Chapter Text
Hongjoong sat at the kitchen counter’s bar, watching the birds fly and hop tree from tree in his backyard. He had a coffee mug in one hand, which was trembling.
Every time he blinked, they popped into the seven other chairs that were still around the small dinner table. He had to look away before he got too caught up in his feelings before work.
He often day-dreamed of them.
Maybe picturing San and Wooyoung curled up on the couch together, the two omegas stealing every blanket in the house before everyone got up.
Or Seonghwa and Yeosang cooking breakfast in the morning, swatting Mingi’s wandering hand away that tried to grab the pancakes before they were all done.
Yunho and Jongho, still in their shared room, playing video games together. Their little alpha never really liked them, but he’d always suck up to his hyung and sit with him anyways.
And, on cold mornings like this, he imagined all of his mates gathered at the table. He still made Seonghwa’s coffee that had a dash of creamer in it, or Wooyoung’s whose was more sugar than coffee that had to be poured out in the sink every morning.
He still set the table for seven others, even if he stopped himself halfway through and broke down in the kitchen floor when the realization hit him.
Their laughs haunted him in memory, hearing them faintly down the halls or in their bedrooms that hadn’t even been touched yet. Hongjoong couldn’t bring himself to, even as the rooms started to collect dust and Mingi’s old soda can started to mold inside.
Nights he couldn’t sleep, Hongjoong would go to the pack room. He’d curl up in the now scentless nest, and remember the times when he felt suffocated in it. Wooyoung never got the hang of reeling in his scent, and neither did Jongho because he had presented late in life; so the pile of blankets and clothes had always smelt mostly of them.
But now, Hongjoong could nose the fabric so deeply that he could not smell the scents of crisp apples or licorice anymore.
He often thought of taking his own exit, of reuniting with his mates in death. He’d never regret it, he was sure. But every time he tried to jerk his fancy BMW into a tree going 100 MPH, the wheel would jerk right back on the road. He blamed it on lane-assist, and had called it a night.
Or the time he had tried to hang himself. The rope magically went missing, and was always out of stock when he went back to the store even if he had remembered there were plenty.
He’d look back at old photos late at night, some from their group vacations or old graduation pictures of him and Seonghwa.
His Luna.
His everything.
He loved the others just as much, but there had always been a special bond between him and Seonghwa. Maybe it was because they were Pack Alpha and Luna, or because they had been friends since high school.
When he died, he took everything with him.
Hongjoong’s heart, his sanity, his alpha who had yet to come out of its hidey-hole deep in the back of his brain.
Repression. Heartache. Guilt. Is what a therapist said to him. His alpha was so distraught over losing his mates, and had took a ‘hibernation nap’ to cope.
He still felt his instincts stir every now and then, when his rut would come or when he’d get so emotional that he’d be bed ridden. It’d push him to get up, to go to work to keep the house his mates had spent years working hard for.
Hongjoong didn’t want to function.
He didn’t want to go to work.
He didn’t want to eat.
He didn’t want to sleep.
He didn’t want to wake up when he finally was able to shut his eyes.
But he knew that his mates would be disappointed in him if he didn’t.
They wouldn’t want him to be overwhelmed with so much grief, to turn in to the shell of a person he once was. They’d want him to be happy, to live his life to the fullest, to move on.
But how could he ever do that?
He was the only one to make it out of the accident. He was the only one to come out with just a broken arm and leg. He was the only one whose heart got restarted.
He was the only one that was save-able.
He would never find another mate, even if that’s what they had wanted.
Wooyoung said himself that he better ‘not be bitchless’ if he dies first, that he should marry a woman he loved and be able to have a nice life— but, of course, to always remember them or else he’d haunt his alpha in death.
It had been funny at the time. But looking back on it now, it only brought Hongjoong heartache.
He could never move on.
Seonghwa was his first love. Yeosang was his second. The others followed soon after.
How could he find a person as witty and bratty as Wooyoung?
How could he find a person as strong but as tender as San?
How could he find someone as sarcastic and avoidant as Jongho, even if he snuggled right up to his mates’ affection?
How could he find someone as nerdy and kind-hearted as Yunho?
How could he find someone as crazy and beautiful as Mingi?
How could he find someone as sweet as cake as Yeosang?
How could he find someone like Seonghwa.
The omega was the definition of a Luna.
Sweet to the touch, but firm all the same. He’d take care of all his mates without any complications (okay, maybe a few), feeding them and bathing them after their rut and heat cycles. He’d wake up extra early to greet Hongjoong and Yunho, who came back from a late-shift at the office.
He’d bring his mates into his arms when they’d cry, whispering sweet words and stroking their hair. He’d engulf them in his sweet strawberry scent, which wrapped around them like a security blanket that purred like an engine to settle their instincts.
He was so loving, so caring, that Hongjoong didn’t think he’d find anyone else like him.
His mates were special gems. Rare. And he’d never find anyone like them ever again.
Never wanted to. They were his loves. His reason to wake up every morning. His reason to stay working late, work himself into sleep deprivation, so they could have anything and everything they wanted in the world.
Swallowing thickly, Hongjoong took the last sip of his coffee before he washed it off in the sink. He left it there, leaving it for tomorrow him to clean up after he got off his double shift.
His dress shoes clicked softly against the hardwood floor, echoing down the empty hallway that had been rid of any pictures. Only one sat on a table at the end, a group picture he had taken on their last vacation to Tokyo.
He remembered how happy Seonghwa and Yeosang were.
They had gone for a fashion show, had gotten invited because his lovely omegas were plastered all over every city you could think of. Hongjoong remembered dancing at the after party with Wooyoung, who switched between him and San, before walking off to find Mingi.
Mingi had gotten an offer that night by a jewelry company, to model for them. Hongjoong had originally bristled at how the man looked so intently at his mate’s hands, but he was so proud of his beta.
He was so proud of all of his mates.
They had worked so hard to get where they were now. And all that work had went to waste.
“Eujoo, honey,”
Hongjoong’s soft, tired voice filtered through the morning silence, his hand gently rapping at the door before he creaked it open. He smiled at seeing his daughter curled up in her bed, face smushed into a plush San had bought years ago.
“It’s time to wake up, pup.”
He crouched down in front of the princess bed, bringing his hand up to brush the strayed hair out of her face. She stirred a little before blinking her eyes open, stifling a yawn with a tiny hand.
“Do I have to go to grandma’s house after school?” Hongjoong didn’t want her to. He wanted to be with his and Seonghwa’s daughter all day, every day. He wished he lived in a world where he didn’t have to work so much, or at all, and they could still live a comfortable life. But he could only nod at her question.
His pup frowned softly at that, her pheromones dwindling to a burnt edge from her usually boastful vanilla and milk scent.
Seonghwa had joked and called her ‘angel milk’ when she had been born, nuzzling his nose into her cheek and cooing about how pretty his little angel was.
Hongjoong’s heart clenched at both the memory and the look on his daughter’s face, quickly leaning in to bring the three year old into his arms. “I know, baby. I wish I could stay here with you all day.” He sighed softly, cupping a hand behind her head to run over her silky black hair— all from Seonghwa. He had such beautiful, long hair.
But in the face, she was all Hongjoong. Almond eyes, down-sloped nose, narrow jaw and puffy cheeks.
It hurt a little less that she had only a few features of Seonghwa. So he wasn’t reminded every day he was gone.
Somehow, she came out smelling mostly like San, though. He had teased Seonghwa endlessly about if the omega was actually the one who got him pregnant— even if that was physically impossible, it didn’t stop him from trying to get a laugh out of his distressed mate after their daughter was born.
“Can I get ice cream when you come to pick me up from school tomorrow…?”
Eujoo’s voice was so light and soft, so hopeful, that Hongjoong wouldn’t dare refuse. She used the same puppy eyes as Wooyoung. Such a brat, teaching their pup bad habits at such a young age. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want.” And he would give it to her, even if he had to buy to whole store out. Eujoo was the only one he could spoil now, and he’d use every last of his money so his daughter never went without.
Even as his heart tugged and hallowed out as he packed her lunch, as he braided her hair into two cute pigtails and dressed her up for pre-k, and when he dropped her off to his mother’s house— he felt the love that was still there.
He would be getting his daughter back.
She wasn’t leaving forever.
Just twenty-four hours, and she’d be right back in the pink princess bed Mingi and Yunho had put together for her when she turned two and outgrew her crib.
“You look exhausted, Hongjoong.” His mother whispered as Eujoo waved goodbye to him, darting off into the house to play with his nephew before her grandma would take her to school. It was only six AM, after all.
The alpha let out a tired sigh, his shoulders no longer squared back to appear more confident than he was. “I am, mom.” He was too weak to speak more, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.
His mother pursed her lips, her scent taking a burnt edge Hongjoong knew well— sadness, distress. “How about you and Eujoo come to stay with me for a bit, hm? You won’t be so… lonely.”
He had thought about it before, but he couldn’t bare to step foot out of their six bedroom home. They had worked so hard for it, had saved so much money to buy a home that they could live in for the rest of their lives.
Hongjoong didn’t want to let that go yet.
He only told his mom that they’d talk about it later before he hugged her goodbye, slipping in to his BMW and speeding off to work with heavy eyelids.
He could never move on if he had killed himself, because that would mean Eujoo would be without any of her parents. Someone had to stay alive to tell her all the funny and sad stories of the people who use to live in their home. Who had loved Eujoo with all their hearts.
He couldn’t do that to his daughter.
But he ached to end his suffering every day.