Chapter Text
Jisung wasn’t angry, but he was getting close to it. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and trudged forward, breath steaming in the cold night air. “You’re being stupid, hyung.”
“I’m being nice. Walking you home from a date is nice.”
“My date walking me home from a date would be nice, not you!”
Minho just looked at Jisung, wide-eyed and innocent, the scent of his mischief dancing in the breeze. “He could have walked you home, jagi, I didn’t stop him. He didn’t stop me, though, did he? What kind of alpha lets another man walk his date home?”
Jisung looked away, heart aching. He tried to speed up, but Minho easily kept pace. “One that you deliberately scared away.”
“If it had been a test, which it wasn’t,” Minho said, “then your date would have failed.”
But Minho didn’t believe in the traditional alpha role. He didn’t give a shit about posturing or claiming or possessing - his indifference had ruined some of his better relationships, in the end. Not that they ever lasted more than a month or so.
He was being stupid. It was becoming more frequent, and Jisung was becoming more frustrated.
“If he’d stuck around and offered to walk me home, would you have left?”
Minho unwrapped his scarf and dumped it on Jisung’s head. “You look cold.”
Jisung bundled himself into the scarf, unwilling to let Minho change the direction of the argument. He looked like the leading man of a bittersweet romance movie in his wool coat with his too-long hair. Jisung clung to the frayed edges of his frustration as they tried to float away. “Would you have backed off if he stayed?”
“What does it matter? He didn’t stay.”
Minho’s words stung.
He didn’t stay. Jisung’s dates never did. He was past the point of wondering if it was his fault or theirs. He didn’t care anymore. One day one of them would stick, and he’d get his true love and happy family. He wanted it with a desperation that made him feel faintly sick. He wanted domesticity. He wanted to wake up in a warm bed with a body pressed against his side. He wanted a toothbrush beside his own. He wanted another coat on the hook beside the door, other than the sweater that Minho kept at Jisung’s apartment for whenever he stayed over. Jisung’s income was steady, his career on an upwards trajectory. Felix and Seungmin had been married for two fucking years already. Jisung wanted that. He wanted someone to want it with him.
He wanted his family to be proud of his life.
“He didn’t smell good anyway,” Minho said softly. “Jisung-ah, you can’t have a stinky boyfriend.”
“He was scared of you.”
“Could he really be the love of your life if he was scared of your best friend?”
Jisung rubbed his face, tired. The date had been going well; things had looked promising. Handsome and funny, Jisung’s date had similar aspirations, similar interests to his own. Their scents mingled well. He’d seemed eager enough to see Jisung a third time when arranging their restaurant reservation.
“You scare everyone at first, hyung. It was going well.” Jisung cleared his throat and tried not to sound pathetic. “It really was going well.”
“Jisung-ah, he didn’t even try to argue with me.”
“I know, hyung!” Jisung exploded, looking at him. “I get, okay? He didn’t want me as much as I thought he did, I fucking get it! I’m still disappointed! I’m still sad that I had to find out like this!”
“Jagi-”
A man on the other side of the street whistled. “You let your omega speak to you like that, bro?”
The noise that ripped out of Minho’s throat sent the man stumbling back. Cars passed swiftly between them, but Minho looked ready to cross anyway, eyes hard and severe.
“Fuck you!” Jisung yelled over the noise of the traffic.
When Minho showed no sign of continuing the walk home, Jisung shoved him forward, and after a moment of not budging he started to walk again. He stared at the man until completely out of sight, lip slightly curled, the tip of his left canine exposed.
“You look silly,” Jisung said weakly, still pushing. “Come on, hyung, I’m trying to be angry with you.”
After a long pause, Minho sighed. There was suddenly less resistance as Jisung pushed him forward. “You can be angry while I break his ribs.”
“You’re not a rib breaker. You’re a cat cuddler.”
“I’ll adapt.”
Whether Minho deserved it or not, Jisung swallowed back his acidic reply. You can adapt for that but not stop pissing on me whenever an alpha shows interest?
Minho heard him anyway, as always. “I won’t let you settle for someone lacking just because your ego deserts you when you’re feeling vulnerable.”
“He was nice. I wasn’t settling.”
Minho didn’t look like it was a joke anymore. “Tell me something good about him without using the words nice, sweet, or polite.”
“Those are all good traits to have!”
“They’re foundational traits, like flour in a cake. A good cake has flour, but if you just have the flour then the cake will taste like shit. Flour alone isn’t cake. Nice alone isn’t a good mate.”
Jisung didn’t know how to reply to that. He wished he had something snarky lined up, or even something whiny, but he couldn’t think of anything. Minho was right. Jisung was trying to settle.
After a while, Minho nudged Jisung and broke their silence. They were close to Jisung’s apartment, and he was half convinced Minho was going to start a long winded goodbye. Instead, “I was nice, wasn’t I? I walked you home because I knew your date was lacking. That proves that niceness means little in the grand scheme.” Minho smiled his conspirator’s smile, utterly devastating. “If niceness was the only qualifier then I’d be good mate potential. Isn’t that funny?”
Jisung looked away. “So hilarious, hyung.”
-
One sided love wasn’t something that eased over time. It didn’t heal, it didn’t metastasise, it just remained exactly the way it always was: an open wound. Worse if Jisung picked at it, but tolerable unless he let himself think about the pain.
The sole bandage was that Minho didn’t see himself marrying or mating. Anyone. Ever.
If Jisung was destined to spend eternity looking for someone to fill the hole in his heart, it was a small comfort to know that Minho wasn’t even looking for someone else. There was no hole in his heart to fill – not for Jisung, but not for anyone else, either.
The small apartment was cold when he made it inside. The heating hadn’t kicked in, and he hadn’t remembered to get the new bulb for his standing light. He had to use the stupid overhead lights. He sank down onto his couch in the dark and stared out at the night cityscape. He held Minho’s forgotten scarf to his face and breathed in the bergamot. He was going to sleep with it on. Knowing it before he got into bed felt worse, somehow. Premeditated creepiness that he was too weak willed to fight against. The sweater Minho left at the door had long ago stopped smelling of him.
Jisung needed to get his fingers away from the wound. He kept his face buried in the scarf and tried to remember the scent of his date, but the scent of Minho was so strong that when Jisung closed his eyes he just imagined Minho had been the one courting him instead.
-
“How’d the big date go?” Changbin asked.
How he could use the treadmill and speak at the same time, Jisung didn’t know. He had to slow to a walk or risk tangling his legs and flying off backwards. “It, uh – it was fine until it wasn’t.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Jisung stopped his treadmill completely, watching as Changbin practiced his one example of successful multitasking. His lungs hurt without even bringing the date up, but at least it was from the physical strain. Changbin never went easy on Jisung, especially when their moods were low. “Minho-hyung came to walk me home, and… well. I’m sure you get the idea.”
“They fought over you all sexy and oiled up? Did you film it?”
“No, hyung.” Jisung forced himself to smile. “I’ll try to remember for next time.”
“You need to stop telling him about dates until they’ve happened. Don’t give him the option to posture.”
“He’s my best friend,” Jisung replied weakly. “I can’t not tell him about my life.”
Changbin slowed his treadmill to a fast walk and faced Jisung, red and sweaty. He smelled sweet but a little fiery. “He’s one of the best people I know, but that doesn’t stop him from being an asshat. Don’t tell him what he doesn’t need to know.”
Minho needed to know everything about Jisung’s life, at Jisung’s insistence. Nothing was too big or small. They were two halves, honest and whole only when together. That was the point. “It’s not that easy, hyung.”
“What was the guy like before Minho scared him off?”
“Nice.”
Changbin snorted and turned the speed of the treadmill back up. “Nice. No wonder hyung intervened. Get back on the treadmill before your legs start cramping.”
Jisung got back onto the treadmill and set it to an easy jog. He hoped that would end the conversation, but Changbin pushed onwards.
“Did you fuck?”
Jisung tried desperately to keep his legs in the right place as he jogged. “No, hyung. It was just dinner.”
“I meant Minho-hyung.”
Jisung tripped over his foot and flew off the machine. He landed ungracefully on his ass, and he must have looked so startled and pathetic that Changbin didn’t even laugh.
“Sorry.” Changbin hopped off his machine and held out a hand to help Jisung up. “You just stink of him, that’s all.”
Jisung’s ass hurt. “He gave me his scarf. It was a cold walk home.”
Changbin rolled his eyes and pressed his face to Jisung’s neck, a move so familiar that Jisung didn’t flinch. Changbin’s cheek was soft as he rubbed against Jisung’s skin. “There,” he murmured, “So people don’t assume you were claimed without a bite.”
“Thanks, hyung,” Jisung said, staring straight ahead and forcing himself not to picture being claimed, bite or otherwise. He’d be called a slut or something archaic and demeaning, but he’d been called worse. In that reality Minho would have claimed him in some capacity, so names wouldn’t matter. An immature way of thinking about it for sure, with or without the safety risks of unmarked claims. Jisung would be a walking target, something precarious to steal. But he’d be Minho’s, and in Jisung’s daydreams that outweighed everything else.
“You need to take your time with dating,” Changbin said, still close, still scenting him. It was a familial thing, brotherly almost, and his scent was comforting. Like laundry, like fresh sheets drying on the line in the summer heat. Jisung tried not to cling to him. “Jisung-ah, you’re the only one setting deadlines for yourself. The rest of us just want you to be happy.”
But Jisung was the second son and the only omega of the family. His brother was married with a wonderful wife and two sweet kids. He’d done his part. All eyes were turned towards Jisung now, expectant. Hands open, waiting for the grandkids, the flaunting of the wedding band, the tilt of his head to show off his fresh mating bite. He’d disappointed his parents in every other way – he couldn’t let them down in this, and he’d broken his own heart enough times waiting for Minho. It had to be someone else. It had to be soon. He had to be worth it for someone. He had to know he wasn’t as hopeless as he feared.
Changbin stepped back, eyes searching. “Jisung-ah.”
“We’re going to be late to meet Chan-hyung if we don’t start the cooldown soon.”
“Chan-hyung can wait if you need to talk.”
Jisung didn’t need to talk. He’d force it all out into a melancholy song so that he could go back to being the silly idiot everyone loved to tease. “I’m fine, Binnie-hyung. Do you need to talk about Hyunjin?”
Changbin cleared his throat and turned away. “We’ll start with PNF stretching, okay? Get on the floor, left leg up.”
-
Most of Jisung’s friends had weird relationships with their secondary genders, which was as comforting as it was sad. Maybe that was what brought them together – not unpopular, not outcasts, not especially disliked in any way – but a distinct otherness they all felt apart, but less so when together.
Jisung didn’t hate being an omega, but he didn’t love it like Felix. He’d presented late, the same time as Jeongin, who had spent years with no real inclinations, assuming he’d present as a beta only to be sedated by paramedics because of how terrified he’d found himself when presenting as an alpha. Chan kept his troubles to himself, but he seemed to be largely in tune with his alpha side. Changin had never had trouble as an alpha until he met Hyunjin, who’d taken presenting as a beta as well as someone would take being shot in the chest. Seungmin didn’t give a shit about being an alpha, and his attitude towards secondary gender was the most normal part of him.
Minho was –
Odd.
Jisung hadn’t known him before he presented, and he made it difficult to assume his previous attitude. He was in tune with himself, but almost to the point of derision. He treated omegas like alphas, which Jisung found out three weeks into their friendship when he was shoved hard enough to land in a bush mid-hike. Minho scoffed at mating bonds, laughed in the face of possessive alphas, and refused to wear scent blockers.
He was catnip for alphas, omegas, and betas alike, but so casual he ultimately broke hearts no matter how kind and careful he tried to be. He didn’t want to get married; he didn’t want to find a mate.
“Have you never heard of a lone wolf, Jisungie?” He’d asked, the only time Jisung had been brave enough to bring it up after their first meeting.
“You hate being alone,” Jisung had replied, a little tipsy, very confused, and extremely lovelorn. “You like it for a while, but then you get in your head about it.”
Minho had just hummed and pressed their shoulders together. Crushed together in the crowded bar, it felt like they were the only people in the world. “That’s when I come and find you to tease, hm? And you don’t count as company.”
Jisung tried to make his eyes big. “Why not?”
Minho stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. He turned away only to down his drink, the tips of his ears red from the alcohol. “You’re not my friend, you’re my pet.”
Jisung had looked away then, flustered beyond words. The evening had continued, their bubble undisturbed. Minho had slept over on Jisung’s couch. The apartment held the pheromones of a newlywed suite for days.
-
Chan gave Jisung and Changbin an unhappy frown when they arrived, though the expression immediately brightened when Jisung held out a coffee for him.
“Sorry we’re late, Jisung kept falling off the treadmill,” Changbin said.
“It only happened once,” Jisung grumbled, passing Chan his coffee and nabbing the seat next to him before Changbin could claim it.
Changbin just took the couch with a heavy sigh. “Getting over the second-hard embarrassment took longer than I would have liked.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” Chan said slowly. “Why do you guys smell like a sleepover?”
“Jisung forgot to shower, so I covered up his stink.”
“Hey!” Jisung complained. “Can you think of a lie that doesn’t make me sound gross?”
“I’ve lost interest,” Chan said, turning back to his laptop. “We need to work on the guide for Lily today. Jisung-ah, can you try the vocals? I think I’m coming down with something and want to rest my throat if possible.”
By the time they left the studio, nine hours later, their scents were so intermingled that they were indistinguishable. They met up with Minho and Seungmin for dinner, and by the time Jisung made it home he smelled solely of Minho again.
-
Jisung’s life was on a timeline. Wasn’t everyone’s?
He’d presented late, and wrong, at twenty-one – behind already.
His brother married at twenty-four. Behind again.
His brother bought his home at twenty-five. Behind again.
His brother had his first child at twenty-six. Behind again.
Jisung graduated college a year early, but he had his first date at twenty-one. He lost his virginity a month later. He presented three months after that, and was swiftly dumped by a girlfriend not wanting to continue a relationship with another omega.
After that, Jisung didn’t so much as follow his brother’s footsteps, instead tripping over them, smearing the marks on the path. He rented his apartment, he got a successful job with no real contingency plan, no great fortune, nothing in particular his parents could brag about. He wasn’t a doctor or a scientist, he made music with his friends that was bought by better singers than him. His best friend was an alpha that flaunted disrespect of tradition. His romantic relationships were shit.
He was twenty-six, and his brother had another child at twenty-nine.
He was twenty-six, in love with his best friend, and every month that passed with curt messages and awkward dinners with his family made the weight heavier.
“You’re unusual, but surely not so much that an alpha won’t appreciate the best of your qualities?” His mother asked kindly after he told her about the failure of his latest date. He left the Minho part out.
“They might not be an alpha, eomma.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Try all the alphas first, okay? For me.”
Jisung picked at the open wound in his chest again. “Even Minho-hyung?”
She laughed then, so happily incredulous that it hurt Jisung more than if she’d sneered. “Not that one, okay? Bad choice, not for you. Let him be alone the way he likes and find yourself a good alpha that will treat you the way an alpha should treat their omega.”
He swallowed his hurt. “I’ll try.”
“Good, good. Do you want more green tea? Your complexion is odd, are you feeling well?”
“I feel great.” He forced a wide smile. “How are the babies?”
-
Jisung downloaded a dating app with the help of Felix and Jeongin, hands over his face as they swiped through his options and set him up on a date with a woman who looked to be a head taller than him.
“Are we telling hyung?” The foils in Jeongin’s hair crackled as he shifted his head against the back of Felix’s couch. Orange again, while Felix touched up his dark roots. They’d trimmed Jisung’s split ends so that he didn’t feel left out.
“Which hyung?”
The foils crackled again as Jeongin rolled to his head to send Jisung a droll look. “Duh.”
Felix passed Jisung’s phone back. “I say no.”
“Why do you hate me having a best friend?” Jisung asked weakly, pocketing his phone.
“Just see how it goes for once. It doesn’t have to be a secret – just a small window of opportunity.”
“Hyung would want to know.”
“Hyung is too used to getting what he wants,” Jeongin said firmly. “Go on the date and don’t tell him. Don’t tell me, either. I don’t want to know.”
Jisung laughed. It was odd that he could blink without his hair getting in his eyes now. His ass still hurt from being launched to the floor in the gym. “I promised my eomma I’d try alphas first.”
“Fuck your eomma,” Felix said. Then, “Respectfully, that is. Miya looks great, and she said you’re cute. Just try it, Jisung.”
-
Miya was great. They had nothing in common and were as awkward as teenagers, but she was lovely. They agreed to stay friends, and Jisung tried to tell himself it wasn’t a failure he was to blame for.
His apartment was still empty. He crawled into bed fully clothed and tucked himself in, outdoor germs be damned. He needed to wash his sheets anyway.
He called Minho, who didn’t pick up. That was so rare it felt unheard of, so he sent a text that was replied to immediately.
LMH:
Pre-rut hit, can’t call, attendants say it’s a no go. At the centre, back in 5 days.
Jisung had nothing to say to that.
HJS:
feel better soon hyung
Minho’s reply came even faster this time.
LMH:
I’m horny not dying.
What are you doing?
Are you at home?
Was he jerking off? Was he sedated? He didn’t discuss rut centres with Jisung, and Jisung didn’t want to ask anyone else.
Jisung didn’t know whether to tell Minho about the date or not. It was over now, and it hadn’t gone anywhere.
He must have taken too long to reply.
LMH:
Are you shitting?
Did someone steal your phone?
Your hyung is waiting for your response
I swear I’m not jerking off
Jisung forced himself to answer.
HJS:
what ARE you doing?
LMH:
Nothing.
Waiting for my rut to actually hit so that I feel less wired
It was the most candid he’d ever been about his ruts, which were usually a black hole in their friendship. Not spoken about, not acknowledged, not addressed. Just something that happened away from their relationship. Before Jisung decided if he’d continue to push, Minho sent another string of messages.
LMH:
Are you at home??
Han Jisung.
Are YOU jerking off?
HJS:
NO!
i just got home
LMH:
Where have you been?
Fuck. Jisung looked at his window like it would give him an answer. He couldn’t even see the stars, so there was nothing for him to envisage messages in. No fate written in the cosmos, just clouds and Minho continuously messaging Jisung, a steady, surprising, constant rhythm of buzzing. This was so unlike him – or at least unlike the Minho that Jisung knew.
LMH:
Jisungah
Jisungie.
Are you actually shitting?
Did you fall asleep?
Did you go out with Yongbok?
HJS:
i went on a date
Minho started to call, but before Jisung could pick up it disconnected.
Jisung sat up, heart pounding suddenly. He called, but it was declined.
HJS:
hyung??
Nothing.
HJS:
Minho-hyung?
Minho?
Jisung stayed up most of the night worried, chewing the skin off the side of his thumb. He didn’t get a reply until mid-morning.
LMH:
Sorry they took my phone.
Haha
I hope the date went well!
Tell me about it when I get out of here.
My bodies mixed up I don’t think I can
Ignore that last part, save the gossip for when I can see you.
Jisung’s thumb was raw, his heartbeat still uneven, eyes stinging from exhaustion.
HJS:
ok hyung
-
A hot guy at the gym kept staring at Jisung. His eyes moved from Jisung’s arms to his legs, something not quite appreciative in his gaze. He looked just enough like Minho that it was jarring, but the eyes were wrong, the lips slightly off. His gaze wasn’t Minho’s mildly teasing curiosity, instead something much more blatantly questioning. Jisung didn’t let himself become tense. You’re not built like an omega. He’d heard that one before – some people liked it, some people didn’t.
He left the weights before he could be approached and taped up his scent glands after his shower.
Changbin found him thirty minutes later, freezing his ass off in the car park. “Why’re you taped up?”
“Don’t like the eyes on me,” Jisung muttered. He wished he hadn’t committed to giving up his vape, but it was locked somewhere out of reach in Minho’s apartment. Peach flavoured. If Jisung went out and bought another one, Minho would tell him off until his ears bled.
“That’s not usual for you. Think your heat is coming?”
Jisung stood up with a groan and wrapped his coat up tighter. “I fucking hope not, the last one was only three months ago.”
“Is Minho-hyung back yet?”
“Not as far as I know.”
Minho’s phone had been taken again on day two, once his pre-rut ended and the real rut began. Jisung researched if that was normal, and apparently it was. The risk of alphas saying something out of character, animalistic, and ruining relationships was high, as it was for omegas. Jisung hadn’t spent a single heat with anyone for that reason. He didn’t let anyone near him, despite the way his friends worried. The moment it got too bad he locked himself in his apartment and put his phone somewhere he couldn’t reach without climbing. Minho left food outside the door for him sometimes, but he respected Jisung’s need for distance. He respected it so perfectly that Jisung had almost been offended for those first few heats – did his scent do nothing? Was he really so unappealing? But it was Minho, and Minho cared about him enough to feed him when things were bad. That had to be enough.
Changbin winced. “Chan-hyung spoke to him the day before yesterday and said it was a pretty bad one.”
Jisung needed his fucking vape. “I thought you couldn’t call people in rut centres?”
“If you’re lucid enough you can.”
“Oh. He said…” Jisung looked away, trying to play off the ache. “He declined my call.”
Changbin nudged their shoulders together. “Maybe it’s an omega thing. I’m no expert, I’ve never used a rut centre, never needed to.”
“Why not?”
“My pre-rut doesn’t make me aggressive; it just makes me sad.”
Jisung couldn’t help but laugh. “Minho-hyung doesn’t get aggressive.”
Changbin shot him an incredulous look. “Sure. If you say so.”
-
Romance had never been a game for Jisung, but that first meeting with Minho had felt like love and somehow, a stupid, old fashioned boardgame. No matter how much time passed, or how much progress they made, Jisung kept finding himself back at the starting point.
It wasn’t Minho’s fault. They’d meshed well from the start, in a touchy, giggly way that Jisung had assumed was a reciprocated crush.
He’d been humbled to realise a couple of hours into drinks that Minho didn’t want a romantic relationship, and Jisung wasn’t going to change that. Not that he’d asked if he could, but it had been implied.
“I can only do casual,” Minho had said, both eyebrows in his hair. He was drunk. His cheeks were red. He smelled so good that Jisung’s mouth had been watering since Changbin had introduced them.
Jisung could do casual in the way he could do a car crash. He could certainly partake in it, but he’d come out bruised for sure, maybe with a couple of broken ribs. A concussion. Certain, aggressive whiplash.
“Casual is fun,” he lied.
Minho’s eyebrows had somehow continued to climb. “A pretty omega like you looking for something casual? Crazy. I thought some high-school alpha would have sunk his teeth into you at the first opportunity.”
Pretty? Jisung’s piece made it back onto the board. Assumed high-school-sweetheart mate? Mixed bag. Presumed domesticity? Not quite back to the start, but back at least a couple of spaces. Did Minho think he was boring?
“I don’t think you’re boring,” Minho said, his very first instance of mind reading. “You’re just the type that deserves the white-picket-fence life.”
Jisung was so back at the start. He played it off. What else could he do? “I don’t like alphas like you anyway, so put your dick away.”
If Minho’s brows rose any higher, they’d twang off his forehead and stick to the ceiling. “Yeah? What kind of alphas do you like?”
Jisung downed his drink. “That’s between me and myself.”
“Don’t break my heart. Am I not handsome enough?” Minho swooned against the bar, clumsy enough that he had to apologise to the bartender for knocking over two glasses. It was a good save for Jisung, who didn’t have any faith in being able to pretend Minho wasn’t the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He could only continue a bit so far before he was struck down for outright, egregious lies.
-
Jisung was definitely going into heat.
He succumbed and bought another vape. Caramel flavoured this time, so that he could play off the scent as part of his own.
On Minho’s first day back from the rut centre, he asked Jisung to meet him for coffee. He was already sitting waiting when Jisung arrived, rumpled and tired-looking, but still Minho. Pretty and familiar. He held his hand out as soon as Jisung took a seat.
Jisung stared at the hand. The knuckles were bruised – he must be boxing again. “Eh?”
“Give me the vape.”
Jisung slumped down in his chair. “Hyung.”
“Give me the vape, Jisung-ah. Put those eyes away.”
Jisung gave him the vape. “It was expensive.”
“Don’t waste your money then.” Minho pocketed it and wrinkled his nose. “What fucking flavour is it? It smells like you, if you were a cheap air-freshener.”
“Caramel.”
“Egregious. Stop vaping.”
“Or what?”
Minho smiled at him indulgently. “Hyung will have to spank you.”
Jisung balled up a napkin and threw it at him. “Shut up.”
“How are you, jagiya?”
“Tired.” It came out before Jisung could bite it back. “I’m fine, hyung. How’re you? You’re the one that’s been locked up.”
“Locked away for horny crimes,” Minho agreed, nodding solemnly. “Why’re you tired?”
They sat in silence for a moment, neither willing to answer the other’s question first. A kind looking waitress brought over their drinks, and Jisung thanked her for the americano, not bothering to gripe that Minho had ordered Jisung’s drink without asking. He knew what Jisung wanted.
“How was your date?” Minho asked, moving onto a different question.
Jisung shrugged. Oversensitive as he always was before his pre-heat, the thought of it stung now. “Bad. Not – she was great, but we weren’t compatible at all. Another friend, I think, but nothing more.”
“Alpha?”
“Omega.”
Minho nodded, picking up his coffee to sip. “That’s a shame, jagi. There’s always next time.”
Jisung snorted. “Sure.”
“What does that mean?”
“Can I have my vape back?”
“No. What’s wrong?”
“Hyung.”
“Jisung-ah.”
“You’re not my appa, give me the vape back. Please.”
Minho smiled faintly, but his eyes had darkened into something cautious. “Good manners don’t always get you what you want. No. It’s bad for you. If you want another one you have to waste more of your money, and I’ll take that one too.”
This wasn’t like Minho. His rut was only a few days gone, but Jisung’s heat was fucking up his head. His heart thudded dully. Minho hadn’t used his alpha voice, but it didn’t matter. If he’d told Jisung to bark, Jisung couldn’t say with confidence that he wouldn’t.
“What’s wrong, Jisung-ah? Tell hyung.”
“Nothing.”
“Stop lying.”
“Stop asking questions I don’t want to answer,” Jisung bit out. He took a loud slurp of his coffee and felt a small amount of satisfaction at Minho’s wince. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I was locked up for five days and now my best friend won’t catch me up on his life. He started vaping again after almost seven months. He’s cut his hair. Next you’ll be telling me you got another tattoo.”
“No tattoos,” Jisung said.
Minho sat back. “This is oddly antagonistic, isn’t it?” He opened his mouth and then stopped, staring. It took him a minute to blink. “I thought your smell was – are you wearing scent patches?”
Jisung didn’t want to tell him about the heat. He’d disappear, nothing more than a parcel of home cooked food at the apartment door again. “I just want a break.”
“From what?”
Jisung didn’t want to lie about this. He could give Minho something small, at least. “A guy at the gym kept staring at me.”
Minho’s face fell into something severe. “Was he bothering you?”
Jisung kicked Minho, softening as quickly as he’d tensed. What a silly, lovely, overly protective hyung. “No, nothing like that. I just thought it would be better to give him less of a reason to approach me.”
“I thought you were looking for a date?”
Not from someone that looks like you. “He’s not my type.”
“Alpha?”
“I think so.”
“Hm.” Minho crossed his arms. “Want me to join your next workout?”
“No, hyung. We both know you’re already teaching classes when I’m in the gym.”
“I’ll call in sick.”
“And deprive five-year-olds of their ballet lessons? No you won’t.”
“I’ll book a vacation day then.”
“No, hyung.”
“Let me scent you before you go.”
Jisung laughed. Loudly. He thought of what Changbin had said – when Minho scented him it didn’t smell familial. Jisung would smell half-claimed, and more attractive to an alpha that wanted to steal territory. “No. Changbin-hyung is helping.”
“Why can he help but I can’t?”
My scent mingles with yours in a way that makes me smell like I’m in love with my mate. “He’s actually at the gym with me, hyung. You’re not disrupting your routine for me.”
“I would.”
“I know.” Jisung kicked him gently again. “I know, hyung. Drink your coffee.”
Minho sipped his drink. “Hyunjin wants to go out on Friday. Are you in?”
“Sure,” Jisung said, unthinking.
-
He bought another vape. Crème Brûlée.
-
The cramps hit Thursday.
HHJ:
What are you wearing tomorrow? Lix told me you’re looking to fuck.
HJS:
date*
HHJ:
Chemistry is important. Wear the jeans I gave you.
HJS:
i’m not looking for someone tomorrow
isn’t it just drinks?
HHJ:
Word on the street (Felix) is that Jeonginnie is gonna try and seduce Chan
HJS:
good for him! what does that have to do with me
HHJ:
We need someone to take the attention off him or he’ll chicken out
HJS:
so my humiliation is going to be an event that everyone else gets to watch?
HHJ:
We all have to make sacrifices. Especially for Jeongin.
Wear the jeans or I’ll get Lix involved.
That wasn’t much of a threat. It was like threatening to throw a kitten at someone.
HJS:
… ok and?
HHJ:
He’ll be so cute and manipulative that you’ll end up wearing something sluttier.
HJS:
ok. touche.
-
Jisung got weird looks in the studio all day, but no one brought it up until they were leaving.
“Are you sure you’re good to go out tonight?” Chan asked jiggling the key to make sure the door was locked.
“It’s definitely locked,” Jisung said automatically. Then, just as automatic, “I’m sure, hyung. You’ll be there if I need you, won’t you?”
Chan softened. “Of course.”
-
Jisung put two scent patches on either side of his neck, almost the whole expanse covered in the thin membrane. He brushed his teeth, brushed his hair, lined his eyes, tried to find all of his rings, and let Jeongin choose his shirt and shoes.
Baggy button up, thick belt, tight jeans, and sneakers.
“You don’t look good.”
Jisung turned to Jeongin, betrayed. “You just dressed me!”
“No, you look – hyung, you look unwell.” Jeongin put his palm to Jisung’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay to go out?”
“I’m okay,” Jisung said, nauseous. He was planning on leaving early, but he’d promised Minho, and now Hyunjin. And Jeongin, who was blissfully unaware they were all going out to give him the opportunity to shoot his shot.
“I can’t smell you.”
Jisung cocked his head and displayed the patches. “Better safe than sorry.”
“Are you in heat?”
“No, baby. Just a little under the weather.” Not a lie, technically. At least not yet.
“Okay.” Jeongin stepped back, frowning slightly. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.” Jisung patted his ass and ushered him out of the bathroom. “Any plans for tonight?”
Immediately Jeongin went pink. “No, why are you asking?”
-
The mix of scents almost knocked Jisung flat when he entered the bar with Jeongin, hypersensitive and overstimulated immediately.
He could see Minho through the crowd, laughing at something Changbin said with his full body. Jisung used him as an anchor in the crowd, gripping Jeongin’s hand tightly and threading through the press of people until they made it to the booth their friends were sitting in.
It was so busy that no one commented on Jisung’s lack of scent, and the first couple of rounds were almost peaceful. Jisung sipped his beer and tried to keep himself quiet.
Minho looked good. Hyunjin must have threatened him with something too, because his shirt was unusually tight, a classic white button-down that showed off his chest, his soft stomach. His jeans were blue and ripped at the knees, his jacket casual, his hair down and unstyled. He looked young and sweet. He looked gorgeous. His smell was muted in the crowd, but Jisung would be able to pick it out in a crowd of a thousand. Two thousand – twenty. A hundred thousand, a million.
From across the table, Minho kicked Jisung gently.
Jisung blinked, then flushed. He’d been staring.
Minho cocked his head, smiling slightly. “Pretty boy,” he mouthed.
Jisung looked at his lap, too overwhelmed to joke back.
Minho kicked again.
Jisung couldn’t force his head up. He needed to shove his face in Minho’s neck. He needed to crawl across the table or under it, he needed – he wanted to be held. He needed nicotine.
His phone buzzed. He decided he’d go home when they went to the next bar.
“Earth to Jisung?” Seungmin called. “Another beer?”
“Yes please,” he replied meekly, wondering if there was a way to sneak out early without anyone noticing.
Minho kicked him again, still too soft to be anything but an attempt at getting Jisung to look up.
Jisung kept his eyes on the table. His phone buzzed again. He’d started to sweat a little around his hairline. The heat in his face wasn’t going away.
Felix kissed Jisung’s cheek, his lips sticky from gloss, his hand searching out Jisung’s under the table. “You okay?”
Jisung could feel Felix’s wedding ring pressing into his skin. He wanted to cry. His phone buzzed again. “I’m fine, just a little under the weather.”
“Your phone is going crazy, I can feel it against my leg,” Felix laughed. “Someone’s popular, hm? Is there someone you’re not telling me about?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Jisung-ah, look at me.”
Jisung’s eyes shot across the table to Minho, who was frowning now. “Hyung?”
Minho looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. “Give me the vape.”
Jisung fished it out of his pocket and handed it over without arguing.
Minho smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good boy.”
Pretty boy.
Good boy.
He was twenty-six and alone. He was in love with his best friend and it was never going to go away. He was starting his preheat in the middle of the bar with all of his friends present.
He was fucked.