees, ignoring the curious glances and people calling for him to wait. His photo shoot is done, there’s nothing left for him here.
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The second time it happens he’s in front of a dozen or so eyes.
All of which are trained on him when he wakes up from a dead faint with a migraine and more bruises.
Everyone in the room has signed an NDA to be there, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before new rumors start to spread.
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He goes to the doctor after that, but all they say is that it looks like he’s developing an acute sensitivity to other wolves' scents, and there’s really nothing they can do for him. They advised staying out of enclosed spaces, not going to locations where emotions might be heightened, causing scents to grow stronger, but that is most of Jimin’s life. He’s a model, if he’s not at a fashion shoot, he’s at a show, an award ceremony, or he’s networking at parties, clubs, and bars, where dozens if not hundreds of scents permeate the air.
He has no choice but to soldier on, and hope that nothing comes of it that can hurt his career.
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He does well enough for months, then a year, then a year and a half. He thinks he is managing, he thinks he’ll be okay.
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It’s the third time that is the breaking point.
He’s at a club, just like the doctors told him not to be, and so far he’s been having a great time. The scents around him are strong, but he avoids the bar and the dance floor and stays in a booth and because of that he’s been able to manage.
That is until he gets pulled into a conversation with another model, who drags him onto the dance floor, his protests drowned out by the pulsing beat of the music and the cheers and chatter of the crowd. There, in the press of bodies he can find no relief, he struggles to breathe through his mouth but to no avail, the scents press in on him, Alpha and Omega, strong and powerful and overwhelming, he can almost taste them, and he feels like he’s going to be sick. He disentangles himself from his overeager coworker and fights his way through the crowd, trying to get away before it’s too late.
He feels the darkness slipping in even as he struggles towards the door, the press of bodies holding him back as he fights his way through the masses, trying his best not to breathe, trying his best to stay conscious. He’s almost out, he’s almost out, he stumbles, catching himself, pushes himself forward, carries on.
But it’s too late, he feels unconsciousness take hold, the world growing distant and dim, and the last thing he sees are the wide dark eyes of a stranger, looking at him in surprise, before he falls and is gone to the world.
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He wakes in the hospital hours later, hooked up to an IV in an empty room, the only sound that of the heart monitor and the gentle whir of the air conditioning. There’s no one here, which isn’t really surprising, even if it’s a little depressing, and he is confused how he got here at all until his memory comes rushing back.
Oh no.
He winces as his night at the club returns in flashes, blurry and disconnected near the end, he remembers trying to get to the exit, determined to clear his head with fresh air, only he never made it.
He never made it.
He hears his phone buzz on the bedside table and without thinking he goes to open it. He finds dozens of missed texts, most of them from the agency he works with, and about half of them are links to articles accusing him of being drunk, or on drugs, or both. He stares at text after text, article after article, not a single one of them sharing a different opinion, even his manager, who knows about his condition, is admonishing him, which hurts, because he was the one who encouraged Jimin to go out and “network for the night”.
No one had taken his condition seriously before, he sees no reason for them to have started now. Now he’s reading about rumors that his contract is going to be terminated, that there have been problems with him on set before, that he’s gotten more reclusive and distant over the last year or so, ever since he was diagnosed. Jimin had wanted to admit to his condition from the start, but his manager and the agency had convinced him not to, saying it would be harder for him to get jobs, that he needed to fake it to keep all the contracts coming in, and like a fool Jimin had agreed.
A call comes through and he can’t hold back the sigh when he sees it’s his manager, Songwon, calling.
“Jimin, we’ve got an issue on our hands,” he says without preamble.
Jimin closes his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as exhaustion takes hold. No hello, no how are you- just business, business, business.
“Yeah?” he asks, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice, “You think I don’t already realize that, or did you not know I woke up in the hospital?”
The silence that greets him is enough to tell him his answer, “How did I even get here, huh?” Jimin asks, “Was it the paramedics? Did I cause too much of a scene last night when I fainted because of my condition,” he knows his manager can’t see the air quotes he’s putting around his words, but he hopes he can hear them in his tone, “A condition that wouldn’t have been aggravated if I had just ignored what you told me, just like you ignore how I have to deal with this every day… and these… and these rumors that I was drunk, that I was high, when I didn’t even have a sip of anything except water last night?”
He drags a hand through his hair, grimacing as it catches on tangles and knots. He must look like warmed over death, he can still feel his face caked in yesterday's makeup, his lips are dry and chapped from the perpetually running air conditioner and ventilation system, and his head hurts, though whether its from the remains of a headache or the after effects of hitting his head when he fell is hard to say.
“The agency wants to terminate your contract,” Songwon says in response to his tirade.
Jimin sits there, stunned beyond words, “Excuse me?”
“They want to end it, Jimin, shareholders are complaining, we already had two sponsors back out of their offers to work with you. You’re a liability, unless you get your condition under control, they don’t see how there’s a viable future for you.”
“Under control?” Jimin mutters, “Viable future… you do realize that this is an illness, something I can’t change about myself?”
He can’t actually believe what he’s hearing, that everyone is just disregarding what he and his doctor have both talked about. The agency knew, it’s been explained to his sponsors under an NDA, everyone who needs to know, knows, and yet here he is, about to be out of a job.
“They’re meeting as we speak,” Songwon continues, “I wasn’t allowed to be in the meeting, but Jimin, I have to be honest, it doesn’t look good.”
He can hear the sound of muffled voices coming through the line, then Songwon is making vague excuses and ending the call, and Jimin is left sitting there, staring out the window at the skyline of Seoul.
It stretches for as far as the eye can see, smog hazy and bright under the noon day glare, there are no clouds in the sky, and he can barely make out the faded crescent of the waning moon, suspended in washed out blue, looking more like a grimace then a smile. He closes his eyes against the onset of tears and lets himself fall back onto the thin mattress and oversoft pillow, staring at the back of his eyelids and wondering where it all went wrong.
He had risen so far and so fast, dazzling the camera with his come-hither cat eyes, “A gem of an Omega” the tabloids had called him, “The diamond of Busan”, delicate and beautiful, all grace and immaculate style. His celebrity status happened basically overnight, the calls coming in one after another, offer after offer for him to model, to be in ads, to walk for fashion shows.
Now he was losing it all because of an illness that wasn’t understood, that was under-studied, that was said to be untraceable.
He lays there, unmoving until a nurse arrives to check on him. She’s a Beta, like most hospital staff are, and her calm presence is a small distraction in the wake of Songwon’s news, she checks his vitals, says he seems to be fine, and goes to leave, but before she does, Jimin stops her.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” he asks softly, “can you tell me how I got here last night?”
She smiles, “Someone brought you in, a tall gentlemen who said you collapsed on him.”
Jimin holds back a groan of embarrassment, because that means he was most likely carried out in the arms of some stranger, which meant that on top of the drug and alcohol allegations, the media would make it seem like he was sleeping around with random men at that.
“He was very kind, and very concerned, he stayed for a few hours after he dropped you off, but then he got a phone call and left,” she gestures towards his bedside table. “He had me take one his business cards for you, said you could contact him if you had any questions.”
She leaves and Jimin reaches over to pick up the card. It’s a sleek and modern looking design, black with silver lettering that reads
Jeon Jeongguk
CEO of Jeon Cosmetics
Below that is listed his contact information, and Jimin can’t help but stare. He knew all about Jeon Cosmetics, they were among the largest companies in Seoul with a focus on makeup but with a burgeoning start in skincare products as well. He had done a shoot for them a couple years ago, and while he hadn’t had any reason to have met the CEO then, he recalls being impressed by how professional and polite the team he had worked with were. He also recalled most of them being Betas, a rare occurrence in an industry dominated by Alphas and Omegas.
He bites his lip and debates whether or not he should reach out to Jeongguk, he knows it’s the polite thing to do, the man didn’t have to go out of his way to help him last night, but he’s bone weary and anxious, and before he can come to a decision, his phone lights up with a text from Songwon.
The board has chosen to terminate your contract
You’ll receive your final check in the mail soon
I’m sorry Jimin, my hands are tied
He stares at the texts for several minutes, mind blank, before he locks his phone, sets it aside, and begins to cry.
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Jeongguk stands in front of his massive office windows, looking out at the smudged Seoul skyline, at the shining expanse of glass and steel and concrete, but not truly seeing it.
Memories from last night keep playing on repeat in his mind; he had been out for the first time in weeks, celebrating the launch of a new line of cosmetics with his team. The night had been a much needed release after all the extra hours they’d been putting in to make sure everything ran smoothly, and Jeongguk had been having more fun than he could recall having in a while.
He’d been walking towards the bar for another round of drinks when it happened.
His wolf noticed it first, the distressed scent of an Omega, the soft smell of bluebells and tangerine going sour with panic. Typically he was not overly affected by other wolves' scents, perhaps because of his Beta status, but something about this particular Omega called to his wolf, leading him to push and shoulder his way through the tight throng of bodies until he found him.
Lithe, a little shorter than Jeongguk, blond hair disheveled, eyes wide with panic as he pushes against the crowd, who seem oblivious to his turmoil, a few eyes turning in his direction, mostly Alphas, curious but not enough to see if they could help. Never mind that aiding an Omega in distress was instinctual, city wolves often ignored their instincts, anyway.
Not Jeongguk though, even if his wolf hadn’t been on high alert, he would have been concerned especially when he saw the Omega stumble and nearly go down. Something was obviously wrong, either he was being harassed, he was ill, or someone had slipped him something, and any one of those possibilities were enough to propel Jeongguk forward and into action.
He pushes his way through the crowd, following the soured floral scent as best he can through the miasma of other ones. It is easier then it should be, his wolf single minded in it’s intent, ignoring everything around him; the flirtatious looks, the hands reaching out to pull him into a dance, he moves with a focus that he doesn’t understand, but also doesn’t question. He trusts his wolf, knows that whatever it’s doing is the right thing, that this Omega needs help.
He caught up to him just in time, the Omega was gasping for air, chest rising in ragged and uneven gasps as though he was choking on something, his wide eyes growing heavy lidded as unconsciousness crept forward. He got to him just in time, catching the other man in his arms as he slumped toward the ground. He was light as a feather, model thin, Jeongguk thought, practically underweight, though he had the feeling his slender build had nothing to do with why he had collapsed.
His wolf is on high alert, not feral with panic, but stoic in its determination to help the Omega, so without a second thought, Jeongguk lifts him in his arms and carries him towards a door marked for employees only. He shoulders it open, emerging into a cool hall, where a startled looking server is emerging from the break room.
“Get Jisung for me, will you?” He asks the girl, who nods, eyes wide and trained on the Omega in his arms.
“Is that… Park Jimin?” She whispers.
Jeongguk doesn’t know what she was talking about, so he walks past her and into the blessedly empty break room, “Jisung, now, please,” he says over his shoulder before kicking the door shut in her face.
He settles his burden on the sofa and pulls out his phone, dialing for emergency services as he waits for his friend and the club’s owner, Han Jisung to arrive. With an ambulance en route, Jeongguk kneels beside the couch and pushes the Omega’s blond hair from his eyes, scanning him for any sign of injury. His pulse is fast, but steady, and his breathing seems to have eased a little bit now that they were no longer in the middle of the club, but he looks deathly pale, sweat beading on his brow, body trembling even though he is unconscious. The door opens suddenly and Jeongguk looks swiftly over his shoulder, subconsciously shielding the Omega with his own broader frame, but it is only Jisung, who takes one look at the situation and starts cursing.
“Fuck, it really is him,” he says as he strides across the room, his faint Beta scent spiking with concern. “I really hoped Yuna was wrong when she said she’d seen you carry an unconscious Park Jimin into the back.”
“I already called for an ambulance,” Jeongguk says by way of a response, “Told them to come in with lights off, and pull up to the back.”
“That’s… surprisingly thoughtful of you,’ Jisung responds as he dug through a cabinet and pulled out a dish towel and ran it under some water from the sink in the corner. “Too bad half the club probably already saw him go down.”
He moves as if he was going to approach the sofa, but pauses as he draws closer, nostrils flaring, “You alright, Kook?” he asks.
Without a word, Jeongguk takes the damp cloth from his friend’s hands and begins to gently wipe the sweat from the Omega— Park Jimin’s brow. “Wolf’s a little out of sort,” he says quietly, “Not sure why.”
“Ah,” is all Jisung says in response, they sit in tense silence for what seems like an eternity, Jeongguk stays kneeling at Jimin’s side, checking his pulse on occasion, loosening the collar of his shirt to wipe away the sweat that shines there, gnawing on his lip in concern as he watches the unmoving Omega.
Finally, Jisung checks his phone and releases a heavy sigh, “Sounds like the ambulance just pulled up, I’ll tell everyone who sees this to stay quiet, but don’t be surprised when word gets out anyway.”
Jeongguk nods and sets aside the towel and lifts the other man into his arms, cradled against his broad chest, “Tell the others that I left?” He asks Jisung as they walk down the hall.
“Joon’s gonna be in a tizzy that you disappeared,” Jisung says, “You know he hates it when you take off by yourself.”
Jeongguk smiles, Namjoon was the lone Alpha in their friend group, and Jeongguk’s bodyguard as well, “He’ll be fine, I’ll call him on the way to the hospital.”
“Are you going too?” Jisung raises an eyebrow, “You don’t even know him, do you?”
“No,” Jeongguk replies, looking down at the man in his arms, “But that doesn’t mean he should have to go through this alone.”
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Jeongguk’s phone buzzes, pulling him out of his reverie. It does it again, then again, a flurry of notifications that he’s receiving several incoming texts. With a sigh he unlocks his phone and sees that all of them are from Jisung.
You read the news, my dude?
Park Jimin’s name is all over it
Things don’t look good for him, sounds like there’s been a lot of rumors that he’s been abusing alcohol or drugs
But didn’t you say the EMTs said it was because of a pre-diagnosed condition?
As he’s reading the texts, another one pops up, this time a link to an article. Jeongguk taps on it and is assaulted by a picture of Jimin, obviously a stock image, with the headline, “Park’s Meteoric Rise to Fame Comes Crashing Down.” Jeongguk scans the article with a frown, it’s all gossip and rumor except for a statement made by the agency that managed Jimin, saying they had decided to “cut ties” with the model due to “unforeseen complications” it’s all vague, ridiculous, and even cruel, why hadn’t they just admitted to the world the reason behind Jimin’s troubles?
He had lied to the EMT’s last night, claiming to be Jimin’s cousin so he could ride with him to the hospital, and had listened to them go over his known medical history. He didn’t fully understand how or why he’d become so invested in making sure the Omega was alright but his wolf had been near frantic with concern as the night had continued. He hadn’t noticed in Delirium, his senses a bit overwhelmed by the dozens and dozens of scents mixed with sweat and perfume and alcohol, but once he’d left the dancefloor behind and the full strength of Jimin’s own scent had hit him, it began.
He hadn’t really processed it until Jisung had reacted to his scent in the break room, but his wolf was feeling protective of the Omega, far more than it had any right to be.
It still feels that way, and he can’t help but wonder how Jimin is doing, if he’s feeling better. He considers calling the hospital but then decides that might be overstepping some unspoken boundary, taking things a touch too far when he’d already spent most of the night in a hospital room concerned for someone he didn’t know.
It’s up to Jimin to reach out to him now.
He turns back to his desk and the never ending work that waits for him and sighs, hopefully fate will look kindly upon them, and he won’t have to go without seeing the Omega again.
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Jimin is released from the hospital and is forced to walk back home, because the chances of getting into a cab with an alpha driver were high. With his contract terminated, he no longer has access to the same resources he did with the agency. No drivers, no security, nothing. He wears a mask that he acquired from the hospital and keeps the hood of his sweatshirt up, as much to stave off the rain as to protect him from any curious passerby. It hides his blond hair well, and with his head bowed no one can even tell he’s been crying.
At least he only has a mile or so to walk.
But once he’s home a bone deep exhaustion settles in, and it’s all he can do to strip out of his wet clothes and shower, washing away the lingering scent of the hospital and last night’s misadventure. Afterwards he climbs into his nest, not bothering with the strings of star shaped fairy lights that are strung through the gauzy canopy that shields it from the rest of the bedroom. He nuzzles into it, seeking comfort but finding none; it’s drenched in his own scent, all bluebells and tangerines, a scent so many loved to such an extent that it made their own scent blossom in response.
The irony is not lost on Jimin.
He wonders now if he’ll ever find someone who doesn’t aggravate his condition. He thinks about his mother, who was always adamant about how the right Alpha would walk into his life, “Your Fated Mate,” she would say, eyes shining with the conviction only a parent could have, “He’ll be the one Alpha who your wolf will resonate with, and it won’t matter what his scent is, and you’ll love each other so much, just like me and your appa do.”
Never mind she would sometimes shatter the moment by happily flipping off her husband if he happened to walk by.
He used to believe her, now he’s not so sure. He’s met so many Alpha’s, he’s starting to doubt that one exists in the world that he could actually be around, let alone scent and comfort him the way an Alpha should.
He sighs and burrows deeper, wishing he could hide away from the world, fall asleep and wake up to find the last twenty four hours have been nothing more than a dream. But sleep does not come easily, even as the apartment grows darker and the rain falls harder. His phone is nearby, but it’s quiet, no one calling to check on him, no one caring enough to find out how he is.
He’s spent so much time building “connections” like Songwon told him to do that he neglected making any friends. Now there’s no one here to comfort him, no one to lend a shoulder for him to cry on. He curls up a little smaller and can’t help the soft whine that falls from his lips. But then he remembers the card that Jeon Jeongguk had left on his bed side, and despite the other wolf being a complete stranger, Jimin can’t help but notice the way his own perks up at the thought of him.
With nothing to do and no one else to talk to, he crawls out of his nest and goes back out into the living room to retrieve his phone and the card, which is a bit damp from rain, but still legible enough for him to discern the number.
After nearly twenty minutes of typing and reading and deleting and retyping, he has what he feels like is a fairly normal message, one that doesn’t sound too desperate, because he’s not.
He’s not (he might be).
Hi Jeongguk-ssi, this is Park Jimin, the Omega you helped out last night at Delirium. I just wanted to say thank you, you didn’t have to do anything, but you did, and I appreciate it so much.
He chews on his lower lip for a long moment, debating on what else he should say before he continues. He knows from the articles he’s read that somehow the CEO hasn’t been exposed to the media in his role as Jimin’s rescuer, which means he’s either not that famous or people did not recognize him.
He wishes he could remember his face, but a quick Naver search fills in the empty parts of his memory.
He can’t help but stare a little, because Jeongguk is handsome. Broad and muscular, with a well defined jaw and blue black hair, if it weren’t for all the headlines that seemed hyper-fixated on his subgender, Jimin would assume he was an Alpha, but he’s not, he’s a Beta.
A Beta CEO in a world that is usually dominated by Alphas is intriguing, Jimin wracks his memory but can’t come up with another example of someone with that status in such a position of power. He wonders if he inherited the position, but another search reveals that he had started from the ground up, using only his intelligence and business knowledge to start a line of cosmetics that had taken Korea by storm by way of clever marketing and products that appealed to a wide range of citizens.
Fascinated, Jimin keeps reading, and finds out that not only is Jeongguk a Beta, but he hires other Betas almost exclusively, to the point where he’s been called out for prejudice against the other two subgenders.
His response to that was thoughtful and nuanced, he pointed out how few Beta’s were welcome in the business world, which was mainly made up of Alpha’s, or the cosmetics business, which had a wealth of Omega’s among its ranks.
“But does that mean Beta’s aren’t interested or talented in either field?” Jeongguk had asked in an interview, “Looking at surface level statistics, one might assume as much, but just by digging a little deeper and looking at lists of applicants, tells a very different story. Everyone I’ve hired has been passed over by a dozen other companies like mine, in spite of their skills and education, tell me that’s not discrimination?”
The interviewer had not been able to argue, especially with how calm and authoritative Jeongguk had sounded with his reply. He carried himself with something akin to an Alpha’s confidence, but it was tempered, less brash. Like he was comfortable with who he was and how he presented, Jimin was more than a little enthralled as he watched a few more interviews, all of them as fascinating as the first, until he suddenly recalled the text he had yet to finish and send.
He bit his lip in thought, then gave in to what his instincts were telling him to do.
I’d love to thank you in some way, would you maybe like to meet up for coffee at some point, my treat obviously, it’s the least I could do for what you did last night.
He reads over his message a few times before hitting send and forcing himself to put his phone down.
He looks out the window at the rain drenched city, everything washed in shades of steel gray and black, aside from the cars below, lined up on the freeways like strings of diamonds and rubies, their light refracted and glittering through the droplets of water that cling to the glass.
He can’t imagine that another company will want him, not with the rumors they will no doubt follow him for months, if not years to come.
Still, there’s something in him that speaks of hope, and it may or may not be tied to Jeon Jeongguk.
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“Are you sure there’s no way to get a confetti bomb to go off when they open them?” Jeongguk asks, “It doesn’t even have to be a big one, just a little burst of sparkly tissue paper, it’s New Year’s themed, after all.”
“We’ve been over this already, Kook,” Taehyung, lead of his design team says, “All the prototypes failed, half the time they’d go off before delivery, the other half they wouldn’t go off at all.”
Jeongguk leans back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, “I really like confetti,” he says, like his love for it will somehow make his plan come to life.
“I know,” Taehyung says with a placating smile, “How about instead of the usual packing peanuts, we put in gold and silver streamers to fill up space?”
Jeongguk frowns, mulling over the idea while poking his lower lip with his fingers, “Gold, silver, and black,” he says finally, and Taehyung beams.
“Done!” He says, scrawling a quick note onto his tablet. “So how do you feel about going out with us to get drinks? Seokjin mentioned a new bar he’s been wanting to go to and since we don’t have any new projects to worry about at the moment…”
Jeongguk feels his phone buzz in his pocket from a couple of incoming texts; it’s his work phone, so he doesn’t hesitate in waving for silence and pulling it out and checking his messages, Taehyung continues talking, unphased by his bosses divided focus until he notices the smile that breaks out across his face.
“Who is it that’s making you look like that?” He asks, setting aside his tablet and leaning forward with one eyebrow raised. “That’s your work phone, did that one Paris company get back to you— do I get to go to Paris finally?” He makes grabby hands at Jeongguk, who leans back and out of reach without looking up, his fingers flying across the screen as he responds.
It is really no trouble at all Jimin-ssi, and please don’t feel obligated to repay me in any way, I was happy to help.
He’s about to hit send when he feels his wolf start to pay attention, there’s a flash of annoyance, like it’s upset that he’s refusing to spend time with the Omega, and it makes him hesitate. Being in tune with his wolf has served him well over the years, he trusts its instincts because they are also his, but without the unnecessary complications that the modern world often presents. He bites his lip, debates what he should do, and deletes more than half of his message.
It was really no trouble at all Jimin-ssi, but I would be happy to take you up on your offer, though I don’t want you to feel obligated… I was happy to help.
He hits send, his wolf quiet inside him once again, and looks up to meet Taehyung’s expectant gaze.
“So?” The other Beta prompts, “Was it Paris?”
“No, it was Park Jimin,” he replies.
Taehyung’s eyebrow furrows, “Park Jimin, as in the model with all the controversy around him? That Park Jimin?”
Jeongguk frowns, “Yes, though I hope you don’t believe all the rumors.”
“Wasn’t he admitted to the hospital yesterday night after he passed out at Delirium?” Taehyung’s eyes grow wide, “Oh my god, you were there last night too, right? Did you see it happen?”
Jeongguk sighs and leans back in his seat, “Yes, Tae, I was there, I was the one who actually got him off the floor and called the ambulance.”
Tae leans forward, “So, what is it then? Drugs? Too drunk to function?” His eyes grow even wider. “Oh my god did someone slip him something? He’s so pretty, I bet people are trying to get into his pants all the—“
“Kim Taehyung,” Jeongguk says sternly, both he and his wolf more than a little annoyed by his friends rambling, “I’m disappointed in you, believing all those gossip rags and the paparazzi when you know as well as I do that they make their living off of manufactured drama and lies.”
He stands abruptly, suddenly feeling restless, “He wasn’t high, or drunk, I didn’t even smell alcohol on his breath when I was checking on him,” he drags a hand through his hair and frowns, “I lied to the paramedics so I could ride with him to the hospital, while they were going over his charts they mentioned he has condition, one that makes him get overwhelmed by other wolves scents. Apparently it’s so bad that he sometimes loses consciousness.”
“Oh,” Taehyung deflates at Jeongguk’s words, “Well now I feel like a jerk.”
Jeongguk smiles, “You’re not a jerk,” he assures him, “Though maybe try not to jump to conclusions next time.”
Taehyung nods, and Jeongguk thinks their conversation is done, but then Taehyung asks, “So, what did he want?”
“Who?” Jeongguk asks as he closes his laptop and pockets his phone.
Taehyung rolls his eyes, “Park Jimin, who else?”
“Ah,” Jeongguk can’t help but smile again, thinking about the text he’d received, “He was just thanking me for taking care of him last night, and he offered to meet up for coffee.”
Taehyung grins, “And did you say yes?”
“Well, it’s the polite thing to do, isn’t it?” Jeongguk says, “And I may have an ulterior motive,” he adds as they leave the meeting room and head down the hall.
“Oh?” Taehyung says, eyebrow once again raised, “And what’s that?”
“Well, if you’re reading all those gossip sites then you must know that his agency dropped him.”
“Yeah, which sucks considering what you just told me, can’t he sue them for discrimination?”
“If he does he will probably be blacklisted by every other agency in Seoul, possibly Korea, no one will want to hire him if they think he’s going to cause them trouble,” Jeongguk replies, “But I’ve got an idea— something I’ll bring up to him over coffee.”
He can practically feel curiosity radiating off of Taehyung, “What is it?”
“I’ll tell you if he agrees,” Jeongguk says with a confident grin that belies the butterflies he feels swarming his insides. He feels his phone buzz again, but he ignores it until he’s back in his office, alone, where he can smile down at his screen without being interrogated.
You’re too kind, Jeongguk-ssi, seriously. How about we meet at Skyline? It’s a super discreet little place where people like us can go without being hounded by press or harassed by fans
He sends a location for it right after, and while Jeongguk isn’t familiar with it, a quick search shows a cozy looking little place that appears to be located near the top of a sky rise, full of green plants and a couple of half asleep cats. Everything about it looks cute, soft, just like the Omega he had carried in his arms the night before.
I’ve never been there but it looks lovely, I do have to work tomorrow, but I can sneak away at three PM, does that work for you?
He doesn’t actually know if he’s free during that time, but he’s willing to cancel or reschedule whatever he needs to make this work. Because if everything goes as planned, he’ll be getting a lucrative business deal out of it. He pointedly ignores his wolf, who seems to be trying to tell him that they could get more out of it than just a contract. No Omega like Jimin would ever want a Beta like him, after all. Jeongguk knows that from experience. He leans against his desk, ankles crossed as he stares at his phone, because he can already see that Jimin is typing a response.
Whatever time you want is fine with me, Jeongguk-ssi
🌿🌸🌿🌸🌿
Jimin winces a little as he reads back over the last message he’s sent, because obviously he can meet whenever, he’s unemployed now. He’s certain Jeongguk has heard the news about his agency dropping him, but at least he knows the full story, since he came with him to the hospital and apparently pretended to be his cousin. The medical staff probably kept him updated on Jimin’s condition the entire night, but for once Jimin finds himself unbothered that somebody knows the truth. He doesn’t know much about Jeon Jeongguk outside of what he’s read today, but he seems kind, he helped him out last night after all, and just from the few texts they exchanged Jimin finds himself looking forward to tomorrow with far more enthusiasm then he probably has any right to.
“It’s just coffee,” he mutters to himself, “He’s just doing it to be polite.”
He feels a little grumpy at the thought, but fiercely ignores the feeling; there’s no reason for him to be upset about someone who he doesn’t actually know being polite.
He’s just lonely, he tells himself sternly.
“It’s not a big deal,” he whispers to himself as he wanders into his kitchen, finds it empty, and orders himself some pity sushi to make up for it.
Still, there’s a small part of him that won’t stop being excited about tomorrow and the chance to speak with Jeongguk again.
🌿🌸🌿🌸🌿
Jimin blinks awake an hour after sunrise, stares at his ceiling, and hates his life.
Or at least what’s left of it.
He doesn’t want to touch his phone, but he has to, if only to see if there are any messages from Jeongguk about canceling or rescheduling, which Jimin already assumes there will be. Not for any particular reason other than Jeongguk is the head of a successful company and Jimin is a model with a questionable reputation and no job. He lays there for a while, feeling unreasonably sad over the thought of Jeongguk not contacting him, when he should be sad about losing his contract, then sighs in frustration.
He really is a mess, he doesn’t even know the guy, why should he care whether or not they keep in touch?
Frustrated, he purposefully bypasses his phone and heads for the bathroom, forcing himself to go through his usual morning routine when all he wants to do is drink coffee and glare at the Seoul skyline. But instead he showers, does his ten step face routine, and eats a healthy breakfast.
Just because his agency dropped him doesn’t mean he can’t take care of himself, after all.
It’s only after the kitchen is clean that he lets himself unlock his phone and check his messages. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but there’s… nothing; other than a few articles he tortures himself with about the “causes” behind his termination (none of which acknowledge his condition), it’s quiet, except for a single text.
From Jeongguk.
Good morning Jimin-ssi! I’m looking forward to meeting with you today!
It’s… sweet.
But Jimin wishes he had friends who cared enough to check in though, he wishes he had made more than shallow connections and business agreements, because now he’s adrift with no support system and he doesn’t know where to turn.
Jimin locks his phone and sets it aside.
He’s not used to this sort of treatment, which he supposes says more about his work experience then it does about him. He’s used to everything being numbers and statistics, to cold and impersonal— Go here now, do this when you get there, leave promptly so you can do the next thing. Texts from his manager and anyone else he worked with never even started with a hello or a good morning.
So it makes him feel strange to be treated like a person.
He sits at his kitchen table and stares down at its polished surface, and wonders what he’s going to do with his life.
He needs to call his parents, they’re out of the country right now, visiting family in America, and it’s likely they haven’t seen the news yet. But they won’t be back for several more days, so he decides to leave it for now, putting off having to listen to how sad his mother will be and how kind his father will be and how they will be supportive and understanding and it will make him feel like he’s about to shatter.
He starts to get ready, there’s still a couple of hours left until he needs to be at Skyline, but he’ll have to walk the distance because public transport and even taxis are not the greatest options for him. If he was very lucky he’d get a beta driver, but it’s not a guarantee, so he decides not to risk it.
An hour later and he’s heading out the door, mask over the lower half of his face, sunglasses on, and a beanie covering his hair. He walks quickly, keeps his head down, and does his best to only breathe through his mouth. It mostly works, but by the time he’s reaching Skyline he has a slight headache. He settles in a corner table where the sun is shining brightly, and smiles up at the owner, an older Beta with a kind face who acts like they have no idea who Jimin is. It’s the main reason Jimin started frequenting the establishment, it’s typically quiet, and aside from the smell of coffee beans and pastries, there’s no scents to contend with.
He glances at his phone and finds he’s a few minutes early, but instead of scrolling through social media, he stares out the floor to ceiling windows and does his best to not think about anything in particular. He really has no clue what he’s going to do with himself. His one dream is now shattered at his feet, he’d been working towards this career since he was in high school, carefully plotting his trajectory with every intention of becoming internationally famous.
He had been so close.
The contracts he had taken were huge in Korea, the companies and designers he’d been modeling for were famous, and other, bigger names were known to snatch up models from them if they thought them worth the time. He had been so hopeful before it had all come crashing down.
The bell over the door rings, announcing the arrival of another patron, but it’s only a couple of girls who thankfully take seats at the other end of the shop, giggling over something on their phones. One of them glances in his direction and for a horrible moment they make eye contact, but then the door opens again and both of them look to see who the new arrival is.
Jeon Jeongguk is somehow more attractive in real life than he is in the photographs and interviews Jimin saw yesterday. He walks with long, confident strides, his overcoat flaring out around his lean but muscular frame, at six feet tall he towers over the average Korean, and if Jimin didn’t know better, he’d assume he was an Alpha. But the scent that greets Jimin is far too gentle for that, it reminds him of summer days as a child, sitting on the banks of a river and skipping stones with his little brother. It’s all clean water and green, growing things, and for the first time in well over a year, Jimin finds himself actually taking a deep lungful of the scent and not growing ill as it washes over him.
Jeongguk sees him and crosses the room, pulling down the black mask that’s obscuring his face to reveal a happy smile that makes him look a bit like a rabbit, and Jimin finds he can’t help but smile back, something about the happiness in the other wolf's eyes is contagious.
“Jeongguk-ssi,” Jimin says as he stands to greet the Beta, “It’s a pleasure to meet you… more officially, I suppose.”
“How are you doing?” Jeongguk asks without preamble, his deep voice quiet and kind.
“You saw the news then, I take it?” Jimin replies with a wry smile. “Honestly? I could be doing better, but that’s to be expected, right?” Without thinking he pulls off his beanie and runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that’s gotten him scolded by more than one stylist over the years. He looks up, expecting to see pity in Jeongguk’s eyes, but instead all he sees is kindness, and it catches him off guard.
“I wanted to say thank you, again, since I didn’t really have a chance to do it after what happened at Delirium,” Jimin continues, “You didn’t have to help me, let alone stay with me at the hospital, so thank you for that.”
🌿🌸🌿🌸🌿
Jeongguk watches with quiet fascination as a faint blush stains Jimin’s cheeks with the softest shade of pink he can imagine. His wolf is at attention inside of him, as enraptured by the sight as he is. Park Jimin is by far one of the prettiest people he’s ever met, even with his hair disheveled from its time in a beanie and his eyes a little red rimmed, most likely from lack of sleep.
He looks soft and warm in his moss green hoodie, hands wrapped around an oversized mug of tea that he blows on gently, his plush lips looking almost heart shaped as he does. It takes Jeongguk a moment to realize he’s staring, and with a smile and shake of his head at how silly he’s being, he replies, “It’s no trouble, I can’t imagine not helping someone in a situation like that, I only wish I could have stayed at the hospital until you woke up, it must have been very confusing for you.”
Jimin shrugs, “It’s fine, you did more than what was expected, I’m sure most people would have just left me with the staff or something… so, thank you,” he takes a sip of his tea, “I don’t have much to offer, but if there’s anything I can do repay you, I’ll do it.”
And there it is, the opportunity Jeongguk was hoping for, opening up in front of him, “There is, actually,” he says, leaning forward, he has a whole speech ready, he’d been thinking of it all morning, ready to lay out his proposal in a clear and concise manner, but before he can get so much as a word of it out, a shy voice stops him.
“Um… I’m so sorry, but… are you Park Jimin?”
Jeongguk glances to the side and sees one of the girls who had been occupying the other table standing a few feet away from the table, staring at her feet with a blush on her cheeks. He glances at Jimin and immediately notices the way his nose flares as her scent, a heady gardenia tinged with bitter notes of nervousness; as soon as he smells it, the Omega leans back, and his hand rises halfway to his face before falling away, as if he’s afraid of being rude, when she was the one interrupting him during a personal moment.
“I am,” Jimin says, and Jeongguk catches the Omega’s scent, a mix of bluebells and tangerine, becoming sour with nervous apprehension.
“I’m such a huge fan,” the girl gushes, “I know you just got dropped, but I was… I was wondering if I could have an autograph?”
“Oh, um… sure,” Jimin says, shoulders sagging a little as hints of sadness start to integrate themselves into his scent. Jeongguk glances at the girl, but she’s either being willfully oblivious to his outward signs of distress, or she just doesn’t care. She makes an excited sound and bounces back to her table, where she grabs a notebook and a pen, but before she returns Jeongguk rises.
“I’ll be right back, Jimin-ssi,” he says softly, and the Omega nods. He looks miserable, a furrow appearing on his brow and his lower lip pushed out in a pout, and both Jeongguk and his wolf want to help, but there’s only one way he can think of doing that right now.
He walks over to the counter, where the server is working on an order, “I’d like to pay when you get a chance,” Jeongguk says with a bow, “And two to go cups, please,” he adds before casting a worried glance back towards the table. The girl has now been joined by her friend, and their combined scents are filling the little cafe to the point where it’s strong even to Jeongguk, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for Jimin.
The barista rings him up and hands him two paper cups with lids and Jeongguk hurries back to their table, “Looks like something came up, Jimin-ssi,” he says, gently interjecting himself into the conversation, which is a generous term for what sounds to be just two overexcited teens talking over each other about a world that Jimin has been forcibly removed from.
“Oh, do you have to go?” Jimin asks, eyes wide.
“We have to go,” Jeongguk replies, one eyebrow arched in an attempt to convey his meaning. Jimin stares up at him for a moment before realization dawns on him, and a tired but sincere smile lights up his face.
“Okay,” he says gently, and he maintains his smile throughout his goodbyes to the two girls, who thankfully do not try to bogart more of his time and allow him to leave gracefully. There’s little doubt in Jeongguk’s mind that their interaction with Jimin will be all over social media in moments, he only hopes they aren’t thoughtless enough to mention where they saw him, because if they do, Jimin will lose a place he probably cares about a great deal because of a fear of paparazzi and fans.
They pick up their drinks and Jeongguk ushers Jimin towards the door, free hand hovering just out of reach of the small of the Omega’s back, both he and his wolf feeling a little protective as they scent the air and notice the sharp hints of distress that still come off of Jimin. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t allow any other outward signs to show, his head is high, his shoulders back, and he makes sure to bow to both the girls and to the cafe workers before they leave.
“No elevator,” he whispers once they’re in the hall.
Jeongguk nods, “That’s fine,” he says before pushing open the stairwell door, “Let’s get you out and into some fresh air, huh?”
They’re both silent as they descend to the ground floor, but Jeongguk keeps an eye on Jimin for any further signs of sickness, the last thing in the world he wants is for the other wolf to lose consciousness and take a fall down the stairs, but aside from the frown that mars his handsome face, he seems to be holding up well.
Once they’re outside he can practically see the tension leaving Jimin’s body as he slips on his sunglasses and pulls up his mask, “Why don’t we head over there?” Jeongguk asks as he points across the street to a stretch of park land. It’s cool out, but the sunlight is warm and there’s a gentle breeze that whisks away any smells before they get a chance to settle. Jimin nods and they head for a bench overlooking a small, overgrown pond that is edged with yellowing reeds.
“I’m sorry about that,” Jimin says quietly after he takes a sip of his tea. The city surrounds them with its sounds, horns and sirens and idling engines, indistinct conversations, an infant crying, but all Jeongguk hears is Jimin’s voice, which is somehow both soft and rough at the same time, like crushed velvet, he thinks idly as he turns on the bench so that he’s facing the Omega.
“Don’t be,” he replies, just as quietly, “I can’t imagine what living with something like this is like, it has to be hard.”
Jimin glances at him out of the corner of his eyes, and he finds he likes how piercing it is, how sharp in contrast it is to the wide-eyed look Jimin had given him in Skyline.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I guess.”
Jeongguk studies him for a moment, gauging his mood, trying to decide if this is a good or bad time for his proposal. Either Jimin will be excited to work with him, or he’ll see it as a pity offer and deny him— it could really go either way. While his initial impression of the other wolf is that he is a kind and friendly person, he is still in a difficult place, so Jeongguk braces himself for a refusal even though he’s hoping for the opposite.
“So, what I was going to say before we were interrupted is that I have a business offer I’d like to make you, Jimin,” he keeps his tone professional, wanting the Omega to understand that this isn’t something he’s doing because he feels bad for him (even if he does), “My coworkers are a long time fan of your career, and I think it would profit us both if you came to work at Jeon Cosmetics.”
🌿🌸🌿🌸🌿
Jimin nearly fumbles his drink when he hears Jeongguk’s offer, and is completely unable to hide his surprise when he looks up at the Beta, “Me?” He asks softly, “After all you know about me?”
“What I know is that you have a condition that doesn’t allow you to work like you would like,” Jeongguk replies, and he looks so serious, so sincere, “and that you were unfairly dropped by your agency when they should have worked to meet you in the middle and find compromises that helped you reach your natural potential.”
He leans forward, and his proximity reminds Jimin again of his scent, so fresh and bright in his nose, it’s all he can do to hold back the urge to fill his lungs with it again, but it’s so refreshing not being overwhelmed by another wolf’s smell that he gives into it just a little anyway. To anyone else a Beta’s scent would be faint, barely discernible, but to Jimin it is perfect, not weak, but not overpowering either.
“Here’s my offer, I’ve been wanting to branch out into perfume for sometime now, and I think this is the perfect opportunity,” he sets his drink aside and begins to count off factors on one hand. “Your scent is almost as famous as you, I know from reading interviews of people you’ve worked in the past that it’s remarked upon constantly, and if it’s not too forward of me, I have to agree that it’s delightful.” He grins when he says that, and it makes him look so much younger, with the way his nose wrinkles and his front teeth stick out. Typically he doesn’t enjoy people talking about his scent, but when Jeongguk does it, it feels different, it makes something in him stand up and take notice, pleased that the Beta finds it so pleasant.
“Secondly, I know for a fact that all the allegations against you are false, and I’d gladly make an official statement saying just that,” Jeongguk continues, “you don’t deserve the negative publicity, and the fact that your agency isn’t refuting any of the allegations is frankly disgusting to me.”
“I think they’re hoping the gossip will die down if they ignore it,” Jimin says, looking away from Jeongguk and across the pond. There are birds in the reeds, little dark bodies darting and clinging, chests puffed out as they sing. Spring is on the way, he thinks, and isn’t spring a time for new beginnings?
“It would die down a lot faster if they just vouched for you,” Jeongguk replied, “Which I am more than happy to do.”
“The third thing is this,” he continues, “If you know my company you know I primarily hire Betas, which means you’d be in a working environment that is safe for you— no more exposure to scents that can aggravate your condition, no more migraines or fainting spells,” he smiles and it’s gentle and kind, “I also don’t expect you to put yourself into situations that might cause you any discomfort; any and all interviews can be done remotely, my team can handle publicity or networking that may need to be done, and you’d have access to all the benefits of becoming an employee, but you wouldn’t be under me.”
“What do you mean?” Jimin asks, intrigued and excited despite a lingering sense of trepidation.
“I mean I would consider you my equal, any decisions on the process of development would be up to you, I wouldn’t mind if you talked to me first before these things, as I like being hands on with projects in my company, but final decisions would be up to you, as long as it doesn’t reflect badly on Jeon Cosmetics, it’s fine with me.”
Jimin bites his lip, deep in thought. A part of him is scrambling to agree, his thoughts practically running in circles with, “Say yes. Say yes. Say yes,” but there’s a part of him that is still afraid, uncertain that this proposal won’t backfire on him in some way.
“Can I… can I think about it?” he asks finally, even though something in him deflates at his words. “It’s just… so much has happened these last two days, and I’m not even sure at this point if staying in the industry is viable for me…” he glances away from the reeds and the birds and is surprised by how understanding Jeongguk looks, when he was expecting a disappointed frown at the very least.
“Of course, Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk says, a hint of his previous smile still on his lips. “Take all the time you need, my offer doesn’t expire.”
And that alone is a surprise, and a good indicator of Jeongguk’s character. Most people in the past who had made similar offers to work with him were on a deadline, telling him he had to decide within a certain time frame, if not immediately. What Jeongguk has offered sounds too good to be true, and maybe that is why Jimin is so wary. Surely there’s a catch, surely there’s something he’s missing.
But then Jeongguk changes the topic, talks to him about something else completely unrelated to business, and Jimin finds himself listening with rapt attention, somehow more at ease around the Beta then he has been with people he’s known for far longer. It takes him a while to open up, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind, carrying the majority of the conversation until Jimin is finally relaxed enough to participate fully.
Before he knows it, a notification is calling Jeongguk’s attention away from their talk and to his phone, and the look of displeasure when he checks it is evident.
“Damn, I’ve got to go,” he says, pocketing the phone and rising, “I’ve got a meeting in an hour that I completely forgot about.”
“Oh!” Jimin says, rising along with him, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you for so long.”
“Are you kidding me?” Jeongguk says with a laugh, “This was the nicest morning I’ve had in a while, we should meet like this again sometime.” Their eyes meet and the Beta looks so happy, so sincere, that Jimin finds himself mirroring the smile on his face.
“Can I give you a ride home?” Jeongguk asks, “You walked here, right, so it can’t be too far…”
And Jimin should say no, he’s taken up enough of the other wolf’s time and surely he has better things to do then drive around a jobless Omega, but then Jimin thinks of the long walk back to his apartment, how the streets will be crowded with people now that they day is later, and how tired he is from the small amount of sleep he got the night before, and something in him urges him to nod, to say, “Yes, please,” and “Thank you,” as Jeongguk starts walking toward a nearby parking garage.
The drive back to his apartment is also surprisingly pleasant, Jeongguk even unlocking his phone at one point to pass to Jimin, “Check out my niece,” he says, excitement evident in his voice, “She just turned two, and she’s pure magic.”
The little girl in question is over the top cute, every picture of her, whether staged or candid, showing off round cheeks and sparkling eyes and a smile just like her uncle. Jeongguk is obviously very proud of her, and the rest of the car ride is filled with him telling stories about all her milestones and misadventures. Jimin listens quietly, charmed by the Beta and his disarming personality, and thinks to himself that Jeongguk has got to be unique in the world of CEO’s, because he’s a far cry from every one Jimin has ever met or heard of.
Maybe it’s because he’s a Beta, but Jimin gets the feeling that no matter what subgender Jeongguk was, he’d still be as sweet and as kind as he is now, Jimin is just lucky that he is the way he is, because it means he doesn’t have to shy away from physical contact, it means he can sit in a car with the windows rolled up while navigating the busy streets of Seoul, it means that when they finally get to his apartment he doesn’t have to flee the moment that Jeongguk parks.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Jeongguk says, bowing and offering his hand to shake. Typically Jimin refrains from physical contact, so as not to carry around another wolf's scent, but he finds the thought of smelling like Jeongguk doesn’t actually bother him, so he takes the offered hand and bows over it.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he replies, and he finds that he means it, he really does.
Jeongguk flashes him one last, bunny smile, “Let’s talk again soon, Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin nods and smiles, then heads towards the entrance to his apartment, fighting valiantly against the urge to sneak a final glance back at the Beta, whose car is still parked there, as if this was a date and he wants to make sure Jimin gets back inside safely. It makes his heart flutter just a bit, though he immediately tamps down on the feeling, because there’s no way Jeongguk would ever be interested in a failure like him.
Still, he can’t help but daydream just a little as he climbs the steps and lets himself into his apartment, something in him loving the idea of coming home to an apartment that smells like summer days and cold clear water.